Mei Lin felt fortunate that her wounds had gradually healed over the past few days. Otherwise, dragging Murong Jinghe alone would have been a life-threatening task, let alone carrying other items. Even with her wounds fully healed, crawling while pulling Murong Jinghe remained an incredibly arduous endeavor.
“What purpose could this path possibly serve?” Mei Lin wondered aloud, lying down and gazing at the distant torch she had wedged into a crevice in the tunnel wall. It seemed as if they would never reach their destination.
She had initially planned to narrow the bamboo cart, but while attempting to modify it, she accidentally cut the rattan ropes into several pieces, causing the entire cart to fall apart. Now, she had to carry the torch and other items ahead first, clearing spider webs and insects along the way, then return to move Murong Jinghe, repeating this process over and over.
Murong Jinghe’s meridians were damaged, but his body hadn’t wasted away. With his tall frame and toned muscles, he was extremely heavy. Standing would have been manageable, but crawling while carrying or dragging him proved to be a challenge. Mei Lin inched forward painstakingly slowly, exhausting herself and causing discomfort to Murong Jinghe, though neither complained.
Hearing her rhetorical question, Murong Jinghe, lying on her back, also looked ahead. Beyond the torchlight, darkness stretched on endlessly. The cramped space and infinite blackness created an oppressive atmosphere. If it weren’t for the two of them together, or if only one of them were left alone in such a place, they would likely go mad before long.
An indescribable feeling washed over him. Suddenly, he lowered his head, nuzzled Mei Lin’s ear, and gently kissed her cheek before resting his head against hers, motionless.
Mei Lin froze for a moment, her face flushing crimson. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up and continued crawling forward. Whether from exertion or the unexpected intimacy, her heart raced.
Murong Jinghe refrained from teasing her about her reddened ears, and she didn’t rebuke him for his forwardness. In this narrow space, with no end in sight either ahead or behind, they experienced a sense of mutual dependence for the first time. They had only each other. The grudges, emotions, and important people and things they once held dear were now separated by this tunnel, feeling as distant as another world.
Perhaps due to the newly emerged atmosphere of intimacy or warmth between them, the path ahead no longer seemed as unbearable. Their occasional conversations amid labored breathing became cherished memories that Mei Lin would fondly recall many years later.
“That… War God you mentioned before, is he the King of Zang?” she asked, her voice echoing in the tunnel, growing softer as it trailed off.
“Mm-hmm,” Murong Jinghe affirmed. Noticing a bead of sweat sliding past the small mole at the corner of her brow, he couldn’t resist licking it away, just as he had once longed to do.
Mei Lin’s face reddened further, and she turned away slightly, chiding him gently, “Don’t move around. You’re heavy.” She shouldn’t have felt shy, considering they had already shared more intimate moments, yet this small gesture made her heart flutter.
Her rapid heartbeat seemed to transfer to Murong Jinghe through their pressed bodies. He felt as if something might burst from his chest, compelling him to hold her even closer. At that moment, he thought that if he could move, he would embrace her and offer all the tenderness he could muster. However, this feeling was fleeting. Once they left that strange place, neither of them mentioned those emotions again, perhaps forgetting them or burying them deep in their hearts.
“You’re a prince. Why did you have to kneel before him?” Mei Lin shook her head, trying to divert her attention from his warm breath.
Murong Jinghe fell silent for a moment, not directly answering her question. Instead, he selectively shared his speculations.
When the Murong clan overthrew the Hu tribe’s rule, this stone forest wasn’t yet a burning ground. It might have been covered in lush vegetation like other areas. The remnants of the Hu tribe hid here, and the King of Zang led his forces to eradicate them. Despite some casualties, he successfully navigated the stone forest and captured the enemy. However, as the praying mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it, someone sets fire to highly toxic substances around the stone forest’s perimeter, either as the King of Zang is about to emerge victorious or while the battle is still raging. The entire area became a scorched wasteland. The King of Zang and his two subordinates jumped into a deep pit dug by the enemy to escape, but they ultimately succumbed to the poison that had already entered their bodies.
Murong Jinghe claimed this was merely his conjecture, but Mei Lin knew it was likely close to the truth. She suspected he even knew who had set the fire or who had ordered it, as well as the identity of the “treacherous villain” the King of Zang had mentioned. However, he chose not to reveal this information, so she didn’t press further. In truth, she wasn’t particularly concerned about it. The Murong clan, the Hu tribe, and the King of Zang all seemed too distant from her reality.
She enjoyed listening to him speak. His measured pace, pausing briefly after each sentence as if carefully considering what to say next, was captivating. She had to admit that when he wasn’t being flippant, sarcastic, or condescending, it was impossible to dislike him.
When she inquired about the exact nature of his physical condition, which he had previously refused to discuss, he surprisingly gave her an honest answer. It was then that she learned his meridians were severely damaged. Suddenly, she found herself at a loss for words, realizing that his condition might be even more difficult to treat than the poison in her own body. She contemplated the possibility of caring for him for the rest of his life. If that were the case, she thought, it wouldn’t be so bad, but she wondered if her own body could endure for that long. If she couldn’t, what would become of him? She began to worry.
“What’s your name?” Murong Jinghe suddenly felt compelled to know the name of this woman who had shared in his hardships for so long, who was fierce in words but had never truly abandoned him despite the difficulties. Perhaps someone had mentioned it to him before, but he had never paid attention.
Mei Lin furrowed her brow, slightly offended that he couldn’t remember her name after all this time, but she quickly smiled. “Mei Lin,” she said, no longer caring whether someone who didn’t value her knew her name or not. She preferred formally introducing herself to him at this moment. “But I don’t like Mei Lin. I prefer Chun Hua. I love the spring flowers that bloom across the mountains in February.”
“Mei Lin… Chun Hua…” Murong Jinghe repeated both names, then chuckled and called her Chun Hua a few more times before playfully nibbling on her ear.
The sensation made Mei Lin both ticklish and weak, causing her to laugh uncontrollably. Her body went limp, and she collapsed onto the ground with a soft thud.
Alternating between moving and resting, occasionally engaging in aimless conversation, the seemingly endless tunnel finally came to an abrupt end during one of Mei Lin’s solo crawls. The suddenness of it left her momentarily disoriented.
She knelt there, staring blankly at the pitch-black expanse beyond the tunnel. Even after bringing the torch out, she could see nothing but a stone staircase leading downward.
Further descent… She dared not imagine what lay below.
After surveying the surroundings, she wedged the torch into a rock crevice at the tunnel’s mouth before turning back. However, halfway through her return crawl, the already dimming flame suddenly extinguished, plunging everything into an inky darkness.
Mei Lin tensed for a moment but didn’t go back to relight the torch. Instead, she continued crawling towards Murong Jinghe. Only when she felt his warm body did her slightly anxious heart relax.
“Why did the torch go out?” Murong Jinghe was sitting against the wall. Feeling her searching hands, he asked. The moment the light completely vanished, an inexplicable unease enveloped him. Though he knew she wouldn’t abandon him and leave on her own, the boundless darkness couldn’t help but make his mind wander.
Perhaps because the darkness elongated every sensation, Mei Lin felt more exhausted than during any previous return trip. Hearing his inquiring voice calmed her, and she didn’t rush to move, instead leaning against the nearby wall to rest.
“There must have been a breeze that blew it out,” she sighed, feeling her eyelids grow heavy.
“We’ve reached the exit?” Murong Jinghe quickly deduced the situation ahead upon hearing her words. After all, how could there be wind in a tunnel that wasn’t open at both ends?
“Mm-hmm… It’s probably vast outside… Can’t tell what kind of place it is… There’s only a ladder…” As she relaxed, Mei Lin felt increasingly drowsy, describing the situation in broken sentences.
Sensing her fatigue, Murong Jinghe tilted his head but couldn’t reach hers due to the distance between their shoulders. He could only use his limp hand to grasp and tug at her tattered skirt.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep,” he urged. If she slept, he would feel utterly alone in this darkness, which would be unbearable.
Mei Lin furrowed her brow, her body sliding slightly to the side, her head resting on his shoulder. She mumbled incoherently, “Let me… doze for a bit… just a moment…”
Murong Jinghe hesitated, then tugged at her skirt again, reluctantly saying, “Then… then hug me.” Only that way could he drive away the fear of being swallowed by darkness. He had felt this urge when he sensed her return earlier but couldn’t bring himself to voice it.
Mei Lin, overcome with exhaustion, grew impatient. She decisively wrapped her arm around his waist, her body practically sliding into his embrace. Soon, she was breathing softly in her sleep.
Feeling her weight and warmth, Murong Jinghe’s heart immediately settled, and drowsiness washed over him. He fell into a rare deep sleep.
No one knew how long they slept. Mei Lin woke first, finding herself lying on top of Murong Jinghe. They had somehow slid to the ground, and he hadn’t woken her even then, which was truly remarkable.
As soon as she stirred, Murong Jinghe awoke, asking groggily, “What time is it…?”
As he finished speaking, he fully regained consciousness, staring into the pitch-black darkness with momentary confusion.
Mei Lin helped him sit up, then took out a fire starter and lit it. In the flickering light, they gazed at each other briefly, allowing the small flame to infuse their hearts with a sense of vitality before extinguishing it.
“Perhaps the sun is high outside,” she said, then hoisted Murong Jinghe onto her back and began crawling towards the exit. Her knees and elbows, already raw and scabbed, started bleeding again as they rubbed against the ground, causing searing pain. She suddenly regretted stopping to rest. If she had pushed through earlier when the pain had numbed her, she wouldn’t have had to endure this additional suffering. The most vexing aspect was the persistent darkness.
It wasn’t just her; even Murong Jinghe, whom she had been carrying all along, had his legs dragging on the ground, wearing away layers of skin. However, he was already enduring the pain of his shattered meridians, so this minor discomfort hardly registered.
After much struggle, they finally reached the tunnel’s mouth. Mei Lin relit the torch.
The darkness had become so thick it threatened to drown them. Seeing light again, even if only a dim, flickering glow, gave them both a sense of salvation.
Mei Lin retrieved a bamboo container from the bundle made from her outer garment. They each drank some water before sharing some roasted wild yams and potatoes. Unable to keep track of time, they simply rested when exhausted and ate when famished.
Murong Jinghe leaned against one side of the rock face, struggling to swallow the cold, slightly choking tubers while observing the barely visible stone steps before him. The stairs appeared to be carved into the rock face, narrow and steep, disappearing into darkness after just two or three steps. What lay below, and what flanked either side, remained a mystery.
What kind of place was this? For the first time, he began to wonder.
If it were a hiding place for the Hu tribe during those tumultuous years, they would have been too busy fleeing for their lives to have the leisure to construct such an impractical tunnel. Or was it built during the previous dynasty’s prosperous era? But with one end blocked, it served neither as an escape route nor as a means to scout enemy movements, rendering it quite useless…
Mei Lin noticed his furrowed brow, assuming he was choking, and quickly offered him water. He didn’t refuse, taking a couple of sips before saying, “Light another torch and go down to take a look. Don’t go too far.” After a pause, he added, “Be careful.”
Mei Lin had been considering the same thing; without a clear understanding of their surroundings, she felt uneasy.
She left one torch with Murong Jinghe and took the other for herself. First, she examined both sides, finding that the stone steps were only slightly wider than the tunnel, flanked by sheer rock faces. She couldn’t make out what lay above or below in the darkness. After stretching her legs, which had grown stiff from crawling, she slowly began her descent.
To their surprise, they reached the bottom sooner than expected. Stepping onto level ground, she looked up at Murong Jinghe and laughed, “I thought it would be much higher. What a false alarm!”
It was only about eight steep steps, which made it appear taller than it was.
Murong Jinghe sat at the entrance of the passage, gazing down at her beaming face illuminated by torchlight. She resembled winter jasmine suddenly blooming on the cold spring night, causing his heart to flutter slightly as the corners of his mouth turned upward.
Seeing his pure smile for the first time, Meilin was momentarily stunned. She felt as if something warm and soft was slowly enveloping her usually cold heart.
Murong Jinghe watched as Meilin walked forward with the torch. The path ahead was paved with blue bricks, flanked by stone beasts with bird heads and leopard bodies. Beyond the statues, impenetrable darkness loomed. The road stretched forward, seemingly extending to the edge of the universe.
He felt uneasy. Then, Meilin stopped. Before she stood two white square pillars, about a person’s height, like a doorway. Between them was a stone staircase leading upward, made not of blue bricks but white stone that gleamed reddish in the firelight.
Meilin stood still for a moment, not moving forward. Instead, she placed the torch in the mouth of one of the stone beasts and turned back.
Murong Jinghe breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s all stone up there, like… like the stone forest outside. I dare not go in,” Meilin explained as she gathered her things.
Murong Jinghe’s interest was piqued, but he couldn’t move. Otherwise, given his curiosity, he would have thoroughly investigated the place.
Though the stone steps weren’t high, they were steep. With Murong Jinghe’s long legs, Meilin struggled to get him safely to level ground. Once there, they collapsed in a heap, drenched in cold sweat.
“It seems to be a tomb,” Murong Jinghe said slowly, his eyes half-closed as he gazed into the dark ceiling, his head resting on Meilin’s soft belly. His expression grew serious at this realization.
Regardless of which dynasty’s ruler this tomb belonged to, its grandeur suggested it was filled with traps and dangers. Their safe arrival thus far was likely due to sheer luck.
Meilin thought for a moment, then gently moved him to the ground. She went back to the passage entrance, retrieved their bundle and the torch, and returned. Then she did something that shocked Murong Jinghe. She threw the torch forcefully into the air, watching it spin before falling beyond the stone path. She quickly leaned forward to look down.
She merely wanted to see what was above and below them, just as Murong Jinghe had wondered but hadn’t voiced. However, Murong Jinghe found her action too rash, though it was too late to stop her. Suddenly, there was a loud “boom,” and a pillar of fire shot upward, spreading rapidly to both sides like a rising tide. Despite Meilin’s quick retreat, some of her bangs and eyebrows were singed.
She stumbled back to Murong Jinghe’s side, staring at the sea of fire before them, clearly at a loss.
The dancing flames illuminated the entire space, bringing with them scorching heat.
Murong Jinghe, initially startled, couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction. Squinting through the sudden brightness, he began to survey their surroundings.
They were in an enormous cavern, clearly naturally formed judging by the stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Lying down, he could only see the ceiling and the two ends of the passage.
One end of the passage connected to the low tunnel they had come through, while the other led to where Meilin had placed the torch. Earlier, he had only vaguely seen two white stones and a staircase there, but now he realized it was composed of countless densely packed stones, indeed resembling the stone forest above ground. The only difference was that these stones were only about a person’s height and as thick as an embrace as if the giant stone forest had been miniaturized and placed here.
Was it truly man-made? His confusion deepened. He couldn’t understand who would build such a massive structure here, far more grand and complex than any of the Murong clan’s imperial tombs. Yet there were no dragon or phoenix motifs, clearly indicating it wasn’t an imperial tomb. But if not for an emperor, who could have built such a mausoleum?
As he pondered, Meilin had regained her composure and was trying to drag his upper body towards the tunnel above.
“Walk towards the center,” he quickly instructed, his gaze fixed on the other end of the stone path. In the firelight, the white stone forest resembled an ice island in a sea of flames, cool and solemn, unaffected by the heat. It reflected the firelight, with a faint rose-colored glow flowing through it, breathtakingly beautiful.
Although Meilin felt that the area resembled an isolated island from which they might not be able to return, Murong Jinghe had never been wrong before. Despite her doubts, the scorching heat left her no time to think further, so she quickly moved towards the center as instructed.
With his body raised, Murong Jinghe could finally see beyond their stone path while being dragged.
On both sides was a sea of fire, and beyond that, at some distance, were two more stone paths with different stone sculptures of unfamiliar beasts. Beyond those paths, at about the same distance, were two more stone paths, and so on. He deduced that there were similar paths on the other side of the central stone forest. Each stone path ended in a passage, some high, some low, some separated by stone doors, others guarded by strange beast statues.
Waves of scorching air hit their faces, making even their throats feel as if they were burning. Murong Jinghe looked back at the bird-headed monster beside them, unable to suppress a wry smile.
“Cough… you foolish woman!” he sighed, somewhat helplessly.
Meilin was frantically dragging him along, or rather, attempting to run while hindered by his weight. Hearing his words, she was too preoccupied to feel offended and simply asked curiously, “What have I done wrong now?”
Murong Jinghe sighed again, wanting to raise his hand but only able to imagine doing so, which made him even more dejected.
“These beast bodies on both sides are lamp holders. Why did you have to do something as stupid as throwing the torch?” Although it allowed them to see more clearly, it had also cut off their retreat.
The beast’s bodies had a groove where a wick could be seen. Judging by the intensity of the fire, the oil supply was likely beneath them.
Meilin glanced briefly, also at a loss for words. She continued moving, her forehead and nose glistening with sweat from the intense heat.
“What’s done is done. What’s the use of talking about it now?” she said glumly, realizing that she too could be rash at times.
Murong Jinghe chuckled and shook his head. He was about to say something else when his body suddenly stopped moving as Meilin set him down. He looked around attentively and realized they had reached their destination.
Surprisingly, within these two stone pillars, as if something was blocking it, the temperature was not as high as outside, yet not as cold as in the previous tunnel. It was just right, comfortably so.
What a strange place! They both thought simultaneously, feeling both amazed and awed.
White steam began to rise from the stone path. Meilin reached out to touch it but quickly withdrew her hand with a sharp intake of breath. She hurriedly dragged Murong Jinghe up a few more steps.
“This is bad. We might not be able to get out before the fire dies down…” she said softly, her voice tinged with guilt.
Waiting for such a large fire to extinguish would likely result in them being roasted alive or suffocated.
Murong Jinghe wasn’t as pessimistic as her. He shifted his gaze from the roaring flames and said, “Help me stand up.” Smelling the burning scent, he noted it wasn’t like tung oil or petroleum. What could produce such intense flames?
As he pondered, Meilin had already helped him up, supporting him with her back.
Murong Jinghe was quite tall, his chin resting perfectly on top of Meilin’s head. From this angle, he could survey their surroundings completely. Previously, resting on her shoulder had been somewhat uncomfortable.
“Look at the passage on the left,” he told Meilin, while his gaze swept across other directions.
Meilin looked where he indicated and felt goosebumps rise all over her body. A dense mass of creatures, either driven by the heat or attracted by the light, crawled out of the tall passage, covering the left stone path. Many fell into the flames, making sizzling sounds as they burned. She shuddered and quickly looked towards the passage they had come from, relieved to see nothing crawling out of it.
Murong Jinghe then directed her to look to the right. While no strange creatures emerged from the right passage, flames and black sand spewed out, seemingly in response to the external fire.
“It seems our luck isn’t too bad. We’ve hit a dead end, but not a fatal one,” he said with a smile, turning his head to look at the rose-tinted white stone forest behind them, silently judging whether it was as dangerous as those passages.
Of course, dangerous or not, they could only move forward, not back. So, without further thought, he said calmly, “Let’s go.”
Meilin gathered her courage. The torch was no longer needed, which made things easier. She slung the bundle over one shoulder and bore the man’s weight on the other as they began to climb the stone steps through the small stone forest.
Once again surprising them, the small stone forest wasn’t as trackless as the outside. Instead, there was a clear path winding through it. The two followed the white stone-paved road slowly, and although it seemed to meander, they could tell they were moving upward.
There were also side paths joining in, but Murong Jinghe could always identify the main path. Several times when Meilin thought they had gone in circles, she would see what she initially thought was a shortcut leading down to another place. She silently wiped her brow, grateful that she had followed his instructions.
“This is just a simple maze, far less complex than the interconnected formation outside,” Murong Jinghe said, smiling, though his expression remained tense. “But beyond this maze are the Eight Gates – ‘Rest, Life, Wound, Obstruction, Prospect, Death, Shock, and Opening.’ The fortune or misfortune of these gates is unpredictable; one wrong step could lead to eternal damnation. I wonder if the person who built this place intended to prevent outsiders from entering or insiders from leaving.”
Meilin couldn’t understand what he was talking about, but her curiosity was piqued.
“Which gate did we come through?” she asked.
They had reached the top of the stone forest, where an enormous coffin appeared before them. It seemed to be carved from a single piece of white jade, with exquisite totems engraved on its surface, reflecting the outside firelight in a dazzling display.
Murong Jinghe’s attention was drawn to it. After a while, he said flatly, “The Obstruction Gate. It means blockage, allowing entry but no exit, a futile effort, though not particularly dangerous.” As he said this, he seemed to remember something and couldn’t help but laugh. “I suppose the builder never imagined someone would dig a large pit just outside this Obstruction Gate, turning the blockage into a passage.”
Meilin thought silently that if it hadn’t become a passage, perhaps they would have found a way to climb out of that large pit and safely leave from somewhere else, rather than falling into this strange place with their lives hanging in the balance. What she didn’t know was that in a place like this, without Murong Jinghe, they would likely have been trapped in the stone formation outside, let alone falling into the pit. As for this seemingly simple small stone forest, it wasn’t something an ordinary person could safely navigate.
“That must be the master of this place,” Murong Jinghe continued. “Let’s go see who could be so formidable.”
Meilin had also noticed the magnificent coffin but wasn’t particularly curious. At this moment, her main concern wasn’t the person who had died who knows how many years ago, but how to get out of this strange place.
Seeing her hesitation, Murong Jinghe added, “Perhaps there’s a way to escape inside.”
With that, Meilin unhesitatingly began to move quickly towards the jade coffin with him.
“Wait,” Murong Jinghe said, breaking out in a cold sweat at this woman’s decisiveness tinged with rashness, though such impulsiveness was rare for her. But each time it manifested, it led to severe consequences.
Meilin withdrew her outstretched foot, looking quizzically at the man on her shoulder.
“Look at the ground,” Murong Jinghe instructed.
At first glance, the ground appeared to be paved with white stone blocks. Upon closer inspection, one would notice that among the snow-white stones, some had the luster of jade, while others appeared cold and dry.
Meilin noticed the difference but didn’t understand its significance. She asked uncertainly, “How should we proceed?” She knew that some traps were set beneath floor tiles, but she had no expertise in this area. If they encountered such traps, they would likely have no choice but to force their way through.
Murong Jinghe smiled, “You’re getting dumber.” He certainly remembered her evasion tactics when escaping pursuit, which had left a deep impression on him. But since entering this stone forest, she seemed increasingly reluctant to use her mind.
Meilin sighed, wanting to explain but stopping herself. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that it was because he knew so much, that she didn’t want to embarrass herself in this completely unfamiliar territory by revealing her ignorance. She also had to acknowledge that throughout this journey, she had unconsciously developed a dependence on him, which allowed that carefully suppressed rashness to surface.
“Lightly tap the stone surface with your dagger,” Murong Jinghe said, noticing her helpless expression and feeling greatly pleased. He added a special reminder, “Don’t use too much force.”
Meilin helped him sit down, then followed his instructions, tapping the stone surface with the hilt of her dagger. The first and second blocks did not react, but on the third, there was a slight floating sensation. She suddenly understood that there must be a mechanism beneath such stones.
However, from here to the jade coffin was nearly ten zhang* distance. Surely they couldn’t tap each block one by one? Moreover, even if she did so, how would she get him across?
While she was pondering this dilemma, Murong Jinghe still wore a smile, seemingly unaware that he might not be able to cross.
Meilin noticed his expression from the corner of her eye and had a sudden realization. She immediately decided to let him solve the problem.
(End of Chun Hua Yan – Chapter)
*Zhang: A traditional Chinese unit of length, approximately equal to 3.33 meters or 10.9 feet.