For some time, Jiang Lian couldn’t quite figure out what exactly he was envying.

Anyway, candies he couldn’t have, food he couldn’t eat—these were things that couldn’t enter his mouth but could stir his heart.

He sat on the stone, watching the felt house, watching people, and also looking at the mountains near and far, seeing fires being lit for cooking, meals being delivered to various houses, and Kuang Meiying coming and going.

No one called him for a meal. Shen Gun, his meal companion these past two days, naturally had forgotten about him, and as for Meiying, her eyes could probably only see whether Wei Biao was eating well or not…

As Jiang Lian was lost in thought, he suddenly heard Meng Qianzi’s voice.

“What’s with that expression of longing mixed with resentment on your face?”

Jiang Lian thought he’d misheard, but when he turned around, it was her, not in a wheelchair, supporting herself with a hiking stick in one hand while leaning on Xin Ci with the other.

Jiang Lian didn’t immediately go to greet her, but gazed at her for a while in the morning light.

She was truly beautiful, fresh and clean, with red lips and fair skin, her hair piled high but loosely bound, with many wispy strands hanging down, not appearing messy but rather adding a special charm—he didn’t know this was Xin Ci’s handiwork, who had done her hair neatly and then tugged here and pulled there to create a deliberate disheveled beauty that was loose but not sloppy—he was only entranced thinking, our Qianzi is truly beautiful, looking gorgeous even with casually tied hair.

Meng Qianzi became dissatisfied and poked the ground with her hiking stick: “You’re still sitting there? Don’t you know how to come help?”

Only then did Jiang Lian smile and go over, taking Xin Ci’s place: “Why aren’t you in a wheelchair?”

“I need to practice walking now. Third Mom said the more dependent I am on the wheelchair, the harder it will be to stand up.”

Beside them, Xin Ci cleared his throat: “Well… Qianzi, shall I excuse myself?”

Meng Qianzi made an affirmative sound: “You’re no longer needed. Jiang Lian will take me back later.”

Having said this, she didn’t move, but rather watched with amusement as Xin Ci walked away, then whispered to Jiang Lian: “Xin Ci has some situation going on.”

Is that so? Jiang Lian was curious: “How do you mean?”

“Before, he’d practically stick by my side twenty-four hours a day. If I didn’t tell him to leave, he’d happily stay. These past few days, it’s like he’s sitting on pins, can’t stay still, constantly saying ‘Qianzi, I’ll be going now’ or ‘I have things to do’—what could he possibly be busy with? Aren’t I supposed to be the center of his attention?”

It was indeed true. Jiang Lian glanced at Xin Ci’s retreating figure: those small steps of his were definitely quite brisk.

He suddenly thought of himself: every time he went to find Qianzi, he was probably just like that—wanting to conceal his feelings yet unable to, his steps, his body language, even a single strand of hair would betray him, allowing others to see what was going on.

He helped Meng Qianzi sit down on the stone.

Meng Qianzi examined him: “You still haven’t answered me—what was that expression on your face just now?”

After saying this, she looked toward the felt house not far below the slope that Jiang Lian had been staring at: “I heard Shen Gun’s friends have arrived?”

Jiang Lian made an affirmative sound.

“Did they bring Shen Gun some delicious food? Didn’t share any with you, so you sat here watching, about to cry from anger, yet drooling at the same time?”

Jiang Lian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “I was just looking.”

Meng Qianzi didn’t believe him and cast a sidelong glance, her haughty little expression seeming to say: Nice try, but you can’t fool me.

Jiang Lian felt a bit insecure under her gaze. He tried to laugh it off, but felt it was too unnatural, and finally surrendered: “It’s nothing. I just suddenly realized that I’ve never really had many friends.”

How could that be? Meng Qianzi wanted to argue, but after thinking for a moment, she realized it was true.

She persisted: “Isn’t Kuang Meiying one?”

“Meiying grew up with me. We’re close, yes, but if you’ve always known that in this lifetime you’re destined to run around for her, even risk your life for her, then your relationship will never be equal.”

“What about Wei Biao?”

Wei Biao? Jiang Lian shrugged: “We also grew up together, but compared to the kind of friendship I’m thinking of, it’s still missing something.”

Meng Qianzi started to understand. She cupped her chin in her palm, her slender fingers slowly tapping her cheek, her delicate fingernails shimmering with a moist pink in the morning light: “What about Shen Gun?”

Jiang Lian admitted somewhat reluctantly: “Someone like him… I suppose so.”

I get it, Meng Qianzi smiled mischievously: “You’re counting here, and you think Shen Gun counts, but you only have him as a friend while he has so many. He’s your entire friend circle, while you’re just a tiny fraction of his. You’re feeling sour and jealous, aren’t you?”

Jiang Lian felt both irritated and amused. When others have what you don’t, when others have corncobs bursting from their fields while you can barely scrape together a few kernels, it’s inevitable to feel some subtle emotions. But why did it sound like unrequited love and jealousy when it came out of her mouth?

He looked down the slope. Jiang Qiaoqiao was pacing near the felt house with a strangely elegant demeanor, but she kept pacing back and forth in that same area.

Meng Qianzi suddenly blurted out: “Actually, thinking carefully, I don’t seem to have many friends either.”

What, was she “competing” with him now? Jiang Lian turned to look at her.

She was still cupping her chin, her eyes somewhat vacant: “Though I’ve always been surrounded by people my whole life, they were either telling me what to do or doing what I told them to do.”

“Jinsong is a good person, but he’s always mindful of boundaries with me, and what he says always has to be appropriate to his position. As for Xin Ci, he’s more like a friend, but ultimately he’s my employee, working for me, taking my money—it feels different.”

She sighed: “So, I don’t have many friends either.”

Jiang Lian responded with an “Oh.”

Meng Qianzi felt a bit irritated: he wouldn’t even comfort her with a few words, just this casual “oh”? What did “oh” mean? If she wanted to hear “oh,” couldn’t she just ask Jiang Qiaoqiao?

After a pause, Jiang Lian lightly bumped her with his shoulder: “What a coincidence, neither of us has many friends.”

Here it comes. Meng Qianzi could barely hide her smile as she quickly nodded: “Yes, yes.”

“How about we make do with… being friends with each other?”

“That works,” Meng Qianzi eagerly suggested, “then we can try to poach Shen Gun’s friends. He has so many, and he’s kind of foolish, so he definitely won’t be on guard.”

Good idea, Jiang Lian agreed: “Poach one by one, poach a pair when we see a pair. Eventually, I’ll have so many friends I’ll find them annoying.”

Meng Qianzi expressed deep agreement.

The two looked at each other, and eventually, almost simultaneously, burst into laughter.

How nice—the envy and subtle emotions he’d harbored all morning were completely gone in this laughter. Being able to laugh like this was worth being grateful for, and even more worth gratitude was having someone who could make you laugh.

Jiang Lian lowered his head to kiss Meng Qianzi’s lips.

Just as his lips were about to meet hers, he suddenly stopped. He realized it was broad daylight, with people coming and going, up and down the slope.

He wasn’t the type to passionately embrace and kiss in public. Emotions were private, not to be shared. He needed concealment, either the cover of night, or endless emptiness, or drawn curtains, closed windows—something just between the two of them, hidden from all other gazes.

Meng Qianzi looked at him without avoiding his gaze, but a hint of panic danced at the tips of her slightly trembling eyelashes. Mountains and houses faded layer by layer in her eyes, becoming an unimportant, blurred background.

If this kiss had fallen, she would have thrown caution to the wind and received it. But there were so many people, so much gossip—why expose their private matters to so many eyes…

Jiang Lian turned his face to the side, his somewhat rough breathing brushing against her ear, stirring the few fine strands of pale brown hair at her temples.

He said softly: “Like this, doesn’t it look to others as if we’re just whispering?”

Meng Qianzi smiled, her earlobes gradually turning red. Just as she was about to say something, an aged but familiar voice suddenly called from not far away: “Zibao’er.”

Meng Qianzi was startled, then turned her head. Before she could see who had arrived, she had already called out: “Big Aunty?”

Jiang Lian followed her gaze.

This was Gao Jinghong, who must be a special presence among the Mountain Ghosts. Her dignified white hair was as crisp as frost and snow. Despite her advanced age, she still carried an air of nobility, refinement, and elegance. She wore a long black wool coat with a brightly colored silk scarf at the collar. When she turned, the pearl earrings hanging from her earlobes swayed gently, leaving a trace of pearlescent light around her neck.

She truly stood out. Even though her face was no longer young, even with wrinkles climbing the corners of her eyes and lips, Jing Rusi and Meng Jinsong behind her, as well as everyone else, suddenly seemed dimmed.

Gao Jinghong smiled and nodded to Meng Qianzi, then glanced at Jiang Lian.

In that glance were rushing winds, rolling clouds, lofty mountains, and flowing waters.

Jiang Lian returned a smile.

This smile was neither timid nor pretentious, but open and honest.

Now that Gao Jinghong had arrived, Meng Qianzi naturally had no free time, especially since the Mountain Ghosts had a pile of funeral matters to attend to. Jiang Lian didn’t want to waste her time.

He returned to his room alone and chatted idly with Kuang Meiying and Wei Biao, mentioning that the Mountain Ghosts were likely planning to withdraw. Kuang Meiying frowned: “Wei Biao’s injury hasn’t healed yet. All this moving around isn’t suitable, is it?”

Injuries come in different degrees. Jiang Lian’s wound was on his shoulder, and after the past few days of tumbling and crawling, he had almost forgotten he was still injured. Kuang Meiying, naturally, remembered even less.

But Wei Biao’s injury was in his abdomen. As Kuang Meiying put it: “There are so many vital organs in the stomach, any one of which could be life-threatening. If something goes wrong in the healing process, it could be a lifelong issue!”

Therefore, Wei Biao had to lie down; he shouldn’t even sit up, let alone endure the hardships of travel.

Jiang Lian glanced at her: “If the Mountain Ghosts leave, you don’t have to go with them. As long as you pay enough for the room, you can stay as long as you want.”

Kuang Meiying suddenly realized: “That’s right, I’ve been following them around for so long that I forgot we can act independently.”

Ever since Jiang Lian had brought back the box, she had been in excellent spirits. Past hardships had become valuable experiences, and Kunlun Mountain had become a blessed place where fortune reversed after hitting rock bottom. She said to Wei Biao, “Then let’s just stay for two more weeks. After you’ve recovered, it won’t be too late to go home and offer incense to Great-grandfather.”

Then she looked at Jiang Lian: “What about you? Will you stay with us, or do you want to… go play somewhere else?”

Jiang Lian responded vaguely: “We’ll see.”

At noon, the first group of departing Mountain Ghosts left the camp—there wasn’t enough space, and having so many people around was wasteful, so non-essential personnel left first.

Jiang Lian stood at the entrance, watching seven or eight vehicles in a long line slowly leaving, and a strong sense of unreality rose in his heart.

Meiying was planning to offer incense and report the good news to Master Gan, and the Mountain Ghosts had begun withdrawing people. In everyone’s eyes, had the matter concluded?

But why did he feel that something was still missing?

…

After lunch, the house finally opened its door, but no one came out. It seemed the door was opened just to let in some air.

Later, Shen Gun stuck his head out and stopped a passing mountain dweller, giving some instructions. The mountain dweller left with swift strides, then returned shortly, bringing in a box of portable oxygen tanks.

After a while, the fat man Cao Yanhua came out, his face somewhat ashen, his nose pressed tightly against the oxygen mask, his nostrils flaring widely. Then he collapsed into a canvas chair at the entrance of the felt house.

What was going on? Collecting a Fierce Simple shouldn’t be this taxing—why did they look like they’d suffered a defeat?

Fortunately, Jiang Qiaoqiao had been wandering in that area, providing Jiang Lian with an excuse. He grabbed a handful of grass seeds, pretending to go feed them, and as he passed the door, he peeked inside.

Except for Shen Gun, everyone seemed spiritually depleted. Mu Dai looked exhausted, her brows tightly furrowed, lying silently in Luo Ren’s arms. Yan Hongsha sat to the side, head bowed, while Yi Wan San patted her back and handed her an oxygen bottle. She seemed to find even the oxygen repulsive and kept shaking her head.

He also heard Shen Gun ask Luo Ren: “How about I speak to the person in charge here about sending you all to Xining?”

Had some side effects emerged from the collection? Jiang Lian couldn’t linger, so he walked directly to the open space and scattered the grass seeds for Jiang Qiaoqiao.

Cao Jiefang had also come out for a stroll. Jiang Qiaoqiao ate very ladylike, with grace and style.

Cao Yanhua, after taking some oxygen, probably feeling bored, struck up a conversation with him: “Hey, young brother, your chicken… what breed is it?”

Jiang Lian stroked Jiang Qiaoqiao’s soft back: “Snow chicken. What about yours?”

“Mountain rooster, wild mountain rooster. I bought it from a poacher, but not to eat, mind you. When I bought it, it was skinny.”

Jiang Lian smiled. This fat man was quite interesting—he had just casually asked one question, and the man had responded with so much information.

He pointed to the oxygen bottle in Cao Yanhua’s hand: “Are you having altitude sickness? You seemed fine this morning.”

Cao Yanhua, weak and listless, probably thought explaining would be too difficult for Jiang Lian to understand, so he didn’t elaborate, only mumbling: “It’s easy to go from frugal to luxurious, but hard to go from luxurious to frugal.”

As they were speaking, Shen Gun hurriedly came out, likely looking for someone. Spotting Jiang Lian, he was delighted to have someone run errands: “Little Lianlian, come, help me with something.”

Cao Yanhua’s eyes brightened: “Oh, with a ‘little’ prefix? Brother Gun, is he one of us?”

Shen Gun didn’t bother with idle talk and pulled Jiang Lian aside: “Help me find Miss Meng, or any of the aunties will do—aren’t the mountain dwellers going down? Arrange for two people to send my friends out and drive their car out as well.”

Jiang Lian frowned: “You just met… kicking them out so soon? Haven’t even had a proper meal together.”

Shen Gun sighed: “You think I want to? Have I mentioned to you that the Fierce Simple’s possession has a good… side effect?”

As it turned out, while confusing people’s minds, the Fierce Simple would also strengthen the body. In simple terms, one’s physical ability would be several times better than before. Even occasional injuries would heal immediately without leaving scars.

After Luo Ren and the others were possessed by the Fierce Simple, this “side effect” naturally manifested. Without exaggeration, compared to ordinary people, they were like “superhumans.” Even Yi Wan San, who didn’t follow the martial arts path, could fight several opponents without breaking a sweat.

Over the years, they had become accustomed to this and developed an illusion, truly believing this “superhuman” version was their real self. That’s why Cao Yanhua had mumbled about “growing attached to the Fierce Simple and being reluctant to part with it.”

Jiang Lian understood: “Now that the Fierce Simple is gone, their physical condition instantly reverted?”

Shen Gun was dejected: “Exactly. This kind of extraction is already quite torturous. I estimated they would all fall ill to some degree. Moreover, we’re on a plateau—you know, with thin oxygen and a harsh living environment, they instantly… all became unwell. Luo Xiaodao said he doesn’t even want to drive. They’ve been living in Lijiang, and Xining’s elevation is similar to Lijiang’s. I thought sending them to Xining would be better.”

This was true. Jiang Lian nodded, about to run this errand, when he suddenly thought of something: “How did you… collect it?”

“That’s easy. Originally, the Fierce Simple merged into their blood, and they injected that blood into their bodies. Over these years, the body became like a tough sac—even when injured, blood wouldn’t flow out. In other words, the Fierce Simple was very firmly trapped.”

“But with the seven beast bones, it’s different—they’re the original equipment. I had them cut their palms and touch each of the seven beast bones in sequence. Oh, and I recorded it.”

Since sending people off wasn’t urgently pressing, and these few moments didn’t matter, Shen Gun took out his phone to show Jiang Lian the video he had just recorded.

No wonder he wanted to record it—the video was stunning. Originally, nothing could be seen on the beast’s bones; they had to be “identified” by touch. But now, crimson pictographs appeared on the bones. That wasn’t all—the characters undulated and flowed, each stroke seeming alive, breathing, and craving something.

Jiang Lian frowned: “But this isn’t a permanent solution. This thing needs to be contained in the box to be truly imprisoned. If the box can’t be opened, what can we do?”

Shen Gun’s expression changed slightly, but he quickly returned to normal, saying casually: “Don’t worry, there will always be a way.”

Jiang Lian laughed: “Weren’t these words spoken to you by Teacher Jiang Lian in a dream?”

The aunties were surely all in Meng Qianzi’s felt house. As Jiang Lian approached, he stepped back, feeling it would be improper to barge in.

It would be better if someone came out, so he could ask them to relay a message.

As luck would have it, just as he was hesitating, Xian Qionghua came out.

Jiang Lian was fairly familiar with this Seventh Auntie and quickly went up to explain the situation. Since it was a simple favor, Xian Qionghua readily agreed, saying she would send someone over soon.

After finishing, she seemed to have more to say.

Jiang Lian noticed: “Seventh Auntie, is there something else?”

Xian Qionghua smiled: “Actually, I was also looking for you. Jiang Lian, it’s like this—are you free tonight? Big Sister said she would like to chat with you.”

Jiang Lian’s heart skipped a beat, but his face remained composed as he nodded: “Yes, I’m free.”

Xian Qionghua hesitated for a moment: “Also, this matter… don’t mention it to Zi’er.”

Understood—they wanted to speak with him alone, without Meng Qianzi.

Jiang Lian continued nodding: “Alright.”