Jiang Lian flung aside the door curtain as he exited, his anger not yet subsided. He felt he should say a few more words, but… silence was important. Speaking concisely was fine, as long as it carried weight.
His steps were both heavy and hurried. After climbing the slope and walking a short distance, he suddenly noticed a familiar, darker silhouette in the night ahead.
Jiang Lian slowed his pace. “Qianzi?”
Meng Qianzi responded with a soft acknowledgment.
Jiang Lian approached her. “What are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t sleep, practicing walking a bit.”
Coming out in the middle of the night to practice walking, Jiang Lian laughed softly and reached out to gently hold one of her arms. “I’ll walk you back.”
Meng Qianzi made a sound of agreement but showed no intention of moving. After a moment, she dropped her hiking pole, leaned forward, and nestled into Jiang Lian’s embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Nighttime was wonderful—you could smile however you pleased without pretending to be reserved. Jiang Lian felt that the corners of his upturned lips could probably hook two kilograms of potatoes.
He embraced her in return, instinctively nuzzling the top of her head with his chin. “What’s wrong?”
When Meng Qianzi didn’t respond, Jiang Lian also remained silent, simply holding her gently. A strangely random comparison suddenly came to mind—she seemed like an enormous sigh, one that would disappear after being exhaled.
He raised his head. In the highland region, the air was crisp, making the stars exceptionally clear. A faint Milky Way stretched across the zenith—so distant from the human world, yet humans still wove stories about it.
After a pause, Meng Qianzi spoke softly: “Don’t be angry. It happened long ago. I’ve already forgotten about it.”
Jiang Lian’s heart skipped a beat. Honestly, he would have preferred if Meng Qianzi didn’t know the inside story.
He tentatively asked, “You know?”
Meng Qianzi pressed one side of her face against his chest, quietly listening to the strong beating of his heart. “I don’t know exactly. I guessed. I’m not stupid. The aunties suddenly became somewhat afraid of me. When I lost my temper, they would laugh apologetically, as if they owed me something. After much guessing, I figured out parts of it.”
“Didn’t you confront them about it?”
“No. That was long after, and it wasn’t worth it. Unworthy people, boring matters—I don’t want to bring them up. Besides, for me, both never forgiving and completely forgiving are quite difficult. This way is fine.”
This way was fine—forgetting most of the time, occasionally remembering and harboring a bundle of discomfort, then dragging a group of people to share in her discomfort, acting out, venting a little, then moving on—like an alternative yet persistent menstrual cycle.
Those unaware of the circumstances found it normal: Miss Meng was a young lady of high birth, naturally possessing a somewhat spoiled and eccentric temper.
“Are you still feeling hurt now?”
Meng Qianzi said, “I now have the very best of everything. Why should I hurt myself over a rotten apple I bit into long ago?”
Jiang Lian smiled. “That’s what I thought. Our Qianzi has never been one to dwell on things.”
Meng Qianzi smiled too. After a moment, she said softly, “I’m sorry about the vow. I should have told you earlier.”
Jiang Lian made a sound of acknowledgment. “Then why didn’t you tell me all this time?”
Meng Qianzi said, “First of all…”
Jiang Lian almost laughed out loud. “‘First of all’? Are you writing a thesis, listing points in order?”
Meng Qianzi ignored his teasing. “First, I wasn’t sure what you were thinking—whether you were just casually dating or had long-term considerations. If you never thought about marriage at all, why would I rush to inform you that I can’t marry? If you responded with ‘Miss Meng, you’re overthinking it, I never considered this,’ wouldn’t I just be embarrassing myself?”
Jiang Lian said, “That makes sense. And secondly?”
Meng Qianzi was silent for quite a while. “Secondly, you’ve had so many unpleasant… experiences since childhood. I thought you must be someone who deeply craves a complete family. After telling you, you would be very disappointed. So, I didn’t want to say it, and I was afraid to say it.”
Jiang Lian smiled, his eyes feeling slightly warm. In his vision, the night blended into the Milky Way, and the Milky Way receded into the darkness.
After a good pause, he finally said, “Qianzi, you’ve misunderstood.”
“It’s true I grew up without parents and didn’t have a traditionally happy family. But I never felt that I lacked any love. My mother loved me deeply, and my father, though I never met him, I believe wasn’t much different—especially as I grew older, I could better understand and appreciate this love.”
His mother could have planted seeds of hatred in him, could have burdened him with the responsibility of revenge, smearing her resentment into the next generation’s life. But she didn’t. She ended everything cleanly and decisively with her hand, a fire purging all grievances. She only told him: don’t worry about it, don’t hate, don’t investigate. Mom has settled everything; you just keep moving forward. You should have a clean life.
“I have a complete family, just not in the form you might think. So for me, form is the least important thing. Your marrying me isn’t as important as your loving me. Besides…”
His tone suddenly lightened. “We’re all adults now, and adults are practical. I can do without the formal status…”
At this point, he lowered his voice. “But Qianzi, as for the practical benefits, you can just compensate me a bit more.”
Meng Qianzi’s ears instantly burned, and she said softly, “You’re… truly shameless.”
Jiang Lian questioned with surprise, “What did I do?”
He thought for a moment, then suddenly realized. “Did you misunderstand? Qianzi, the benefits I meant were that Mountain Ghost has hotels and inns in various places. In the future, when I travel, I could stay for free, saving quite a bit of money… What were you thinking? Now I see clearly—I never expected your thoughts to be so impure…”
He pushed her away. “I realize I don’t know you very well. I need to reconsider our relationship.”
Meng Qianzi was laughing too hard to speak, but she persisted. When pushed away, she shamelessly came back for another embrace, only to be pushed away again, then returned. After several rounds, Jiang Lian held her close and asked, “All better now?”
All better. She now had the very best of everything. Even if heaven had shortchanged her before, she wouldn’t hold a grudge anymore.
Jiang Lian suddenly remembered something and took a card from his pocket, handing it to her. She thought it was something important and took it, closing her hand around it.
He boasted, “Shen Gun’s friend—I’ve already swayed one. Cao Yanhua said that when we get to Xining, he’ll treat us to a meal. By then, we’ll continue our efforts, aiming for one, striving for two, hoping for three…”
Meng Qianzi collapsed with laughter in Jiang Lian’s arms. Jiang Lian looked down at her, also unable to stop smiling. As they laughed, somehow one person’s upturned lips met the other’s, and their laughter quietly hid itself between their lips and teeth.
Meng Qianzi closed her eyes, her hand clutching Jiang Lian’s back, slightly sweaty, occasionally twitching gently.
Her fingertips pressed against the rising and falling fiber texture of the fabric, and increasingly undefined sensations flooded into her eyebrows, hair, and fingernails—those parts of the human body she had originally thought had no feeling all came alive, stirring like countless fine grass shoots crowding together, competing to break through the soil and emerge.
…
Xin Ci had been restless all night, fearing exposure, misfortune, or unexpected troubles.
With Meng Qianzi still not back, he could only slip out to look for her.
Past midnight, the camp was quiet with only scattered dim lanterns. He had just climbed halfway up the slope when he suddenly froze.
Were those two figures… embracing and kissing?
For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Xin Ci felt a sweet sensation in his heart. He smiled contentedly in their direction. As he kept smiling, he suddenly came to his senses.
Damn, what was he smiling stupidly about? What if his salary got docked three times over…
Love belonged to others—let them do whatever they wanted. But money was his own!
He turned and rushed downhill. Taking too large a step, he slipped and nearly did a split. Xin Ci endured the pain and ran in a series of small steps, even tiptoeing as he went.
He hadn’t seen anything at all.
—
Shen Gun followed Jing Rusi and Xian Qionghua into the felt tent.
He was yawning, drowsy-eyed, with one side of his curly hair sticking up from sleep. His cotton coat was half-draped around him, and his feet, though stuffed into shoes, were bare. With the cold weather, the exposed strip of his ankle made people feel even colder just looking at it.
He had just crawled out of bed.
Gao Jinghong was surprised and looked at Xian Qionghua first. “Didn’t you arrange this beforehand? Master Shen was already asleep, we shouldn’t force him to come…”
Shen Gun quickly explained, “No, no, Sister Xian told me, but I forgot. I might be too tired these days. My brain isn’t retaining information; everything’s jumbled up.”
I see.
Gao Jinghong watched as Shen Gun took a seat in the canvas chair before finally speaking, “Master Shen, it’s so late at night, so I won’t waste time with pleasantries. There’s something I’d like to ask for your help with, or at least for you to keep in mind.”
This late at night, with all the aunties present, climbing this mountain must be for something important. Shen Gun sat up straight. “Elder Auntie, please speak directly.”
“Has Master Shen heard of the diviner and fortune-teller… Grand Master Ge?”
Shen Gun perked up. “Yes, yes, my idol, Grand Master Ge… He’s very formidable.”
Good that he’d heard of him, so she didn’t need to elaborate. Gao Jinghong hesitated a moment. “Then do you think Grand Master Ge’s divinations are… accurate? Could there be mistakes sometimes? People, after all, can rarely guarantee one hundred percent…”
Shen Gun didn’t give her the opportunity for self-deception. “No, no, no. Grand Master Ge is accurate. What he says is what he sees. If he can’t see it, he won’t speak of it.”
He then explained his theory about “divination and fortune-telling” again, concluding with, “Overall, it’s a question of dimensions. Grand Master Ge probably transcended dimensions, seeing or sensing certain segments of a person’s life. Of course, as an observer, he can only see the surface, but the surface is also a kind of truth.”
The aunties were all well-educated and understood this concept. Gao Jinghong picked up her coffee cup, took a sip, and set it back on the saucer.
Shen Gun heard the trembling sound of the cup bottom hitting the saucer. The Elder Auntie shouldn’t be shaking when simply putting down a cup—her mind must be in turmoil.
Gao Jinghong composed herself. “It’s like this, Master Shen. What I’m about to say, I hope you’ll keep confidential. Don’t spread it around, especially don’t let our little Zibao know.”
“Our Mountain Ghost has connections with Grand Master Ge. Years ago, when Zibao was three and choosing her spiritual companion, we invited Grand Master Ge to read her fortune. You might not know, but Grand Master Ge’s eyes went blind at that time.”
“Grand Master Ge was in his prime then and quite proud. Originally, I said that if he couldn’t see anything, it would be fine, but he refused to accept defeat. He spent the whole night looking, until his eyes went blind and much of his hair turned white. When I heard the report and hurried to see him, he had already left. Grand Master Ge was a man with no fixed abode, very difficult to find. Calculating his age, he should be over eighty now. Whether he’s still alive is hard to say.”
It was indeed uncertain. Shen Gun had met Grand Ge a few days ago, but for an old man of that age, living such a vagrant life exposed to the elements, having today didn’t guarantee tomorrow.
“In the guest room where Grand Master Ge stayed, I found several sheets of paper with some writing. Take a look.”
She gestured to Xian Qionghua, who brought over an iPad, switched to image mode, and handed it to Shen Gun. “I’ve taken photos of everything. Just swipe to see more.”
The first image was already open. Shen Gun looked down. This seemed to be a verse.
*Glory before, emptiness after, broken line from branch enters the Great Wilderness.*
*Mountain fails to become immortal, receives decayed cloth; stone man smiles once, years wither.*
Shen Gun’s whole body jerked as if stung by a bee. He blurted out, “Great Wilderness?”
To see the words “Great Wilderness” here—wasn’t that the entrance to the Celestial Ladder they were speculating about? He couldn’t remember if it was he or little Lian who had even suggested that “Great Wilderness” might refer to the “universe.”
Gao Jinghong misunderstood his meaning. “Yes, we don’t know what it means either. For people our age, the most familiar reference would be ‘North Great Wilderness,’ but it doesn’t seem to refer to that place… Please continue looking.”
The second image contained very simple text—four characters written sloppily, flying diagonally upward, showing that Grand Master Ge was very confused when writing them.
—*Heartlessness preserves life.*
Shen Gun was a bit puzzled. He swiped to the next image, which had seven characters.
—*Cut off emotions and love to protect this body.*
There was nothing more after that. Shen Gun swiped back to review all three images several times before slowly forming a general concept.
Gao Jinghong knew he had finished looking. “Grand Master Ge was old-fashioned, educated in traditional private schools, so his writing is a bit flowery and seems exaggerated. As long as you understand the meaning, that’s fine.”
“I gathered my sisters to study this for a long time. In the end, we felt that this might be Zibao’s fate—that in this life, she’s not suited for emotional entanglements. Living alone would allow her to pass through this life safely and steadily.”
“Master Shen, I’m not afraid to tell you directly: young men and women often live and die for love, but do you often see old men and women in their fifties and sixties doing the same? I hope for my children to have happy marriages, but life is most important. If she lives alone but safely and peacefully, we would be satisfied.”
Shen Gun suddenly thought of Jiang Lian. “Don’t you want her to be with Jiang Lian? Did you find me to… act as a mediator?”
Gao Jinghong wearily waved her hand. “Listen to me. When Zibao was little, we tried to guide her toward emotional detachment, but this child has always been emotionally rich—she would cry at stories. How could she harden her heart? As she came of age, romance became inevitable. I felt then that without cruelty, nothing would change. Better a short pain than a long one. If she suffered a harsh heartbreak and became disillusioned, perhaps it would be a permanent solution.”
Ni Qiuhui, who had been sitting quietly to the side, sighed and said, “Later, we realized that people seeking love and affection is natural, like needing water and food. What we did went against heaven’s way and human principles.”
Gao Jinghong smiled slightly. “Third Sister, don’t feel guilty. It was my idea; I’ll take responsibility. I won’t live many more years. Whatever retribution comes after I’m gone, I’ll accept it—I acknowledge everything.”
After finishing, she took a deep breath and looked at Shen Gun again. “After that incident, things were stable for several years. Truly, during those years, many people liked Zibao, but she rejected them all. Who would have thought she would meet Jiang Lian? At that time, Fifth Sister was in Western Hunan. She said that when she saw Jiang Lian, she felt this time might be different. She tried to interfere subtly, but later she told me that Jiang Lian had saved Zibao’s life. Without Jiang Lian, Zibao would have died.”
“Later, Seventh Sister and Fourth Sister said the same thing. Nothing is more important than life. When someone has shown you such kindness, you can’t betray that gratitude. On this trip, I also met Jiang Lian and casually probed his intentions. He is truly serious, so I have nothing more to say.”
Shen Gun breathed a sigh of relief. “Then you found me…”
“We wanted to find you long ago, but too many things happened, and we didn’t get around to it. I heard that you know many things and have experienced much. You can often trace matters to their roots and find the truth. For Zibao’s situation, I want to entrust you to keep it in mind, to see if there’s any way to break or resolve this fate. Otherwise, it will always remain a weight on our hearts.”
Shen Gun lowered his head and scrolled through the images again. Suddenly thinking of something, he asked Gao Jinghong, “I heard that you’re all going to Xining in the next few days?”
Gao Jinghong nodded. “We’re preparing to hold funeral services for Madame Duan in Xining. It’s a major event. We’ll probably be there for the next half month.”
Shen Gun set down the iPad. “I don’t have any leads at the moment, but I have a suggestion: let Miss Meng leave this place soon. Have her withdraw to Xining tomorrow. In the future, don’t call her to come to Kunlun Mountain either.”
He spoke vaguely. “I’m not entirely certain, but this place might not be… very good for her.”
Gao Jinghong found this strange, but at such a time, having a suggestion was better than none, especially coming from Shen Gun. She considered it credible and nodded.
The conversation had reached its conclusion. Shen Gun said a few more words, then rose to take his leave. As he was about to reach the door, he remembered something. “By the way, I still have the mountain gallbladder. This thing… shouldn’t be yours. I can handle it on your behalf. What do you think?”
With all that had happened these days, Gao Jinghong had heard some rumors, and Xian Qionghua had informed her that the mountain gallbladder shouldn’t stay at Shangui Zhai, fearing hidden dangers. But Shen Gun suddenly bringing this up was still very unexpected.
She spoke diplomatically, “Speaking of which, you are also part of Mountain Ghost, with Zibao’s three-petaled lotus and all. I have no objection to you temporarily safeguarding the item.”
She emphasized “temporarily” and “safeguarding.”
Shen Gun nodded and lifted the curtain to leave.
…
This night had truly been exhausting. Gao Jinghong took another sip of coffee, stared blankly for a while, then suddenly sniffed and said, “There’s a sort of fishy, foul smell. Do you smell it?”
Xian Qionghua laughed. “Elder Sister, you’re too refined. In these wilderness felt tents, what foul smells aren’t there? We’ve grown accustomed to roughing it. You’re like the princess with the pea, too particular!”
That was true. Put nicely, it was being particular; put bluntly, it was probably being fussy.
Gao Jinghong laughed self-deprecatingly. “In our seventies and eighties, and you still call me a princess? Don’t ridicule me.”