But he quickly smiled again, just as Old Ga had said, “his face always carries a smile.”
“I’ve told you all this to let you know that yes, we had a collision, but it was purely a misunderstanding. Who would kill someone over such a small matter? Meiying is even less likely—she doesn’t even know what happened last night. Besides, she’s been frail and sickly since childhood, and doesn’t even have the strength to kill a chicken. Even if you stretched out your neck for her to kill you, she wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“If you think what I’ve said makes sense and you can accept it, then I’ll continue. If not, that means you still have questions, so feel free to ask.”
He paused there, moving his shoulders and neck, then shifting his buttocks. Had he not been bound, he probably would have stood up to stretch.
The most crucial part hadn’t been discussed yet, so Meng Qianzi gestured for Jiang Lian to continue.
Jiang Lian made no effort to conceal anything. “We’ve been staying here for some time now. Every night when there’s heavy rain, I go out to try fishing for the lantern paintings, but it’s difficult. Most of the time I can’t catch anything, and a few times I’ve only caught fragments—like a television screen showing only a small part of the picture.”
“Last night was a significant improvement—at least I saw a complete image. But the same problem occurs every time: those scenes initially flash by rapidly, not giving people enough time to see clearly, then get stuck on a certain frame, which is the one that frightened you…”
He smiled at Xin Ci: “That white-robed woman crawling on the ground is the frozen frame. If you hadn’t turned off your flashlights, you would have discovered she keeps repeating the same actions: crawling and raising her hand. If the display were normal, you should be able to see where she ultimately crawls to and where she collapses.”
Xin Ci uncomfortably loosened his collar. That scene—he had only seen it once last night, yet his heart still palpitated at the thought. Little did he know it was on a continuous loop.
At this point, Jiang Lian looked at Meng Qianzi. “You also know about lantern paintings and call them Mountain Mirages, so you must be quite familiar with them? Are Mountain Mirages truly… this elusive and unstable?”
Of course not. The reason lay in the poor quality of this mirage pearl. A good mirage pearl not only could display complete images but could even transmit sound—calling it an “immersive experience” would not be an exaggeration.
But this was something outsiders didn’t need to know.
Meng Qianzi nodded.
Jiang Lian looked somewhat disappointed, gave a bitter smile, then continued: “Because they flash by so quickly, I couldn’t remember them just by watching—I had to find a way afterward.”
A flash of insight struck Meng Jinsong, and he suddenly remembered an anecdote he had heard before. He blurted out: “Do you practice ‘Divine Eye Attachment’?”
Divine Eye Attachment was a technique circulated in old society—a skill of the jianghu. It referred to a person with exceptional vision who, no matter how chaotic or rapidly changing a scene might be, could “memorize at a glance” after just one look, then recite or even draw what they had seen. At first hearing, it sounded similar to the function of a modern camera.
This ability was not common among ordinary people. The older generation believed it involved borrowing the eyes of the gods, hence the name “Divine Eye Attachment.”
Of course, there were no divine eyes to be borrowed—it was all achieved through rigorous training.
In simple terms, they would select promising candidates and start with the basics: first displaying a two-by-two grid of four different images for the candidate to look at twice, then covering them with a cloth and asking the candidate to recall the position of each image. After passing this test, the candidate would need to recite the content of each image. Then the difficulty would increase—three-by-three for nine images, four-by-four for sixteen images, each level more complex than the previous. In essence, it had little to do with the eyes and was more a matter of the brain, the most advanced form of speed memorization.
It was said that those who reached the highest level would develop some region of the brain, making the entire person appear dazed, with consciousness completely immersed in the target scenario, similar to sleepwalking. The difference was that sleepwalking involved movement of the body, while this involved movement of consciousness. With a brush in hand, one could reproduce the scene—slowly with meticulous brushwork, capturing every detail down to subtle facial expressions with remarkable accuracy, though this consumed vital energy and spirit; or quickly by coloring, rapidly applying different colors to roughly recreate the scene.
However, all things follow the principle of gain and loss. Those who practiced Divine Eye Attachment had their consciousness heightened to the extreme, but their bodies became relatively vulnerable. To put it bluntly, they had little defensive capability and needed someone watching over them for protection.
Additionally, Divine Eye Attachment had two major taboos. First was loud noise—once the person was disturbed, the process of “awakening” could be quite painful, usually requiring punches, kicks, water, or heat. So when Meng Qianzi had ordered people to “beat Jiang Lian awake,” it had inadvertently been the right approach. The second taboo was practicing at night. Theoretically, night should be the quietest time, but ancient people were largely superstitious, believing night belonged to the yin, when all ghosts roamed. Those practicing Divine Eye Attachment experienced a “soul leaving the body” state—if their wandering soul was unfortunately taken by a wild ghost, what remained would be nothing but a walking corpse.
This art had already been declining before the Liberation, and not entirely due to technological substitution: truly gifted candidates were exceedingly rare, and those with ordinary aptitude would exert themselves in vain, no matter how hard they tried.
Jiang Lian was unfamiliar with these old terms: “Is it called ‘Divine Eye Attachment’? My godfather calls it ‘Divine Eye Invocation’—similar enough, I suppose.”
After each fishing expedition for the paintings, he would try to reproduce exactly what he’d seen. He couldn’t draw at night, and daytime was too noisy, so he generally chose the quiet afternoons in the village. Old Ga made ghost masks, which inevitably involved chiseling and hammering, so Jiang Lian often used Kuang Meiying as an excuse, saying things like “Meiying isn’t feeling well” or “She’s sleeping and afraid of noise” to get Old Ga to quiet down. Fortunately, Old Ga naturally lacked curiosity and took things at face value. They had coexisted peacefully for a long time without complications.
Meng Qianzi had never witnessed Divine Eye Attachment, but since childhood, several of her aunts had loved telling her anecdotes from the jianghu of old society, so she had heard quite a bit about it. If Jiang Lian had truly been practicing Divine Eye Attachment, then Liu Sheng’s murder could indeed not be connected to him.
However, some details still needed clarification.
“Why did you have Kuang Meiying watch over you during your Divine Eye Attachment instead of Wei Biao?”
Wei Biao was strong, truly the ideal choice for a bodyguard. As for Kuang Meiying, that kind of person…
Recalling the scene of her fainting from fear, Meng Qianzi couldn’t help but feel contempt: the Mountain Ghost clan, both superiors and subordinates, valued strength and had never appreciated the frail.
Jiang Lian’s answer surprised her: “Although Wei Biao is with us, he doesn’t know this secret. Like Old Ga, he thinks we’re just here to seek our ancestral roots.”
With only three people, their relationships were unexpectedly complex and intriguing. Meng Qianzi momentarily lost focus on the main point: human hearts were indeed unfathomable, and teams difficult to manage. It truly wasn’t easy for her to lead the Mountain Ghost clan.
“So, from when I began my Divine Eye Attachment, I know nothing about what happened. You ask me how your person died—I don’t know. Fortunately, before coming up, I received permission from this Mr. Meng…” He tilted his head slightly to indicate Meng Jinsong’s direction. “I spoke with Meiying and asked about the situation at that time.”
“She was so frightened—are you sure what she said wasn’t just raving?”
Jiang Lian smiled again.
Since entering the room, he had smiled excessively. Meng Qianzi felt that for him, smiling was either a habit or a weapon. Some people used gentle smiles to show they were harmless and lower their opponent’s guard. Her intuition told her Jiang Lian was the latter type, or perhaps both.
He said, “Meiying has had a chronic condition since childhood. She can’t handle stimulation or fright and often faints—it’s a common occurrence. But rest assured, her words are still reliable.”
“Besides, I heard that she also fainted because of you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she has a peculiar trait when fainting from fear?”
Meng Qianzi was irritated.
That woman fainted at the drop of a hat, without any warning signs. What peculiar trait could there possibly be?
Jiang Lian probably knew she wasn’t in the mood for intellectual sparring, so he revealed the answer himself: “When Meiying faints from fear, she doesn’t make a sound. She usually just collapses silently. If she can scream, it means psychologically she can still bear it. When you all rushed over after hearing the scream, you naturally assumed she screamed upon seeing the corpse, but that’s not what happened. When she first saw the corpse, she was so terrified that she fainted immediately. It was only after she regained consciousness, when she was somewhat mentally prepared, that she screamed.”
Meng Qianzi felt a twinge of realization: Jiang Lian seemed to be emphasizing a time gap here, but was that important?
Jiang Lian let out a long sigh. With all the groundwork finally laid, he could present his theory in its entirety.
“The real killer murdered your man at the stairway, then moved the body over, leaning it face-inward against the door, which explains the pool of blood at the doorway. Meiying was by my side the whole time, watching over me. She heard a knock at the door and, worried that I would be disturbed, hurried to open it. As soon as she opened the door, the bloody corpse fell toward her. She was so frightened that she couldn’t even scream before fainting.”
“Mr. Meng kept asking me where your chain was. I had placed it on the table. If it can’t be found, the killer must have taken it. The reason I emphasized that Meiying had fainted is that if she hadn’t fainted right away and had screamed immediately, you would have arrived quickly. The timing would have been too tight for that person to enter the room, and they wouldn’t have had the mood to search for things—they would have sought to escape immediately.”
“But Meiying’s fainting provided an opportunity. Combined with the fact that no one in the room could see him, it was like no one was there. He had enough time to search for the chain and wake Meiying before escaping. I asked Mr. Meng, and he said as soon as they entered the room, they saw that my table was a mess—the drawings weren’t aligned, and the brushes were scattered. Meiying is a very orderly person. Whenever she helps me by handing me brushes, she arranges them neatly. The mess on the table further proves someone had been rummaging through it.”
“Also, Mr. Meng mentioned that your people had set up a lookout at a high point. I guess the killer must have entered the room before the lookout was established and escaped during the chaos after the lookout was withdrawn. When you all rushed over, he might still have been there, perhaps hiding on the first floor, but you all only rushed to the second floor, ignoring other areas. He knew about your missing chain, otherwise, he wouldn’t have searched for it. In my view, that chain isn’t anything special, and ordinary thieves wouldn’t give it a second glance, yet he specifically took it. This further indicates that he was targeting you. You can consider what I’ve said and investigate potential suspects.”
Having said this, his face showed genuine relief. He struggled against his bonds to remind Meng Qianzi that he was still being treated unjustly. “You see, the misunderstanding has been cleared up, and you need to arrange to pursue the killer. Can my friends and I…?”
Meng Qianzi sneered. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Have I? Jiang Lian’s brows furrowed.
“Where is my chain?”
“That person took it away. Anyway, you’re going to pursue the killer, and when you catch him, you’ll also recover the chain.”
Meng Qianzi said, “I might believe what you’ve said, but you took my chain, and then it was stolen from you. Am I supposed to search through eighteen provinces and nineteen households? I’ll just hold you responsible. You took it; you return it.”
Jiang Lian fell silent. Regarding the chain, it was indeed his fault, no denying it.
He thought it over, harboring some optimism: this woman appeared quite imposing—perhaps she was just indignant about being injured last night and had therefore made such a grand entrance. Now that someone had died, how could she truly fixate on a chain? Most likely, she was just using it as an excuse to give him a hard time.
So his attitude was crucial. He needed to meet her aggression with a smile and be willing to bleed a little: pay money to avoid disaster, overcome hardness with softness—an unbreakable truth.
He tentatively suggested: “How about this—how much was that chain worth? Thirty thousand? Fifty thousand? Name your price, and I’m willing to compensate you for your loss.”
He had seen the material of the chain—definitely not a precious metal. Even if it were a designer piece, it would cost ten thousand at most. He was offering to compensate her multiple times over. He’d consider it being extorted, paying to avoid trouble, while also demonstrating his sincerity.
The room suddenly fell silent.
So silent that one could faintly hear voices from across the mountain hollow. A cow mooed in the distance, perhaps still hungry.
What’s going on? Jiang Lian felt slightly uneasy. Had he appeared too ostentatious?
He suddenly regretted his words. What had his godfather told him about those matters of the underworld? “Don’t flaunt your wealth.” Casually offering thirty to fifty thousand—wasn’t that a bit too showy? Should he try to salvage the situation by explaining that this money was earned through his hard work?
As the voices grew closer, Meng Qianzi finally recovered from her astonishment. How novel—in all her years, this was the first time someone tried to “settle” a matter with her using money.
She felt the best response was no response at all, so she turned to ask Meng Jinsong, “What’s that sound?”
“Concerned about the situation, I called for reinforcements.”
Backup had arrived, meaning the entire mountain hollow was filled with her people. Meng Qianzi’s pride swelled further, and she couldn’t be bothered to waste more words on Jiang Lian. “This isn’t a negotiation. You took it; you return it.”
She rose to leave. “Your accomplice will be held at my place. When you deliver the goods, come to collect your people.”
Jiang Lian suspected he had misheard. “On what grounds?”
What grounds? She could do whatever she wanted. Who needed grounds?
Meng Qianzi ignored him and instructed Meng Jinsong: “Arrange for people to clear the scene. Take away what needs to be taken, and send people to repair any damage to the house. Don’t let people say the Mountain Ghost clan doesn’t act properly.”
Jiang Lian was seething with anger but had to maintain a calm exterior. His hands, tied behind his back, slowly worked at the knots—since regaining consciousness, he hadn’t stopped trying to untie them. With his skills, it shouldn’t have been so difficult, but these people used a strange tying method, unlike the common square knot, reverse hand knot, fisherman’s knot, or climbing knot, forcing him to try repeatedly, sometimes pretending to move his shoulders and neck, pulling and tugging.
He realized that reasoning alone wouldn’t resolve this situation. On what grounds? Of course, because she had the upper hand. But turning the tables wasn’t that difficult: this woman was the leader—if he could subdue her, she would have to concede…
His wrists loosened; the rope end was finally untied.
Jiang Lian grabbed it with his reversed hand, maintaining his composure, pretending to be helpless: “This is unreasonable of you!”