The mountain did not wake all at once. It stirred slowly, reluctantly, as if even the trees were still half-dreaming beneath the weight of dew. The old stone path at the foot of the mountain was damp from night mist, winding between mossy rocks and tall cypress trees. The faint scent of minerals drifted through the cool air from the hot spring estate hidden beyond the bamboo grove.
Jiang Yi arrived before the appointed time. He looked at his phone wanting to call her he was anxious to see her. His heart was pounding in anticipation
He stood beneath a maple tree near the entrance, dressed simply in a dark coat, a gray scarf, and plain black trousers. Nothing on him looked expensive enough to draw suspicion, yet nothing could entirely hide the quiet precision of him. Jiang Yi carried himself like someone the world had learned not to obstruct.
