The stalemate between the spirit soil continued with no clear end in sight – it could break at any moment. Yi Sa dared not linger and used all her remaining strength to reach the hanging rope. As soon as she grabbed it, she wrapped it once around her waist. She wanted to climb up the rope but couldn’t – both because she lacked strength and because the rope was too slippery.
Now that she was secure, those above could finally focus all their energy on climbing around the cave wall to reach the top edge. But the difficulty was maddening, especially at the domed ceiling – after all, they weren’t geckos who could stick to surfaces.
After watching for a few seconds, Yi Sa suddenly realized she had been foolish: now that they had a rope, why struggle with difficult climbing? Being at the bottom, she had the most freedom of movement – if she could just bring the rope close to the cave wall, couldn’t they all just grab onto it?
She acted on this thought immediately. Soon everyone was hanging from the long rope-like knots used for record-keeping. Yi Sa glanced at the time.
Two minutes remained until the next hour – 5 AM.
Those two minutes felt like two centuries. The rope hung dead still while chaos erupted among the spirit soil. Yi Sa’s fingernails dug into the rope’s woven fibers as her gaze pierced through the jungle of spirit soil to fall once again upon that enormous but silent mountain of flesh.
She had mostly figured it out.
— The last time she saw Ding Panling, he was standing at the highest edge, meaning he hadn’t even descended into the membrane chamber.
— At the highest point, there was only the Ancestor Tablet, and the spirit soil was controlled by the tablet.
The strange behavior of the spirit soil could only mean one thing.
Ding Panling was using all his strength to interfere with the Ancestor Tablet.
It made sense: The Ancestor Tablet, as a “living being” without hands or feet, silent and motionless, was more like a spiritual force. The water ghosts were easily controlled underwater when unlocking the vault because they never defended against it – they even devoutly awaited such “miracles.”
But just an hour or two ago, Ding Panling had successfully broken free from the tablet’s control once. Perhaps this suddenly gave him a bold idea: since the tablet was impervious to all physical attacks and could only “communicate” with people through their minds, could he turn from passive to active on this battlefield and try to interfere with or even counter-control it?
He must have thought it was possible, which explained his sudden emotional state and sweating brow. But unsure of success, he repeatedly urged them to escape quickly – “even if we die, we should die trying to survive” – better than waiting passively for death.
From the current situation, it seemed to be working.
But would it succeed? Could he last these two minutes? Could he hold on until they safely reached the surface? Who was up there? Would the rope move upward? Or was it just dropped by the wind, cruelly giving them false hope?
Yi Sa’s mind was filled with countless questions. For the first time, she felt resigned to fate: life, death, and their future path were completely out of her control at this moment. She could only place her hopes in some mysterious greater power.
The rope began to move slowly upward.
Yi Sa felt her breath stop as she watched the rippling water surface grow more distant below her feet. She saw the tangle of spirit soil continuing to surge in that one spot, and then her field of vision suddenly narrowed, like a frog peering at the sky from a well, able to see only the cold, damp cave walls within arm’s reach…
After that, her mind went completely blank. She thought of nothing, just wearily rested her forehead against the rope. The others were the same – no one spoke as they hung quietly up and down the rope, swaying gently as they ascended bit by bit.
Though it wasn’t their own feet carrying them, Yi Sa felt this was truly the most arduous journey of her life.
As they neared the cave mouth, Zong Hang at the top suddenly seemed struck by something. He looked up in surprise, wiped his face, and called out loudly: “Hey, it’s snowing!”
It was indeed snowing – large, pristine snowflakes drifting gently down, with only a few floating into the cave.
Yi Sa stretched out her slightly curled hand and watched as a flake landed on the back of it, quickly melting into a water droplet under her fixed gaze.
Zong Hang was the first to reach the cave mouth. He grabbed the edge and peered out, catching a glimpse of Ding Xi behind the crane. Before he could speak to him, Ding Yudie also reached the top. Yi Wu Qiao called up from below: “Hey you… young man, his legs have no strength, help pull him up.”
She still couldn’t quite remember Zong Hang’s name.
Zong Hang quickly knelt at the cave’s edge and pulled Ding Yudie up. Ding Yudie was completely exhausted – as soon as he was up, he collapsed on the ground, pressing his face against the cold snow. If it weren’t so unrealistic, he would have closed his eyes right then and slept for three days and nights.
Yi Wu Qiao didn’t need Zong Hang’s help, pulling herself up on her own. Zong Hang leaned down again to wait for Yi Sa, who had been some distance behind them and was the last to come up. When he finally saw her, he couldn’t help but smile, reaching down with his arm from quite far away.
Just as he gripped her hand, Yi Wu Qiao beside him let out a sharp scream that made Zong Hang’s whole body jump. But he used the momentum to pull Yi Sa up.
Ding Yudie was confused and raised his head blankly. Before Yi Sa could even steady herself, she asked: “Aunt Wu Qiao, what’s wrong?”
Yi Wu Qiao was breathing rapidly, her lips pale. After a moment, she raised a trembling hand to point at Ding Xi standing behind the crane.
Zong Hang looked over and suddenly shuddered.
The lighting was dim here, making it hard to see people’s faces, especially since Ding Xi was already covered in snow. His head rested against the crane’s arm, maintaining a level gaze. Snow had settled softly on his eyebrows, lips, cheekbones, and even his half-open eyelashes. His right index finger remained pressed on the “up” button.
Zong Hang realized that since they’d come up, Ding Xi hadn’t spoken or moved at all.
A tense silence fell, broken only by the whisper of falling snow. After a while, Yi Sa walked forward and wiped the snow from his face, then placed her fingers under Ding Xi’s nose – though in her heart, she felt this was unnecessary.
Then she turned to the others and said simply: “He’s dead.”
Dead? Yi Wu Qiao’s back stiffened as she drew her Wu Gui dagger, ordering Zong Hang sharply: “You watch Little Butterfly first.”
She opened the nearest car door, turned on all the lights, and then cautiously began searching the surroundings.
Yi Sa carefully examined Ding Xi, first noticing blood beneath him and a strip of gauze fluttering in the wind at his waist. She saw the rope binding his waist to the crane and already had a rough theory. She crouched down and pushed Ding Xi’s body aside slightly to examine the wounds on his chest and abdomen.
Just then, Yi Wu Qiao shouted from nearby: “Ding Changsheng! Ding Changsheng is here!”
Ding Changsheng?
Yi Sa’s heart jumped: Wasn’t he supposed to be among that pile of charred or grotesquely transformed bodies below?
She hurried over. Zong Hang wanted to follow but had to watch Ding Yudie. He could only stand and crane his neck, wishing it were as long as a goose’s. Ding Yudie was also curious but didn’t want to keep lying at the cave entrance, afraid a tendril of spirit soil might come up and drag him down. He tugged at Zong Hang’s pant leg, gesturing for help getting over there.
By the time they arrived, Yi Sa had already used her dagger to cut open Ding Changsheng’s clothes, tearing them aside to reveal deathly pale skin with visible ribs.
She pressed her hand against a spot under Ding Changsheng’s ribs, then lifted it: “I remember, I bandaged a fatal wound here when we were below. Now it’s gone. And this dagger…”
As she spoke, she adjusted the angle of a still-lit camp light for better visibility, looking at the characters carved into the Wu Gui dagger’s handle – the three families’ Wu Gui daggers all had the same design, so names were usually carved on the handles for identification.
“This is Ding Changsheng’s dagger. Ding Xi has three stab wounds, probably from this dagger.”
The situation was becoming clear. Yi Wu Qiao looked at the long trail of blood on the ground, now mostly hidden by falling snow: “So Ding Changsheng transformed below, caught one of the rope’s return pulls without us noticing. After coming up, he tried to kill Ding Xi but was killed by him instead…”
Yi Sa continued: “But Ding Xi also received fatal wounds. Then he crawled to the crane and lowered the rope one last time… for the hourly pull?”
Her voice became incredulous toward the end.
In his final moments, his last act was this? Did he save them?
She turned to look in Ding Xi’s direction, and everyone else did too.
He remained standing, partly supported by the binding rope and partly by rigor mortis, shoulders slightly hunched, head slightly lowered – perhaps it was just imagination, but Zong Hang felt he looked oddly irreverent, very much matching Ding Xi’s usual irritating demeanor.
With all the car lights on, that area was particularly bright, and the snowflakes in the light were especially clear, seeming to dance chaotically around him. Each snowflake was animated while he alone remained dead, rigid, and silent.
Zong Hang stared in a daze.
He had once tried to cleverly persuade Ding Xi with his words.
— You should do something meritorious.
— You should save Yi Sa, and make her grateful to you.
— In the future, maybe all three families will honor and cherish you.
Ding Xi would certainly exert effort for the survival he desperately yearned for – and exert it fiercely.
But why, when he was at death’s door, did he use his last breath to do such a thing?
Zong Hang felt he might never truly understand Ding Xi as a person.
Fearing another incident of someone being dragged underground, no one dared remain on the ground. They hastily made some torches and, wrapped in sleeping bags and coats, climbed into the back of the supply truck.
No one slept, and there was little conversation. Everyone remained highly vigilant, either watching the pitch-black cave entrance or the snow-covered ground, afraid that a moment’s closed eyes might allow surging spirit soil to suddenly rise, bringing nightmares from below ground to above.
But it didn’t happen. This scene never materialized. Apart from the sound of wind and snow, there was nothing unusual in their surroundings.
As dawn broke, witnessed by four people and eight eyes, the cave mouth slowly closed, like an elderly person laboriously shutting their door.
Looking carefully, the snow in that area formed a spiral pattern, different from its surroundings.
Ding Yudie murmured: “What do you think happened to Uncle Panling?”
Logically, they should contact the three families’ base as soon as possible.
But with no signal and everyone exhausted, Yi Wu Qiao quickly made arrangements: sleep first, make thorough preparations, and after resting, Ding Yudie and the others would drive out to make contact while she stayed to wait for backup – abandoning so many vehicles and tents here would raise suspicions, plus there were bodies to watch over.
They laid out bedding in a large tent to rest. Zong Hang wanted to talk with Yi Sa but fell asleep as soon as his head touched the ground. He didn’t dream, only remembering that Yi Sa slept beside him, eyes closed, her long eyelashes lying like countless dense thoughts.
They slept for a full day and night.
Yi Sa thought she was the first to wake, but when she got up, she found Yi Wu Qiao’s sleeping bag empty. Lifting the tent flap, she saw Yi Wu Qiao in the distance seemingly shoveling snow. Drawing closer, she realized she was building snow coffins.
Yi Wu Qiao explained: “The bodies need to be preserved properly. Fortunately, heaven helps us – the heavy snow makes it easier.”
Yi Sa suddenly remembered her words in the cave: “Give it to me, you’re still young, I’m older than you.” She couldn’t help staring at her.
Yi Wu Qiao noticed: “What are you looking at?”
Yi Sa said: “Your hair isn’t curly anymore.”
She had always thought Yi Wu Qiao’s hair was naturally curly, only now realizing it was thanks to curlers – after this day and night, soaked in water and without curlers, her hair hung straight, looking particularly different from usual.
Yi Wu Qiao said: “Oh yes.”
She ran her hand through her hair: “Oh my, without curls I’m not fashionable anymore.”
Yi Sa smiled, and as she smiled, she said: “Aunt Wu Qiao, you do care for me.”
Yi Wu Qiao paused briefly, quickly understanding what she meant: “Oh, isn’t this just human nature? You were so young when you lost your family, and we share the surname, Yi, how could I not care extra for you? At my age, I could be your mother – I’ve lived over half a lifetime more than you. I’m content. In that situation, how could I let a youngster like you take the lead? That wouldn’t be right…”
Suddenly realizing something: “What do you mean? Did you think I was pretending to care about you?”
Yi Sa giggled, backing away as she laughed: “We’ve rested enough, I’ll go wake those two lazy pigs.”
She took two steps back, then turned to walk away.
The sun had risen, casting golden light across the snow, everything brilliant.
Yi Sa felt her eyes growing a bit wet.
Three people, one car, with only Ding Yudie driving because Zong Hang didn’t know how. Yi Sa couldn’t either, though she claimed she “could drive” and “would figure it out after fiddling with it a bit, it should be similar to riding a motorcycle.” Hearing this, Ding Yudie gave up any hope of her driving.
He turned on the navigation and sped toward Golmud. The scenery outside changed from desolate to gradually populated. Zong Hang first saw some hardy yaks with snow on their backs like white blankets, then several felt tents, some with rising smoke. Tibetan people carrying metal buckets to collect snow for water enthusiastically waved their arms at the passing car.
Though they couldn’t see him, Zong Hang energetically waved back from inside the car. Yi Sa sat beside him, head resting against the window, smiling as she watched him, feeling that at any time, he had a child living in his heart – a crystal child, pure and lovable.
As the car rounded another mountain bend, Ding Yudie’s phone exploded like firecrackers with messages and calls one after another, presumably delayed from the past two days due to poor signal.
Ding Yudie muttered: “We have a signal now.”
He stopped the car, mainly to make calls but also to rest.
Yi Sa retrieved a large bag of snacks and dry food from the trunk, selecting and opening packages with Zong Hang. They had finished one round of eating while Ding Yudie was still busy – this “designated” successor suddenly looked quite the part as he handled his duties.
Yi Sa squinted, watching him with a cookie in her mouth: Ding Yudie had just hung up a call, looking somewhat bewildered, then walked a few steps toward her and beckoned: “Sa Sa, come here for a moment.”
Yi Sa made an acknowledging sound and got out of the car. Zong Hang hadn’t intended to follow but instinctively leaned outward, wanting to see what was happening. Ding Yudie aggressively shouted at him: “Nobody called you! This is the three families’ business!”
After experiencing so much together, to still be treated as an outsider at this point – Zong Hang shot back: “How petty, I don’t care to hear it anyway!”
Yi Sa suppressed a smile and asked Ding Yudie: “What is it?”
Ding Yudie glanced at Zong Hang and pulled her further away, then further still: “When I came, I stayed at a large hotel in Golmud. Later when Zong Hang found me, we shared a room.”
This seemed pointless and without focus. Yi Sa furrowed her brow, thinking Ding Yudie needed more experience if he was to succeed: “And then?”
“Zong Hang called his family from that hotel. His father went there, checked the surveillance footage, learned I was staying in that room, and got my contact information. During the past two days when we had no signal, unable to reach me, he questioned all my relatives and friends thoroughly.”
Understanding now, Yi Sa’s gaze fell on Ding Yudie’s phone: “So that call just now…”
“Was from Zong Hang’s father.”
“How did you respond?”
“I said I wasn’t familiar with the situation, asked him to wait, and said I’d call back soon.”
Yi Sa took a deep breath, then held out her palm: “Give it to me, I’ll call back.”
She took the phone, opened the last call record, and dialed.
While waiting for it to connect, she couldn’t help looking around.
The Three Rivers Source region was truly vast – while one area was covered in frost and snow, this place showed no trace of it, even displaying verdant green. Above the distant mountains was a deep blue sky with slowly drifting clouds.
It was time to send Zong Hang home.