"Mao Mao, who is it?"
The woman in white robes asked.
"Uh, it's a young man, still an ordinary mortal." Mao Mao opened the door a crack, took a look outside, then turned back and replied.
"An ordinary mortal?"
The woman in white knitted her pretty eyebrows, her pink lips opened again: "Ask what business he has here."
"He said he needed a place to stay for the night. Miss, what do you think?"
Mao Mao looked to the woman in white for instructions.
"Let him in, set up a courtyard for him, and warn him not to wander around at night." The woman in white ordered with a word, then paid him no more attention, her focus returning to the book in her hands.
It was none other than Yi Feng, who had gone into the mountains to gather herbs.
He had brought his own tent, but luck was not on his side - a light rain had started falling from the sky, and paired with the mountain chill, Yi Feng really could not bear to remain outside.
Fortunately, deep in these great mountains, there was actually a household.
Yi Feng hurriedly expressed his gratitude before stepping through the doorway.
As soon as he entered, Yi Feng was captivated by the scene before his eyes, especially the woman sitting beneath the waterfall, so otherworldly and refined.
The rain left behind after a storm in the empty mountains.
Returning home at dusk as autumn arrives late.
Three thousand feet of silver screen in the quiet courtyard.
A beauty by the rocks, stroking her zither.
This picturesque scene caused Yi Feng to be unable to resist praising it with an ancient poem from his past life.
Of course, to fit the occasion, he also tweaked and adapted it a bit.
Otherwise, it would have seemed out of place.
However, right after Yi Feng finished reciting his impromptu poem, the zither-playing woman who had not looked up this whole time suddenly gazed at him in astonishment, also not having expected that an ordinary mortal from the mountains would be able to compose such poetry.
"The rain left behind after a storm in the empty mountains. Returning home at dusk as autumn arrives late. Three thousand feet of silver screen in the quiet courtyard. A beauty by the rocks, stroking her zither..."
She could not help but softly chant the verse herself.
After finishing, she nodded approvingly, for the first time seriously appraising Yi Feng.
He truly had no cultivation whatsoever.
An ordinary mortal without doubt.
In the misty drizzle, his light blue shirt was slightly damp, but he did not seem disheveled. On the contrary, he gave off a very clean feeling. It had to be said, the impression this ordinary mortal gave her was very comfortable.
It was also the first time that her traditional views towards ordinary mortals had changed a little.
"An ordinary commoner, not necessarily so..." she thought to herself. At the same time, her slender jade-like hand put away the book in her hands, and her red lips parted: "Young sir, what a fine poem. This young lady thanks you."
Yi Feng cupped his fists towards her politely, then followed Mao Mao to his lodgings, finally settling down.
The woman in white asked softly.
"Yes miss, all settled." Mao Mao came back and exclaimed in surprise, eyes wide, "Eh, miss, isn't that the poem he just recited?"
The woman in white nodded lightly, her jade-like hand grasping the brush to write down the poem Yi Feng had just composed.
"Hey hey miss, don't tell me you've taken a liking to this ordinary fella, you even wrote down his poem!" Mao Mao covered her mouth by her side, crying out in alarm.
The woman glared at Mao Mao, then put down her slender jade-like brush.
"I just feel that his poem really captures the essence of this place. I always felt something was missing here before, but with this poem, it's perfect now."
"So after the ink dries, frame and hang it up."
"Hehe, miss said it wasn't because she took a liking to that ordinary fella, yet she wants to frame up his poem!" Mao Mao giggled mischievously behind her hand.
"You naughty girl, keep talking nonsense and see if I don't hit you!" The woman in white made a motion as if to rap Mao Mao, saying as she did, "No matter how outstanding an ordinary mortal is, he's still just that - an ordinary mortal, worlds apart from the likes of us. How could I possibly admire someone just because of a poem?"
Her melodious voice trailed off, not continuing further. She only clutched her copies of Dream of the Red Chamber and The Supreme Treasure tighter.