The vehicle moved slowly along the Nu River Grand Canyon. Layers of clouds transformed into gossamer veils, wreathing the lush, layered mountain peaks, while the highland villages nestled among the ranges lay half-hidden in pale violet mist. White foam drifted across the surface of the river, and the waters churned and roared beneath the iron-chain bridge spanning both banks before rushing away into the distance.

The vehicle was completely quiet. Apart from the driver, everyone had fallen asleep. At a certain point along the road, He Ma rose from his seat. He had barely taken a few steps toward the door when Diao Zhuo stood up and asked in a low voice, “Aren’t you going to say a proper goodbye to her?”

“No need.” He Ma’s voice was even quieter.

“You’re not afraid she’ll curse you out?”

“Doesn’t matter — I won’t be around to hear it.”

“Take care of yourself.” Diao Zhuo extended his hand.

“It’s been a genuine pleasure.” He Ma reached out and gripped it firmly.

“Thank you.”

“It was the right thing to do.” He Ma took a few steps away, then suddenly turned back. “By the way — I managed to fool even Master Ba. How did you figure out who I was?”

Diao Zhuo tilted his chin toward He Ma’s shoes. “You taught me how to tie my laces back in the Badain Jaran Desert.”

“One small slip in a thousand precautions… And you really kept your composure.”

“There was one more thing — you wouldn’t touch mangoes.”

“How on earth did you know about my mango allergy?”

“Back in Qiang Tang, Ye Xun took all of our food. When Master Ba divided the last half-bag of dried mango among everyone, you were the only one he didn’t give any to. I figured it out then — unless it was an allergy, why else would you refuse to eat? The way you tie your laces, plus the mango allergy — I was a hundred percent certain that the person called A’Shui was you, He Ma.”

He Ma gave him a thumbs-up. “Knowing that Master Ba has you by his side puts my mind at ease. From here on… please, I’m counting on you — take good care of her.”

Diao Zhuo understood. After stepping off the vehicle, He Ma truly would never see them again.

He Ma walked to the door of the minibus and glanced back one last time at Ba Yunye, who was sleeping deeply. A faint smile crossed his face, and he stepped off the vehicle with a quiet lightness. He stood beside the road and watched the minibus continue along the winding mountain path until it disappeared around a bend. Memories of the years he had spent alongside Long Ge and Ba Yunye drifted through his mind, and a mingled sense of wistfulness and warmth settled in his chest.

The man who had assumed the alias He Ma turned and walked away — choosing, as he always had, to carry his silent burden forward alone, so that others might live in peaceful days.

Ba Yunye opened her eyes. She did not look out the window, but she knew He Ma had to leave. She was no sheltered young girl — she had understood from the bottom of her heart that once He Ma’s true identity was exposed, what would follow was a permanent farewell. No gathering under the sky lasts forever. People must, time and again, walk out of one parting after another and return to their own separate roads.

She remembered that when their group had left Qiang Tang, a light snow had begun to fall. Today, as they left the primeval forests of Gongshan, the sky was sending down a light rain.

The poet Hai Zi once wrote: Rain is a lifetime of mistakes; rain is the bittersweet meeting and parting of souls.

By the time they reached Gongshan Hotel, dusk had fallen. The local authorities, considering the severe exhaustion of the rescue team and the others, arranged for statements to be taken the following day. No one bothered with pleasantries — they collected their key cards and went straight to their rooms, sleeping as though the world had ended.

Ba Yunye had no memory of how she made it to her room. When she woke the next morning, her mind was a thick fog. Only then did she realize that the night before, she had not even bathed — she had not turned on the light, had simply collapsed onto the bed and slept through the night, filthy as she was.

After showering, she went downstairs, and it seemed no one else had risen yet. But the police officers had already been waiting for some time. Ba Yunye spotted Long Ge sitting in the middle of the officers and quickly walked over. Seeing that he was not in handcuffs, she let out a quiet breath of relief.

“Long Ge, are you…”

Long Ge stood up. The expression on his face carried something almost like shame.

Ba Yunye smiled. “You’ve lost weight.”

He sighed and patted his slightly smaller belly. “They interrogated me through the night, so I now have a rough picture of who those people were, what they did to all of you, and how hard you worked to find me.”

“You really were quite the challenge to track down, old man — true to your reputation as one of the most seasoned veterans in the outdoor community.” Ba Yunye gave him a thumbs-up and settled into a seat across from the row of officers, casually brushing a few strands of hair from her forehead. She recognized a few of the officers — faces she had crossed paths with before. No wonder these officers had seemed to hesitate when questioning them, holding something back each time. It had all been an act. She had even blamed them privately at the time for not being thorough enough. She smiled and said, “To prove that Long Ge was capable of killing a man with a single strike, I assaulted a police officer.”

Long Ge stared at her in shock. One of the younger officers quickly waved his hand. “That doesn’t count — that absolutely does not count!”

The elevator doors opened and closed, and the members of the Northern Star Rescue Team stepped out one by one. After a full night of rest, they had recovered their usual look of vigor and strength. Diao Zhuo led the group, his stubble shaved clean, sharp and handsome.

Ba Yunye raised her hand and snapped her fingers — her signature gesture when greeting people.

Diao Zhuo had already found her with his eyes the moment he stepped out. He didn’t need any signal from her to locate her.

“Any news about Da Qin?” Ba Yunye asked with concern.

Diao Zhuo walked toward her as he answered, “The wound got infected — he had a high fever last night. The hospital just called. All his vital signs are under control now. He’s recovering.”

He drew closer. Ba Yunye tilted her head and smiled. “Did you sleep well last night?”

Xiang’an burst out laughing. “That wasn’t sleeping — that was a coma!”

Tan Lin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if it’s residual effects from the poison, but I had nightmares all night — spent the whole time running in my dreams. Woke up feeling like I’d been beaten.”

Qi Zi stretched lazily. “If Diao Zhuo hadn’t woken me, I could have slept longer. But honestly, I never would have guessed that Diao Zhuo didn’t actually…”

“Didn’t what?” Ba Yunye made an exaggerated show of covering her nose. “Still hasn’t bathed?”

Qi Zi snorted with laughter. “I didn’t think Diao Zhuo would leave you alone to guard an empty room.”

“Good wine needs no bush,” Ba Yunye offered out of nowhere.

Everyone exchanged confused glances, all demanding an explanation.

What in the world are you on about? Diao Zhuo thought to himself. If you can’t actually quote poetry, don’t go making things up.

“Uh… a good dog doesn’t… no, no… how does it go?” She looked thoroughly pained, like a student staring down an unsolvable final exam question. Diao Zhuo had a fairly good idea of what she was trying to say, but he deliberately offered no help. She was left to rack her brain alone. “How can one method serve two masters — honoring the Buddha without betraying the beloved?”

“Ba Ye, you are absolutely not cut out for putting on airs!” the others said in unison.

Diao Zhuo gently patted her on the back. “As long as the feelings are real, it doesn’t matter where you sleep.”

Ba Yunye pointed at him, looking as though she had finally caught him out. “He’s even worse than I am — and that didn’t even rhyme!”

Once everyone had settled and the small talk wound down, a middle-aged man who looked to be the officer in charge said, “We have largely completed our investigation into Renlong Duoji. Some of his conduct was in violation of the law and will be dealt with accordingly. He Zheng Ren regained consciousness in the middle of the night. He has identified Li Haozhang as the person who stabbed him and has confessed fully to everything he did. His account of the old traffic accident is broadly consistent with Zhang Chenguang’s testimony. As for the microchip that Renlong Duoji seized and kept concealed on his person — upon decryption, we found it contains survey data on beryllium-bearing ore zones and several related academic papers. None of this material has been publicly disclosed by our country, and yet on the dark web, it was listed for sale at upwards of ten million, with no fewer than three separate sellers. Fortunately, Renlong Duoji intercepted it along the way. Had it reached foreign hands, our country’s development in this field would have been placed in a profoundly disadvantaged position. We have confirmed that the original source of the data was destroyed by He Zheng Ren — which means, as far as we know, this is currently the only existing copy within the country.”

Ba Yunye thought back to the time before the Spring Festival, when she had gone to the orphanage to help clean up, and Mu Ye had mentioned the whereabouts of Grandma Ba’s old computer. In truth, there might not be only one copy. Grandma Ba had seemed to know all along that something unusual was stored on that old computer. Before she passed, she had instructed that all the data be copied onto a portable hard drive and placed inside her funerary urn. As for the old computer itself, it had been destroyed. If the police had not managed to obtain the data He Zheng Ren had been planning to sell, they would have had no choice but to open Grandma Ba’s grave and retrieve the hard drive from the urn. This was why Ba Yunye had been hesitating all along — without knowing for certain whether the hard drive contained critical files, she had not wanted to disturb Grandma Ba’s rest.

Whether through the deliberate efforts of the experts and Grandma Ba, or through Long Ge’s unwitting involvement, many people had given their lives to protect and uphold the national interest.

Ba Yunye pressed her lips together. Grandma Ba’s grave doesn’t need to be opened, she thought. Let her rest in peace. She turned to look at Long Ge and asked, “Where on earth did you hide the memory card?”

Long Ge raised his sparse eyebrows and pointed to his ear.

“Don’t tell me you hid it inside your ear canal — like Sun Wukong hiding his staff?”

“Precisely.” He nodded repeatedly, looking rather pleased with himself.

Diao Zhuo, sitting beside Ba Yunye, cleared his throat. “This beryllium ore zone survey data was the spark that ignited the traffic accident all those years ago — it was something a vehicle full of experts gave their lives to protect. We don’t know how He Zheng Ren got hold of it, but please make sure it is handed over to trustworthy personnel as soon as possible.”

“You have my word on that.” The middle-aged officer made the assurance.

“What about the two bodies found in the forest — were they also part of Red Beard’s group?” Ba Yunye seized the opportunity to ask, and while she was at it, lodged a complaint. “Kong Gan may have abandoned us halfway through, but at the very least he should have stayed put and waited until your people arrived to handle things, right?”

The young officer blinked. “We recovered the bodies — but what’s this you’re saying about… Kong Gan?”

“He was the guide who led our group into the mountains. Kong Gan.” Xiang’an quickly clarified.

The young officer stated matter-of-factly, “The guide assigned to your group came down with stomach trouble beforehand and never showed up. But because Ge Mingliang and Pang Hou were with you, we felt confident and didn’t arrange for a replacement guide. The person you’re calling Kong Gan — we’re not sure who that would be…”

Ba Yunye and Diao Zhuo stared at each other for a few seconds, and a chill seemed to sweep through them both. Unwilling to let it go, she described Kong Gan’s appearance and clothing in detail. “He knew the route well and carried snake-repelling medicine on him. If he hadn’t run off partway through, I would have had genuine respect for his ability to navigate.”

“Kong Gan… wait, I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere before.” The officer sitting beside the young one rubbed his chin. “Right — I once looked through an old case file. There was a man, mentally not quite stable, who died on a mountain. The cause of death couldn’t even be determined by the forensic examiner. That man’s name was Kong Gan.”

A wave of goosebumps swept up Ba Yunye’s arms. Xiang’an was gaping open-mouthed. Even Diao Zhuo was frowning with a deeply confused expression.

Tan Lin asked cautiously, “Are you saying we were hallucinating from the very beginning…?”

“A ghost!!” Xiang’an could no longer hold it together and cried out, “That Kong Gan was a ghost the entire time!”

“Ha—!” The young officer broke into a mischievous grin. “Got you! I was joking. Kong Gan did wait until our people arrived at the scene before leaving. He told us how dangerous the area you’d gone into was, and he also told us about some things that had happened in his village in the past…”

Ba Yunye, still not quite recovered from the shock, stared at him with a thoroughly exasperated expression.

The young officer schooled his face into a look of earnest sincerity, as though making amends. “We recovered both bodies. One died from a venomous snake bite. The other fell from a great height and suffered fatal cranial injuries upon impact — both were Red Beard’s associates. The one killed by the snake was covered all over with a type of green fungus. This particular fungus only takes root on corpses that have been infected by a specific snake venom. If left untreated, within a few more days the entire body would transform into what fiction writers call a ‘green-mold corpse.'”

“You really should look into the grave-mound mushrooms!” The group all chimed in one after another and recounted the whole story of their hallucinations once again.

“We conducted a thorough search of the approximate area described by Renlong Duoji and yourselves, and we found no such mushrooms.” The young officer added a line as a show of good faith: “And this time, I’m genuinely not pulling your leg.”

“How is that possible? Those things wrecked us completely!”

“We dug Long Ge out from right inside those grave-mound mushrooms.”

“If Diao Zhuo hadn’t realized we were hallucinating, we’d probably still be trapped in those mountains right now, just slowly turning into fertilizer for the grave-mound mushrooms.”

“Officers, I can tell you with absolute certainty — the one and only time I, Renlong Duoji, ever failed to complete a planned route was because of those wretched grave-mound mushrooms…”

The young officer spread his hands. “We had body cameras running — I’m not saying anything false. We found nothing because there was nothing to find. And it wasn’t just the mushrooms — we found no trace of Japanese military remains or aircraft wreckage either. The masks you used were tested, and the results came back this morning: no toxic substances detected. I think you were all simply pushed to the edge of total exhaustion — you must have been seeing things.”

Everyone exchanged glances, sinking into a long shared silence.

The mysterious grave-mound mushrooms — like the heavenly lake of Qiang Tang and the wandering desert lakes of the Badain Jaran — had become a memory and an unresolved knot in all of their hearts, impossible to erase. Perhaps these things possessed some kind of spirit, appearing only at certain moments before certain groups of people, beyond any investigation or proof. After all, this world holds far, far too many unsolved mysteries.