Baifa Monü Zhuan
The path descended gradually, steps carved directly into living rock and worn smooth by centuries of careful feet. Overhead, the canopy thickened ancient banyans giving way to groves of perpetual cherry trees whose branches arched in graceful vaults, heavy with blossoms that never fully fell. Unlike ordinary sakura, these trees bloomed year-round, petals cycling in soft waves of pink and white so that some branches always carried full flower while others bore the delicate green of new leaves. Sunlight filtered through in pale rose-gold shafts, painting the ground in shifting patterns that danced across Junko's bare feet and the hem of her silk robe. The air grew cooler here, moist with the breath of hidden springs, and the distant murmur of the main waterfall softened into a steady, soothing whisper.
They emerged at last into her private enclave a secluded hollow cradled between towering red-rock cliffs whose faces were softened by hanging gardens of trailing ivy and cascading orchids. At the center lay the private pool, fed by a single slender cascade that spilled from a cleft high in the stone wall. The water was impossibly clear, its surface a perfect mirror reflecting the perpetual pink canopy above. Year-round cherry trees encircled the pool in a near-perfect ring, their trunks rising straight and silver-gray before spreading into wide crowns that met overhead like a living dome. Petals drifted constantly, some settling on the water to float in lazy spirals, others catching on moss-covered boulders that lined the edges or clinging briefly to the broad leaves of water lilies.
They emerged at last into her private enclave a secluded hollow cradled between towering red-rock cliffs whose faces were softened by hanging gardens of trailing ivy and cascading orchids. At the center lay the private pool, fed by a single slender cascade that spilled from a cleft high in the stone wall. The water was impossibly clear, its surface a perfect mirror reflecting the perpetual pink canopy above. Year-round cherry trees encircled the pool in a near-perfect ring, their trunks rising straight and silver-gray before spreading into wide crowns that met overhead like a living dome. Petals drifted constantly, some settling on the water to float in lazy spirals, others catching on moss-covered boulders that lined the edges or clinging briefly to the broad leaves of water lilies.