“You say hear what?” An old woman with almost all her teeth gone, leaning on a walking stick, looked at Mo Zi as if she were ill.
“Hear—spring water.” If not for the old woman’s gaze restraining her, she wanted to say the ‘spring’ of Yellow Springs—would that mean you know, I know, everyone knows?
“Ah?” When the old woman said “ah,” a series of “ah ah” sounds echoed from beyond the mountain, like crows cawing.
“Mo-gege, I see this old woman is hard of hearing. Let’s continue forward and look.” Zan Jin raised his thick eyebrows behind Mo Zi. Asking this person for directions was too laborious.
Who knew the old woman would immediately glare fiercely at Zan Jin and scold without courtesy: “Where did this wild boy come from, not knowing how to respect elders—you’re the one who’s hard of hearing!”
Mo Zi’s ears hurt from the yelling. She smiled stiffly while speaking up for Zan Jin: “Old woman, please don’t be angry. My brother didn’t mean it, and he has no ill intentions.”
Zan Jin huffed: “If you’re not hard of hearing, why have we asked you several times and you just keep going ‘what’ and ‘ah’? If that’s not playing deaf and dumb, what is it?”
Mo Zi elbowed Zan Jin and bared her teeth at him: “Say less. Further ahead, it’ll be even harder to encounter people. The old woman simply didn’t understand clearly—it’s not that she can’t hear.”
The old woman let out two hissing laughs through the gaps in her teeth: “The young lady is still clever and sensible. This old woman has guarded this desolate mountain for most of her life. I haven’t seen many living people. I only know about listening to melodies and songs, but don’t know what ‘listening to spring water’ is.”
Mo Zi nodded heavily. “Old woman, to be honest with you, I don’t know what that is either. I just have this bookworm friend who doesn’t speak properly all day long, splitting hairs over words. When I find him, I’ll scold him for you.”
“He deserves scolding. Not speaking properly—doesn’t that make it hard for listeners?” The old woman tapped her cane on the ground. “I don’t know how to listen to spring water, but I’ll tell you this—even if you search the entire West Mountain, you won’t find a single spring source.”
These words were most likely not lies, because Mo Zi had felt something was wrong since arriving at West Mountain. She had originally thought that with autumn’s clear skies and crisp air, it should be a good season for outings, and Yuan Cheng’s “listening to spring water at West Mountain” must surely be a wonderful place with birdsong, fragrant flowers, green mountains, and clear waters. Who would have thought that when she and Zan Jin arrived at the mountain’s foot, they saw old trees with exposed roots, wild grass growing roughly, jagged rocks everywhere, dense forests—only a single-person-wide winding path, forcing them to abandon the carriage and walk. By the time they reached halfway up the mountain, there wasn’t even a human shadow, and the further they went the more desolate it became. Seeing ahead how ancient trees of unknown age blocked out the sunlight completely, she thought they had come to the wrong place. Fortunately, they happened to encounter this old woman coming down the mountain to ask for directions—that was lucky.
“Old woman, is there another place nearby also called West Mountain?” Perhaps it was the same name? This West Mountain was flanked by large mountains on both sides. She had inquired in the village below, but they called it by different names. Still, she might have made a mistake.
“No.” The old woman answered. “Just this one small mountain peak, with one road leading to the top.”
“Then have you seen anyone go up the mountain today?” After asking, Mo Zi knew this was a pointless question—the old woman had just said she hadn’t seen many living people on the mountain.
Living people?
“Yes, several woodcutters from nearby villages came up, brought me vegetables, and chatted with me for a while. As for people like the young lady who clearly live in the city, I haven’t seen a single one today.” The old woman pointed with her cane behind Mo Zi. “Young lady, you should head back. The road ahead is even harder to walk, and there’s nothing good to see at the top—just cold wind to suffer.”
Mo Zi looked up. The path was steep, sunlight stopped advancing, and shadows layered heavily.
“Old woman, at your great age, why don’t you live in the village below the mountain? Why live halfway up the mountain? Living alone like this is both lonely and inconvenient.”
While Mo Zi was hesitating, she heard Zan Jin say these words.
“When my old man was alive, he was a forest keeper. I depended on him for all those years. After he passed, I had feelings for these mountain forests. My children wanted to take me down the mountain, but I was unwilling, so I just kept on guarding. I’m already so old, and I love peace and quiet. My children often come to see me, and there are woodcutters and hunters from other villages who come up the mountain to bring food and chat. Life is quite good.” Behind the old woman was a wooden house that looked very old.
During their conversation, Mo Zi made her decision. “Old woman, I’ll still go up to the mountain top and have a look. Though my friend is someone who only says half of what he means, he wouldn’t deceive me.”
“Going is pointless—I already told you I haven’t seen anyone else today.” The old woman leaned on her cane and slowly turned to walk toward her house. “However, my old man often said that in this world there are always some extraordinary people with extraordinary obsessions. Such people often gain more than others because of this. Go on, go on. When the young lady comes back, if this old woman hasn’t slept yet, tell me what’s good to see and hear at the mountain top.”
Mo Zi raised an eyebrow, her gaze settling as she looked at the old woman. If from earlier she had only felt this old person was somewhat unusual, now she could almost confirm this person was no ordinary mountain village old woman.
“Mo-gege, this old woman is not ordinary.” Zan Jin lowered his head and spoke softly to Mo Zi.
Mo Zi glanced at Zan Jin, her eyes curving slightly with approval. “You’re making more and more progress.” Whether in reading people or handling worldly affairs.
Zan Jin grinned. Though he was no longer as straightforwardly foolish as before, he still retained some of his purest qualities intact. “Mo-gege, I’ll clear the path ahead. Stay close.”
The two walked one after the other into the dark, dense forest.
Through a crack in the wooden house door, a pair of sharp old eyes shot out an extremely shrewd light, staring intently at those two backs until they disappeared into the depths.
At the top of West Mountain, the great wind wailed. Because the mountains on both sides were much higher than West Mountain, the small West Mountain peak became a valley floor. When wind passed through, it howled like ghosts. The top wasn’t large either—forty-some by eighty-some feet in length and width at the corners. Aside from a high, flat rock formation, the surroundings were all covered in large trees.
The path had reached its end, yet Yuan Cheng was still nowhere to be seen at the top.
“Just as that old woman said—there’s no scenery to see, only wind to endure.” As soon as Zan Jin spoke, wind poured into his mouth, blowing so hard he raised his hand to shield his eyes, nose, and mouth. “Did the young master write it wrong?”
No, Yuan Cheng wouldn’t have written it wrong.
West Mountain, listening to spring water. Using listening, not looking. Mo Zi bit her lip and suddenly began climbing up the rock. She wore women’s clothing today, so her movements couldn’t be too large, making the climb somewhat laborious and clumsy.
Though Zan Jin didn’t understand what she was doing, without a word he positioned himself below to support her. Only after Mo Zi reached the rock did he employ his light-body technique, landing before her in just a few bounds.
“If Mo-gege wanted to get up the rock, why didn’t you let me carry you?” How simple that would be—she wouldn’t need to be out of breath.
Mo Zi opened her eyes wide, then giggled twice, quite chagrined. “Oh dear, I forgot. Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
“…” Zan Jin opened his mouth, blinking his eyes, looking completely innocent, wanting to protest his innocence.
Mo Zi raised her index finger to her lips, making him stay silent. She sat cross-legged herself. “Zan Jin, you help me listen too. Besides the wind, what other sounds are there?”
Zan Jin made a sound of acknowledgment and also sat cross-legged, cupping his hands over his dantian in the posture of circulating internal energy.
Mo Zi ignored him, closed her eyes, concentrated her spirit and calmed her energy, and began to listen.
Ding— Her eyeballs turned, her eyelids moved.
Dong— Her eyebrows drew together, then lifted.
“How come I didn’t hear this sound earlier? This ding-dong ding-dong?” Zan Jin had heard it too and opened his eyes to ask in surprise.
“It was covered by the wind sound, and we were only focused on finding someone.” Even with high martial arts skills, one couldn’t focus on several things at once. Conversely, with proper methods, even without martial arts, couldn’t one hear sounds and distinguish positions? No, she couldn’t. She could only hear sounds, not distinguish direction. “Zan Jin, where is the sound coming from?”
Zan Jin walked toward the edge of the rock, cried out in surprise, and turned to tell Mo Zi: “There’s a path here!”
Mo Zi hurried over to look. What should have been a cliff was actually a slope. Though steep and difficult to descend, it wasn’t dangerous. This narrow slope path was blocked right behind the large rock, so it couldn’t be seen from the top—one had to climb up to discover it.
Truly a case of darkness giving way to light and another village appearing.
“Let’s go down and look.” Without thinking, Mo Zi grabbed the grass on the narrow slope and carefully slid down.
Seeing Mo Zi hadn’t used him again, Zan Jin seemed to suddenly understand—whenever she could do something herself, she wouldn’t trouble others. Immediately, his admiration for her grew another measure, but he said nothing, only made sure to follow her pace and protect her from accidents.
After descending the slope, they entered a dense forest.
On the small path, as a flock of crows was being shooed away by Zan Jin’s shouts, Mo Zi saw a broken stone monument with characters on it—
Spring.
Her mind stirred. Could this be the true meaning of “listening to spring water at West Mountain”?
“Mo-gege!” Ahead, Zan Jin suddenly stopped, his voice filled with shock.
Mo Zi walked forward and saw the dense forest had come to an end. Before them was a grassy area, growing knee-high. When the wind blew, the green surface lifted to reveal yellow beneath, uneven and bumpy, showing autumn colors.
However, the reason for Zan Jin’s surprise wasn’t because this grassland was particularly uniform, but because stone monuments stood on those raised mounds—clearly gravestones.
The gravestones had no inscriptions. They weren’t new, but they were very clean.
At this moment, the ding-ding-dong-dong sounds were now close by their ears, coming from the forest on the other side of the grassland. Pleasant to hear yet containing no melody, and without any pattern either—as if struck randomly and freely. Ding-ding, metallic sounds; dong-dong, drum-beating sounds.
“Mo-gege, how many people died here? So many graves?” Seeing Mo Zi step onto the grassland, Zan Jin hurried to follow.
“When an entire clan is executed, even servants and maids lose their heads. How many do you think would die?” Mo Zi sighed deeply. These wordless monuments, if her guess wasn’t wrong, were for the Yuan family members.
Even she, a completely unrelated person, felt oppressed and pained walking here. Looking at these standing gravestones, an inexplicable hatred arose—how much grief and rage must the sole survivor endure? At an age when one should enjoy family love, suddenly having to bear so much hatred. In the past when reading books, she sometimes felt those protagonists who made revenge their life’s goal were foolish, but now she finally completely understood. Because clan extermination was a destructive blow to the beautiful side of human nature—only those who narrowly escaped death could have firsthand experience; outsiders could rarely truly understand.
Entering the forest, sunlight was just right, and gloom instantly dispersed.
The forest was a lovesickness forest, the trees were lovesickness trees, the beans were lovesickness beans.
The beans were still green and unripe. The red season still waited on September’s branches, secretly watching.