Shen Gun would die before believing he had said those three additional phrases: what could “dragon bones burning the box” possibly mean? It was completely nonsensical—only fire could burn a box.

But from what he knew of Jiang Lian, Jiang wasn’t the type to make things up, joke around, or have auditory hallucinations.

The two stared at each other in bewilderment. Finally, Jiang Lian suddenly smiled: “I’ve always felt that those dreams you’ve been having aren’t dreams, but distant memories from your past. Lately, you’ve stopped dreaming and upgraded to saying things you’re not even aware of. It seems these memories are about to awaken.”

He reached out and patted Shen Gun’s shoulder through the quilt: “Honestly, these past few days, whenever I think about Meiying’s illness progressing and having no leads on the box, I’ve been quite worried. But seeing you, I feel there’s hope again.”

The hope Jiang Lian found in the middle of the night only sustained his pleasant dreams until dawn.

In the early morning, the three were awakened by Kuang Meiying’s cries of pain. Jiang Lian reacted quickly, rolling out of bed. As he turned on the light, Kuang Meiying was still unconscious, one shoulder constantly twitching, her forehead covered in large beads of sweat.

Jiang Lian shook Kuang Meiying awake and pushed up her sleeve to check.

Sure enough, she was having a second episode: during her first episode, a wound had appeared on her left arm, cracking from her wrist up to her elbow, where it stopped.

Now, the second mark had appeared, continuing from the elbow toward the shoulder, stopping just below the shoulder joint—thin streaks of blood were flowing sideways, as if her arm was bound by lines of blood.

Dawn hadn’t broken yet. Heavy darkness pressed against the window. The yellowish light bulb swayed overhead, making the blood marks on her snow-white arm seem alive, spattering and bubbling.

No one spoke. Heavy or rapid breathing rose and fell. The atmosphere was extremely oppressive.

Jiang Lian felt he couldn’t just sit quietly in the room anymore. After nearly a week of recovery, the left side of his shoulder and arm only hurt if he bumped or strained it.

He made up his mind to follow the mountain dwellers’ team into the mountains today. His strength had recovered about sixty to seventy percent, so he shouldn’t slow the team down. Going to see the actual sites might yield unexpected discoveries—even if nothing was found, it would be better than just sitting around.

…

After breakfast, Jiang Lian went directly to Meng Qianzi’s felt tent halfway up the mountain, intending to make his request directly to Xian Qionghua or Jing Rusi, and to see Meng Qianzi as well. He had only walked a short distance when he suddenly noticed something unusual happening.

Normally at this time, the mountain dweller team would already be preparing for departure, but today, the parking area was completely silent, with no one moving about. Instead, more than a dozen people were gathered at the roadhead, seemingly waiting expectantly for something, occasionally whispering among themselves.

Sure enough, not long after, a black SUV came speeding in. The crowd surged forward to welcome several people from the vehicle.

To be precise, the others who got out were merely an accompaniment; the focus was on a young man with bandages wrapped around his head. The man was pale, his gaze vacant, occasionally showing sudden panic, his lips constantly moving—Jiang Lian was too far away to hear what he was saying.

The mountain dwellers surrounded the man and headed straight up the mountain, in the direction of the felt tent where Meng Qianzi and the two great-aunts stayed.

Jiang Lian’s heart beat rapidly, instinctively feeling that this person must have some significance. Reluctantly, he followed for a few steps and faintly heard the words “survivor” from the clamorous discussions of the group.

He suddenly realized.

Of the eight-member Mountain Ghost team that had encountered trouble, four bodies had been found, while the other four were missing—could this young man be one of them, or perhaps even the only survivor so far?

The mountain dwellers escorted the man to the entrance of the felt tent, but not having the status to enter, they quickly dispersed.

Jiang Lian very much wanted to go in and see, but knew it would be inappropriate and restrained himself. However, unwilling to just return to his room, he paced back and forth in front of the bottom row of prefab shelters. By chance, he spotted Tao Tian and hurried over to inquire.

His guess was correct; this man was indeed one of the missing persons.

Tao Tian didn’t know much about the situation either. She only said that the man had fallen down a cliff during the chaos. He didn’t die, but his brain was damaged. After regaining consciousness, he was confused and just kept walking in one direction, somehow managing to exit the valley, and encountered a Tibetan herder.

The Tibetan didn’t know what had happened to him and thought he was mentally impaired from birth. Busy with his livestock, the herder first sheltered him in his tent, and only a couple of days ago had time to take him to the nearest police station. Once the Mountain Ghosts received this news, they retrieved him as quickly as possible, took him to a hospital for examination, and then brought him here without delay.

Jiang Lian had mixed feelings about this news: with his brain damaged, could they still get any useful information from him?

From the looks of it, it seemed unlikely there would be any results soon. Jiang Lian returned to the tent, feeling restless. He flipped through Shen Gun’s books so rapidly that the pages rustled loudly, but the printed words didn’t register at all.

As he was fretting, a mountain dweller came over, saying that Miss Meng had requested both the Divine Gentleman and Young Master Lian to come over.

Jiang Lian felt relieved and quickly pulled Shen Gun out the door, briefly explaining about the survivor on the way.

Upon entering the felt tent, they sensed a depressing, almost eerie atmosphere.

The young man with brain damage was sitting huddled in a corner of the tent, accompanied by He Shengzhi. He held a bowl of butter tea but wasn’t drinking it, just chattering to He Shengzhi: “Tea… milk tea.”

He Shengzhi humored him: “Yes, yes, butter tea.”

Meng Qianzi was reclining on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, looking tired—for the past few days, she had been replenishing her vital energy, usually sleeping until noon or afternoon, rarely getting up this early.

Jing Rusi sat beside her bed, helping to tuck in the blanket corners, while Xian Qionghua and Meng Jinsong sat on the opposite bed, looking down at a camcorder in their hands.

Seeing the two men enter, Xian Qionghua gestured for Meng Jinsong to pass them the camcorder: “I don’t feel like explaining it all. You can see for yourselves—Zier insisted this might concern you as well and was adamant about letting you know.”

So they had recorded the whole process. Jiang Lian took the camcorder, turned down the volume, and sat down with Shen Gun on the felt carpet to watch from the beginning.

The recording wasn’t long.

It began with He Shengzhi explaining the situation, similar to what Tao Tian had said. The hospital examination results showed that external trauma had caused cerebral hemorrhage and damage to the central nervous system. He occasionally lost control of his bowels and bladder and suffered memory loss, but overall, the brain damage wasn’t severe, with hope for recovery.

Then, Xian Qionghua asked him: “Do you remember what happened? How did your companions die?”

The man half-opened his mouth, staring blankly as if he didn’t understand. After a long while, he stammered: “I fell… fell.”

Xian Qionghua was very patient: “Do you remember where you fell from?”

The man took a long time to respond again, then squatted down and drew circles on the ground with his hands: “From the beginning, keep walking, keep walking, then arrive.”

Jiang Lian had heard that people with brain damage have different neural pathways than normal people. If you ask a normal person where they went today, they might answer the department store or an amusement park. But an injured person would be confused—they would have to mentally retrace their route from home, step by step, until reaching that place, before they could answer where they had been.

In the video, Jing Rusi showed some impatience: “Why not just take him directly to where the bodies were found? He might remember something there.”

Meng Qianzi said, “What if where the bodies were found isn’t where the incident initially occurred? These past days, you and Seventh Mother have been to the scene many times and found nothing—I think it’s better to follow him, starting from the beginning point, and walk through it again.”

Jiang Lian had the same thought: for the past week, the Mountain Ghost team had been going into the mountains daily, practically turning that hillside upside down. If the eight-member team had indeed discovered some secret and been silenced, that secret certainly wouldn’t be at the hillside where the bodies were found.

He continued watching.

This time, Meng Qianzi asked the man: “Do you remember seeing any strange people or unusual things?”

This question struck a chord. The man’s eyes suddenly brightened, and he nodded repeatedly. When he spoke, his mouth twisted, drool flowing out, but he still struggled to repeat: “Dragon, in sky, there’s dragon.”

Jiang Lian’s mind buzzed.

He understood why Meng Qianzi had called him and Shen Gun over. The matter did concern them, but what they knew about was dragon bones, while what this man was talking about…

A dragon in the sky? Could it be that when he fell and his brain was damaged, he had hallucinations?

In the video, Xian Qionghua had the same thought: “Are you sure you didn’t see wrong?”

The man shook his head repeatedly, trying hard to gesture with his hands: “This long… very long, very long, flying in the clouds, clouds… white, it was… blue-black, very long, horns, also long… scales, shining…”

No matter what else Xian Qionghua asked, the man seemed not to hear, just excitedly describing the dragon he had seen—how stunning, how beautiful, how majestic it was.

The video ended there.

Because his description was so detailed, the possibility that he “saw wrong” seemed low. However, precisely because the description was so detailed, its credibility was greatly diminished, seeming more like imagination or confabulation.

Seeing that Jiang Lian and Shen Gun had finished watching, Xian Qionghua finally spoke: “A real dragon, flying in midair—I’ve heard that in this northwestern region, there’s strict monitoring both in the sky and on the ground, plus military garrisons. If a living dragon were flying in the sky, the military would have discovered it long ago.”

This made sense. With so many satellites in the sky, they weren’t just for show. Shen Gun had a sudden inspiration: “Could it be that he saw some kind of image? A mural or carving, so lifelike that with his confused mind, he couldn’t distinguish between fantasy and reality?”

Xian Qionghua sighed: “We can’t rule out that possibility. Anyway, after the discussion, we’ve decided to allocate personnel to retrace the eight-member team’s route, hoping to make some discoveries along the way. However, this journey might be quite dangerous.”

Jiang Lian understood her implied meaning. In places like the Kunlun Mountains, one couldn’t rely too much on modern weapons. Guns and such could be carried, but might not be usable—they could trigger avalanches and attract unnecessary attention and trouble. In other words, if they encountered powerful enemies, it would likely come down to the most primitive contest of strength.

He didn’t hesitate much: “Count me in.”

These past few days, Shen Gun had been so bored he was practically growing mushrooms. But the Mountain Ghosts sent only their elite forces to search the mountains, and with his abilities, he would only lower the average. Now hearing there was an opening, he eagerly stated: “I can go too, to do… logistics work.”

After speaking, he regretted it: why say “logistics”? He should have said “advisor.” If lacking in physical prowess, he should emphasize his cultural value.

Xian Qionghua smiled: “What logistics? When the time comes, you can just stay with Zier. By her side, it’s safe.”

Meng Qianzi was going too?

Jiang Lian’s heart tightened, and he blurted out: “Miss Meng’s leg isn’t very convenient, I think she shouldn’t… have to go.”

Halfway through, he realized he was meddling in others’ affairs, but having started, he could only awkwardly finish.

The felt tent was silent for a moment.

Finally, Jing Rusi looked at him with a smiling face, her words laden with meaning: “We’ll keep that in mind.”

…

There was no time to lose. They decided to depart after lunch. Jiang Lian and Shen Gun returned to pack their belongings. Leaving the tent, Jiang Lian felt a bit dejected and asked Shen Gun, “Did I just say something wrong?”

Shen Gun thought for a good while, confirming that Jiang Lian had said very little in the felt tent: “Showing concern for Miss Meng’s leg, how could that be wrong?”

Jiang Lian smiled bitterly. Fourth Great-Aunt’s tone when saying “We’ll keep that in mind” was full of mockery.

As if saying: Don’t we know Qianzi’s leg isn’t convenient? Don’t we care about her health? Who are you to tell us?

For this expedition, the Mountain Ghosts mobilized four vehicles and selected about twenty skilled personnel. Jing Rusi was in command, while Xian Qionghua remained at the camp to coordinate.

The eight-member team’s initial entry point was a narrow ravine leading into the mountains. It had no name on the map, but locals reportedly called this ravine “Caidan,” and in Tibetan, “Caidan” signifies eternal life. This meaning reminded Jiang Lian of “Yanluo begetting Yanluo,” and he found it profound.

When they arrived, several Tibetans were already waiting at the ravine entrance with yaks. These yaks were black, robust in build, and though domesticated, their upward-curving horns showed some untamed wildness. The lead yak was the largest, carrying a wooden reclining chair with a folding canopy on its back. The chair was an old piece, the wood darkened and shiny, with corners worn smooth and rounded from handling, showing its age.

Jiang Lian finally realized that Meng Qianzi wouldn’t have to walk. He let out a long breath, feeling a bit foolish: how could the two great-aunts possibly let her walk? He had unnecessarily rushed to remind them.

Still, he felt that Meng Qianzi should rest at the camp and didn’t need to come.

The group loaded their luggage onto the backs of several yaks and proceeded into the ravine, arranged in front, middle, and rear teams. Since they were traveling light, the pace wasn’t slow, and even someone like Shen Gun didn’t fall behind.

After walking for a while, Jiang Lian found an opportunity and hurried to Meng Qianzi’s side, tapping on the reclining chair.

The yak’s swaying gait, combined with Meng Qianzi’s recent fatigue, had almost lulled her to sleep. Hearing the sound, she looked down at him: “Hmm?”

Among the large group, she was the only one riding a yak, sitting high above the others, quite like a landlord on a tour. Jiang Lian asked her: “Is your leg feeling better?”

Meng Qianzi replied: “It doesn’t hurt unless I put weight on it. These small jolts are tolerable. How about you?”

Jiang Lian said, “Same, but a bit better than you, since walking doesn’t require shoulders.”

He added, “You’ve come for nothing. You can’t fight or run, just lying there like a lord the whole way… couldn’t you have just stayed at the camp to recover?”

Meng Qianzi gave him a sidelong glance: “Am I that useless? All of you now…”

She pointed to the front team, then gestured to the rear team: “I’m protecting all of you, understand?”

As it turned out, to ensure safety, she would use the “Mountain Wind Guide” throughout the journey, essentially creating a barrier and radar for the team. Within a range of three to five li, she could detect movements from living beings. Consider that a typical handgun has a range of only about fifty meters, and even professional sniper rifles max out at around fifteen hundred meters. A sensing distance of three to five li was more than enough insurance.

Jing Rusi and Xian Qionghua also knew the “Mountain Wind Guide,” but their effectiveness was far inferior to Meng Qianzi’s. So, the final decision was: she could lie down the entire journey if she wanted—it was like bringing along a radar dish.

Now he understood. Jiang Lian was filled with respect and was about to compliment her when Meng Qianzi suddenly remembered something: “I have something for you.”

As she spoke, she took something from her pocket and handed it to him.

Jiang Lian took it and looked.

Even with his limited knowledge of cosmetics, he could tell this was a small, elegant perfume sample, probably just two or three milliliters. It was women’s perfume, as the test tube-like bottle contained a soft pink liquid.

Unscrewing the cap, he saw it had a rollerball applicator.

Meng Qianzi said, “Make do with this. Xin Ci found it in a crevice of his box, who knows how long ago it fell there, but I smelled it and the scent hasn’t faded.”

Jiang Lian asked curiously: “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Meng Qianzi smiled mischievously: “The further up we go, the more uniform the mountain scents become. This perfume fragrance, I dare say, is unique here. If you wear it, I’ll know which direction you’re in and how far from me you are. It’s like a kite—there’s a scent-line stretching out, but the end of the line always stays with me…”

Two mountain dwellers were passing by. Jiang Lian closed his palm around the vial, and Meng Qianzi fell silent.

After they had passed, she continued: “Even my Fourth Mother doesn’t get this treatment. I’m giving you special care because you’re injured.”

Footsteps approached; several people from the rear team were coming. Jiang Lian slowed his pace, inconspicuously distancing himself from her, and replied: “Me, a grown man, wearing this—what are you thinking?”

…

Jiang Lian was determined not to use it, but the small vial of perfume grew warm in his palm, its tangible presence stubbornly reminding him of its existence. Combined with the boredom of the journey, various thoughts inevitably surfaced, along with curiosity: if he applied just a tiny bit, how long would it last? Would she always be able to smell it?

During another brief rest, watching for a moment when the front team was far ahead and the rear team had not yet arrived, he quickly removed the cap and rolled the applicator once over the artery in his neck. Then, feeling guilty, he hastily put it away.

When they resumed the journey, he felt somewhat paranoid, fearing that as he walked, his body would emit fragrant molecules that would cause the mountain dwellers to gossip behind his back. This made him a bit unnatural, but after walking for a while and seeing that those around him hadn’t noticed anything, he gradually relaxed.

However, as they continued walking, Meng Qianzi, not far ahead, suddenly turned her head and proudly lifted her chin at him.