Shen Gun was dissatisfied with his oath, because when he recited the part “today blood stains the lotus petal,” he directly jumped to “from this day forward,” missing a line.

To show his sincerity, he asked Meng Qianzi if he could redo it, but Meng Qianzi replied: “That’s good enough, it’ll be void tomorrow anyway.”

What kind of logic was that? It’s like saying the food eaten today won’t satisfy tomorrow’s hunger, so why eat today at all? Even if he was only a monk for one day, he still needed to ring the bell properly.

Shen Gun was quite upset for a while, but with his temperament, he couldn’t stay angry for long and soon forgot about it. Plus, when he thought about his new identity as a Three-Layered Lotus Petal, finally able to explore the secrets of the mountain’s gallbladder and one step closer to his dream of the Kunlun Mountain Box, he felt delighted.

While Meng Qianzi and Jiang Lian were busy dragging the still-usable static force rope up to the mountain platform, joining and knotting the pieces, he helped out on the side. Suddenly remembering something, he asked her: “You said the Xian family girl is your Seventh Mom?”

Meng Qianzi continued working without stopping, merely giving an “mm-hmm.”

“Is she ranked seventh? Are there Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth before her?”

Meng Qianzi just hummed affirmatively again.

Shen Gun was curious: “Is that how people speak in your area? Calling all aunts and in-laws uniformly as ‘Mom’?”

Meng Qianzi was too lazy to explain and had some mischievous intent: “No, I just have seven mothers.”

Jiang Lian casually asked: “Then what about your birth mother? What’s her rank?”

He had initially wanted to tease her about whether a birth mother would be jealous if her daughter was closer to her other mothers, but Meng Qianzi fell silent for a moment before vaguely answering: “Don’t have one.”

Jiang Lian had always been sensitive to such details. Noticing her sudden silence, he already sensed something unusual, and upon hearing “don’t have one,” he immediately realized there was a hidden story and that his question had been inappropriate.

Shen Gun lacked such intuition and sighed as if sharing her pain: “I don’t have one either. You know, I was abandoned at a small village entrance. In those days, such things were too common. Even if I wanted to find my parents, it would be impossible.”

Then he asked Jiang Lian: “Little Lian-Lian, what about you?”

Jiang Lian hadn’t expected the question to eventually turn to him. He smiled briefly and quickly answered: “I don’t remember.”

After a pause, as if afraid people wouldn’t believe him, he added: “I was adopted. I don’t remember anything from before.”

They had connected two ropes, one long and one short. The long one was the main rope, the short one the auxiliary. Since there were no suitable anchoring points on the mountain platform, Jiang Lian spotted two trees about ten meters below the platform. He climbed over to test them and found they could handle the weight. So he pulled both ropes over and tied them to the two trees to distribute the risk, then began the rope descent.

Two ropes, three people, descending together. As usual, Meng Qianzi led the way—Jiang Lian wouldn’t compete with her for this task, after all, the path she had “swept” was the safest. Although Shen Gun’s technique was the weakest, with Jiang Lian constantly watching and correcting him, he wasn’t so nervous. With a calm heart, his operations became smoother and more proficient.

Whether it was because the weather wasn’t good today or because the fire above had burned and the thick smoke hadn’t dispersed, they couldn’t see that precious beam of sunlight shining on the “Beauty’s Head.” The latter half of their journey was conducted almost entirely in darkness. To save power, the three of them used only one headlamp for illumination.

If one were to find a comparison for the scene, Shen Gun thought after a moment, it was like being inside a huge, hollow, lidded iron bucket, with two thin spider threads suspended within, and a firefly slowly crawling along those threads.

The previous one-third of the journey had been so swift that it gave him the false impression that the remaining seven hundred meters could be quickly completed as well. The result was disappointing: so this was the normal speed of rope descent; Jiang Lian’s wounds had just been bandaged, and excessive force would cause them to tear open again, so Meng Qianzi was very careful about slowing their pace; plus, passing through “nodes” also consumed quite a bit of time…

The three even ate a meal while hanging from the ropes.

One energy bar per person, chewing with crunching sounds. In the headlamp’s light, Shen Gun could see tiny food particles slowly floating downward. They were also very conservative with water—Meng Qianzi poured water into the bottle cap, giving each person just one capful.

After eating, she opened the side pocket of her backpack and let them put their energy bar wrappers inside. Shen Gun eagerly complied, but Jiang Lian didn’t.

Shen Gun thought he had thrown his away: “Little Lian-Lian, that’s not right. We mountain ghosts should care about environmental protection. Throwing plastic wrappers down there will harm the environment.”

Meng Qianzi nearly laughed when she heard him say, “We mountain ghosts.”

Jiang Lian had to show him the half bar still in his pocket: “I haven’t finished it yet.”

Shen Gun was surprised: “Just this one bar, and you can’t finish it?”

That wasn’t the case. Jiang Lian smiled: “Better save some for later.”

Meng Qianzi didn’t say anything, but suddenly felt that Jiang Lian was a person without much sense of security.

He must be the type who, even with food at home, would stockpile for an extra month; when in uncertain circumstances, if given a small piece of biscuit, wouldn’t finish it but would save half, fearing there might be nothing to eat for the next meal.

People who have experienced hunger are generally like this. Even if they never go hungry again, those small details they don’t notice will inadvertently remain.

Mountain ghosts love to compare mountains to people. When she was young, Gao Jinghong gave her life lessons, pointing at the peak in front of them: “Zi-bao, look, this peak is over a hundred million years old.”

She was only five or six at the time and had no concept of “a hundred million years,” only knowing it was very old.

Gao Jinghong continued: “Initially, it didn’t look like this. After being blown by wind and washed by water, it gradually changed shape, becoming what it is now.”

The elder lady probably wanted to talk about “wind erosion” and “water erosion,” but fearing she wouldn’t understand, she used simpler terms.

She wanted to show her intelligence and quick wit: “That’s not possible. I’m often blown by wind and washed by water when bathing, but I haven’t changed shape.”

Gao Jinghong lowered her head with a smile: “You will change, gradually. Zi-bao, you’ll understand when you grow up. Every event in your life is like wind passing over you, water washing over you. Because of them, you’ll change bit by bit.”

She then murmured, “Just like my Duan Niang-niang. If that Englishman hadn’t died, her life would never have been like this. That was a fierce wind and a flood in her destiny, completely blowing away and washing away the life she should have had, changing its shape.”

Meng Qianzi couldn’t understand these words at the time, but gradually, she did.

Those passing winds and falling waters will permanently reside in your life in appropriate postures, perfectly becoming one with you: turning into a sigh many years later, the resolute manner in which you handle affairs, the permanent lack of self-confidence when you look at people, or just half an uneaten energy bar tucked into a pocket.

…

In continuous darkness, people lose their sense of time. When they finally reached the bottom of the cliff, Shen Gun still thought it was daytime up on the cliff, but Meng Qianzi’s sports watch showed it was already eight o’clock in the evening.

So, they had been engaged in high-intensity activity for this long?

Shen Gun hadn’t felt too tired before, but upon hearing the time, he suddenly felt his legs go weak and his arms unable to lift anymore.

But one sentence from Meng Qianzi energized him again: “From here to the Beauty’s Head at the Hanging Gallbladder, it’s about a four-hour walk. Midway, there’s a very large old banyan tree where my great-grandmother Duan rested back then. We can also rest there and take a two-hour nap—we’ll need our energy to get things done.”

To think he could visit a place where Miss Duan had rested! Shen Gun felt he must pay homage to it, no matter what.

At the bottom of the cliff, the burnt and broken ropes that had fallen from above lay scattered everywhere. Two of them had dropped onto tall trees, stretching diagonally across the open air—at first glance, they looked like crooked power lines.

Jiang Lian picked up one rope from the ground. Despite being burned, each piece still weighed several dozen pounds. He borrowed Meng Qianzi’s dagger, cut a few hundred-meter-long pieces, coiled them into rope circles, and distributed them between himself and Shen Gun to carry. When asked about it, he simply said they might come in handy.

The three began their trek.

Just as described in Duan Wenxi’s diary, the fallen branches and leaves at the cliff bottom had rotted and piled up layer upon layer, accumulating over time to a thickness of more than a person’s height. Some places were barely walkable, while others were rotten swamp pits where a single step would sink you completely.

Meng Qianzi led the way, trying to walk on branches and tree trunks whenever possible. The rotting branches and leaves had piled up almost to the crowns of the short trees, making those large tree crowns look as if they were sprouting directly from the ground, which made walking easier.

When there were no trees to use as a path, she would pick up a stick to probe the way forward.

No wonder it would take four hours—the conditions were terrible.

Shen Gun walked with frequent stumbles, and because he was also looking around, hoping to perhaps find Sheng Zehui’s photo, he inevitably fell behind. Fearing that he might fall further and further behind alone and affect their overall progress, Jiang Lian appropriately slowed his pace to stay in sync with him, trying to bring up his speed, and would occasionally give him a helping hand.

The cliff bottom was truly like another world.

Generally, plants have phototropism, the so-called “growing toward the light,” but there was no sunlight at the cliff bottom, so the branches and stems grew unrestrained and freely in all directions. Whether it was because there were enough nutrients underground, they somehow managed to grow huge, though most didn’t have the normal shape of trees. In the darkness, those twisted tree shadows looked particularly terrifying: some resembling giant, grinning side profiles, others like fierce beasts crouching up high, ready to pounce downward.

However, they didn’t see any large, fierce beasts along the way, probably because they had long since avoided the area. Where the headlamp’s light passed, they would catch glimpses of smaller creatures, such as long-legged ghost spiders and jumping hearth crickets. But these were all extremely sensitive to light—as soon as they were illuminated, they would either freeze in shock or flee for their lives.

Shen Gun was startled at first, constantly crowding toward Jiang Lian, but as they walked on, he got used to it and began whispering to Jiang Lian: “Look, Miss Meng is really like a lamp.”

Jiang Lian thought this comment was quite affected: though Meng Qianzi was certainly reliable in leading the way, comparing her to a “guiding light” seemed a bit much.

However, he soon realized he had misunderstood.

“Look, around her, it’s as if there’s a barrier that wild beasts don’t enter, just like the illuminated area of a lamp. Outside is fraught with danger, but as long as we stay within this light, we’re safe.”

Jiang Lian didn’t comment: “Then stay close and don’t go beyond the boundary.”

Shen Gun didn’t want to leave the boundary, but nature called, and after walking for a while longer, he couldn’t hold it anymore.

First, he quietly asked Jiang Lian: “Do you think… I could have Miss Meng accompany me… or at least stand nearby?”

Jiang Lian asked in return: “Do you think that’s appropriate?”

It wasn’t very appropriate. Shen Gun stammered, held it in a bit more, but finally couldn’t bear it: “Then, could you come with me?”

Between men, this was easier to arrange. Jiang Lian called to Meng Qianzi, asking her to wait while they took care of “business.”

However, he didn’t need to stand right next to him watching: after bringing Shen Gun to a suitable spot and seeing that there was no danger, Jiang Lian stepped away a few paces and stood with his back turned.

Shen Gun clutched a stone in his hand just in case, and although both Meng Qianzi and Jiang Lian were within his sight, various horror movies had taught him never to be blindly optimistic: mishaps often occur in the blink of an eye, and even if companions are nearby, or right next to you, they might not prevent you from being dragged away in an instant.

He decided to be quick, trembling as he went to unzip his pants. Before his fly was completely open, he suddenly noticed a white patch of fur moving in the bushes ahead.

Shen Gun’s hair stood on end, and he screamed: “A giant rat! A twenty-pound giant rat!”

While shouting, he threw the stone in his hand, then without bothering to zip up, turned and ran.

Goodness, it should be known that the animals he feared most were dogs, followed by rats. A rat as large as a dog would be combining the worst of both, and it was white, too!

Hearing the commotion, Jiang Lian had already come to meet him. Shen Gun grabbed his arm, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. Meng Qianzi also hurried over in a few steps, asking him: “Where’s the rat?”

Shen Gun tremblingly pointed in that direction, his scalp tingling again: it was still there! Indeed, when rats grow large, they become bold, not even running at the sight of people.

Meng Qianzi frowned: “That’s impossible.”

Rats are creatures that move extremely fast. When “mountain beasts” are startled, they quickly disappear without a trace. How could it still be there, playing dead?

She went closer to look, squatting down for a better view. Finally, she turned back to Jiang Lian with an annoyed expression and beckoned him over.

Jiang Lian half-dragged, half-pulled the still-terrified Shen Gun over.

It wasn’t a rat but a monkey-a, a white monkey, not even half a meter long, probably a young one. It was curled up in a ball with its arms around its head, trembling.

There was a bump on its head, probably from Shen Gun’s stone. Seeing Shen Gun approach, it trembled even more violently but didn’t dare run away, its limbs likely paralyzed with fear.

This monkey’s face already looked like it was about to cry, and now that it was truly scared to tears, it looked so pitiful that even Jiang Lian felt sympathy.

Meng Qianzi beckoned to it: “Come, come here.”

She truly had a special connection with mountain beasts, and her simple gesture carried the power of a symbol pattern. The little monkey cowered for a while but finally gathered its courage to approach her. Reaching her feet, it grabbed onto her shoe with both paws, clinging and still trembling.

Meng Qianzi felt sorry for it: “Oh, look how pitiful it is. Come, don’t be afraid…”

She stroked the little monkey, which gradually lost its fear of her. Its small hands rested on hers, appearing incredibly docile. Eventually, its arms wrapped around her ankle, and it rubbed its head against her.

Meng Qianzi giggled with delight.

Jiang Lian initially smiled as he watched from the side, but later, seeing how happy Meng Qianzi was, he felt somewhat annoyed. He thought about how hard he had tried to build their friendship boat, through trials and dangers, and had only just made some breakthrough. Meanwhile, this monkey had done nothing, just acted cute and pitiable, and already won Meng Qianzi’s heart so thoroughly…

In this world, humans can’t compete with monkeys.

So, looking at this monkey again, it didn’t seem so adorable anymore. Besides, they had only just met, and he was already hugging her ankle—not at all reserved, not the type of monkey he admired.

Shen Gun was feeling the pangs of conscience, hanging his head and weakly defending himself: “In this cliff bottom, rats grow as big as dogs, how was I to know monkeys would be so small? Who could have guessed…”

Meng Qianzi suddenly thought of something: “We’ve been down here for a while. I should let Jinsong know we’re safe so he won’t worry.”

She took a marker from her bag, wrote the character “人” (human) on the monkey’s back, paused, then casually pointed in the direction down the cliff: “Go.”

The monkey leapt away with lightning speed, disappearing in a flash.

Shen Gun was puzzled: “Shouldn’t you have written more characters? With just the character for ‘human,’ will Assistant Meng understand?”

Meng Qianzi said, “Yes, a clever person would understand.”

For the rest of the journey, Jiang Lian kept pondering the meaning of that “人” character. He had previously been stuck on the phrase “the fox spirit has seized the waist,” and though he didn’t know the specific reference, he had guessed it must be a code or secret language. But just one character for “human”—wasn’t that too simple?

He could have asked Meng Qianzi directly, but he was constrained by the phrase “clever person,” and by the time they reached the large banyan tree, he still hadn’t figured it out.

The tree was indeed enormous. Its spread canopy could probably cover an entire mu of land. Its branches split like dense umbrella ribs—numerous, long, and solid. Meng Qianzi had originally thought they would just lean against it for a nap as they had done before, but the rope circles Jiang Lian had brought proved useful. He selected four evenly spaced outward-extending branches and strung ropes between them to form a net. Soon, three rope beds next to each other, separated only by branches, were completed.

He looked at Meng Qianzi: “Take your pick?”

Shen Gun might have thought the question was directed at him, for he happily responded and climbed into the middle bed. After rolling around and sitting up to confirm it was secure, he enthusiastically invited Meng Qianzi: “Come, come, Miss Meng, it’s quite solid. Choose whichever side you like.”

If you’re already lying in the middle, there’s no point asking which side she prefers—it’s either your left or your right, no difference.

Meng Qianzi lay down in the nearest bed.

Jiang Lian also lay down, though he didn’t want to, given the wound on his back. But the journey had been exhausting, sitting wasn’t comfortable, and lying on his stomach wasn’t pleasant either.

He closed his eyes, preparing for a short nap.

But nobody could fall asleep right away. After all, these were rope beds, swaying gently, and it wasn’t so easy to just lie your head down and drift off. After a while, Shen Gun called out to Meng Qianzi again: “Miss Meng, what important business are we going to attend to later? Could you explain a bit so we can be prepared? If necessary, we can assist you, rather than being clueless and flustered when the time comes, potentially ruining things.”

This made sense, so Jiang Lian opened his eyes again.

He heard Meng Qianzi hum affirmatively, seemingly pondering for a moment before speaking: “Have you heard of… water ghosts?”

Shen Gun answered: “Yes, when people fall into water and drown, they become water ghosts. Some water ghosts specifically drag people underwater to drown them, looking for replacements. It’s written in ‘Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio.'”

Jiang Lian coughed lightly: “What did Miss Meng ask? I couldn’t hear clearly.”

Shen Gun had a sudden realization and scrambled up. In his mind, listening to stories was extremely important, and not hearing clearly would greatly affect the experience: “Right, right, Little Lian-Lian is too far away. Miss Meng, let’s switch. You sleep in the middle.”