This question troubled Yan Hongsha for a long time.

The next morning, upon waking, she grabbed Mu Dai and asked: “Did you talk to me last night?”

Mu Dai replied distractedly: “I don’t know.”

Don’t know? Yan Hongsha wondered to herself: Was she dreaming? Such a vivid dream?

However, this question was quickly pushed aside—she saw the flower-decorated bamboo hats Zhama had given them and was delighted. Putting one on, she asked Mu Dai: “Do I look like a female warrior?”

Mu Dai leaned against the doorframe, eating dry bread, and said softly: “Yes.”

The weather wasn’t good. Raindrops floated in the air, sometimes heavy, sometimes light. When Zhama called her in to eat, she didn’t go; she just finished her bread alone.

Before departing, Zhama brought over a bamboo backpack. Since Mu Dai and Yan Hongsha were already carrying luggage, Old Man Yan carried the bamboo backpack, which contained a machete and several torches wrapped in oil-soaked cloth.

Zhama instructed Mu Dai: “The mountain paths are difficult. Sometimes brambles grow so thick you’ll need to cut your way through. If you travel at night, you’ll need torches for light—with fire, wild animals will avoid you.”

Mu Dai shuddered: “There are wild animals?”

Zhama said: “Of course—black bears, wolves, pythons. Without wild animals, how would hunters hunt?”

Zhama accompanied them for part of the journey along a winding, uphill mud path. The mud was sloppy, making each step slippery. They picked up tree branches to use as walking sticks, moving carefully. Yan Hongsha no longer carried the shovel on her shoulder but dragged it along, sighing with each step.

When Zhama stopped, he emphasized to Mu Dai once more: “Really, my mother’s predictions are often wrong.”

His words made Mu Dai’s eyes redden, and she found Zhama quite annoying—she had nearly forgotten about this matter, and here he was reminding her again.

Gritting her teeth, she quickened her pace to catch up with Old Man Yan, leaving Zhama behind.

Zhama felt dejected. He looked up at them struggling up the mountain—three people, all wearing flower-decorated bamboo hats, becoming small moving dots as they climbed higher.

Suddenly Zhama jumped up: Oh! Why was he standing here? He had important business to attend to—Mu Dai had paid him a hundred yuan!

Inside the forest, the rain seemed to intensify, coming in waves. Upon careful observation, Mu Dai discovered that sometimes it wasn’t raining at all, but water accumulated on leaves, dripping continuously day and night. Sometimes, large leaves would tilt, releasing a cascade of water that knocked their bamboo hats askew.

Carrying a large backpack, Mu Dai moved step by step, supporting Old Man Yan. Yan Hongsha followed behind, dragging the shovel and complaining every few steps. Once, with a tearful voice, she said: “My goodness… I never want to hunt for treasures again in my life…”

She lifted her foot to show Mu Dai. She wore low-top hiking shoes, but the mud was so deep that slurry poured in over the top, making her white socks look soaked in mud soup.

Old Man Yan coldly remarked, “Did you think treasure hunting was easy? Enjoying a gentle breeze, sipping wine, and just picking up treasures? With money pouring in?”

See, they had made Old Man Yan angry. Mu Dai quickly signaled Yan Hongsha with her eyes to stop talking.

Yan Hongsha looked dejected and, after a while, said: “Grandfather, let’s sit down and rest.”

The mountain path was indeed difficult. Old Man Yan, being older, tired faster than they, so they stopped to rest.

Whenever Old Man Yan stopped, he would wear his eye mask, as if his eyes were extremely precious.

Mu Dai found a place to sit, removed her shoes first, then wrung out her socks, dripping muddy water. She put the dirty socks back in her bag, changed into clean ones, wrapped them in plastic bags, and put her shoes back on.

Although they made rustling sounds when walking, at least her feet were more comfortable.

Yan Hongsha said, “Mu Dai, you’re so clever.”

She followed suit, also putting plastic bags on her feet. Mu Dai took the machete, walked back a few steps, selected a thick tree, stripped a piece of bark, and carved a vertical mark on the exposed trunk, representing “1.”

After carving, she ran her hand over it, blew away the wood shavings, and thought: Luo Ren must see this.

Setting off again, they soon encountered a path blocked by brambles. Mu Dai swung the machete, cutting left and right to clear a path, until her elbows ached.

She felt their preparation had been inadequate. If Old Man Yan had mentioned the harsh environment earlier, she would have brought more complete equipment, though on second thought, one must adapt to circumstances; without rain boots, plastic bags served just as well.

Along the way, she devised another strategy: every few steps, she would strike a tree trunk with the machete, either leaving a mark or stripping off a piece of bark.

At first, Yan Hongsha protested: “Mu Dai, look how restless your hands are!”

But after a while, she fell silent because, looking back, the trail of freshly stripped bark truly resembled natural markers.

This was much easier and more visible than carving characters into trees.

So they continued, walking and stopping, stopping and walking, eating dry food when hungry, losing all concept of time. Each step felt like lifting a dozen jin.

As darkness approached, Mu Dai strangely asked Yan Hongsha: “Is it evening already?”

Yan Hongsha took out her phone to check the time and said, “Yes, almost evening.”

Just after she put her phone away, a black shadow darted behind a tree not far away—possibly a wolf.

Mu Dai’s scalp tingled. She quickly took a torch from the backpack and lit it. The flame wavered in the rain, making the surroundings seem even darker.

Yan Hongsha asked: “Grandfather, how much further?”

Her voice trembled, whether from fear or actual echoes was unclear.

Old Man Yan’s eyes didn’t work well at night. He mumbled: “Almost there. This path leads downhill. Look down, do you see a village?”

Mu Dai strained her eyes: pitch-black darkness, nothing visible.

But it was understandable—if Seven Raise Village had no electricity, this place certainly wouldn’t either.

Old Man Yan’s “almost there” filled her with optimism. She called Yan Hongsha: “Hurry up! If we have hot water tonight, we can eat instant noodles!”

After a day of dry bread, instant noodles held infinite appeal. Yan Hongsha supported Old Man Yan with one hand while dragging the shovel with the other, quickening her pace.

“Mu Dai, we can even add fried eggs to our instant noodles!”

There did seem to be a settlement, its darker silhouette emerging from the darkness. Mu Dai handed the torch to Yan Hongsha, took out her flashlight, turned it on, and ran ahead to clear the path.

Reaching level ground, she swept the flashlight around, then again.

This was a hollow in the mountain valley with only seven or eight buildings, mostly thatch and wood huts with collapsed roofs. One was stone, similar to Zhama’s home, with an empty lower level and a wooden ladder leading to the second floor.

In the center of the hollow was a well.

All around was silence, creating an eerie feeling. Mu Dai called out: “Is anyone here?”

Echoes returned from the surrounding mountains, raising goosebumps all over her body.

Yan Hongsha approached, supporting Old Man Yan, looking around uneasily, and said: “Grandfather, no one lives here.”

A gust of wind blew through, making the mountain forest sway, as if people were hiding in the dark depths of the woods. Mu Dai gripped her machete tightly and pointed to the wooden house: “Let’s stay there tonight. I’ll go up and check first.”

She was afraid, too, but being the bodyguard, she had to push forward.

Mu Dai climbed the wooden ladder. Upstairs were two rooms: a kitchen with a large pot for boiling water over the stove, dry branches stacked along the wall, and a complete set of water vats, copper basins, and ladles; the other room was a bedroom with bed boards on the floor, straw on the boards, covered with animal skins.

Nothing unusual. Mu Dai sighed in relief and helped Yan Hongsha bring Old Man Yan up.

Old Man Yan said, “This settlement might be abandoned. This house is probably kept for hunters—some who come to hunt in the mountains might stay here for a night or two.”

Despite the rudimentary conditions, having a place to rest was good. Mu Dai and Yan Hongsha’s spirits quickly lifted, finding the experience quite interesting.

Yan Hongsha said, “It feels like wilderness survival!”

Both rooms had iron slots for torches. Once two torches were lit, the house immediately brightened.

They planned to boil water first for noodles, enjoy a meal, then boil more water to wash their feet and clothes before getting a good night’s sleep.

Mu Dai instructed Yan Hongsha to start a fire in the kitchen while she fetched water from the well.

Descending the stairs, she headed straight for the well. It was an old-style well with a pulley for lowering the rope. Mu Dai took the hanging bucket and dropped it down.

With a splash, it seemed there was water, but her first throw was off target. When she pulled it up, it felt very light. Patiently, she dropped it a second time, waiting until the bucket had taken in enough water before slowly pulling it up.

As it came up, something dark seemed to be floating in the middle of the bucket.

Mu Dai shined her flashlight to see and jumped back two steps in fright. After a moment, she patted her chest and told herself it was nothing, just a cloth doll.

The flashlight beam illuminated the bucket again. It was…

It was a Sweep-Clear Lady made of cloth. No one knew how long it had been soaking in the water, emanating a moldy odor. Its eyes were black thread sewn on white cloth, the stitches crude, like jagged teeth from crooked sewing.

At the same time, in Zhama’s large house, Cao Yanhua was drinking sweet potato porridge, gnawing on corn cakes, his eyes wide as Zhama finished the story of the wild woman.

“She really… raped a man in his fifties?”

Zhama nodded: “Yes, when people in the settlement heard the old man’s screams, they gathered together, brought dogs, carrying shoulder poles and sticks to go up the mountain. They found him with his clothes torn off, dead.”

Cao Yanhua’s eyes were fixed: “That’s too hardcore. Why not find a young man instead of an old one?”

Zhama said: “That path is rarely traveled. The old man was carrying goods back and took a shortcut. Bad luck.”

Cao Yanhua pressed: “Have you seen one yourself?”

Zhama shook his head honestly: “No, I’ve only heard about it.”

Cao Yanhua clicked his tongue twice and turned to Yi Wansan: “Brother San, you’re in danger.”

Yi Wansan jumped up as if pricked by a needle: “Why me?”

Cao Yanhua laughed dryly: “My Brother Luo has such strong fighting skills, he probably isn’t afraid of any wild person. I’m also diligently practicing and have some martial arts foundation. Only you…”

Cao Yanhua shook his head with mixed sympathy and schadenfreude in his gaze.

Yi Wansan was furious: “Then Old Man Yan is in even more danger! He’s an old man!”

Luo Ren had been sitting to the side, finding it amusing but not taking it seriously: “Alright, let’s rest early. We have to travel tomorrow.”

He also asked Zhama if he had large oilcloths. The mountain paths were difficult, and it would be best to sew boot tubes from oilcloth to tie up as rain boots.

Did they have hunting rifles? If there were hunters in the settlement, could they borrow one? Buying was also an option.

Knives were necessary for everyone. Torches were essential, as there were wild animals in the mountains. Walking sticks should be freshly cut, preferably with pointed ends that could also be used for self-defense in emergencies.

They needed to repack, leaving non-essential items at Zhama’s house and only taking the most necessary water, medicine, and dry food, traveling as light as possible.

After giving these instructions, he got up to return to his room. Zhama followed, seeming hesitant.

Luo Ren was puzzled: “Is something wrong?”

Zhama hesitated: “That girl called Mu Dai, she’s your girlfriend?”

Luo Ren smiled: “Yes.”

He teased Zhama: “What, you like her?”

Zhama was startled, waving his hands wildly: “No, no, no, no, no.”

Luo Ren laughed: “Just kidding.”

Zhama rubbed his hands, continuing to hesitate: “Last night, my mother read her destiny.”

Luo Ren froze.

They all knew Zhama’s mother was a matchmaking shaman. Since all the guests tonight were men, the old mother had returned to her room after greeting them, not accompanying them the whole time.

Luo Ren felt that perhaps the result wasn’t good; otherwise, Zhama wouldn’t so solemnly seek him out privately.

Indeed, upon hearing “Mother said she won’t end up with you,” Luo Ren’s heart sank.

He said, “How can that be considered accurate?”

Zhama was very embarrassed and said, “Yes, yes, my mother’s readings are often inaccurate. But Mu Dai was so upset. As we talked, she started crying.”

Luo Ren’s heart sank again. Not knowing what to say, he paused, then smiled: “My girlfriend does cry easily.”

Zhama pointed behind Luo Ren: “She stood right there, crying. She wouldn’t respond no matter what I said. Later, when I called her for breakfast in the morning, she wouldn’t eat. When I sent her off, she wouldn’t speak to me.”

He rubbed his hands, not knowing how to apologize properly.

Luo Ren smiled and said, “I understand.”

After Zhama left, Luo Ren turned to look at the spot before him.

So last night, she had stood here, wiping her tears alone—the lonely Little Pocket, probably unable to sleep well, with swollen eyes when setting out this morning.

Luo Ren felt a pang in his heart.

Girlfriend, don’t cry. How can you take an old woman’s words seriously?