Jiang Lian’s final drawing depicted Yama, the King of Hell.

When he regained consciousness, it was twilight, the timing perfect. He exhaled deeply, touched his empty stomach, and was about to get up when his gaze landed on something unexpected.

Kuang Meiying and Wei Biao were both there. Not only were they present, but their luggage was also ready, including his own, which had been neatly packed.

Jiang Lian reacted quickly, asking before Kuang Meiying could speak: “Is Master Gan not well?”

Kuang Meiying nodded.

“Have the return tickets been booked? When do we leave?”

They had booked late, so the earliest flight was at 10:40 PM. However, Yuling Mountain was more than an hour away from Zhangjiajie Airport, meaning they needed to depart around seven or eight o’clock.

Jiang Lian checked the time; it was past five already.

Kuang Meiying said, “We’ve arranged for a car. We’ll eat first and then leave. There’s still plenty of time.”

Jiang Lian responded reflexively, “Alright.”

There was no other choice. This matter took priority now, though it was so sudden. He had just opened his eyes to be told they were heading off again, with no time to prepare mentally.

Jiang Lian organized the drawings on the table and handed them to Kuang Meiying. “Take photos of these and make several copies if possible. It’s safer that way.”

If there had been multiple copies of the Kuang family’s medicinal formula stored in different places, rather than putting all eggs in one basket, their descendants today wouldn’t be running around so desperately.

Though she had said there was plenty of time, with departure imminent, Kuang Meiying inexplicably felt rushed. She took the drawings and hurried out. Wei Biao, feeling that such trivial matters should be his responsibility, quickly followed her.

As their footsteps—one light, one heavy—gradually faded, the sudden, brief silence in the room made Jiang Lian pause, suddenly remembering something.

He first went upstairs to look for Meng Qianzi.

The third floor housed the VIPs, and for security, a card system was set up at the stairwell. A resident was sitting there playing with his phone and politely stopped Jiang Lian, explaining that Miss Meng had left early in the morning with the Fifth Aunt.

Now he remembered; she had mentioned having social obligations today.

Jiang Lian went back downstairs to find Liu Guangguo.

As luck would have it, Liu Guangguo had just helped Kuang Meiying start the copy machine: one was set up in the corner of the inn’s lobby, an old model that responded slowly. It was originally for guests to print scenic area guides and bus schedules, but with smartphones developing so rapidly in recent years, everyone views everything on their phones. The copier wasn’t used more than once every week or two and had gathered dust.

He greeted Jiang Lian: “Brother Lian, are you finished? Miss Meng asked us to be quiet this morning, saying you had work to do.”

Jiang Lian smiled, not wanting to speak in front of Kuang Meiying and the others: “Brother Liu, can we talk privately?”

Liu Guangguo was puzzled but allowed himself to be “borrowed” outside.

Jiang Lian chose his words carefully: “Do you know where Miss Meng and the others went?”

Liu Guangguo smiled: “I have no idea. She’s meeting old friends, and didn’t even take us along.”

He counted on his fingers: “She just requested a car with a driver. Meng’s assistant went with her, and so did Miss Meng’s little makeup artist.”

“Then, do you have Miss Meng’s contact information?”

Liu Guangguo laughed: “How would I have that? Even if I asked, she wouldn’t give it to me. At our level, we can at most contact Meng’s assistant.”

Then he asked curiously: “You don’t have it?”

Jiang Lian laughed awkwardly. Of course, he didn’t. The past few days had been spent fleeing for his life and climbing down cliffs—who would have thought about exchanging contact information? Things had been calm these last couple of days, but he’d been busy with various tasks and hadn’t thought to ask—he assumed there would be opportunities later.

And so he found himself in this predicament.

Liu Guangguo asked: “Do you need something? Miss Meng will return anyway, you can talk to her then.”

Jiang Lian explained: “No, it’s just that an elder in my family isn’t doing well. We need to rush back urgently. It was very sudden, and we have to leave shortly.”

Liu Guangguo understood: “That’s urgent indeed! You must prioritize that. You can’t say goodbye to her in person, right? Don’t worry, I’ll tell her. If you’re concerned I won’t explain it properly, you can leave a note.”

That was an option. If he couldn’t get her contact information, he could leave his own. But Jiang Lian still felt uncertain about this approach. After hesitating, he asked: “Then… Brother Liu, could you contact them and ask someone to let Miss Meng know?”

It would be better if she knew sooner rather than later, better than hearing it from someone else or a flimsy note.

Liu Guangguo was somewhat reluctant. He could call Meng Jinsong, but Meng kept a strict separation between professional and personal matters and resented subordinates calling him for trivial matters—after all, there was only one Special Assistant Meng, but thousands of mountain ghosts nationwide. If everyone called him, how could he manage?

After considering, he decided on an indirect approach.

He called the driver, who was also reluctant: “Brother Liu, they’re in a VIP meeting. How could I barge in? If it were some urgent matter, I could report it, but just to say a friend of the boss is leaving? So what if they’re leaving? Will the boss go back to see them off? What’s the rush in knowing this a little earlier or later?”

Liu Guangguo agreed but couldn’t express this in front of Jiang Lian: “Well, keep an eye out. If you happen to see Meng’s assistant come out, please ask him to relay the message…”

Since they had done this much, Jiang Lian didn’t want to push further. Suddenly remembering something, he turned and called to Kuang Meiying: “Meiying, come upstairs with me. I need your help.”

Kuang Meiying quickly entrusted her task to Wei Biao: “Watch this, I’ll be right back.”

Wei Biao watched as Kuang Meiying scurried after Jiang Lian upstairs, feeling a twinge of jealousy. He grew dispirited while organizing the copied papers: what’s so great about being able to draw? He’s not even polite, ordering Meiying around—priorities all mixed up.

The copier’s warning light came on, indicating it was out of paper. Wei Biao looked around for a while but couldn’t find any backup. Counting what he had in hand, there were already three or four copies. Besides, they had already photographed everything as backup, which should be sufficient.

He removed the drawing paper and, upon seeing Liu Guangguo, mentioned: “The copier is out of paper.”

Liu Guangguo didn’t think much of it, tapping on the front desk: “We’re out of paper. Fill it up later.”

The receptionist was a young girl. With only their people staying at the inn these days, there were no guests, leaving her free to enjoy herself. She was engrossed in watching a drama when Liu Guangguo spoke. With a quick “Ah!” she paused the show, bent down to take out a stack of new paper from a drawer, hurriedly went to load it, pressed the resume button, and rushed back: in the drama, the male and female leads were about to part, with the male lead waiting to fly while the female lead was racing to the airport—a classic airport chase scene, but she still watched with burning anxiety, extremely concerned about whether the female lead would make it in time or the plane would prove faster.

Everyone was busy with their tasks, and no one noticed that after a while, the copy machine hummed again, resumed operation, and produced a few more copies that hadn’t been completed earlier.

Kuang Meiying hadn’t expected Jiang Lian to apply the spirit eye one more time.

She stammered: “The time… we don’t have enough time, do we?”

Jiang Lian said, “We do. Two hours to complete one piece is plenty. We just won’t have time to eat, but I can eat at the airport.”

Kuang Meiying pointed outside: “But it’s… It’s already dark!”

Jiang Lian never applied the spirit eye at night due to superstition: the older generation believed that applying the spirit eye involved “the soul leaving the body,” and since night belongs to the yin forces with ghosts roaming, one’s soul could easily be taken by wandering spirits.

He said: “There have been a few times when I drew slowly and it extended into the night, and nothing happened. In emergencies, rules must be flexible. When circumstances demand, adapt.”

Kuang Meiying couldn’t argue with him: “So what will you draw this time?”

Jiang Lian told her, “Miss Meng has been so helpful. Would it be appropriate to leave without a word? A verbal thanks lacks substance, and as for gifts, she doesn’t lack gold or silver.”

This reasoning was sound and irrefutable. Kuang Meiying was rendered speechless. Indeed, no gift would compare to an original spirit eye drawing. Few in the world could apply the spirit eye—this artwork wasn’t just a picture, it was more meaningful than ordinary paintings. Even knowledgeable collectors who wanted to purchase one couldn’t find them.

She no longer objected: “Then, what will you draw?”

Jiang Lian replied: “I’ll choose a scene from her daily life that I remember clearly. I’ll draw one of those.”

…

This drawing was finished at the very last second. The hired driver waiting downstairs grew impatient and called up twice. The first time was resolved with Wei Biao’s promise: “Start the meter from this moment, and I’ll pay whatever the fare is to the airport.” The second time wasn’t about money; the driver pursued Wei Biao to define responsibility, saying, “I don’t care, as long as I don’t lose money. If you miss your flight, that’s your problem; don’t blame me.”

Jiang Lian had to complete even the final step of packaging while walking downstairs.

Liu Guangguo fulfilled his duties as host, seeing the three off at the door. When Jiang Lian approached him, he had just tied a beautiful knot with the thin string binding the drawing: the packaging wasn’t elaborate, just rolled into a tube with an outer wrapper secured by string. Though simple, each step was done with care, not carelessly.

He handed the scroll to Liu Guangguo: “Please give this to Miss Meng when you can. Unfortunately, there’s no time for a personal goodbye.”

Liu Guangguo readily agreed: “No problem, no problem. It’s the information age—nothing’s a big deal. Staying in touch is easy—oh, by the way, Miss Meng knows about this now.”

Jiang Lian was caught off guard: “She knows?”

Liu Guangguo nodded: she should know, the driver had told him. The driver said Meng’s assistant had come out to use the restroom, and he’d seized the opportunity to tell him. At that time, Meng’s assistant had listened with a bland expression and said “understood” before going back inside.

Although it wasn’t communicated directly to Miss Meng, everyone in the mountain ghost community knew that messages for Miss Meng had to go through Meng Jinsong. So, rounding things off, it was as good as Miss Meng knew.

“Did Miss Meng say anything?”

Liu Guangguo was momentarily at a loss, but feeling he shouldn’t let his boss appear inconsiderate or impolite to others, he stammered: “Well, she expressed understanding, wished you a safe journey, and hoped for the elder’s well-being.”

Jiang Lian responded with a soft “hmm,” paused, and then said: “Then please thank Miss Meng for me.”

Meng Qianzi and her group didn’t return until after three in the morning.

Liu Guangguo heard the commotion and wanted to exchange pleasantries, but by the time he was dressed and had retrieved the scroll to go up to the third floor, all the guest rooms had their doors tightly shut and had fallen silent. They must have been exhausted from their social engagements.

The night watchman greeted him: “Brother Liu, you’re pushing yourself! What’s so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow? Deliberately staying up late to show diligence—trying to get Assistant Meng to raise your salary?”

Liu Guangguo laughed and scolded: “Nonsense.”

Just then, a door opened. It was Meng Jinsong coming out. He had changed into his sleepwear and had just washed his face, not yet having dried it: “What’s the matter?”

Meng Jinsong had heard movement outside. He initially didn’t want to respond, but vaguely heard himself being mentioned, so he opened the door to inquire.

The night watchman, thinking his conversation had disturbed Meng, turned red with embarrassment. Liu Guangguo quickly approached, lowering his voice by several degrees: “Nothing important. I just heard Fifth Sister and the others return and wanted to greet them. Also, since Jiang Lian has left, he asked me to give this…”

Meng Jinsong said, “Come in and tell me.”

After saying this, he went back into the room and sat on the bed, taking a tissue to dry his face.

Liu Guangguo felt it wasn’t worth entering to discuss such a minor matter, so although he entered and closed the door, he stood by it, ready to exit at any moment: “Just that… Jiang Lian asked me to give this to Miss Meng, so I brought it up.”

Meng Jinsong made a sound of acknowledgment and sprayed some moisturizing water on his face: “Open it and take a look.”

Liu Guangguo thought he had misheard: “Huh? Open it… But this is Miss Meng’s… personal item.”

Meng Jinsong briefly paused his actions, looking up at Liu Guangguo, who stammered, feeling he might have misspoken.

Meng Jinsong asked him: “Can just anyone send gifts to Miss Meng? What are we here for? At Mountain Osmanthus House, all packages received by Miss Meng and the aunties must be inspected by us first. How do you know it’s not something dangerous?”

Damn! This was truly a wake-up call. Liu Guangguo deeply felt the gap between himself and the special assistant.

He quickly stepped forward, seeing that Meng Jinsong had no intention of handling it himself, so he took charge: untying the string, removing the outer wrapping paper, and unfolding the scroll.

A note fell to the floor, but neither of them rushed to pick it up, looking at the drawing first.

The drawing showed Meng Qianzi playing with a small white monkey. Meng Qianzi was smiling with her chin propped on her hand, while the small white monkey had a red dot on its forehead, wide-eyed and adorable.

Liu Guangguo exhaled deeply: fortunately, it was just a painting, not anything dangerous.

He couldn’t help commenting: “It’s drawn so well, like it’s right before our eyes. The details are handled beautifully too—look at Miss Meng’s eyelashes, each one distinct.”

Then he picked up the note, which didn’t contain anything inappropriate. It simply explained that Kuang Tongsheng was critically ill, necessitating an urgent return, and apologized for not saying goodbye in person. It also thanked Meng Qianzi for her assistance and included a signature, phone number, WeChat ID, and email address.

The last line added: “Take care, stay in touch.”

This was as clean as could be. Seeing that Meng Jinsong had no objections, Liu Guangguo rolled up the drawing again, clumsily wrapped it in the packaging paper, and attempted to tie it back up to restore it.

Meng Jinsong hadn’t spoken throughout this process. Only when the final knot was finally tied, looking somewhat presentable, did he speak.

He said: “Burn it.”

Meng Qianzi slept until high noon.

Upon waking, her first action was to check her phone. The latest messages were all from Xin Ci.

—”Boss? Are you awake?”

—”Qianzi? I’m waiting outside, ready to start work.”

—”Boss, I’ve already finished my extra nap.”

…

Meng Qianzi giggled. She first opened her door, then went to the bathroom to freshen up. When she came out, Xin Ci was already waiting by the dressing table, not forgetting to nag: “You slept so late.”

Meng Qianzi countered: “I’m not seventeen or eighteen anymore. If I don’t sleep well, my state isn’t good. If my state isn’t good, I have no energy for anything. Don’t you understand?”

Xin Ci made a face, then asked: “Are we going for a cold, stunning look today? I can do a blue eyeshadow for you, the enchantress style.”

Meng Qianzi responded irritably: “That’s so weird.”

She rummaged through Xin Ci’s makeup bag, pointing toward the warm orange-pink shades: “Aren’t these very nice? They look refreshing and bright.”

Xin Ci made an exaggerated “Wow” sound: “You didn’t like these shades before. You said they lacked presence.”

Meng Qianzi said: “For everyday life, who am I trying to impress with such strong presence?”

Looking in the mirror, she fluffed her hair: “Braid it, but make it slightly askew, fluffy, and natural-looking.”

Xin Ci began combing her hair, spraying it with a protective mist as he worked. While he was busy, Qiu Biying entered from outside and asked: “Little Qian, today Uncle Qiu from the Chen family is inviting us…”

Meng Qianzi shook her head before she could finish: “No, no, I’m too tired from yesterday.”

Qiu Biying snapped: “Who was it that kept asking people to tell stories yesterday? We wouldn’t have stayed that late otherwise. You kept saying you were interested… I didn’t even get to chat properly with them.”

Meng Qianzi turned and giggled: “So, Fifth Mother, I won’t go. If I’m there, you can’t reminisce in peace. I’ll have Jinsong accompany you. He’s an honest person, calm, and won’t interrupt.”

Then she called out: “Jinsong.”

Meng Jinsong quickly entered, and Meng Qianzi pointed to Qiu Biying: “Today, you’ll accompany my Fifth Mother. Take good care of her in all respects…”

At this point, she suddenly remembered something: “By the way, did Jiang Lian finish all his spirit eye drawings yesterday? I’ll go take a look later.”

Hearing her mention Jiang Lian again, Qiu Biying’s face showed some displeasure, though she didn’t say anything.

Meng Jinsong said, “Jiang Lian… he left.”

Meng Qianzi didn’t understand: “Left… went out? Who did he go to see? Old Ga? Or did he go find Shen Gun?”

Meng Jinsong said, “No, I mean he left for good. Kuang Meiying and Wei Biao went with him. I suppose they went back to wherever they came from.”

Meng Qianzi was silent. She felt herself pause for a moment, or perhaps it wasn’t her who paused, but everything around her suddenly halted—all weight pressed down on her, catching her off guard, then quickly retreated, leaving her prepared response hanging in the air.

She asked: “Then, did he leave any message?”

Meng Jinsong said: “He did. He said he had urgent matters to attend to and asked me to thank Miss Meng for her help.”

Is that so? Meng Qianzi sat motionless, her mind roaring like several wind currents colliding. Following that, her chest also filled with air from an unknown source, building in clusters, swelling uncomfortably.

Urgent matters—yes, continuing to search for that box was certainly urgent. Now with both the portrait and the pattern, it was indeed time to press on without delay.

She heard the exchange between Qiu Biying and Meng Jinsong.

Qiu Biying was also somewhat surprised: “He just left like that?”

Meng Jinsong made an affirmative sound.

Qiu Biying suddenly realized: “Is it because he used up the mirage pearl, right?”

Meng Jinsong answered: “Yes.”

Qiu Biying murmured: “This young man, really… so focused on his goal. He came for the mirage pearl, and once it was used up, he left. Clean and decisive, not dragging things out at all.”

Meng Qianzi remained silent. One hand at her side gradually clenched, her knuckles turning white. Being overly sensitive, she found Qiu Biying’s words grating: dragging things out? Who was the mud? Was it her?

Qiu Biying continued: “I won’t judge him. After all, he did help us, didn’t deceive us in any way. Of course, he had to leave once his business was done. He was proper in etiquette too—didn’t he say thank you?”

Meng Qianzi couldn’t hold back. Her hand, resting on the dressing table, rose high and came down with a loud “bang.” The impact was so heavy that Xin Ci’s makeup bag, not secured properly, toppled over and fell to the ground, spilling many powder compacts, blushes, eyeshadows, and highlighters.

Xin Ci was somewhat distressed and quickly crouched down to pick them up. But these powders were all extremely fragile and delicate—they appeared solid but would instantly scatter at a touch. Various brilliant colors mixed chaotically together, like a disordered little world.

Qiu Biying was startled and looked at Meng Qianzi. After a moment, seeming to understand something, she said: “You two, go out first.”

After waiting for Xin Ci and Meng Jinsong to leave and close the door, Qiu Biying walked over to Meng Qianzi and asked: “Little Qian, do you have feelings for this Jiang Lian?”

Meng Qianzi’s face was hard, her voice indifferent: “No.”

Qiu Biying sighed: “I told you early on, some people have ulterior motives. You need to be discerning. This Jiang Lian wasn’t too bad, he didn’t try to take advantage of you. But what if he had been trying to deceive you emotionally or physically? Would you have fallen for it?”

Meng Qianzi’s expression remained blank: “Fifth Mother, you’re overthinking. I’m someone who swore an oath before our ancestral grandmother’s portrait. How could I fall for anything?”

Qiu Biying was momentarily speechless. Seeing her tone and expression, she knew this wasn’t a good time for conversation.

She opened the door and said to Meng Jinsong, “You don’t need to accompany me today. All of you stay to keep Qianzi company. She has a temper, so humor her a bit.”

Meng Jinsong acknowledged with a sound and watched Qiu Biying go downstairs before entering the room with Xin Ci.

Meng Qianzi had her back to them, sitting facing the dressing mirror, not saying anything. Yet the silence spoke volumes; Xin Ci felt oppressed just looking at her back.

He signaled with his eyes to Meng Jinsong, indicating: “You go first.”

After a moment of silence, Meng Jinsong stepped forward: “Qianzi, if you’re concerned about Jiang Lian’s departure, we mountain ghosts have many resources. I can arrange for people to inquire. It shouldn’t be difficult to find him.”

Meng Qianzi felt anger rising to her head and shouted: “What’s there to find? Don’t look! The road is wide; whoever wants to leave can leave.”

Meng Jinsong’s scalp tingled with anxiety, and he was at a loss. He looked back at Xin Ci and left the room first.

Well, in this situation, he had to step up.

Xin Ci went over without a word and continued combing her hair, thinking to himself that hair was just fur, and this was another way of going with the flow.

As he combed, he suddenly noticed in the dressing mirror that there seemed to be a flash of moisture in Meng Qianzi’s eyes.

Xin Ci was startled, but when he looked again, her eyelids had lowered, and he couldn’t see it anymore.

Xin Ci hesitated for a moment, then carefully asked: “Qianzi, do you have feelings for that Jiang Lian…?”

Meng Qianzi quickly replied: “No.”

She noticed her voice was trembling slightly, so she raised it to say, hoping to use this seemingly carefree loud voice to suppress those complex feelings she couldn’t articulate: “I’m just… a bit angry.”

“These people nowadays, is it so hard for them to understand basic courtesy? Once their business is done, they just leave without even saying goodbye…”

She abruptly stopped at this point.

Speaking this way seemed a bit petulant. Jiang Lian had said goodbye; hadn’t he sent his thanks through someone?

So this back and forth amounted to nothing more than the sentiment of “thank you.”

She lowered her gaze and saw the orange-pink color she had chosen earlier among the scattered powder piles on the floor.

As she looked at it, she smiled faintly.

It seemed she wasn’t suited to these shades after all.