My Portrait Was Enshrined in the Mountain God Temple - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I stared at his feet for a few seconds.

The more I looked, the colder my back felt.

The mountain path was covered in mud and water, and my own trouser legs were soaked through, yet his white shoes were as clean as if he had just put them on.

I stopped.

“Who exactly are you?”

He stopped as well and looked back at me.

The fog was very close now, surging slowly up the mountain path, blurring half of his face.

He said, “My surname is Wen.”

“Wen Yan.”

“That’s what the people at the foot of the mountain call me.”

I didn’t move.

“Then where do you live?”

“In the mountains.”

“Where in the mountains?”

“Up ahead.”

He answered every question.

Yet every answer felt as if he hadn’t answered at all.

I stood my ground, refusing to walk any further.

Wen Yan watched me for a moment, then suddenly took two steps back toward me.

He drew closer.

His face became clearer too.

He was truly handsome.

But he was too pale.

So pale that he lacked even a hint of a living person’s vitality.

He asked, “Are you afraid of me?”

I spoke stubbornly.

“Why should I be afraid?”

He gave a soft laugh.

“Because of what that old woman said?”

“She’s kept watch over that temple for forty years; her mind has long since gone soft.”

“You’d be better off believing me than believing her.”

Coming from anyone else, those words might have meant nothing.

But coming from his mouth, a chill still ran down my spine.

I didn’t respond.

Wen Yan didn’t press me either.

He simply stood there holding his umbrella, quietly watching me.

The fog grew thicker and thicker.

Nothing could be seen at the end of the mountain path. When the wind blew, even the shadows of the trees seemed to be moving.

My skin crawled, and I had no choice but to bite the bullet and continue following him.

After walking for about ten minutes, a row of houses finally appeared ahead.

It didn’t look like a village.

Rather, it looked like an old residence left behind in the mountains.

Blue bricks and grey tiles, high courtyard walls, and two old locust trees planted by the entrance.

Strangely, a row of red lanterns hung under the eaves.

This place was clearly in the middle of nowhere, yet the lanterns were excessively new.

As if they had just been replaced.

Wen Yan pushed open the door.

The courtyard was very clean; there wasn’t even a fallen leaf on the ground.

He closed his umbrella and set it by the door.

“Come in.”

I stood outside the threshold, unmoving.

“Is this your home?”

“In a way.”

Those vague words again.

I felt a spark of irritation.

“Can’t you just speak plainly?”

Wen Yan looked at me and actually seemed to think about it seriously.

“It was, many years ago.”

“Then it was empty for a long time.”

“I only just finished tidying it up these past few days.”

I froze.

“Tidying it up for whom?”

He looked at me.

“For you.”

That sentence was too direct.

So direct that my heart sank.

I instinctively took half a step back.

Wen Yan noticed.

He didn’t move closer, only saying calmly, “You’ve been out in the rain for three days, and you have a fever.”

“If you keep standing there, you’ll faint.”

Only then did I belatedly realize that my head did feel heavy.

Ever since leaving the temple, I had been wound tight, completely ignoring my own body.

Now that I had relaxed, my legs felt weak.

Wen Yan stepped forward and reached out to steady me.

His palm was very cold.

Cold as ice.

But my forehead was burning so fiercely that, for a split second, the cold actually felt comfortable.

I was startled by my own thought.

Just as I was about to push him away, my vision suddenly went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I was already lying in an unfamiliar bed.