For the injury on his hand, Jiang Lian felt it wasn’t very necessary. Besides, whether climbing up or down later, he would still need to use his hands. Bandaged like a bear’s paw would only be inconvenient.
He extended his hand to her.
While Meng Qianzi was bandaging Jiang Lian, Shen Gun quickly told them about his discovery of Duan Wenxi’s message, finally handing the wine gourd to Meng Qianzi.
Meng Qianzi wasn’t particularly interested in the wine gourd. She held it up, shook it, then handed it back to him: “Since you discovered it, Grandmother invited you to drink it. You keep it.”
However, she did examine those lines of characters for a long time from various angles. She had never met this Grandmother Duan, but since childhood, she had heard many stories about Duan Wenxi from Gao Jinghong, and greatly admired her scholarship, character, courage, and free-spirited manner.
Jiang Lian said softly, “What a stylish grandmother.”
Though these words praised Duan Wenxi, they sounded more pleasing than compliments directed at herself, giving that sense of achievement when someone in your family is remarkable, bringing glory to the whole family.
She corrected Jiang Lian: “When my Grandmother Duan descended this cliff, she was probably only in her thirties. She wasn’t a grandmother then.”
Unable to resist, she briefly recounted Duan Wenxi’s life: how she had gone abroad to study in 1925, how she became disillusioned after suffering emotional trauma, and wandered the world for three years without returning.
“After returning to China, my Grandmother Duan still traveled extensively, perhaps hoping to dispel her inner frustrations through experiencing different places. Additionally, she had a special interest in various mysterious and strange occurrences, which she took the opportunity to investigate one by one…”
Shen Gun’s mind buzzed with excitement, his hands trembling: “Mysterious and strange occurrences?”
Meng Qianzi glanced at him: “Yes, and Grandmother Duan was scholarly, never blindly following others. She insisted on seeing things with her own eyes, generally conducting field investigations and personally facing dangers. She always tried to explain those incredible things using the theories she had learned.”
“She had a habit of keeping a diary and always carried a camera with her. She ventured into remote, secretive places where ordinary people couldn’t reach. She photographed the human head stakes of the headhunting tribes in Yunnan mountains, and also the Ge family who claimed to be descendants of Hou Yi, skilled with red bows and white arrows… all very precious materials.”
Shen Gun’s lips quivered: “I… I’m also like that…”
He had always thought his “quest” was unprecedented and unique, destined to be a solitary journey to the ends of the earth. How could someone have done this more than eighty years ago? And a highly educated woman at that…
Studying abroad? He didn’t even dare to dream about it. He had never even been out of the country!
Meng Qianzi said, “I know. Now you understand why my Seventh Aunt Xian Qionghua, after hearing about your experiences, not only didn’t make things difficult for you but also asked me to accommodate you as much as possible.”
It was simply a matter of being reminded of a similar situation, extending some of the respect for a family ancestor to benefit a later traveler.
Shen Gun nodded continuously. He clutched the wine gourd tightly: “Then, did Miss Duan also travel alone, visiting places everywhere?”
Meng Qianzi answered: “How could that be possible? In that era, with inconvenient transportation, my Grandmother Duan was still a young lady from a wealthy family. With so much luggage, how could she carry everything by herself?”
When Duan Wenxi traveled, she typically hired a strong porter, found a guide familiar with local dialects, and brought an assistant.
In those days, mountain ghosts didn’t commonly have long-term dedicated assistants like Meng Qianzi did. Duan Wenxi usually hired male students who were literate and interested in folk customs research. This firstly provided a legitimate reason for hiring people, making her activities more convenient under the pretext of “folk studies.” Secondly, when investigating strange occurrences, she needed someone to document them. Moreover, males were generally more capable of enduring the hardships of mountain crossing and could serve as physical labor when needed.
However, good assistants were hard to find. Few people could withstand her sudden shifts between north and south, so she couldn’t maintain a permanent assistant and had to hire temporarily. This often brought some troubles. Duan Wenxi sometimes complained that it would be more convenient to travel alone.
Shen Gun asked curiously: “How could they cause her trouble?”
Meng Qianzi said, “Think about it. The male students who accepted such employment were generally young and full of vigor. Attracted by exotic customs, they easily fell for local girls. And those minority girls were naturally passionate and uninhibited…”
In any case, romantic affairs between men and women have always started inexplicably, love at first sight lasting a lifetime. One couldn’t stop people from their romantic pursuits, but these chance encounters often evolved into seduction and abandonment. In that era, the male students who met her requirements—literate and studying the niche subject of folk customs—often came from good families. How could they truly marry a mountain girl who had never left the deep mountains and couldn’t read?
They considered it free love, coming and going unbound by constraints, but the girls were looking for a life together. This led to several chaotic incidents, such as family members chasing them to their lodgings, or sabotaging boats and vehicles to prevent departure.
The most serious incident resulted in a death.
Duan Wenxi only heard about it much later.
She only remembered a thin, tall, refined, and fair-skinned male student who had accompanied her to a Miao village to visit the Miao Poison King. Duan Wenxi repeatedly reminded him to keep his distance from the Miao women. He had smiled shyly, nodding continuously.
Duan Wenxi thought he had listened. When leaving the Miao village, everything went smoothly. She paid him his wages, and they parted in the provincial capital of Kunming.
Who would have known that he still got involved with a Black Miao woman and was cursed with poison? The Miao women’s curses rarely take effect immediately; they generally give the lover a grace period, such as a year to return and marry, and they would help remove the curse.
That male student probably broke his promise and didn’t return to fulfill his commitment, resulting in a painful death with his intestines ruptured and stomach destroyed.
When the news reached Duan Wenxi, she sighed deeply without saying anything, but after that, she never used such assistants again.
Shen Gun wanted to hear more about Duan Wenxi—the more, the better. However, Meng Qianzi had no time to indulge in reminiscence with him. She quickly decided to continue descending.
She had come down with a purpose. Although she had encountered some setbacks, without major injuries, she naturally wanted to continue.
As for these two men…
She let them choose for themselves.
“You can stay on this mountain platform and wait for the mountain ghosts to rescue you. It would be difficult for Jinsong to arrange for people to descend the cliff today. Everyone’s life is precious, and he can’t disregard the overall casualties. Without someone using ‘Beast Avoidance,’ lowering ropes faces a high risk from flying foxes. He will seek outside help—my Fifth Aunt Qiu Biying is in Hubei, and Seventh Aunt Xian Qionghua is in Yunnan. They could be the fastest to arrive, but at the earliest, it would be tomorrow.”
“The advantage is stability—no effort required, just quietly wait for rescue. The disadvantage is, if any fierce beasts appear, you’ll have to deal with them yourselves. Also, that giant snake recognizes me, but whether it would recognize you is uncertain.”
She grabbed four energy bars from her backpack: “Those choosing to stay on this mountain platform, take your rations.”
No one reached out to take them. Jiang Lian smiled wryly: “Is this option… meaningful? Do we look like people who aren’t afraid of snakes?”
Meng Qianzi said, “It is meaningful. Don’t rush to reject this option. Listen to everything first, then decide. Everything is laid out openly, fairly.”
The second choice was to continue with her.
“Our static ropes were only burned in the upper sections; the lower sections are still intact. Splicing three together, descending the cliff won’t be a problem. The advantage is safety—following me, you don’t need to worry about any animals, whether it’s a twenty-pound rat or a two-ton snake. The disadvantage is…”
Here she paused, pointing toward the darkness that their gaze couldn’t penetrate: “Down there are the mountain ghosts’ secrets. According to the rules, outsiders cannot know about them, nor can I take you there—unless you join the mountain ghosts.”
Join the mountain ghosts—is this… meaning to become a mountain ghost?
Shen Gun was overjoyed. Who wouldn’t want this? How could this be called a disadvantage?”I can do that!”
Jiang Lian didn’t respond immediately, then asked after a pause: “What are the conditions?”
From Old Ga’s words, he knew they were not only not short of money but also paid salaries to mountain dwellers. Their branches were spread throughout the mountains, producing talented individuals who helped each other—in other words, like a top-tier membership club, with a card in hand, enjoying all benefits.
To give a simple example, just for creating a sketch of a murder suspect, they had expert-level remote guidance and access to professional portrait combination systems and equipment.
Who wouldn’t want to join? But how easy could it be to join?
He always believed there was no such thing as a free lunch in this world. There must be a price. Moreover, in Meng Qianzi’s words, she treated it as a “disadvantage.”
Meng Qianzi deliberated: “Mountain ghosts like to make friends, especially friends with special skills. We have a saying: If every formidable person in this world were a friend of the mountain ghosts, then the mountain ghosts would have no formidable opponents.”
Shen Gun nodded vigorously, feeling that his thinking was highly aligned with the mountain ghosts: This was like Emperor Taizong of Tang’s famous saying, “All heroes under heaven have come into my trap.” Recruiting all capable people to your side allows you to rest easy. It’s also like major companies in high-tech industries recruiting—even if they don’t need the person, they’re willing to pay high salaries to keep them, because putting that person with a competitor would pose a threat to themselves.
“Both of you qualify for us to befriend. But friends are just friends—we can invite them for meals, chats, talk about mountain intestines and avoiding mountain beasts, but when it comes to important secrets, not a word can be mentioned—such as why I need to descend this cliff, what secrets lie below, and why Bai Shuixiao initially didn’t kill me but now is pursuing me to kill me.”
Jiang Lian’s Adam’s apple moved slightly; he was indeed very curious about all these things.
“To transform from a good friend into a mountain ghost colleague is more complex, involving many procedures. And even if you become a mountain ghost, you might not have the qualifications to access confidential information. However, given my special status, the mountain ghost throne can have three positions, also called the Three Lotus Petals.”
Shen Gun roughly understood: This was probably like a talent show—others had to go through layer after layer of screening and elimination, but Meng Qianzi had three direct advancement cards.
But there was something he couldn’t quite understand…
He couldn’t help asking: “Why is it called Three Lotus Petals?”
Meng Qianzi explained it to him in a few words.
It turned out that the mountain ghosts’ headquarters, Shan Gui Zhai, had always been located at the foot of Huangshan. The highest peak of Huangshan is Lotus Peak, which, from a distance, looks like a cluster of peaks around it, like a blooming fresh lotus. No one knows which leader had the insight while gazing at the peak, feeling that the highest peak standing alone might be lonely and should have lotus petals protecting it.
So the tradition of the Three Lotus Petals was established. The person who sits on the mountain ghost throne can choose three people as confidants. These three people can be mountain ghosts or not—they just need to be selected.
Of Meng Qianzi’s Three Lotus Petals, one had already been given to Meng Jinsong, leaving exactly two.
Jiang Lian smiled: “After all this, you still haven’t told us what the conditions are.”
Meng Qianzi said: “The conditions are simple, similar to ancient death-bound servants—unconditionally obeying your commands and, when necessary, dying for you.”
Jiang Lian exhaled deeply.
No wonder she had emphasized “listen to everything first” earlier. Neither of the two options she gave was easy to choose.
Shen Gun was also startled: “Miss… Miss Meng, we’ve only known each other for a short time. Suddenly asking someone to die for you…”
Meng Qianzi reminded him: “You can refuse. It’s a personal choice.”
Shen Gun fell silent. On second thought, he felt it wasn’t unreasonable: No one was holding a knife to their throats—it was a mutual agreement. Besides, with only two positions left, such a precious opportunity offered without seeking money or talent, what else could she want? In ancient people’s view, of course, it would be repaid with one’s life.
Unconditionally obeying her commands and having to die for her? Forget it… This kind of selfless devotion and loyalty was popular in ancient times. Modern people pursue freedom. It seemed he was not destined to join the mountain ghosts.
Jiang Lian suddenly said, “Actually, there’s another option that you haven’t thought of because you’re eager to descend the cliff.”
Meng Qianzi was taken aback.
“You offering us positions isn’t really what you want to do. You view it as a ‘disadvantage,’ indicating you don’t entirely agree with this approach. Besides, even if we consider these positions as rewards, I just saved you, so getting a position makes sense. But what about Shen Gun? He’s barely done anything—why should he get a position?”
Shen Gun opened his mouth to say something, but feeling Jiang Lian’s words were reasonable, he found no rebuttal.
“You’re offering because circumstances compel you to. You want to continue deeper, but ensure our safety. You’ve only considered two scenarios: taking us down or not taking us down. But there’s a third option.”
“You could choose to stay with us on the mountain platform and wait for rescue. The advantage is that you don’t have to give up your positions, and we won’t face dangers. The disadvantage is that your task will be delayed, requiring at least a day and a night of waiting here.”
Meng Qianzi remained silent for a long time.
She had indeed forgotten there was a third option because in her mind, she only thought about quickly dissecting the mountain to see the gallbladder, swiftly resolving the mysteries of recent days. She hadn’t considered stopping or waiting, especially waiting for as long as a day and night.
With her temperament, having to forcibly stop when she could act was like being roasted over a slow fire.
Should she wait?
Before her eyes flashed Jiang Lian’s bloody, scraped back, and that distant cliff wall tinged with blood that could no longer be seen.
“Then… let’s wait.”
Idle waiting is hard enough, let alone on such a dark, remote, neither-up-nor-down mountain platform where every minute seems infinitely stretched. You feel you’ve endured to the point of physical and mental exhaustion, only to find that not even a quarter hour has passed.
Meng Qianzi was never good at idling. Back at Yunmeng Peak, just waiting for Kuang Meiying to draw a sketch had made her restless. How much worse was it now? She had already gone through the items in her backpack at least three times, cleaned her dagger and shoes, and untied and retied her shoelaces. Unable to find anything else to do, she twisted her hair, searching strand by strand for any dry or split ends.
Jiang Lian sat on the other side of the mountain platform, occasionally turning to look at her, feeling both annoyed and amused, but without a good solution: precisely because he was born without freedom, he hated constraints. The Three Lotus Petals—wasn’t it essentially abandoning oneself to live for another? Moreover, he couldn’t abandon himself.
Shen Gun knelt and bent over the platform surface, studying Duan Wenxi’s message. There’s supposedly a discipline called graphological psychology that can deduce a person’s character, qualities, abilities, and suitable professions from their handwriting.
Bored with his deductions, he sighed and went to sit next to Jiang Lian: “Little Jiang, after all our difficulties coming down here, are we just going to sit for twenty-four hours and then be pulled back up by ropes tomorrow?”
Having come for nothing felt truly regrettable.
“Why not just agree? It’s just a matter of saying a few words. Miss Meng doesn’t seem like someone who would casually ask people to die for her. As for dying for her, she doesn’t seem that unlucky either—maybe she’ll never face danger in her lifetime, and we’ll never have the opportunity.”
Jiang Lian looked at him: “Is this just a matter of saying a few words? This is a promise. If you can’t fulfill it, don’t speak carelessly.”
Speaking of this, he turned to look at Meng Qianzi and raised his voice: “Miss Meng, we can go down together and follow you throughout. You’re only concerned that the mountain ghost secrets can’t be leaked. Once we’re down there, whenever it involves your secrets, could I simply not look or listen?”
Meng Qianzi shook her head: “You’ll understand once we’re down there. It’s impossible.”
Shen Gun desperately grasped at straws: “Then… as long as heaven knows, earth knows, and the three of us know, isn’t that enough? Who else needs to know?”
Meng Qianzi didn’t understand: “What do you mean by ‘who else needs to know’?”
Shen Gun gestured toward Jiang Lian, then pointed at himself: “Miss Meng, we’re good people. You know that when you were in trouble down there, Little Jiang disregarded his own life and jumped down without a second thought…”
Jiang Lian frowned, feeling Shen Gun was exaggerating: He had indeed descended quickly, but he had weighed the dangers and the risk of death, confident in his ability to handle it before jumping.
“He went down faster than anyone, even faster than Assistant Meng. He is more than qualified to be a flower petal.”
Jiang Lian had to correct him: “Lotus petal.”
Whatever—lotuses are flowers too, so lotus petals are flower petals.
Shen Gun continued his impassioned speech: “I’m the same! I had just started learning SRT techniques and wasn’t proficient yet. But when I saw you in trouble, I rushed forward out of concern and accidentally fell…”
He felt somewhat guilty saying this. Rushing forward was true; otherwise, he wouldn’t have accidentally fallen. But whether it was out of “concern” or “curiosity” is debatable.
“So, Miss Meng, don’t be bound by rules. No one else needs to know. We’ll follow you down, and whatever we see or hear, we promise never to mention it. You won’t tell others either, and isn’t that enough?”
Meng Qianzi remained silent: Truthfully, Jiang Lian had saved her life. Guarding secrets she didn’t even understand seemed quite unnecessary to her. But this involved the mountain ghosts, not just her personally. Rules were rules.
Jiang Lian sighed: “Stop putting Miss Meng in a difficult position. These are mountain ghost rules. We’re now in the mountains, a place where her predecessors have operated. Are you asking her to openly deceive and trick people here?”
Having grown up with Kuang Tongsheng, he knew how much those old-fashioned individuals valued rules: Corpse herders traveling at night would scatter paper money when reaching narrow paths, steep slopes, and ditches—this was called “clearing the checkpoints.” Even with no master supervising, they still did it meticulously. These were the rules. A traditional large family like the mountain ghosts, which had never broken its lineage, would naturally regard inherited rules as precious as jade. Meng Qianzi sat on the throne—if she didn’t set an example, that would be one thing, but to lead in breaking rules? How could that be justified?
Shen Gun complained: “Rules, rules. Many old-fashioned rules are truly annoying, like ‘pass to males but not females,’ ‘pass to insiders but not outsiders.’ How many exquisite secret techniques have been lost this way! Miss Meng is the head of the mountain ghosts. If some rules are unreasonable, she should bravely stand up and abolish them!”
Jiang Lian said, “Their rules are quite reasonable. She’s not running an exhibition hall—why should she open her doors and let just anyone in…”
As he said this, his heart suddenly stirred.
Abolish?
He stood up, walked to Meng Qianzi’s side, and crouched down: “Miss Meng, is there a rule saying that the Three Lotus Petals cannot be abolished?”
Meng Qianzi carefully recalled: “No, but I’ve never heard of… abolishing them before.”
Jiang Lian smiled: “If there’s no rule against it, then they can be abolished. Human hearts change easily. Perhaps at the time of taking the oath, someone is loyal to you, but after a few years, they might plot against you…”
Meng Qianzi replied: “That would be breaking the covenant and oath—punishable by heaven’s thunder, requiring expulsion from the family.”
Alright, try another approach: “Or… if their behavior is improper, their character contemptible—keeping such people by your side, wouldn’t that be disgraceful? You wouldn’t abolish such positions? Or perhaps you were deceived temporarily, later discovering you had misjudged someone at first. Such positions… wouldn’t be abolished either?”
Meng Qianzi’s thoughts suddenly became distant, her voice lowering: “Those would… need to be abolished.”
Jiang Lian said, “Then this is easy to resolve. I know you’re eager to descend the cliff and attend to important matters, while also insisting on acting according to the rules. You can give us these positions, effective for only one day and night. Once the matter is concluded, abolish us. During this day and night, we will fulfill our promises, obey your instructions, and in the face of danger, we will certainly protect you selflessly…”
These words seemed to take advantage of her: When they reached the bottom, for safety’s sake, they would naturally have to follow her instructions. And who would be protecting whom? She would be protecting them, right?
“After being abolished by you, we will still adhere to our principles, never mentioning what we’ve seen or heard. Would that be acceptable?”
Essentially, he was just rephrasing Shen Gun’s suggestion, but it sounded reasonable, solving the problem without breaking the rules.
Meng Qianzi found it feasible: Correct! In this world, misjudging people and making wrong decisions are inevitable. Shouldn’t one be allowed to rectify these? Besides… her judgment of people had never been particularly good.
She thought for a moment: “Then… even if it’s only effective for one day and night, we still need to follow the rules.”
The Three Lotus Petals ceremony was originally complex, but given the simplicity of the mountain platform, they had to make do with what they had. However, taking an oath was still necessary.
Shen Gun and Jiang Lian were reciting the oath on the side. It wasn’t long, but mixed with classical and vernacular language, it was inevitably awkward. Shen Gun frowned: “Mountain ghosts have so many formalities.”
He urged Jiang Lian: “You go first later, give me more time.”
…
Meng Qianzi took out a pen used for marking from her backpack and, using the finer end, drew a deep red lotus flower in the center of her left palm.
Jiang Lian went first.
It was said that before liberation, one had to perform a kneeling ceremony. He confirmed with Meng Qianzi that kneeling wasn’t necessary, thinking this would eliminate a major awkwardness. Now he realized that standing face to face was also quite awkward.
He still had to take an oath.
Meng Qianzi raised her hand, palm, with a bright red lotus in the center of her palm.
Jiang Lian first extended his right hand, saw it was wrapped in bandages, then switched to his left hand. Their palms met, and he felt her palm was warm at the center but cool and soft at the edges. His heart stirred, and suddenly he forgot the words he had memorized.
Meng Qianzi reminded him: “The ancient saying…”
Jiang Lian composed himself: “The ancient saying goes: The peak is not water yet blooms lotus, the peak stands above clouds, mist surrounds it; the throne stands in cold places, three petals encircle it; today blood marks the lotus petal, life as vanguard, from this day forward, no betrayal, no abandonment, no departure, no desertion, life follows your body, death accompanies your side, if this oath is violated, body torn by beasts, bones crushed by mountains, heaven, earth, people, gods, and mountain ghosts bear witness.”
As he finished, he applied slight pressure with his hand, feeling her smooth skin. Her hand seemed unsuited to being held, the fair knuckles immediately turning slightly red.
Meng Qianzi didn’t notice, looking up at him with a smile, her face showing a hint of satisfaction: “Though it’s fake, it still sounds gratifying.”
Jiang Lian also smiled.
Who said it was fake? Within twenty-four hours, it was still valid.