Chapter 28

Jin Zijin rode Xingchen with Wen Yan in her arms, circling the broad meadow of the riding grounds at an unhurried pace.

The steady beat of hoofbeats—clop, clop, clop—was calm and regular, like a beginner’s heartbeat: tense, but orderly.

Jin Zijin’s guidance was brief and clear. Whenever Wen Yan’s center of gravity tipped even slightly off balance, she would give the lead rope a gentle tug as a reminder.

After a few rounds, the tight line of Wen Yan’s shoulders and neck gradually loosened, and her breathing began to match the horse’s rhythm.

Jin Zijin reined Xingchen in and leaned over to ask, “How does it feel? Do you like it?”

There was still a bright afterglow in Wen Yan’s eyes from the new experience. She nodded, her voice carrying an honest eagerness. “It’s pretty interesting.”

“Could I... try riding one round by myself?”

“Of course.” The corners of Jin Zijin’s lips curved. She signaled to the instructor not far away.

The instructor led over a pitch-black mare of even build and introduced her. “Miss Wen, this horse, Wuyun, has the gentlest temperament. She’s even a little lazy; you have to urge her a bit before she’ll pick up speed.”

“She usually just likes to stroll along at this clip-clop pace. She’s very steady. She definitely won’t jostle you.”

Wen Yan looked at the black horse, lazily flicking its tail with a docile gaze, and felt an instant affinity. “Let’s go with her.”

She dismounted from Xingchen and, following the instructions she had just learned, took the reins in her left hand, placed her feet in the stirrups, and tightened her core.

Her movements were not as fluid as Jin Zijin’s, but they were neat and graceful enough; she settled firmly into the saddle.

The instructor habitually reached for Wuyun’s reins. “Miss Wen, shall I lead you around for a few laps first so you can get used to it?”

Before he finished speaking, Jin Zijin had already nudged her horse forward and brought Xingchen over.

She leaned slightly forward and held out her hand to the instructor, her tone gentle but leaving no room for refusal. “No need to trouble you; give me the rope.”

The instructor understood at once and immediately handed the lead rope over.

Jin Zijin rode the tall, magnificent Xingchen, one hand holding her own reins, the other loosely leading Wuyun’s bridle.

The two horses kept a just-right distance and once again moved side by side under the winter sun, their steps neat and synchronized.

The overlapping hoofbeats formed an unexpectedly harmonious rhythm.

Wen Yan learned quickly.

After only half a lap more, she was already able to use slight pressure from her calves and subtle shifts in her center of gravity to signal speed, turns, and stops.

The feeling of reaching a tacit understanding with another living being through body language was novel and fascinating.

She turned her head to look at the figure beside her, so at ease in controlling the horse, and suddenly felt an urge to catch up and ride alongside her.

“Zijin,” she called, her voice scattered a little by the wind, “I want to... try following you on my own.”

At the sound of this, Jin Zijin turned her head. Her gaze lingered on Wen Yan’s face for a moment, as if assessing the seriousness in those eyes.

“Sure?” she asked, her voice not loud, but clear across the gap between the two horses.

“Mm.” Wen Yan nodded and gripped the reins tighter.

“All right.” Jin Zijin did not hesitate further. With a light flick of her wrist, she let go of the rope leading Wuyun.

The leather strap drew an arc through the air and landed back near Wen Yan’s hand.

“Hold on tight,” Jin Zijin reminded her. Then she squeezed Xingchen’s sides with her legs and gave a low command. “Xingchen, go.”

The chestnut horse immediately lifted its head in response; its gait shifted from a leisurely stroll to a lively trot.

The hoofbeats instantly grew denser, like drums suddenly quickening.

Wen Yan took a deep breath, recalling the technique; she tightened her core and pressed lightly with her calves.

Wuyun seemed to sense the determination of the rider on her back. Though her temperament remained a little lazy, she obediently quickened her pace and chased after Xingchen’s back.

The wind suddenly became tangible, carrying the scent of grass clippings and earth as it struck Wen Yan’s face. It was cold, but in a way that was invigorating and refreshing.

Her view swayed with the horse’s motion; the distant woods and the nearby fences became a flowing backdrop.

An indescribable sense of freedom and control, carried by the speed of the run, spread from the saddle pressed against her to every limb and bone.

Jin Zijin did not gallop at full speed. She looked back from time to time to observe Wen Yan’s posture.

Seeing that Wen Yan was still a little stiff, but with her back straight and her balance steady, gradually syncing with the horse’s rhythm, the admiration in her eyes deepened.

“Can you keep up?” she asked, raising her voice.

“Yes!” Wen Yan’s answer was blown back to her, carrying unmistakable excitement.

Jin Zijin smiled. She no longer held back; with a sharp call and a flick of the reins, she urged Xingchen onward.

Xingchen understood her owner’s intention at once and suddenly accelerated, switching from an easy trot to a spirited run.

Its strong limbs stretched out, its mane flying in the wind; it truly was as fast as a chestnut bolt of lightning streaking across the meadow.

Spurred on by Xingchen’s speed ahead and the competitive instinct it awakened, Wuyun finally cast off her laziness and pushed hard to chase after her.

The wind pressure from the speed grew stronger, whistling past their ears.

Wen Yan lowered her body to reduce drag, focusing all her attention on the horse beneath her.

She felt the rhythm of the run; her heart pounded in her chest, faintly resonating with the pounding hooves.

At that moment, it felt as if all pressure, trivialities, and worries had been left far behind; all that remained was the exhilaration of running.

“Can you go a little faster?” Jin Zijin’s voice drifted from ahead, carrying obvious amusement.

Wen Yan’s competitive spirit was stirred; she raised her voice in reply, “Yes!”

“All right, then we’ll take another route,” Jin Zijin said, steering Xingchen away from the flat main meadow and onto a side path leading toward the ornamental woods nearby.

Wen Yan followed without hesitation, controlling her horse to stay close behind.

On either side of the wooded path stood wintersweet and peach trees.

It was the depths of winter; the peach branches were bare, while the wintersweet buds had already swelled thick and dense. In the air lingered the faint, cold fragrance of blossoms.

The path beneath them was slightly narrow, covered with gravel, with withered shrubs and exposed earth on either side, making the bleak openness of winter feel even more pronounced.

Jin Zijin rode through it as if she were at home.

Her body naturally inclined with each turn of the horse, her control precise, her speed never diminishing in the slightest.

That figure darted and danced through shifting patches of light and shadow in the woods, nimble and agile, full of the beauty of strength.

Like a dazzling bolt of lightning, it drew every bit of attention from behind.

Wen Yan was utterly spellbound.

Carefully guiding Wuyun around the fallen branches on the ground, she did her best to keep up.

Her whole heart and all her attention were fixed on the luminous figure leading the way ahead.

The two of them ran one after the other along the forest path for about twenty minutes.

The terrain gradually rose, and they eventually reached an open hilltop.

Jin Zijin had already reined in and was waiting there.

She sat on Xingchen’s back, posture straight, breathing a little hard; her cheeks were flushed with healthy color from the exercise.

Yet the woman’s eyes were exceptionally bright as she smiled down toward the slope below.

Wen Yan tightened the reins and let Wuyun climb slowly to the hilltop.

When she stopped, a thin layer of sweat had already gathered on her forehead, and her breathing was a little faster than usual.

After all, she was still inexperienced; the final stretch uphill relied more on core strength to keep steady and drive forward, which took a fair amount out of her.

By contrast, Jin Zijin looked relaxed and composed, as if the entire run had only been a warm-up.

She extended a hand and pointed to the other side of the hilltop. “Come up; the view is better here.”

Wen Yan rode over and stood beside her.

The wind atop the hill was stronger, blowing unimpeded across them with a bone-deep chill, yet it also made the mind feel exceptionally clear.

Looking out, the outline of the distant mountain range was crisp and distinct.

Sure enough, the peaks at the highest points were covered in white snow, reflecting a quiet, cold light beneath the pale winter sky.

“It’s already snowing on the mountain?” Wen Yan asked, a little surprised.

“Mm. Every year around this time, the summits accumulate snow.” Jin Zijin followed her gaze, then pointed toward a certain valley where the mountain range extended. “See that place where the mist seems to be rising?”

“There’s a hot spring resort there; it’s part of the family business.”

She turned back and asked, “Want to go soak for a while? It’ll ease the stiffness, and it’s warm.”

Wen Yan turned to her in surprise. “Now?”

“I’ll call and arrange it right now.” Jin Zijin arched a brow, her tone as casual as if she were discussing what to eat for dinner.

Wen Yan couldn’t help laughing and shook her head. “Forget it. Didn’t we already have a tailor appointment this afternoon?”

“We can have her reschedule for tomorrow.”

“I’m on duty tomorrow.” Wen Yan’s tone remained gentle, but firm. “Another time.”

“Since the schedule’s already been arranged, changing it at the last minute wouldn’t be respectful to the tailor either.”

What she was thinking was that Jin Zijin had already set aside work to accompany her riding today; that alone was rare consideration.

If she pushed too far and disrupted the other’s plans afterward, that would be overstepping.

Relationships needed nurturing; she, too, should be sensible and considerate.

Jin Zijin looked at her and said nothing.

Wen Yan softened her voice, like she was coaxing her—or negotiating. “Next time, let’s set aside time in advance and go soak in hot springs specifically, okay?”

Jin Zijin held her gaze for a few seconds; at last, she let out a seemingly resigned sigh, though the corners of her lips were still lifted. “All right. I’ll listen to you.”

Wen Yan breathed out in relief and changed the subject. “The scenery here is really beautiful. Shall we just walk the horses around slowly?”

“All right.”

The two of them no longer chased speed. They loosened the reins and let the horses carry them at an easy walk across the broad hilltop.

The ground rose and fell gently; around them stood a scattering of elegant manor villas, red roofs and white walls half-hidden among sparse winter trees, giving the place a quiet, far-reaching air.

The winter wind was dry and cold, yet it could not disperse the citrusy chill of the scent drifting from the person beside her.

The two fragrances intertwined and somehow created a contradictory intoxication.

“You’re very athletic; you learn quickly,” Jin Zijin said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Wen Yan accepted the praise openly. “Seems that way. I usually pick things up pretty fast when they involve coordination and control of strength.”

“Do you like riding?” Jin Zijin asked, her gaze on the distant snow-covered mountains, her tone deliberately casual.

“Yes.” Wen Yan answered without the slightest hesitation, a genuine smile appearing on her face. “It feels really free.”

“Like... you can set everything else down for a while and just keep running forward.”

Jin Zijin turned to look at that clean, carefree smile on her face; something that had been hanging in her chest seemed to settle a little.

She nodded, her voice gentle. “That’s good, then.”

After a pause, just when Wen Yan thought the topic had ended, Jin Zijin spoke again. Her tone carried a bit more hesitation than before.

“Actually, this morning when you said... because I know how to ride, you wanted to learn too, so we could play together in the future...”

“When I heard that, I was really happy.”

Wen Yan looked at her quietly, waiting for her to continue.

Riding along on horseback, Jin Zijin’s gaze drifted into the distance as if she were organizing her thoughts. “But after being happy... I also felt a little worried.”

“About what?” Wen Yan asked, curious.

Jin Zijin didn’t answer right away. After a moment of silence, she instead spoke of something else. “When I was little, my grandmother really liked fishing.”

“On weekends, she’d often be gone for half a day or more, sitting by the water and staying quietly there for a long time.”

“At the time, I always wanted to cling to her. When I saw her go fishing, I’d make a fuss and insist on learning too.”

“So Grandma prepared a little fishing rod for me and taught me.”

“But I was really too young then; I couldn’t understand the fun of sitting still and waiting. The float wouldn’t move at all, and if I stared at the ripples on the water too long, my eyes would start to ache. After just one day, I found it unbearably boring.”

“But I didn’t want Grandma to think I was the kind of person who gave up after three minutes, and I also didn’t want to lose the chance to stay by her side openly and reasonably.”

“So even though I was miserable, I gritted my teeth and went with her several more times.”

Wen Yan imagined that little girl, stubborn and sensitive beyond her years, and her heart softened.

“And then?” she asked softly.

“Then, maybe on the fourth day or the fifth day, I really couldn’t take it anymore. When we were packing up the fishing rod, I lowered my head and very quietly told Grandma, ‘Grandma, I don’t want to fish anymore... I don’t like it at all.’”

“The moment I said it, I regretted it. I was afraid she’d be disappointed; afraid she’d think I wasn’t persistent enough.”

As she spoke, a warm smile crept into the corners of Jin Zijin’s mouth. “But when Grandma heard that, she laughed right away.”

“She patted my head and said, ‘Silly child, I’ve been waiting for you to say that.’”

“She said, ‘If you don’t like doing something, you must say so. Don’t force yourself to cater to someone else’s preferences just to keep them company.’”

“She also said, ‘You want to accompany Grandma; Grandma knows that. But when you accompany Grandma, you don’t necessarily have to do the same thing. You can sit beside me reading your picture books or building your block castle; as long as you don’t make too much noise and scare away my fish, anything is fine. As long as Grandma knows you’re right there, I’m happy.’”

Wen Yan nodded, her gaze fixed attentively on Jin Zijin’s profile as she listened.

“At the time, I didn’t really understand. I even felt a little wronged, thinking, isn’t that just us doing our own things separately? How does that count as playing together?”

Jin Zijin shook her head and let out a breath. “Then Grandma told me very seriously, ‘Xiaojin, even if we’re doing different things, as long as we’re sitting together, can see each other, and can feel the other person’s presence, that is the most real kind of companionship.’”

At this point, Wen Yan completely understood.

She took up the thread and spoke carefully, “So you’re worried... I don’t actually like riding horses, and I’m only forcing myself to learn so I can ‘accompany you’ and make you happy, right?”

Jin Zijin turned to her and looked at her deeply. “Right.”

In her past life, she had met too many people like that.

They guessed at her preferences, then tried to cater to them, using this kind of “companionship” or “shared interest” as a way in, to get close to her, enter her world, or obtain whatever it was they wanted.

Jin Zijin was used to being pleased; she was also good at telling which gestures were sincere and which were tactics.

In fact... she even enjoyed certain kinds of just-right flattery; it made her feel that everything was under control.

But Wen Yan was different from them.

Jin Zijin did not want her to do anything she had to force herself into for her sake.

Because Wen Yan didn’t need to do anything at all; just being like this was enough.

Wen Yan met her profound gaze and said calmly after a moment, “But... no one can force me to do something I don’t like.”

At her age, she no longer forced herself to cater to others.

Jin Zijin looked at her calm expression and gave a soft laugh. “No, you would.”

“Wen Yan, you would.”

The woman repeated it twice, staring deeply at Wen Yan’s face before saying softly, “Because I’ve already forced you once.”

But now, she did not want Wen Yan to ever have to “force herself” again.