At once, the entire cave was filled with bustling voices. Many folding steel ladders were brought in, and numerous mountain residents climbed up and down, carefully examining every nook and cranny—they might as well have been inspecting every inch with magnifying glasses.
Bai Shuixiao pressed her lips tightly together, her eyelids lowered, motionless except for her bound hands, which occasionally twitched slightly.
Qiu Biying sat in the canvas chair with an appearance of resting her eyes. She was no longer in her late teens with boundless energy—traveling non-stop from Hunan to Hubei was indeed somewhat tiring. Though her eyes were closed, her ears were alert, not missing any unusual sounds from anywhere.
Meng Jinsong pulled Liu Guanguo aside and quietly asked what Fifth Aunt had said from the moment he met her until they entered the cave. Liu Guanguo recounted everything in detail, almost word for word, and emphasized the key points to Meng Jinsong: “Fifth Sister seems particularly interested in why Bai Shuixiao didn’t flee when she could have, thinking she must have been hindered by something important.”
…
Just then, a mountain resident cried out: “Here, here, it’s newly carved! The stone debris is still attached to the edges—you can feel it with your hand!”
Qiu Biying opened her eyes and first looked at Bai Shuixiao.
Bai Shuixiao’s face was wooden, yet mixed with a hint of fearlessness. She kept her eyes lowered, calm, without even raising her eyelids.
Then Qiu Biying looked toward the voice.
The shouting mountain resident was standing halfway up a ladder; indeed, it was high up. Most of the cave had been blackened by fire, appearing as a dark mass at first glance, and without careful examination, one wouldn’t notice anything suspicious.
Qiu Biying gestured for the mountain resident to come down while she climbed the ladder to look.
That section of the cave wall had indeed been carved out, creating a narrow crevice. The gap wasn’t long or large. Judging by its depth, it seemed just big enough to fit something the size of a matchbox, but it must have been wedged in extremely tightly, giving the feeling of having naturally grown in the stone. Reaching in to explore, the corner was perennially damp, with water droplets even hanging from it.
Qiu Biying was about seventy to eighty percent certain: she had heard that the ancestral tablet was actually “water essence.” Though she didn’t know exactly what “water essence” referred to, since it contained the character for “water,” it presumably had environmental requirements—the Water Ghost family’s ancestral tablet only caused trouble underwater; that bizarre large object in the Drifting Cave had soaked in water for years, and it was the pure water from the source of three rivers.
Looking down, she saw fine stone debris scattered below.
There were no convenient footholds in this area. Without a ladder, climbing up to carve something would have been quite laborious. This woman could have escaped, but didn’t, apparently because she was delayed by carving this object out.
Qiu Biying glanced at Bai Shuixiao, then stepped down the ladder and asked Meng Jinsong: “Did you search her body?”
Meng Jinsong nodded: “Yes, we even undid her hair bun to check—nothing was found.”
“Did you search thoroughly?”
Meng Jinsong’s face showed embarrassment as he approached Qiu Biying and whispered, “We did search, but given the differences between men and women, and with only men on the cliff, it seemed inappropriate. I specifically called up two female mountain residents from the camp below to search for her.”
Qiu Biying made a sound of acknowledgment, then sat back in the canvas chair, her brows furrowed, silent for a long while.
Bai Shuixiao suddenly raised her head and spat through clenched teeth: “That’s right, there was something, something important.”
She looked pleased with herself, turning her head to gesture toward the cave opening at the far end: “I was afraid you would find it, so I went to great trouble to carve it out and throw it down there.”
“I heard that the depths below are endless, with many man-eating beasts. Go down and search if you want—search for a year or two, and you might find it.”
As she finished speaking, she burst into laughter, laughing so hard she could barely breathe, then casually struggled against the ropes, as if to make herself appear more dignified despite being bound.
Amidst this laughter, Qiu Biying leaned back in the canvas chair, slowly closing her eyes, her expression unchanged, undisturbed by the woman’s behavior.
After a while, she called out: “Jinsong.”
Meng Jinsong stepped forward.
“Do you think what she said is credible?”
Meng Jinsong hesitated briefly. Whether answering questions from Qianzi or the aunts, he always felt a sense of insecurity from being scrutinized, requiring him to think carefully and provide diplomatic answers.
He said: “It’s not… impossible. Wanting to keep something out of our hands, throwing it down there would indeed be one way.”
Finding something in the jungle was extremely difficult. Consider how, when someone goes missing in the mountains, local authorities organize large numbers of people for carpet-style searches, yet it still takes several days and nights, and that’s searching for a large human being. For a small object tossed down there, wouldn’t it be like a mud ox entering the sea? Moreover, the bottom of the cliff was perilously unpredictable; the Mountain Ghosts simply couldn’t organize a large-scale search.
Qiu Biying made a sound of acknowledgment: “It is one way. But there’s another possibility…”
Meng Jinsong perked up his ears, ready to hear this second possibility.
However, Qiu Biying changed the subject: “I heard that when this girl was initially found, she pretended to be a victim herself, slashing herself with more than ten cuts?”
Indeed, this matter was chilling even to mention, let alone witness. Meng Jinsong nodded: “Yes.”
Qiu Biying sighed: “So you see, this girl’s thinking is different from ordinary people. Others might throw it down there, but I think she… might not have.”
The smile on Bai Shuixiao’s face gradually froze, her complexion paling several shades.
Qiu Biying spoke unhurriedly: “Also, there’s one thing I can’t figure out.”
“I heard from Liu Guanguo that when they found her, she was sucking blood from a bat?”
There was a slight commotion behind her as the mountain residents all felt nauseated: the scene was too vivid, and with the burnt stench and bloodiness everywhere at that time, dying bats still fluttering their wings on the ground—any detail extracted from that scene would make one want to vomit.
As Meng Jinsong was about to respond with a “yes,” Qiu Biying had already continued: “I’ve been wondering, how disgusting must that be? Everyone knows that bats not only emit a foul odor but also carry many pathogens, including rabies virus—what kind of courage would it take to put your mouth to its bleeding throat?”
Meng Jinsong felt a wave of discomfort but still had to play along with Qiu Biying: “Yes.”
“Unless she was desperate at that moment and needed to use something to disguise a certain action, something shocking enough to divert everyone’s attention away from what she was doing.”
At this point, she opened her eyes, sat up again, and fixed her gaze like an awl on Bai Shuixiao, whose face now looked as pale as death: “She was swallowing something, but not necessarily bat blood. No person with a normal mind would suck bat blood—she swallowed the object she had carved out.”
Amidst the general outcry, Bai Shuixiao screeched: “You’re talking nonsense! You old woman, you’re talking nonsense!”
Qiu Biying smiled slightly: “Whether it’s nonsense or not, we’ll know soon.”
She then instructed Meng Jinsong: “Make her vomit.”
In less than half an hour, the news of Fifth Aunt dealing with Bai Shuixiao had spread both on the cliff and below.
Xin Ci heard the discussions on the cliff and, with some unknown intention, also went down the cliff. As an idle person now, he could wander anywhere. Seeing a crowd standing in one place, talking, he went over to look, but didn’t see Bai Shuixiao.
Someone pointed: “She’s over there.”
Xin Ci walked about ten steps further down and suddenly heard a woman’s dry heaving and sobbing.
Horrified, with goosebumps all over his body, he quickened his pace, skirted around several small trees blocking his view, pushed aside some bushes, and immediately saw Qiu Dong sitting to one side with furrowed brows and folded arms. Not far away, two broad-shouldered mountain residents were holding Bai Shuixiao down, using a spoon handle to press on her throat.
Bai Shuixiao’s hands and feet were bound, her body twisting and struggling like a fish on a chopping board, making desperate choking sobs that sounded extremely pitiful.
Xin Ci’s mind flared with heat, and he blurted out: “Hey, hey, what are you doing? Do what you need to do, but don’t mistreat people!”
As an ordinary person and a civilized one, he couldn’t tolerate such physical treatment: these days, everyone respects human rights—even a suspected murderer can’t be tortured during interrogation and must be allowed to hire a lawyer for defense. Moreover, Bai Shuixiao was a woman.
Halted by his shout, the two men became somewhat awkward. Bai Shuixiao, gaining this momentary respite, collapsed on the ground, weeping inconsolably.
Qiu Dong sighed, walked over, and put his arm around Xin Ci’s shoulders, pulling him aside: “Master Xin, we have no choice.”
Speaking of Mountain Ghosts, when it came to descending cliffs, climbing mountains, or rolling up sleeves for a fight, they were all exemplary. But when it came to something like “forced confession,” none were skilled or knew how to proceed, especially with a woman who seemed to be crying her heart out…
It was Qiu Dong who, remembering his brotherhood with Liu Sheng and feeling anger rise in his heart, took the lead in giving Bai Shuixiao a bowl of raw eggs mixed with oil, finally “breaking through”—already performing the task awkwardly, and now being accused of “mistreatment” by Xin Ci, he inevitably felt embarrassed.
But for such matters, could you expect Fifth Aunt, Meng’s assistant, or Liu Guanguo to do it? Someone had to step up, however reluctantly.
Xin Ci knew his limited influence wasn’t enough to give orders here, and with Qiu Dong speaking so reasonably, he could only stammer: “Still, you should pay attention to… methods and approaches…”
From behind came a muffled voice: “I’ll do it!”
Looking back, Xin Ci instantly lost his words.
It was Liu Sheng’s shadow, Wang Peng.
During these days, Wang Peng had been with the team continuously. Although his disguise wasn’t as convincing as before, partly to commemorate and partly to fulfill his duty, he still dressed up each day. To outsiders, he still wore Liu Sheng’s face. The more he “played” Liu Sheng, the deeper his resentment and sense of injustice grew.
He said coldly: “I’ll do it! You soften at the sight of a crying woman and talk about methods and approaches—did she consider methods and approaches when she killed Liu Sheng? You all have short memories; when someone’s been dead a while, you don’t feel the pain anymore, but I still wear this face on my neck.”
After speaking, he strode past the two men toward Bai Shuixiao.
Wang Peng’s face was more intimidating than any harsh words. Xin Ci’s face burned with shame.
Seeing Wang Peng’s face, Bai Shuixiao trembled violently, suddenly twisting her body and using all her strength to roll and crawl toward Xin Ci. Unable to use her hands, she could only use her forehead to desperately rub against his shoes: “I beg you, save me, you’re different from them, save me.”
Xin Ci felt extremely awkward and quickly crouched down to stop her, stammering: “Miss Bai, you killed someone and must be punished. This… I can’t save you either.”
Bai Shuixiao’s eyes were full of tears as she looked up at him: “Call the police, then. I’m a murderer—let me go to prison, don’t keep me here. I beg you.”
This approach seemed feasible. Xin Ci looked up at Qiu Dong: “Why not just call the police to arrest her? If she’s swallowed something important to you, take an X-ray, and let the hospital solve it. Why… torture her like this?”
To the side, Wang Peng grew impatient, grabbed the rope binding Bai Shuixiao’s back, and dragged her away. Bai Shuixiao screamed, her voice like a thin steel wire, grating painfully on Xin Ci’s eardrums.
He wanted to follow but, remembering Wang Peng’s face, held back. He could only turn his head away, murmuring: “Why must it be like this?”
…
Half an hour later, Meng Jinsong reported the latest developments to Qiu Biying: every crude method had been tried, and Bai Shuixiao had vomited even her bile, but the object… wasn’t found.
Qiu Biying was somewhat incredulous: “Not found?”
Meng Jinsong nodded: “Not found. Either it’s growing in her stomach, but you can’t cut her open, can you? As for X-rays, we don’t have that capability on the cliff.”
Qiu Biying was silent for a moment: “Anything else?”
Anything else?
Meng Jinsong thought for a moment: “Oh, there’s one more thing. I heard that during the induced vomiting, Xin Ci came by—that’s the freelance makeup artist hired by Qianzi. He hasn’t seen much of the world and was shouting about humanitarianism. Bai Shuixiao saw him as a lifeline, wailing that she wanted to go to prison rather than stay here.”
Qiu Biying didn’t respond immediately. After a while, she thoughtfully repeated: “Doesn’t want to stay here?”
The mountain gallbladder couldn’t be hung back up. Shen Gun couldn’t hold it forever; after cradling it for a while, he sheepishly placed it on the ground.
Meng Qianzi stared at the mountain gallbladder, her head feeling enormous. Having cut through mountains, her physical strength was already depleted. Now that things had suddenly quieted down, she felt fatigued. First, she couldn’t decide what to do next; second, calculating the time, rescue couldn’t possibly arrive so quickly; third, if she wanted to rest, no place was more secure than here…
She lay down with her head on her backpack, disheartened. Her eyelids felt as heavy as a thousand pounds and quickly closed.
Sleep is contagious. Shen Gun, huddled to the side, thinking about the mountain gallbladder, the box, the mysterious fragments that flashed in his mind when holding the gallbladder, and those knot records harder to understand than heavenly books—thinking and thinking, he too toppled over.
Jiang Lian was the last to rest. Before sleeping, he carefully climbed up to the throat opening to check that “tongue” had disappeared, a mass of flesh-red scattered on the ground, and the two pupils were like empty containers, leaving only two hollow black holes.
Was it because the mountain gallbladder had been “picked,” causing these guardians, or rather jailers, to lose their function?
He closed his eyes, but with too many thoughts entangling his mind, his sleep was shallow, and he had many dreams.
He dreamed of the Kuang family frantically whipping pack horses to escape bandits, the chunks of meat on the horses’ backs bobbing up and down, and the boxes they carried swaying and bumping.
He dreamed of Shen Gun carefully placing the mountain gallbladder he held into a box, while someone beside him announced like a ticket collector: “One mountain gallbladder.”
He also dreamed of an incident from long ago.
At that time, he hadn’t yet been adopted by Kuang Tongsheng and wandered the streets, targeting a blind fortune-teller. The blind man sat cross-legged with a small porcelain bowl in front of him containing many bills, the largest being ten yuan!
Starving and envious, he made a bold decision, reached in to grab a handful, and turned to run. Unexpectedly, though blind, the old man moved swiftly, grabbing his shoulder with a bony hand that dug into his flesh.
He twisted his small frame, kicking and hitting, cursing: “Old man, feudal superstition, get away! Get away from me!”
The old man stared at him, his eyes filled with white cataracts, terrifying, yet his words were gentle: “Young brother, don’t move. Your fate is particularly strange, I can’t see through it…”
…
In the dream, those two eyes expanded larger and larger, becoming unfathomably deep black holes, with fateful whispers echoing from their depths: can’t see through, can’t see through, I can’t see through…
Jiang Lian woke up.
The stone chamber was very quiet. The mountain gallbladder was still on the open ground, emitting a moist glow. Looking left, Shen Gun lay sprawled, his mouth half-open, still sound asleep.
Looking right…
Oh, Meng Qianzi was already awake, just curled up on her side, eyes open, her face blank, even her finely fluttering eyelashes looking so bewildered.
Afraid of waking Shen Gun, Jiang Lian called to her in a low voice: “Hey.”
Meng Qianzi raised her eyes to look at him. Having just had a nap, her eyes had rested, and though somewhat confused, the black and white were clear.
Jiang Lian gestured toward the mountain gallbladder: “What do you plan to do with it?”
He certainly knew that Meng Qianzi hadn’t come down intending to disturb the mountain gallbladder, but circumstances had changed, and too many unexpected events had occurred: now that the gallbladder had fallen, should they leave it here or take it out?
Meng Qianzi answered indirectly: “Do you know that before me, our Mountain Ghost throne was vacant for over thirty years?”
Jiang Lian nodded; he had heard her mention this.
“The aunts were very anxious. In those years, every Mountain Ghost child who reached one year of age was brought for a test called ‘moving the golden bell.’ Separated by a cloth screen, whoever could move the golden bell would be the next Mountain Ghost throne holder.”
Jiang Lian listened quietly.
“They say one child after another was carried over, crying nonstop, but the golden bell remained motionless. When I went over, I sat cross-legged, sucking on a pacifier, smiling foolishly, and clapping my hands.”
Jiang Lian couldn’t help but smile.
“Then, the nine bell pieces of the golden bell, originally hanging down, suddenly, like upward-growing leaves, all stood up in the opposite direction.”
“From then on, I was the successor to the throne.”
She sighed: “But a person who effortlessly obtains something usually doesn’t cherish it. In the Mountain Ghost community, how many people dream of sitting on the throne, but unfortunately, the ancestral grandmother didn’t grant them this meal—they can’t even compete for it. As for me, I find it troublesome and often abandon my post, threatening to quit.”
“My Great Aunt has the best temperament and advises me: ‘Zi-bao, look, now it’s a peaceful and prosperous time, with no waves in the jianghu. As throne holder, you don’t have to do anything—just occasionally cut ribbons, make appearances, and be a wealthy idler. How nice.”
Jiang Lian found the term “wealthy idler” familiar. After thinking, he recalled it was Jia Baoyu’s nickname in “Dream of the Red Chamber.” But his life as a wealthy idler didn’t last long, quickly vanishing like ice and snow.
Meng Qianzi said softly, “But now, why do I feel her words aren’t right? I always feel that in my generation, something big will happen to the Mountain Ghosts.”
Something very, very… big.