Before coming to Xiangxi, Meng Qianzi had imagined many scenarios of encountering the Mountain Gallbladder—some dangerous, some peaceful—and had also imagined how she would calmly resolve each one.
What she hadn’t anticipated was being accused of a fake on the spot.
Her first reaction was to berate Shen Gun for talking nonsense, but on second thought, she reminded herself that composure was essential at all times, and she shouldn’t be flustered like an impatient chicken.
“You say this is fake, but what evidence do you have? Have you seen a Mountain Gallbladder before?”
Shen Gun looked completely bewildered. “No, I haven’t.”
He seemed to only now gather his thoughts, speaking haltingly: “I just… when I saw it, I felt nothing. You call it a Mountain Gallbladder, but the first thought that jumped into my mind was: it’s not, absolutely not.”
Meng Qianzi laughed in exasperation: “Feeling? You do navigate the world based on feelings. You felt the Mountain Gallbladder had something to do with you, so you traveled to Xiangxi; you feel it’s not real, so you boldly claim our Mountain Gallbladder is fake—it’s only because I have a good temper. If it were my Fifth Mother with her fiery disposition, she’d have slapped you twice across the face by now.”
After finishing, still harboring resentment, she added: “If you have evidence, present it. Without proof or basis, stop spouting nonsense.”
Shen Gun suddenly became agitated.
If it were about anything else, considering Meng Qianzi’s status, he might have swallowed his pride and yielded. But when it came to “scientific research,” he didn’t care who you were—he always stood his ground: “Miss Meng, you look like someone who values reason, how can you dismiss feelings?”
“People don’t repeatedly develop strange intuitions about something without reason. There must be a cause, every effect has a cause. I just can’t explain why yet, but I’ve been searching all along—sometimes, that suddenly erupting intuition is even more accurate than solid evidence. Couldn’t you… Give it some consideration?”
By the final sentence, his voice had diminished, his momentum weakened: for no other reason than suddenly remembering this was Meng Qianzi’s territory, and if she became displeased, she could imprison him just like Guan Er Fu.
Meng Qianzi darkened her face and remained silent.
In truth, she was somewhat wavering: throughout the journey, she could see Shen Gun had some insight, and this person was genuinely excited and eager to see the Mountain Gallbladder, with no possible ulterior motives. But the Mountain Ghost family had treasured this object for thousands of years, and for someone to immediately declare it fake—who could tolerate that?
The atmosphere became somewhat tense. Jiang Lian cleared his throat: “Actually, I also think…”
Meng Qianzi glared at him: “Are you joining in too?”
Jiang Lian smiled: “Don’t be hasty. Come, sit down first, let’s talk this through properly. We’re all from the same branch, no need to get red-faced and heated.”
Saying this, he sat down first, maintaining a composed mediating posture, patting the spaces to his left and right: “Sit.”
Who’s from the same branch as you? Meng Qianzi was both amused and exasperated, but after maintaining her stern expression for a while longer, she still went over and sat beside Jiang Lian. Shen Gun sat on the other side, head drooping, still muttering: “It’s just… intuition, that’s all.”
Jiang Lian asked very methodically: “Miss Meng, I have three questions. First, this Mountain Gallbladder verse, when it was passed down, was it just the verse alone, or did it come with detailed explanations and notes?”
Meng Qianzi thought for a moment: “Just the verse.”
Jiang Lian nodded: “Then why did you understand so clearly about the ‘pupil dripping oil’ and ‘tongue moving chaotically’ before we even went down the cliff?”
Isn’t this obvious? Meng Qianzi said, “My Great-Grandmother Duan came down here before.”
Jiang Lian smiled: “Good, so it was Great-Grandmother Duan who said it.”
He changed the subject: “Second question, you are the Mountain Ghost Throne, capable of opening the Nine Layers of the mountain. The Mountain Gallbladder is so precious, yet it hangs at the Third Layer. Don’t you think that’s too shallow? Just share your honest thoughts.”
Meng Qianzi hesitated for a moment: “Indeed, it is, to some extent, but it’s not unreasonable: the protections here are layered one inside another, already quite formidable. Splitting open the mountain is also very difficult. Whether it’s placed at the Third Layer or the Fifth Layer, in my view, is merely the difference between being placed near the door or deeper inside a safe. Besides, the succession of Mountain Ghosts often has gaps that can’t be bridged. For instance, before I took over, the Throne was vacant for over thirty years—if you place it too deep, it might lead to a period when no one can access the gallbladder.”
Jiang Lian just listened quietly without commenting. When she finished, he changed the subject again: “Third question.”
“Now I want to compliment a woman’s beauty. Listen to my description and tell me if it sounds reasonable.”
Meng Qianzi was a bit confused: Compliment a woman’s beauty? The first two questions were somewhat relevant, but the third one seemed too far off topic.
Jiang Lian pondered for a moment: “She has gentle eyes, a small and elegant nose, beautiful lips, red and full.”
After finishing, he looked at Meng Qianzi: “Is this description reasonable?”
Meng Qianzi hadn’t yet processed his point when Shen Gun blurted out: “The wording is too poor, elementary school essay level.”
Jiang Lian was both amused and exasperated, but didn’t bother arguing with him, just looking at Meng Qianzi, waiting for her answer.
Meng Qianzi’s writing skill was probably on par with his. She felt the description, though a bit dry, wasn’t grammatically wrong: “There’s no problem with it.”
“Good, then what about this: She has gentle eyes, a small and elegant nose, a petite and shapely figure, beautiful lips, red and full.”
Meng Qianzi frowned: “That doesn’t sound right. We’re talking about her face, then suddenly there’s a line about her figure. It feels awkward.”
Jiang Lian had been waiting for this response: “Good, I’ve finished my questions. Now, let me share my thoughts.”
“This Mountain Gallbladder might have issues, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a real Mountain Gallbladder here. Great-Grandmother Duan, back then, probably never saw the true Mountain Gallbladder.”
Though Jiang Lian’s words also suggested the Mountain Gallbladder was false, compared to Shen Gun’s blunt and crude outburst, it was much more tactful. Meng Qianzi unconsciously leaned slightly toward him: “Why do you say that?”
Shen Gun also widened his eyes.
Jiang Lian said, “Your Mountain Ghosts are probably too familiar with this verse, treating it as gospel, and never thought to question it. But I’m an outsider, an observer. From the beginning, I vaguely felt this verse was a bit strange.”
“However, I didn’t think deeply about it at the time. It wasn’t until Shen Gun said it was fake that I was reminded.”
“‘Beautiful head, hundred flowers shy’—indeed quite clever and reasonable. But you’ve already mentioned ‘head,’ then in the third line, ‘pupil dripping oil’—where did that come from?”
He pointed upward: “It jumps directly to the vine covering at the top of the cliff. True, from below, that vine cover does look like an eye, and due to day-night temperature differences, dew and wood sap mix and drip down oily substances—but don’t you think this ‘pupil dripping oil’ is as abrupt as suddenly switching from describing a woman’s face to her figure?”
Shen Gun had a sudden realization, slapping his thigh: “That’s right! Why didn’t I think of that!”
Jiang Lian continued: “The next line, ‘tongue moving chaotically,’ shifts to the water flow at the peak, but honestly, it’s worthless. A proper verse that hints at a route should have no wasted words, progressing layer by layer, with each line having concrete meaning—’Beautiful head, hundred flowers shy’ passes because it identifies the gallbladder’s location among many stone peaks, but what do ‘pupil dripping oil, tongue moving chaotically’ guide you toward?”
“That’s why I asked if the verse passed down back then had detailed explanations. Now it seems there are only two possibilities: either this verse is completely fabricated, or… Great-Grandmother Duan, at that time, never found the true ‘pupil dripping oil’ and ‘tongue moving chaotically.'”
At this point, he smiled: “But we can’t blame her. She came down reciting this verse, subconsciously looking for places that matched. Seeing something that roughly fit, she was inevitably biased—or perhaps, the current ‘pupil dripping oil’ and ‘tongue moving chaotically’ are misleading formations set by the Mountain Ghost ancestors, intended to lead people astray. In other words, the Mountain Ghost ancestors didn’t want anyone to disturb the Mountain Gallbladder, concealing the truth even from their descendants.”
Meng Qianzi listened, almost in a daze.
Correct, this rebuttal was quite powerful: their current understanding of “pupil dripping oil” and “tongue moving chaotically” were merely two lines describing scenery, completely useless as guidance—a verse concealing a route should have hidden meaning in every word, how could it include such irrelevant content?
She muttered: “My Great-Grandmother Duan… how unfortunate, just one step away. She noticed something, she said this verse was nonsense, far-fetched, but…”
But Duan Wenxi, as legendary as she was, was ultimately human, not divine.
Meng Qianzi remembered what the Elder Mother had said, that Duan Wenxi had updated and annotated many mountain manuals, believing that in ancient times, people had limited knowledge and exaggerated many phenomena, needing correction. Perhaps it was this prejudice and arrogance that made her not investigate further, even when she noticed something amiss.
So, sometimes, don’t be quick to blame others; perhaps the problem lies with oneself. Duan Wenxi’s dismissal of “nonsense” attributed the oversight to the ancestors’ shallowness, but in reality, she had taken a wrong turn.
Jiang Lian also sighed.
It was indeed unfortunate. Duan Wenxi had descended to the Third Layer and seen this “Mountain Gallbladder,” but she had no reference materials to know what a Mountain Gallbladder should look like. Nor did she have someone like Shen Gun to make a startling statement, telling her the gallbladder was fake. So after looking it over, she only thought it was “a stupid stone, nothing more.”
Meng Qianzi suddenly thought of something: “Then why do you think the real Mountain Gallbladder is still here? What if this is just an elaborate decoy?”
Jiang Lian smiled: “Two reasons.”
“First, borrowing your words, the protections here are layered one inside another, making it an excellent place to hide something. Through thousands of years of dynastic changes and turbulent times, I really can’t think of anywhere more secure and safe than here—going to all this trouble just for a decoy seems a bit excessive, doesn’t it?”
“As for the second reason, we have to thank our old friend, Miss Bai Shuixiao. She pursued you relentlessly, fighting to the death, using every trick possible. If there were a fake Mountain Gallbladder down here, it wouldn’t justify her efforts.”
Meng Qianzi laughed. Indeed, Bai Shuixiao’s desperate measures precisely proved that something was here.
Shen Gun looked from one to the other, his heart suddenly pounding: “So my intuition was right? But why… why would I have such an intuition? I have never seen a Mountain Gallbladder.”
Jiang Lian patted his shoulder: “One step at a time. We’ll address your questions later. Right now, we need to find the Mountain Gallbladder.”
At this point, he looked toward Meng Qianzi: “Shall we continue down?”
Meng Qianzi’s eyes sparkled with unusual brilliance, replying: “Of course, why not?”
When she had decided to retrieve the Mountain Gallbladder, her Second Mother, Tang Yuru, had firmly opposed it. Her Third Mother Ni Qiuhui had mediated, saying: “What’s wrong with just looking? Grandmother Duan left such a detailed diary, even drawing the route. Our Qianzi just needs to follow the instructions. What could go wrong?”
Following instructions was indeed safe, but it lacked excitement, like chewing sugarcane after someone else, tasteless. Failing meant you were incompetent; succeeding merely credited your predecessors.
But now it was different. Her almost godlike Great-Grandmother Duan had made mistakes, too. This unturned page of the Mountain Gallbladder still awaited her pen to write upon it.
“Of course, why not?”
The words came easily, but the actual descent was far from simple. Jiang Lian could see that with each layer they descended, Meng Qianzi grew more exhausted: gasping for breath, legs trembling, her face and temples beaded with sweat, even her back soaked through.
Moreover, these “nodes” for resting became increasingly smaller: initially like half an elevator car or an olive pit, by the eighth layer, it was like a tall, flat sunflower seed, barely enough room to stand. To leave more space for Meng Qianzi to rest, Jiang Lian had to squeeze against Shen Gun. Poor Shen Gun was using all four limbs to cling to the rock wall, truly resembling a flattened gecko, yet even then, his mouth never stopped.
“Little Lian-Lian, if the next layer is any smaller, the three of us will have to squeeze into a ball, like being stuffed in.”
Why couldn’t he think of something positive? Jiang Lian ignored him, pouring a bottle cap of water for Meng Qianzi to quench her thirst. But Shen Gun’s words were truly haunting, making him involuntarily think more: if Guan Er Fu back then, instead of being locked in a spacious stone chamber, had been stuffed into a crevice barely fitting one person, then when the quarry worker struck with his hammer and cracked open the sealed rock to reveal a corpse, he’d probably have fainted from fear on the spot.
Meng Qianzi wiped the sweat from her forehead: “The next layer is my absolute limit. Let’s hope it’s larger. If it’s any smaller, there won’t even be space to hang the Mountain Gallbladder.”
Jiang Lian said, “The next layer will be different.”
…
The Ninth Layer.
“Nine” has always been an intriguing number in Chinese culture: the highest place in the sky is called the Nine Heavens, the deepest place underground is the Nine Springs, all human relatives gathered together are no more than Nine Clans, and the land, however vast, is no more than Nine Provinces.
The Ninth Layer opened up spaciously.
Fully twice as large as the Third Layer, the air was stagnant, the scene bizarre. At first glance, it looked like the rock wall was covered with stone frost, or perhaps sprouting many curling white hairs. Jiang Lian supported Meng Qianzi, but before he could speak, Shen Gun had already rushed down, shouting: “Stone hair! Crystal flowers!”
Jiang Lian didn’t understand: “What’s that?”
Meng Qianzi replied softly: “This is something you wouldn’t know. Even among the Mountain Ghost people, not everyone would know—this is a non-gravitational water phenomenon.”
Non-gravitational water corresponds to gravitational water.
Generally speaking, most caves have gravitational water deposits affected by Earth’s gravity, such as stalagmites, columns, stalactites, and so on. What’s seen in most caves are typically these formations.
But in extremely rare caves, due to being so sealed that air flow is almost imperceptible, water droplets slowly seeping through capillaries in the cave walls have surface tension greater than gravity. Rather than dripping downward, they remain attached to the rock walls for long periods, slowly depositing and crystallizing. Given enough time, they form stone hair, curling rocks, or even crystal flowers. Moreover, having “escaped” gravity, these crystals curl and grow in any direction, creating an incredibly stunning spectacle.
Shen Gun was so excited that his voice trembled: “This is very rare. I’ve seen some in Guangxi, but only small patches. In Guilin’s Chuanshan Rock, there’s only one stone flower, treasured like a jewel. For so many stone hairs and crystal flowers to grow here means it’s extremely ancient—no one has been here for a very long time. That’s right, it must be here, definitely here.”
At this point, he suddenly realized something, swept his gaze around, and his expression changed slightly, saying anxiously: “Where is it? Where’s the Mountain Gallbladder?”
In this stone chamber, apart from being covered with stone hair and crystal flowers, there was still nothing else. Shen Gun was frantically walking back and forth when his leg suddenly hit something. He cried out in pain, looked down, and saw a flesh-red, hard, crystalline cluster that felt unsettlingly dense and intricate to the touch.
Shen Gun rubbed his knee and backed away, still looking around: “Where’s the gallbladder?”
Jiang Lian pointed in a direction, signaling Meng Qianzi to look.
They were still standing in a slightly elevated position, not having gone down, so they could see more clearly: across from them, at about eye level, there were two areas not covered with stone hair and crystal flowers—those crystals had avoided two spots that differed in color from the usual rock wall, appearing blackish with hints of fluorescent green, symmetrically positioned on the left and right, separated by some distance, quite resembling two deep pupils.
The absence of stone hair and crystal flowers there precisely indicated a material different from the surrounding rock; thus, without seeping water, no “hair” could grow.
Meng Qianzi softly asked: “Pupil dripping oil?”
Jiang Lian made an affirmative sound, asking her: “Do you have a burning stick? Burn it.”
Meng Qianzi’s backpack, though small, contained everything needed, all high-quality and handy: the burning sticks were made from specific reducing and oxidizing agents mixed together, capable of oxygen-free combustion even underwater, perfectly suited for the current environment.
Jiang Lian lit two sticks, strode to the rock wall, gave one to Shen Gun, and indicated he should follow his example to heat the “pupil.”
As the flames blazed fiercely, the two pupils gradually became soft and oily, truly appearing as if about to drip oil. The air gradually filled with a strange, sweet fragrance, presumably the scent released by the “pupils” when heated. Jiang Lian could only silently pray this smell wasn’t poisonous—among the three, only Meng Qianzi’s constitution might withstand it; he and Shen Gun, with ordinary bodies, couldn’t tolerate it.
Just then, he suddenly heard the sound of wing-beating.
It was like some tiny mosquito-like insect suddenly flapping its wings with a buzzing sound.
Such a sound, if heard in alleys or farmhouses, wouldn’t be strange, but here, in this place sealed for thousands of years, where even the rock walls were covered with crystal flowers, it was truly chilling: Could there be some living creature here? A living being… surviving in a sealed mountain cavity?
Another buzzing of wings.
The stone chamber was extremely quiet. Meng Qianzi, being further away and still sitting on the ground supporting her head to rest, hadn’t heard anything.
As the flames danced on the wall, a drop of sweat slowly rolled down Jiang Lian’s forehead.
In the silence, Shen Gun tremblingly said: “Little Lian-Lian, did you… hear that?”</content>