It turned out that the weather had changed in the afternoon. With heavy rain in the forecast, the scenic area had arranged for announcements to be broadcast through loudspeakers at various locations two hours before closing time, repeatedly emphasizing the need for safety and suggesting that tourists end their visits early.
Most tourists valued their lives and retreated toward the exit in successive waves. Wang Qingliang had thought nothing would go wrong, but at closing time, two young women came to the security office with distraught faces, saying they couldn’t contact their three colleagues.
Upon further inquiry, he learned that those three fools had shown off, entering an undeveloped fork in the path marked “No Entry.” They had probably walked farther and farther, getting lost. There was no signal in the deep mountains, and certainly no chance of hearing the broadcast.
The Mount Wuling area was too vast, with only a small portion developed. There were too many branching paths, and they didn’t have the financial resources to build walls to block them all. They could only paint bright red warnings on rocks, such as “No Entry” or “Danger, Path Closed,” hoping tourists would cherish their lives and maintain a sense of respect. Yet every so often, there would always be a few who wanted to compete with the heavens.
But they couldn’t just leave them. If something happened, once it was reported in the news and shared on Weibo, the impact on the scenic area would be devastating. Wang Qingliang had no choice but to gather a few people and enter the mountain with flashlights to search. When they passed the “No Entry” point, he felt this job wasn’t worth it: a monthly salary of less than 3,000 yuan, yet he had to risk his life.
Fortunately, they were lucky. After wandering around for about two hours, they finally found the three lost lambs.
Wang Qingliang pressed his hand on the table edge covered with chopped chili, his face as red as the peppers: “I mean, normal people, at a time like this, even if they don’t thank you, they shouldn’t be saying such cold-hearted things, right?”
The chopping sound was too loud for comfortable listening, so Liu Guanguo had already gracefully switched to a slower cutting pace. Hearing this, he nodded slightly: “That’s right.”
Wang Qingliang was so angry he was practically exhaling white steam from his nostrils: “Do you know what those idiots said?”
He mimicked in a high-pitched voice: “I bought a ticket! We’re taxpayers! This scenic area was built with our taxpayer money! Even if it’s not just raining but raining knives, you should still come find us—it’s your responsibility!”
It was indeed infuriating. That’s why they say the same rice feeds a hundred different types of people. Liu Guanguo agreed with a few words but still felt puzzled: “So why haven’t you gone home yet? What are you doing here?”
If you want to vent and seek comfort, you should find your wife.
This question stumped Wang Qingliang: he had been so angry that he’d forgotten what he had originally come to ask.
His expression showed he’d had a mental lapse. This happens when people age—the brain occasionally stutters.
Liu Guanguo didn’t pursue the question and continued to cut peppers elegantly.
Wang Qingliang finally remembered and moved closer to Liu Guanguo: “Hey, that Mountain Mirage you told me about last time, also called the Yin Lodge—is it real?”
What?
Liu Guanguo’s heart jumped, and his knife slipped. If he hadn’t reacted quickly, he might have lost part of a finger.
He tried to appear calm but still stuttered: “W-what building? When did I tell you about that?”
No joke! The first rule of the Mountain Ghost code was to keep your mouth shut. “Family matters” couldn’t be discussed with outsiders. Besides, with the Big Boss just one floor above him, even if he were to break the rules, this would not be the time.
“It was when we were having that aged cured meat with our drinks,” Wang Qingliang reminded him. “You were drunk, had your arm around my neck, telling me you were a Mountain Ghost. You also said that when there’s wind and rain, like a mirage at sea, there would be a mountain mirage in these mountains…”
Damn, damn, damn! Cold sweat was already running down Liu Guanguo’s back: alcohol did cause trouble. He needed to quit drinking, to never touch it again for the rest of his life.
Wang Qingliang continued vividly: “When the Mountain Mirage appears, it’s eerily cold, also called the Yin Lodge. Living creatures can’t stand being inside and rush to get out… Hey, is it true or not?”
Liu Guanguo came to his senses and anxiously interrupted him: “What else did I say? Besides the building?”
Besides the building? There was nothing else. Wang Qingliang shook his head.
Good. Liu Guanguo steadied himself and began his performance: “You believe that?”
“I didn’t believe it…”
“I was drunk, my tongue was running wild, just making things up. We’ve known each other for almost twenty years. Do I look like a ghost from the mountains? If I were a ghost, I’d be from the county at least—I have an urban household registration!”
Wang Qingliang was simple-minded, like an old ox with a rope through its nose. After Liu Guanguo’s few words of misdirection, he only knew to follow along: “I knew you were drunk, talking like you were in an opera, with all those stories. You almost had me fooled.”
Good, the situation seemed under control. Liu Guanguo continued to question: “That drinking session was over half a month ago. How come you never mentioned this before?”
“I was drunk too. After sleeping it off, I forgot.”
Then why did you suddenly remember today? Liu Guanguo’s breathing tightened.
Fortunately, Wang Qingliang was straightforward and never told half a story: “Tonight when we went into the mountains to search for those people, going deeper and deeper, I heard some rustling sounds. When I swept my flashlight over, good heavens, I saw snakes, frogs, and who knows what insects, all streaming by, jumping and darting. It was strange—they were all running in one direction, as if escaping for their lives. I was puzzled—aren’t snakes supposed to eat frogs? Why were they running side by side? Then, a light bulb went off in my head, and I suddenly remembered what you said that night. You also mentioned this phenomenon was called bug and snake running… running… what was it called again…”
Wang Qingliang became increasingly puzzled. Since he had to pass by Yunmeng Peak on his way home, he decided to stop by and ask. However, since what had been dismissed as nonsense seemed to have come true, there was no need to dig deeper. After some rambling, Wang Qingliang reluctantly put on his raincoat and said goodbye.
Liu Guanguo walked him to the door: “Those creatures running and jumping in the mountains are all smarter than people. Didn’t they say on TV that they know about earthquakes first and run away in lines? It must be the heavy rain causing some collapse, so they’re rushing to escape…”
That made sense. Wang Qingliang’s face flushed, feeling he’d been a bit jumpy, quite unworthy of all the materialist education he’d received over the years.
Watching Wang Qingliang walk away, Liu Guanguo heaved a sigh of relief, steadying himself against the doorframe, then raising his eyes to look at the distant mountain shadow.
It was dark, with heavy rain, and even nearby scenes were somewhat blurred, but the mountain silhouette was still faintly discernible, as if hanging droopingly at the edge of the sky.
What Mountain Mirage? That was such an ancient legend that not only had he never seen it, but neither had his father nor his grandfather.
Liu Guanguo sniffed and turned to walk back to the table. After just a couple of steps, as if possessed, he turned back again.
Something felt… not quite right.
Starting from the far right, he counted the mountain peaks one by one through the heavy rain. After counting once, he froze for two seconds, then began again from the far left. As he counted, a chill rose from his heart.
This inn had been open for some years. He entered and exited through the main door every day, seeing those high mountain peaks at least twenty times a day. He knew exactly how many there were and had even pretentiously given them a nickname: “The Eighteen Connected Peaks.”
But now, those dimly standing black mountain peaks numbered… nineteen!
Yunmeng Peak Inn, third floor.
Meng Qianzi was staying in the room with the best mountain view on this floor. Opening the large terrace facing the mountains was like having a natural widescreen—but now night had fallen and the rain was heavy, so not only were the large floor-to-ceiling windows tightly closed, but the thick curtains were drawn without a gap.
The interior was decorated in the style of “Mountain Osmanthus Studio,” with a distinctly antique charm: a large huanghuali praying mantis leg-styled luohan couch with a low table on it and a round-waisted footrest below. Behind it hung a giant ink painting of a Mountain Ghost. On the curio shelf against the wall were several thread-bound books and decorative antique vases. On the kuilong-patterned rolled book desk made of golden nanmu wood stood an exquisite miniature mountain, at the top of which burned a backflow incense cone. The milky white incense smoke flowed downward, enshrouding the foot-high miniature mountain in mist and clouds.
Meng Jinsong sat on an official hat chair in the Ming style with four protruding heads, frowning as he looked at several printed papers in his hand.
Tomorrow, Meng Qianzi was supposedly hosting a meal for various friends, but eating was secondary. What was important was establishing good relationships and living harmoniously together. Western Hunan had historically produced formidable characters. Counting on one’s fingers, there were factions like the Gu Sorcerers, Chenzhou Talisman Makers, Corpse Herders, Luohua Cave Women, Tiger Households, and others. The Mountain Ghost faction didn’t dare to dominate alone.
Therefore, the specifications and seating arrangements for the banquet were very particular. But Liu Guanguo wasn’t skilled in paperwork, and although he had provided guest lists and seating charts with his best effort, they were chaotically arranged. Meng Jinsong was already having trouble making sense of them, and his concentration was further disrupted—over at the luohan couch, Xin Ci was doing Meng Qianzi’s nails, and they were whispering. But with the heavy rain outside accentuating the indoor quiet, Meng Jinsong could hear every word.
He glanced obliquely in their direction and saw Meng Qianzi’s carelessly pinned bun after her bath, loosening and about to fall. Her silk bathrobe had slipped to one side, revealing a slender strap on her fair shoulder.
Meng Jinsong quickly averted his gaze.
Regarding attire, Meng Qianzi was indeed quite casual in front of them. Meng Jinsong, being a traditional straight man, believed in the separation of men and women and had gently reminded her several times. Meng Qianzi had replied: “In my territory, I’ll do whatever makes me comfortable. Do I need to dress formally to see you? If you’re uncomfortable, you adjust yourself. After adjusting a few times, you’ll get used to it.”
Later, after she got annoyed with his remarks, she gave him an eye mask and a white cane, saying: “Either you adapt, or from now on, wear an eye mask and use a cane when you come in. This way, what your eyes don’t see, your heart won’t be troubled by. I won’t be nagged, and everyone wins.”
After such a rebuke, Meng Jinsong couldn’t say anything more. After all, Meng Qianzi was in the top position of the Mountain Ghost hierarchy. At twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, she could hardly be called mature or restrained. Her temperament was inevitably prickly, and people had to adapt to her, not the other way around. Besides, before her, the Mountain Ghost King’s throne had been vacant for thirty-two years. Having finally discovered this rare seedling, how could everyone not treat her like a precious treasure?
At fourteen, she had made the bold move of eloping by train to Dali with a male classmate. When intercepted at the train station, she had straddled the seventh-floor balcony, shouting that if they interfered with her love life, she would jump.
Later, people brought her boyfriend to the scene. The little brat, having been disciplined and intimidated by these formidable people, was crying tears, his voice hoarse as he confessed: “I didn’t want to either. I advised Qianzi that we’re still students and should prioritize our studies, get into good universities, and serve the country… She forced me… I was trying to placate her first, then call you all…”
It was said that Meng Qianzi’s suicidal intent instantly disappeared. She jumped down and was about to swing a chair at him when she was pinned to the ground by multiple hands.
With such fierceness in her youth, Meng Jinsong had once worried that she would be a troublemaker when she took over. Who would have thought that some trees grow straight in youth but crooked in adulthood, while someone like her, who had been so remarkably wayward in her youth, had eventually straightened herself out? After much reflection, he could only attribute it to the blessing of the Ancestral Grandmothers.
…
The whispered conversation continued.
Xin Ci: “For your hosting tomorrow, wouldn’t it be better to appear more aloof?”
Meng Qianzi: “Being aloof in my territory is one thing, but the major households of Western Hunan don’t need your support or seek your grain. None of them will buy into that act.”
Xin Ci: “Of course, politeness is necessary; we can’t be arrogant, but your attitude should be distant. You need to appear more profound, inscrutable. After all, your status is different, so your makeup should also lean in that direction.”
Meng Jinsong looked up irritably, just in time to see Xin Ci waving a small cyan-colored fan with tassels. He didn’t realize it was to dry Meng Qianzi’s freshly done nails. He frowned and mentally muttered: “Chief Eunuch Xin.”
Xin Ci wasn’t a Mountain Resident. He had signed a confidentiality agreement and worked exclusively as Meng Qianzi’s makeup artist. Meng Jinsong didn’t show it outwardly, but privately, he looked down on him, thinking he was too eager to please Meng Qianzi, like a chief eunuch following the Empress Dowager’s every step. Little did he know that Xin Ci also didn’t think much of him behind his back, complaining, “We’re both paid to work for someone. What’s wrong with being a bit softer in manner to make Qianzi happy? Being so stiff and stuffy—he doesn’t know how to behave.”
Of course, on the surface, they maintained an air of harmony.
There was a knocking on the door, tentative at first, then increasingly urgent.
Knowing that Meng Qianzi didn’t like to be disturbed during her rest, Meng Jinsong immediately stood up and said, “I’ll go see what it is.”