When Xian Qionghua and Qu Qiao entered the tent, Meng Qianzi was reclining on her bedding, lost in thought. In the past, helping the Water Ghosts had merely been a social obligation—it was fine if she could help, and no matter if she couldn’t. But after meeting the person directly involved, the feeling was entirely different. Zong Hang’s repeated requests and expressions of gratitude made her feel undeserving.
Qu Qiao cleared her throat softly and sat down beside her, pointing at her injured leg: “Does it hurt?”
Meng Qianzi nodded.
Xian Qionghua pulled over a canvas stool and sat down opposite Meng Qianzi: “With such a serious injury, I think you should quickly return to Mountain Osmanthus Studio and take a good rest for a while.”
Meng Qianzi muttered, “How serious is it?”
Xian Qionghua glared at her: “You have the nerve to ask? Haven’t you looked in a mirror? You’ve lost a bucket of blood—look at your lips, they’re completely colorless.”
Qu Qiao smiled, gently patting the back of Meng Qianzi’s hand: “Conditions here are limited. Once we’re back, have Aunt Liu make you some nutritious soups, and you’ll recover faster.”
Meng Qianzi fell silent.
Xian Qionghua looked at her: “Zi’er, I have something to tell you.”
Meng Qianzi sensed these words wouldn’t be pleasant. She straightened her back, eyes full of wariness: “Go ahead.”
“This journey was too dangerous—you nearly lost your life. I told your eldest sister about it, and it scared her pale.”
Meng Qianzi said, “Seventh Mother, that was wrong of you. You know Elder Sister’s health is poor, and she frightens easily. Why tell her these things? If I had died, you couldn’t avoid delivering the bad news… But since I’m fine, why not just gloss over it and let the matter pass?”
Xian Qionghua laughed in exasperation: “I haven’t even started scolding you, and you’re already blaming me?”
After a pause, she got to the point: “You’re the Mountain Ghost Throne, with so many people at your command. Why must you personally face danger? For these matters, you could assign Jinsong or Lu Sanming, while you comfortably rest and merely listen to their reports.”
Meng Qianzi smiled: “Seventh Mother, I must correct you again.”
“I’ve never insisted on personally facing danger. That time at Suspended Gallbladder Peak Forest, you seven unanimously approved before I went to split the mountain. As for the dangers encountered afterward, those were unforeseen. This time, I only came to celebrate the Sixth Mother’s birthday. It was only by chance that I heard Elder Duan’s death might involve mysteries, so I investigated. At that time, who could have known there would be a labyrinth beneath the coffin, with giant crocodiles inside? Seventh Mother, I’m not chasing after danger—it’s just that in this world, perils exist everywhere. Is lying comfortably necessarily safe? You might develop a lifestyle disease and depart earlier than anyone.”
Xian Qionghua wasn’t skilled at forceful debate and was momentarily speechless. Qu Qiao laughed, reaching out to pinch Meng Qianzi’s mouth: “This mouth of yours is getting more and more formidable.”
Indirect approaches clearly wouldn’t work. Meng Qianzi was adept at pretending not to understand when she did. Xian Qionghua decided to speak frankly: “In the future, stop meddling in Jiang Lian and Shen Gun’s affairs. Jiang Lian is searching for something for the Kuang family, and Shen Gun is your Three Lotus Petal, investigating mountain matters as we commissioned him to do. We provide full support in manpower and resources—let him handle it while you stay safely put. As for Elder Duan’s whereabouts, don’t worry about that either. The Mountain Ghosts have plenty of people to take over. Let me say something unpleasant: burying Elder Duan is important, but we can’t sacrifice a living Meng Qianzi for a dead Elder Duan.”
Meng Qianzi remained calm: “Is this Elder Sister’s intention?”
Xian Qionghua nodded: “That’s right, your eldest sister feels the same.”
Meng Qianzi snorted: “I still remember, in Xiangxi, Elder Sister video-called me saying things like how the handrail would eventually collapse with continued support, and it was time to let go and let me solve everything. Now she says the outside world is dangerous, the Mountain Ghosts have plenty of people to handle matters, and I should rest comfortably. You want a shrewd, capable, imposing Throne, but I’ve never heard of anyone achieving that by lying around. Seventh Mother, you want the tiger to be wild yet fear releasing it from its cage lest chickens peck at it.”
She removed the lumbar pillow behind her back and closed her eyes, shrinking into her sleeping bag: “I’m tired. Everyone out. Don’t talk anymore—I won’t listen anyway.”
In truth, Meng Qianzi wasn’t tired.
Curled in her sleeping bag, her mind was in chaos. At times, she felt her words hadn’t been harsh enough; at other times, she thought Seventh Mother meant well but expressed herself too bluntly, and she shouldn’t have made her lose face with those sarcastic remarks.
As she tossed and turned, she heard footsteps enter. Meng Qianzi said irritably, “Didn’t I say everyone out?”
She turned around angrily as she spoke.
It was Jiang Lian. Her outburst startled him, and he stood frozen, saying: “Oh.”
Then, pointing outside: “So I’ll leave then.”
And he started to walk away.
Meng Qianzi found it both annoying and amusing. She shouted: “Come back!”
Jiang Lian obediently returned. As he sat beside her bed, he complained: “First you tell people to leave, then you tell them to come back. You’re hard to please.”
Meng Qianzi smiled, tilting her head to examine him. He appeared to have just washed up—he looked refreshed, his hair was damp and standing up, and he had a faint, pleasant soap smell. But his clothes… seemed a bit loose.
She asked curiously: “Are the clothes too big?”
Jiang Lian smiled: “Weren’t all my clothes torn to bandage you? And I couldn’t buy new ones, so Lu Sanming found me something to wear for now.”
Meng Qianzi murmured agreement, then suddenly didn’t know what to say. Jiang Lian felt the same—he had many things to say but didn’t know where to begin. After a pause, he heard Meng Qianzi ask if he’d eaten, to which he replied that he had, then asked her the same question. She also said she had eaten.
Great, they’d both eaten—truly an exchange of… vital information.
The tent was quiet, making the sounds outside particularly clear. A skylight in the tent roof cast a square of light on the ground. Jiang Lian looked down and noticed a small pebble by his foot. He lightly kicked it, attempting a goal shot, but he used too much force. The pebble rolled across the square of light and went out of bounds.
Why the sudden awkwardness? In the underwater cave, it had seemed as if they’d loved each other for ages—kisses and embraces coming so naturally.
Jiang Lian searched for something to say: “Seems like we’ll be breaking camp this afternoon. They say we’re heading back to Guilin first.”
Meng Qianzi nodded; she’d heard that too.
“I called Meiying. Wei Biao is accompanying her, and they’ve already reached Xining. Shen Gun and I discussed it, and after Guilin, we’ll go directly to Kunlun. Qianzi, you should return to Mountain Osmanthus Studio and recover properly. Don’t worry about anything during this time.”
The more Meng Qianzi listened, the more displeased she became. By the end, she bolted upright, asking: “Did my Seventh Mother say something to you? What did she say?”
She pulled back her sleeping bag, intending to get up: “I’ll go ask her.”
Jiang Lian reached out, gripping both her arms and forcing her back down: “You’re going to ask her? Crawling there to ask?”
Meng Qianzi’s chest heaved violently: “Don’t listen to my Seventh Mother’s nonsense…”
Jiang Lian smiled: “Seventh Aunt didn’t speak nonsense. What she said makes sense.”
Xian Qionghua had found Jiang Lian, first apologizing, then expressing gratitude.
At that time, Jiang Lian had just finished showering, with water still dripping from his hair. Uncomfortable, he roughly dried his hair with a towel, saying: “I should have done it.”
Xian Qionghua said, “Injured tendons and bones take a hundred days to heal. Although Qianzi’s tendons and bones aren’t injured, she still needs at least a month to recover. She’s strong-willed and won’t listen to me. Help me persuade her—you wouldn’t want to see Qianzi left with a permanent disability, would you?”
Jiang Lian had nodded continuously: “I understand. I’ll persuade her.”
Meng Qianzi asked curiously: “That’s all she said?”
Jiang Lian said, “Yes, so doesn’t what Seventh Aunt said make sense? You need to rest for at least a month, but we can’t all rest with you—things need to progress. If you insist on coming along before you’re healed, hobbling with a crutch, jumping around, you wouldn’t be able to keep up with us anyway.”
Meng Qianzi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “You’re talking nonsense again.”
Jiang Lian gently released her arms: “So, you should go back, rest well, drink plenty of soup, take some ginseng supplements, and when you’re fully recovered, you can come find us. It won’t be too late.”
Xian Qionghua had said more than just that.
At the time, she had asked him: “Jiang Lian, you like our Zi’er, don’t you?”
After Jiang Lian’s tacit acknowledgment, she had continued slowly: “You know, without me saying that your affairs are getting increasingly dangerous. If you truly care for Zi’er, don’t let her keep getting involved. As a man, with peril before you and your world behind, you should keep her safely behind you.”
Jiang Lian thought Seventh Aunt had put it perfectly.
Peril before him, his world behind—he truly didn’t want Meng Qianzi to face any more danger. He could handle those messy, bloody, life-threatening matters himself. As long as he could turn around and see her safely in his world, uninjured and untormented, that would be enough.
He hoped to resolve everything during her recovery period.
That evening, the advance team returned to Xiulan Residence.
Jiang Lian had barely entered his room and settled in when he received a call from Shen Gun, saying he wanted to show him “something good.” Only upon arriving did he learn that the bell Shi Jiaxin had mailed—hand-delivered by the Mountain Ghosts—had arrived.
To be honest, the bell looked quite ordinary, covered with patches of verdigris, nothing special about it. But no matter how Shen Gun shook it or how the clappers collided, the bell made no sound.
Jiang Lian wasn’t particularly interested in the bell; he only instructed Shen Gun to get some good sleep. He simply couldn’t believe that after Shen Gun had physically touched the phoenix feathers, he wouldn’t have at least a couple of constructive dreams.
On his way back to his room, he happened to meet Qu Qiao. Jiang Lian greeted her and stepped aside, intending to let her pass. But on impulse, he stepped forward to stop her, asking: “Sixth Aunt, may I have a word with you?”
Jiang Lian wanted to ask about Meng Qianzi’s past, especially regarding that oath.
But Qu Qiao was reluctant to elaborate: “On this matter, I don’t know what to say. When the opportunity arises, you should ask her yourself.”
Jiang Lian asked: “Qianzi was in love with someone before, wasn’t she?”
Qu Qiao remained silent, which likely confirmed it.
Jiang Lian said, “You once told me that the people around Qianzi wouldn’t welcome me. Was Qianzi’s previous relationship broken up by her aunts?”
Qu Qiao smiled slightly and walked away. As she passed him, Jiang Lian heard her say softly: “If only it had been broken up.”
What did that mean? Jiang Lian couldn’t understand, feeling only melancholy. With parting imminent, this sense of loss intensified.
The next day was overcast and rainy.
Meng Qianzi’s group had morning flight tickets. Xian Qionghua accompanied them. With so many people seeing them off, Jiang Lian, squeezed among the crowd, couldn’t exchange more than a few words with Meng Qianzi. As the convoy drove away, Jiang Lian stood in the hallway watching, when suddenly he heard his phone notification.
Opening it, he saw a WeChat message from a contact named “×2”.
Jiang Lian immediately smiled.
Meng Qianzi had sent a long message scolding him: What’s with that expression? What era are we in? If you want to hear my voice, use voice messages; if you want to see me, video call; or just buy a plane ticket to visit me. I hear your financial situation is quite good now.
She had also sent him a red packet with the message: “Huge red packet.”
Opening it, he found 50 cents.
The richer people are, the stingier they become. Jiang Lian wanted to reply, but typed and deleted several times. After a pause, he found an image online and changed his profile picture.
Within seconds of changing it, Meng Qianzi messaged: “You changed your profile picture to ‘÷2’. What does that mean?”
Jiang Lian replied: “To balance us out.”
If you multiply, I’ll divide; if you go up, I’ll go down; if you cry, I’ll make you laugh; if you’re sad, my shoulder is there for you to lean on.
Balancing out—that’s what it meant.
But Meng Qianzi clearly didn’t understand, sending him a knife emoji in response.
Jiang Lian and Shen Gun’s flight was in the afternoon.
Lu Sanming drove them to the airport, saying that arrangements had been made in the Northwest—someone would meet them upon landing. The Northwest region was now intensively searching the Kunlun Mountains, trying to locate the long-missing body of Duan Wenxi. Overseeing operations there was Meng Qianzi’s Fourth Mother, Jing Rusi.
Fourth Aunt Jing Rusi spent most of her time at Huashan Mountain, and Huashan wasn’t far from Xi’an. In a sense, Xi’an was the first stop westward, so Fourth Aunt was the appropriate person to handle Northwestern matters.
After confirming the hotel address in Xining, Jiang Lian sent it to Kuang Meiying, arranging to meet her there.
Just before takeoff, Jiang Lian asked Shen Gun: “Did you dream last night?”
Shen Gun was quite displeased: “You keep asking if I’ve had dreams—are you hoping I’ll dream up some grand finale? Why don’t you dream instead?”
Jiang Lian gave him a sidelong glance: “If I could, would I rely on you? Anyway, it’s quite a long flight. Try taking another nap and see.”
Shen Gun grumbled that Jiang Lian was a slave driver.
Unexpectedly, throughout the journey, it wasn’t Shen Gun who dreamed, but Jiang Lian.
He dreamed he was being burned.
Raging flames forced him to dodge left and right. There was only one pitch-black path free of smoke and fire. He raised his leg to run toward it when suddenly he heard Meng Qianzi calling his name from behind, her voice tearful.
His heart ached terribly. He wanted to turn back, but could no longer find the way. He could only hear Meng Qianzi’s sobbing, which seemed to shatter his heart.
When Jiang Lian woke, his eyes felt moist, and his chest was constricted. Beside him, Shen Gun was sound asleep—not just Shen Gun; during long flights, probably half the cabin’s passengers were sleeping.
He couldn’t fall back asleep and lifted the window shade. What he saw startled him.
Were they flying over the Kunlun Mountains?
Perhaps not Kunlun specifically, as the Northwest was mountainous, with snow-capped ridges everywhere. But from high above, the view was particularly magnificent—those winding mountain ridges truly resembled coiling… giant dragons.
Kuang Meiying and Wei Biao had arrived in Xining two days earlier, unaware that the Mountain Ghosts had properties there. They had booked a hotel on their own, but upon receiving Jiang Lian’s address, they hurriedly checked out and rebooked.
She liked this new hotel, mainly for its location near the city’s most famous food street.
After settling their luggage, she dragged Wei Biao to explore the night market.
Wei Biao didn’t much care for Northwestern cuisine: the meat chunks on lamb skewers were too large, the yogurt was excessively sour, requiring stirred-in white sugar, and foods like naan bread were too hard.
In short, none of it suited Kuang Meiying. Her constitution was weak, her stomach delicate, unable to handle these foods—yet despite this, Meiying loved them.
Wei Biao could only follow along, occasionally offering a word of caution. Fortunately, Kuang Meiying only sampled each delicacy lightly rather than indulging heavily.
Stopping and starting, Kuang Meiying was again caught by a street food stall.
It sold something called “dog-peed pancakes.”
Wei Biao was irritated: “Who would name a pancake after dog urine? It’s just a ridiculous name to attract attention.”
Kuang Meiying deliberately contradicted him: “Well, I want to eat it. If you don’t like it, you can go stand somewhere else.”
Wei Biao sulked. The pancakes required preparation time, so he patiently waited beside her.
While waiting, he suddenly heard someone shouting nearby. Looking up, he saw a thin man kick over an elderly white-haired man, cursing: “Go beg elsewhere, don’t block my business!”
People nearby gave only a casual glance before returning to their affairs. Modern people were accustomed to minding their own business. A beggar—so what if he was beaten or cursed? It wasn’t as if he would protest or demand his rights.
But Kuang Meiying was furious. She exclaimed: “What are you doing?”
She had always been willing to stand up for justice. Though physically weak, she’d grown up with either Jiang Lian or Wei Biao by her side and feared no evil forces.
As she spoke, she walked toward the scene. The pancakes were ready and handed over in a bag. Wei Biao quickly took them and followed her.
Approaching, Kuang Meiying glared at the man: “What’s wrong with someone asking for money? If you don’t want to give, fine, but how can you hit someone?”
The man, seeing only a frail young woman, sneered, about to retort when he noticed the tower-like man standing behind her. His courage immediately faltered, muttering “none of your business” before hurrying back into his shop.
Kuang Meiying, undeterred by the dirt, bent down to help the old man: “Grandpa, are you alright?”
The old man looked to be in his seventies or eighties, reminding her of her recently deceased great-grandfather Kuang Tongsheng. This emotional connection intensified her compassion.
The old man raised his head to look at her.
Kuang Meiying was caught off guard, startled.
The old man was blind!
Not exactly blind, but his cheeks were gaunt, and both eyes were filled with a white film. When he looked up, it seemed as if his eyes showed only whites, frightening Kuang Meiying and making her tremble.
But she quickly composed herself, taking the bag of pancakes from Wei Biao and offering it to him: “Grandpa, if you have nothing to eat, have these. They’re freshly made and still warm.”
The old man fumbled to accept them, saying: “Kind young lady, blessed with good fortune.”
The words “good fortune” instantly touched Kuang Meiying’s heart troubles. She smiled bitterly, saying softly: “What good fortune?”
Suddenly dispirited, she lost interest in the night market. She looked at Wei Biao, indicating she wanted to return.
After just a few steps, the old man called after her.
Kuang Meiying turned back.
Strangely, though the man was blind, she felt as if he were studying her.
After a moment, the old man nodded and said: “Affliction from the womb, but with noble help, you can overcome the obstacles. Young lady, you are indeed blessed with good fortune.”