Qiu Dong responded with a sound of acknowledgment. Concerned about the dense forest affecting call quality, he walked outward a bit and chose a relatively open spot to make the call. Jiang Lian wanted to say a few words to Meng Qianzi, but was also worried about Kuang Meiying and Wei Biao’s situation. After hesitating briefly, he followed.

Qiu Dong’s call concluded quickly, with him continuously nodding: “Good, good, meeting at Peak Forest would be more suitable. I’ll pass the phone to Miss Meng to get her opinion…”

As he turned, he saw Jiang Lian and his face darkened, responding stiffly: “Everyone’s busy looking for Miss Meng. We can’t attend to your two friends right now.”

He had intended to leave Jiang Lian after saying this, but after taking just two steps, he couldn’t help himself. Covering the phone receiver, he came back and asked: “Why was Miss Meng’s Beast-Subduing Golden Bell in your hands?”

Beast-Subduing Golden Bell?

Jiang Lian was momentarily stunned, then realized it referred to the chain. He initially wanted to explain, but swallowed his words: firstly, it was too complex to explain briefly; secondly, whenever Meng Qianzi mentioned the chain, she would avoid others, seemingly unwilling to publicize the matter.

Qiu Dong took his silence as guilt and said somewhat indignantly: “The Beast-Subduing Golden Bell can ward off mountain beasts, stir mountain beasts, and subdue mountain beasts. In such a critical situation, with something so important in your hands, did you know how to use it? No wonder—even though she had the Golden Bell, Miss Meng had to use twelve cuts to make a human talisman. The bell wasn’t on her person!”

He suddenly stopped, aware he had misspoken. Looking embarrassed and worried that Meng Jinsong was waiting anxiously on the line, he gave Jiang Lian a fierce glare before hurrying to the tree and handing the phone to Meng Qianzi.

Meng Qianzi didn’t care about call quality, and perhaps being injured made her reluctant to move. She simply leaned against the tree to take the call. Qiu Dong, clearly wanting to avoid eavesdropping, walked to the other side to help care for the wounded.

Jiang Lian stood in place for a while.

Twelve cuts.

He remembered now—he had seen three knife wounds on her arm and leg on one side. There were similar cuts on the other side. Tracing back to the source, if he hadn’t impulsively taken her Golden Bell, these twelve cuts probably wouldn’t have been necessary.

His arm felt somewhat itchy, likely from blood seeping from a loosely bandaged wound. Jiang Lian wiped it, paused, then walked toward Meng Qianzi.

As he approached, her voice drifted over, causing him to unconsciously lighten his footsteps.

—”…they’re all Mountain Ghost people. Should I just escape and let them die?”

—”You’re already too far down, and you’re traveling by car. By the time you get here, I’ll already be at Hanging Gallbladder Peak Forest. Let’s just meet there. I’ll turn west from Ground Furnace Miasma, taking a shortcut straight through. If you’re worried, send a few people along the route to assist.”

—”Does it hurt? Of course, it hurts! But I barely know Qiu Dong and the others. Should I cry out in pain in front of them? They already look at me with stars in their eyes.”

She sighed: “If only you and Xin Ci were here.”

Jiang Lian couldn’t help but smile.

The recent stirring of mountain beasts had been like a spectacular performance, with Meng Qianzi playing a role only she could perform, irreplaceable. But once offstage and the show over, she was truly herself again. This “true self” varied depending on the audience: with Qiu Dong and others, being casual acquaintances, she maintained restraint and dignity; with Meng Jinsong and his group, she would likely complain freely about being tired, in pain, and suffering.

He realized his mind was wandering and brought his scattered thoughts back.

—”Have Xin Ci quickly research the most effective scar removal methods for me. I think even the best special medicines won’t work; it’ll probably require cosmetic procedures.”

—”Yes, yes, I said to let it go. The ‘times two’ depends on the situation. There’s no point in intimidating those poor people…”

Jiang Lian made his footsteps heavier and coughed twice.

Meng Qianzi’s voice immediately lowered. After a moment, she ended the call and turned around.

Seeing him, she looked somewhat puzzled: “Didn’t I tell you to leave? Aren’t you going to find your friends?”

As long as the Mountain Ghost side ceased hostilities, Kuang Meiying and the others would be fine. Jiang Lian gestured toward the distant dense forest: “There are tigers, leopards, and such out there. I’m afraid to walk at night. Scared.”

He sat down on the spot, even covering his chest with his hand to emphasize how “scared” he was.

Meng Qianzi responded: “What’s there to fear? You can run, remember? Run hard.”

She didn’t approve of her first experience with “running hard.” Jiang Lian coughed lightly: “Let’s be fair and not dismiss everything. This was an extreme situation. In my twenty-some years, it’s the first time I’ve encountered such…”

He couldn’t find the right words to describe the village people: “Next time, choose a different location, like a city. You shouldn’t be disappointed there.”

After all, most city dwellers were sub-healthy, with few possessing notable physical strength or endurance. Additionally, Meng Qianzi couldn’t “stir mountain beasts” in the city—summoning a group of pet cats and dogs for support would create a rather… touching scene.

Meng Qianzi felt somewhat embarrassed but had to admit: it truly was an extreme situation, one she likely wouldn’t encounter again in her lifetime.

They fell silent for a moment. Jiang Lian’s gaze fell on Meng Qianzi’s feet. Qiu Dong had retrieved her shoes, but she hadn’t put them on, leaving them aside, her feet still bare. Her feet were beautiful, appropriately slender, fair and delicate, with toenails manicured clean and rosy pink—well-maintained.

The Golden Bell encircled her right ankle. Given her slender ankle, the Golden Bell looked lovely, with a sense of gentle interdependence and tender entwining. One could imagine that if the ankle were too thick, wearing the chain would be a brutal struggle: either the chain would strangle the ankle, or the ankle would stretch the chain to its limit.

Jiang Lian averted his gaze, suddenly thinking of something. He gestured toward the direction where the villagers had fled: “Those people… they weren’t all… eaten, were they?”

Meng Qianzi looked in that direction: “Mountain beasts won’t easily attack humans unless they’re extremely hungry or threatened. This was ‘stirring mountain beasts,’ also called ‘mountain beast passage’—using their mass exodus momentum to scatter and frighten away that group of people.”

After a pause, she added, “Of course, they had knives and axes. If they deliberately provoked the mountain beasts, the beasts wouldn’t be polite with them.”

Jiang Lian looked at her bandaged wounds: “I heard you used your body as a talisman. If you had the Golden Bell, would you… Didn’t need to be injured?”

Meng Qianzi frowned, guessing that Qiu Dong had been talkative.

Mountain Ghost matters weren’t normally disclosed to outsiders, but since Jiang Lian had shared so many of his secrets with her and had witnessed the mountain beast passage firsthand, Meng Qianzi felt it wouldn’t hurt to reveal a thing or two to him.

She fiddled with the pendants on the Golden Bell and asked: “Have you heard of Cangjie creating characters?”

Jiang Lian nodded.

Cangjie creating characters was one of ancient China’s creation myths, in the same series as “Nüwa Mending the Sky” and “Houyi Shooting the Suns.” Legend had it that this person had a “dragon face with four eyes,” meaning double pupils. Inspired by turtle shell patterns, bird tracks, beast prints, and the shapes of mountains and rivers, he created pictographic characters, ending the era of knot-tying record-keeping.

Jiang Lian remembered his history class in elementary school when the teacher praised Cangjie’s contribution: “Students, think about it—keeping records with knotted ropes was so inconvenient. Buy a pig, tie a knot; get into a fight, tie two knots; Neighbor Wang owes you money, tie three more knots. After a year, the rope is full of knots. Who remembers which knot represents what event?”

The class had erupted in laughter.

Jiang Lian thought that even if Cangjie was clever, people before him couldn’t have been so stupid as to mindlessly tie knots. But since everyone was laughing, he laughed along—having been sent to elementary school by Kuang Tongsheng when he was already overage, he didn’t want to appear different from others.

Meng Qianzi said: “About Cangjie creating characters, there’s a folk rhyme: ‘Cangjie created characters worth a load of millet, passed to Confucius nine dou and six, with four sheng not outwardly transmitted, left for Daoist priests to draw charms and spells.’ The meaning is that Cangjie created many characters, enough to fill a load of millet. The great sage Confucius learned nine dou and six, while the remaining four sheng were for charms and spells, unintelligible to ordinary people—only special individuals who studied them could recognize them.”

Jiang Lian nodded: “I’ve heard of a related idiom, ‘talent measuring eight dou.’ Later generations who recognized even eight dou of characters—one dou and six less than Confucius—could already be considered talented scholars. Essentially, recognition decreased over time.”

Meng Qianzi made an affirmative sound: “The same applies to charms and spells. Some ancient charms were too complex and were lost in transmission. Show them to people today, and they couldn’t recognize them at all.”

Jiang Lian recalled the strange patterns engraved on the Beast-Subduing Golden Bell pendants: “Yours is also…”

Meng Qianzi didn’t answer directly, but raised her finger to her lips: “What does this mean?”

Jiang Lian laughed: “It means be quiet, don’t speak.”

Meng Qianzi then extended her arm, palm facing outward: “And this?”

Even a three-year-old would understand, but Jiang Lian knew she had deeper meaning, so he answered seriously: “It means don’t come closer, stay away.”

Meng Qianzi withdrew her hand and continued the previous topic: “Red light stop, green light go; waving means come over, finger to lips means be quiet; at meetings, when the host asks everyone to ‘stand’ or ‘applaud,’ people rise and clap; on highway forks with two directions, one to Beijing, one to Shanghai, Beijing-bound cars go north, while Shanghai-bound cars head south—simply put, charms and spells aren’t complex at all. A charm is a visual symbol, a spell is a sound, both guiding certain behaviors. The examples I just gave could also be called charms and spells—universally understood charms and spells in human society.”

Jiang Lian seemed to grasp some clues, his throat becoming dry.

Meng Qianzi sighed softly: “There’s a belief that the four sheng of charms and spells left by Cangjie weren’t meant for humans. In this world, besides humans, there are birds and beasts, rivers and mountains, even inexplicable forces. But there are barriers between them. To break through these barriers requires certain tools to ‘pass through.’ A simple example: you’ve stayed at Old Ga’s place, so you should be familiar with witch-shaman masks. In Western Hunan folklore, witch-shaman masters, also called Badai, wear these masks and use Badai hand gestures to communicate with spirits. The masks and hand gestures can be seen as tools breaking the barriers between humans and spirits.”

Jiang Lian understood: “Charms and spells are also tools to break through such barriers?”

Meng Qianzi nodded: “Ordinary people struggle to understand how these charms and spells are transmitted and received. Let me put it this way: you can think of them as a kind of ‘wave.’ You can’t see or touch it, but it has an effect. In the butterfly effect, doesn’t the flutter of a butterfly’s wings cause a storm thousands of miles away? The world is a massive, dynamic system. A gesture, a charm or spell, can easily propagate through a chain reaction, directing itself to the receiver.”

At this point, she suddenly said: “After all I’ve said, do you think I’m very cultured?”

Jiang Lian wasn’t prepared for this question and didn’t know how to respond, caught between laughter and tears.

Meng Qianzi giggled: “Of course, these aren’t my ideas. They’re from my Great-Grandma Duan, a female student who studied abroad during the Republic era. In the 1920s and 30s, when most people still talked about ghosts and spirits, she always spoke of science, explaining these matters quite systematically.”

As she spoke, she felt somewhat melancholic: Great-Grandma Duan Wenxi had died on the way to the Kunlun Mountains while searching for dragon bones.

She looked down at the Golden Bell on her ankle: “We are Mountain Ghosts, dealing with birds and beasts, mountains and marshes. This Beast-Subduing Golden Bell has nine pendants, each engraved with a complex pattern. Nine in total, unique to Mountain Ghosts. One of them is ‘stirring mountain beasts’—sometimes I think, perhaps from those four sheng of charms and spells, Mountain Ghosts were allocated these nine.”

Jiang Lian murmured, “No wonder you’re so concerned about the Golden Bell. If it falls into the wrong hands, it would be disastrous.”

Meng Qianzi gave him a sidelong glance: “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Whether it’s Bai Shuixiao or you who takes this Golden Bell, it’s completely useless. Simply put, the Golden Bell is a tool requiring a password to activate, but neither of you has the password. While I…”

She pointed to herself, smiling radiantly: “I am both the tool and the password.”

In this world, only the one sitting on the Mountain Ghost throne could use this Beast-Subduing Golden Bell; no one else could—not the seven aunts, not even Great-Grandma Duan.

Losing the Golden Bell was certainly a major issue because it wasn’t hers and needed to be passed down. But for her personally, it wasn’t a fatal blow, nor did she become helpless without it.

Because she was born a charm—a human charm.

From childhood, she had mastered nine charm dances. By opening twelve horizontal, vertical, and arc-shaped blood strokes on her body and performing the charm dance in the dark forest, she became a living, dancing pattern.

A blood-body human charm.

Finally understanding the puzzles that had confused him all along, Jiang Lian smiled: “No wonder throughout this journey, no matter how dangerous the situation, you were never particularly nervous. You had an ultimate move.”

It was far more substantial than his “run hard” ultimate move, making him feel like a plucked chicken standing beside a phoenix.

Meng Qianzi shook her head: “Mountain Ghosts have precepts. Unless extremely dangerous, we can’t use them casually. Borrowing such unfathomable forces requires respectful request, not summoning and dismissing at will… One must have reverence.”

Moreover, without the Golden Bell, unless necessary, she didn’t want to cut herself, especially for “stirring mountain beasts.” Summoning the beasts’ fierce emergence from their lairs depleted her vital energy significantly.

She couldn’t say more, as Jiang Lian wasn’t a Mountain Ghost member. Meng Qianzi changed the subject: “So, will you leave at dawn?”

Jiang Lian didn’t answer directly: “Is there anything I can help with?”

Strange—previously so eager to return, now he was dawdling. Meng Qianzi glanced at him, a thought occurring: “Are you worried about the mirage pearl?”

Her expression showed a touch of self-importance: “Don’t worry, I understand keeping my word. After you reunite with Kuang Meiying and the others, you can wait at Cloud Dream Peak… You’ll have to wait until my affairs here are concluded before I return to discuss it.”

Jiang Lian said: “It’s not just that…”

He pointed to the few Mountain Ghost men nearby: “I heard Meng Jinsong won’t arrive in time to meet you. Many of your people are incapacitated. Bai Shuixiao and her group were scattered, but who knows if they’ll return—you know what that woman is like.”

True enough—even with just a fingernail left, Bai Shuixiao would come back to scratch.

“As for me, I’m fine. My injuries aren’t severe; I can still be of service. Why don’t I accompany you for a while? We can discuss further once you’ve met up with Meng Jinsong.”

This reasoning made sense. Meng Qianzi glanced at the Mountain Ghost men, all in various states of injury. Kuang Xiaoliu and another had severe injuries; carrying them would waste manpower. She planned to leave one person to care for these two and take only the lightly injured on the journey, which meant they were already shorthanded. If Jiang Lian helped, it would make things considerably easier.

She looked at Jiang Lian: “But I won’t pay you.”

Jiang Lian teased her: “With such vast wealth and still so calculative, you’re quite the household manager…”

Seeing that Meng Qianzi seemed tired, he ended the conversation and stood to leave: “No payment needed. After all, I was just saved by your little tiger…”

Meng Qianzi smiled. She closed her eyes, preparing for a short nap, but as soon as she leaned back, her head hit something hard. “Ouch!” she cried out.

When she opened her eyes, Jiang Lian was already crouching beside her, saying: “Move a bit. Let me see.”

Meng Qianzi shifted position. Jiang Lian saw clearly and felt with his hand: “It’s a tree knot. Do you have a knife?”

Without waiting for her answer, he spotted one nearby, picked it up, and began carving the knot. He didn’t stop after finishing, continuing to carve upward and scrape downward. Meng Qianzi said: “Why bother… I could just move to another spot.”

Jiang Lian continued working, smiling as he watched the moving blade: “The tree surface is curved, the back of the head is round, and the back is slightly arched. No matter how many positions you try, none would be suitable… People are strange—willing to move their feet but not their hands. In this world, what comfortable nest can be found just by walking? You still have to use your hands.”

Meng Qianzi’s thoughts stirred as she glanced at Jiang Lian: his words seemed to describe himself, never having found a comfortable nest, having to scrape and carve in a rough journey to build his own nest, like practicing running after becoming a thief.

She said: “There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you.”

Jiang Lian carefully examined his carving, his hands not stopping: “Go ahead.”

“About what you told me regarding Kuang Tongsheng training you all—you, Wei Biao, and those he discarded—what were you brought in to do?”

Jiang Lian’s hands paused, his eyes darkening briefly before returning to normal: “Didn’t I say? To help him with matters and care for Meiying.”

Meng Qianzi watched his expression: “That’s too general. When you mentioned this point, though you glossed over it vaguely, certain details can be pieced together.”

Jiang Lian remained silent, his movements slowing, not looking at her. Her words entered his ears one by one.

“Kuang Tongsheng is 106 years old, a very old-fashioned person. Many practices that seem unreasonable or have been abolished in modern times were acceptable in his era. For helping with matters, strong bodies and sharp minds would suffice; for caring for Kuang Meiying, doctors or nurses would do. Yet he selected meticulously, was extremely critical, even considering moral character. Then think about how the men of Kuang Yuner and Kuang Fengjing both deviated midway, causing him to curse furiously…”

“I heard from my elder sister that before Liberation, child brides were common. Not just child brides—some families would adopt boys to raise as future sons-in-law.”

Almost finished with his work, Jiang Lian brushed away the clinging wood shavings.

Meng Qianzi hesitated: “You and Wei Biao, both were, right?”

Jiang Lian was silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled, his tone light: “My Master Gan did have that intention. If Meiying were to marry, he wouldn’t trust outsiders. It’s understandable.”

Meng Qianzi made a sound of acknowledgment.

“So, who has the final say—Kuang Meiying or Kuang Tongsheng?”

Jiang Lian looked at her with amusement: “Though my Master Gan is old-fashioned, he knows what free love means. Of course, Meiying has the final say.”

“But Kuang Meiying likes Wei Biao?”

Jiang Lian was surprised: “How did you know?”

Even Wei Biao didn’t know—all these years, he had been needlessly jealous.

Meng Qianzi raised an eyebrow: “Was it hard to tell? When I detained them at Cloud Dream Peak, they shared a room. If she liked you, she would have shown some reserve.”

True enough. Jiang Lian nodded: “Wei Biao is a good man. Meiying chose well.”

He wanted to end the conversation there, but Meng Qianzi wasn’t finished: “But how could Kuang Meiying not like you?”

She had met Wei Biao—by all measures, that man wasn’t particularly outstanding.

Jiang Lian shrugged: “Matters of personal preference—is that so hard to understand?”

Meng Qianzi stared into his eyes: “Is it that she doesn’t like you, or that you made her not like you? For a man, making a woman like him might take some effort, but making her dislike him is quite easy.”

Jiang Lian’s body stiffened slightly. He raised his head, for the first time during their conversation, meeting her gaze directly.

The surroundings were quiet. The bonfire’s light illuminated both their profiles and penetrated their eyes. The gleam in their eyes and the fire’s light interwove, creating a barrier—neither could see through the other.

After a long while, Jiang Lian finally said: “Miss Meng, you’re asking too much.”

Meng Qianzi replied calmly: “I just want to know what kind of person you are. Besides, you don’t have to answer.”

True, he didn’t have to answer.

After a pause, the wariness in Jiang Lian’s eyes suddenly vanished completely. His face once again bore that trademark smile, as if everything just now had never happened. He gestured toward the tree trunk: “Done. Try it out.”

He was unwilling to delve deeper, and Meng Qianzi didn’t press. She leaned back, slightly startled.

His seemingly haphazard carving followed ergonomic principles, with a slight concave for the spine and comfortable support for the back of the head.

She said, “You’re quite the carpenter.”

Jiang Lian nodded: “Another strong point.”

As he spoke, he stood up, supporting himself with his knee. However, having crouched too long and having just exerted himself, the knife wounds on his back were aggravated. His brow furrowed slightly, but he quickly smiled again, acting unaffected: “You rest now.”

Meng Qianzi saw that the blood seeping through the tear in his clothes at the back had brightened.

Not just there—all his wounds were poorly bandaged. Even while carving, his arm had left a thin trail of blood. It wasn’t that his bandaging technique was poor; rather, the cloth strips were directly tied over the wounds without medicinal herbs. Meng Qianzi guessed he didn’t recognize suitable herbs, and nearby plants had been collected by Qiu Dong’s group, barely enough for her and the injured—none spared for him.

Meng Qianzi called after him: “Wait.”

She grabbed a bundle of herbs set aside for tomorrow’s dressing changes, wrapped them with a grass stem, and tossed them to him: “Chew the leaves into a paste, apply it to the wounds before bandaging. It stops bleeding better. Our Mountain Ghost methods are effective.”

As she spoke, she shifted slightly, revealing a corner of the tree seat behind her: “And thank you for this.”

She then found a comfortable position and closed her eyes.

She didn’t look at Jiang Lian’s reaction.

But she vaguely knew that, with the bonfire blazing, Jiang Lian stood there for a while before leaving.

(End of Volume Three)