“Ah?” Ye Chan squeezed forward with all her might, her chubby cheeks squishing against the doorframe. “I can’t see a thing from here…”
She was still straining to peer through the crack when the shadows inside the room suddenly shifted. Long Li whispered urgently, “Move! He’s coming out.”
Their timing had been perfect before—squeeze in, peek, and slip back just as he emerged. But no sooner had Ye Chan pried her face from the door slit than her phone exploded from her pocket. It was the new ringtone she’d set a few days ago: Da Zhangwei’s latest banger, Super Cool. The volume was cranked so high it made even Gu Xianwang’s eyes widen.
As the lyrics blasted out, Ye Chan panicked. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She fumbled for the phone, jabbed at it twice without silencing it—and accidentally hit answer.
Ye Chan: …Don’t ask. Right now, she was just pure regret. Nothing else.
Inside, the footsteps halted. The conversation cut off. Even through the wooden door, she could feel the man’s sharp gaze slicing toward them like a knife. Gu Xianwang’s heart skipped with guilty panic; her first instinct was to strike first and knock him out. She was just raising her eyes when Long Li calmly straightened up and rapped on the door.
Then she called inside, “Uncle, this one in my hand has a crack too. Mind grabbing me another? Sorry about this—I’m a bit picky. It’s for praying to the gods, so I want to do it right, with a sincere heart.”
Her voice carried, and finally, there was slow movement from within. The man pulled open the door suspiciously, eyeing the two women again before glancing at Ye Chan, who had wandered off to the side, still on her call. He waved the handful of wooden plaques in his hand and shut the door firmly behind him.
He blocked the doorway, his face darkening as he shooed them back. “Here. Pick a good one yourself.”
~~~
They crested the hillside and rounded the bend, making sure no one was tailing them, before Ye Chan let out a huge gasp and clutched her chest. “That scared the hell out of me! Man, it felt just like being a burglar.”
What burglar spies through a door crack with their ringtone blaring?
Gu Xianwang looked at her helplessly. “Was that your brother calling?”
“Yeah.” Ye Chan pouted. “He cussed me out six ways to Sunday. Said I’d vanished all night without sending word I was safe. Thought I’d pulled off some big stunt, snuck straight to the end of the Human Skin Map, and settled down for good.”
“Oh, and remember that expert my advisor recommended for deciphering ancient scripts? I only knew he’d come to Shaanxi for fieldwork—no contact info. So I asked my bro to track him down, and get this—he actually found the guy.” She raised her brows in surprise. “Guess what? Total charlatan. A fortune-teller who runs an online shop selling talismans and peace charms. Tsk, how original. I figured he’d be some reclusive sage, but nope—this guy’s doing video readings for palmistry. Compared to him, I’m the hick.”
Gu Xianwang nodded slightly, not dwelling on it. Her mind was still on that black-toothed old man she’d glimpsed earlier.
They passed another winding slope, and seeing Long Li walking silently ahead, she hurried to catch up. “What were you trying to check out back there?”
Long Li shook her head. “Just probing a bit.”
Ye Chan didn’t get it. “Why him specifically?”
“When I passed through Golden Hook Town before, I’d seen him setting up a stall at night,” Long Li said. “This time, looking closer, I noticed almost every house in the village is a fresh cement build from recent years—except his old place, still brick and mud. He’s not well-off, no capital for business.”
“So why’d he land the cushy job charging to see the mountain?”
“Uh… pity?”
Gu Xianwang frowned. “Did you see that Black-Toothed Man in the courtyard too?”
“Mm.” Long Li thought for a moment. “I don’t recall any Rat-Walkers like you described from the Mist Mirage. This black-toothed type—first time I’ve seen one around here.”
She paused there, as if there was more she could say but cut herself off with a firm conclusion. “Can’t tell yet what oddities are really behind Golden Hook Town.”
The clues they had were all fragments, impossible to chain into a clear logic. It frustrated Gu Xianwang to no end. Anxiety gnawed at her. “How did you find One-Line Sky before? If that path’s a dead end, where do we go next?”
Hearing her question, Long Li looked over calmly, her expression offering neither reassurance nor certainty. “Xianwang, you look exhausted. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
Those words struck like a soft knife, piercing straight into Gu Xianwang’s heart and making her tense up in an instant. This wasn’t her intention at all—she’d fallen into the same trap again, subconsciously leaning on Long Li for support. But it was her own Master who needed saving now. She still had the documents left behind by the Yang Family to draw on for leverage. She couldn’t—and shouldn’t—foist the entire burden onto Long Li’s shoulders.
In the end, Long Li was only here for a transaction, just as Third Sister Red had pointed out: even if the deal fell through, a measure of decency had to be preserved. And… if they truly located that deadly place, did she really want Long Li and Ye Chan risking their lives alongside her?
No.
Long Li carried unresolved mysteries from her past, and Ye Chan had a bright future ahead. They both had endless possibilities—they deserved every chance life offered.
The one running out of time was Gu Xianwang herself.
“Mm—it’s nothing. I’ll be fine after a quick rest.” She forced a smile. “Let’s head up the mountain first.”
The three threaded their way along the verdant mountain path. The higher they climbed, the lusher the woods flanking the trail grew. In the distant valley below, hints of autumn had emerged—patches of yellow leaves splashed across the landscape like a vibrant mosaic. Each gust of wind carried a crisp freshness, laced with the subtle sweet aroma of ripening fruit.
The breeze toyed with Gu Xianwang’s long hair, sending stray strands itching across her skin. The sensation pierced her thoughts like a needle, prickling her flesh and leaving her no escape. Amid her wry smile, Long Li suddenly slowed her pace and shifted to her right side. Towering nearly six feet in her high heels, she abruptly shielded Gu Xianwang from the full brunt of the wind slicing through the trees.
“No rush,” she said. “We still need to wait for something.”
Long Li glanced sideways, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to gently smooth the stray locks from her temple.
Her voice was soft, yet it cut through the wind. “It’s chilly up in the mountains. You’re not dressed warmly enough.”
Ye Chan, her senses sharpening intermittently, yanked down the zipper of her jacket with a sharp rip. This was the thick coat she’d picked out specially while shopping with Sister Gu—the fluffy penguin design had caught her eye instantly, screaming warmth. And now it was proving its worth!
The girl clutched the hem with both hands, lunged forward, and whoosh—enveloped Gu Xianwang completely in the soft lamb’s wool. They squeezed together inside the jacket, faces buried in each other’s tousled hair. Shameless now after cheating death more than once, she laughed. “Hahaha, Sister Gu, still cold? Told you this coat’s super warm!”
Gu Xianwang’s greatest fear was passing the Forbidden Witch Bone lodged in her body to them. Her frame went rigid, and she recoiled instinctively—only to bump right into Long Li. Positioned on the outermost edge, perilously close to the valley drop, Long Li immediately flung out her arms in protection, cradling the pair like a lotus leaf pie nestled in her embrace.
“Careful.”
“Ye Duoduo, stop fooling around.” Warmth flooded her now, chasing away the chill. Gu Xianwang blinked, struck by the realization that at her age, this was the first time anyone had bundled her up like a dumpling. Heat rose to her cheeks. She glanced up at Long Li. “What are we waiting for?”
Long Li let out a chuckle and strode a few steps to a nearby boulder. “Ye Chan, that’s enough. We’ve reached Star-Plucking Peak.”
Ye Chan bounced on her toes in triumph. “Wow, Sister Gu finally used my nickname!”
What kind of nickname was that?
Gu Xianwang’s eyes crinkled with amusement as she tilted her head back. She caught sight of Long Li leaping onto the massive ingot-shaped rock, standing tall at the peak’s crest. An ancient tree loomed beside her, its trunk so thick it would take several people to encircle, leaning obliquely toward the yawning valley below. Its crown of claw-like golden maple leaves unfurled like a curtain or vast umbrella, rustling with a sibilant whisper in the mountain gusts.
In that instant, the mountain mist finally cleared. The heavy clouds that had broodingly cloaked the sky all day split open with a narrow rift. Sunlight stabbed through like a blade, pouring a pure stream of warm white light onto the leaf veins before the dew could evaporate, sending shimmers dancing across the foliage.
Long Li pointed at the towering rain cloud. “We’re waiting for thunder.”
“With skies like these, a storm’s brewing tonight. Anyone who ventured into the mountains will likely turn back.” She glanced over her shoulder. “This site’s Azure Dragon vital energy formation is completely artificial. The trees in this valley grow nothing like those around it. And this so-called Ingot Stone? It’s no natural boulder—there’s magnetic sand packed inside, I suspect.”
With that, she unhooked the pendant from her collar. It had to be the personal badge she’d mentioned earlier, forged from iron. As she leaned it close to the Ingot Stone, the badge twitched faintly, orienting toward the massive rock as if drawn by it—proof positive of the magnetism within. But the pull was exceedingly weak, unlikely to throw off compass needles by much.
“This isn’t the Dragon Belly. It’s all just smoke and mirrors. Earlier, I only spotted the first layer and missed the second. The true layout here is the Qilin Spitting Water formation. The only way to pierce through and see the acupoints hidden beneath the water is to borrow the Thunder Sundial.”
Ye Chan listened in a daze. Only then did she clap her hands in sudden realization. “Ah, no wonder you asked if there had been any thunderstorms lately.”
Two days prior, a massive storm had raged, with lightning and thunder crashing through the night.
Gu Xianwang suddenly recalled the ticket seller’s words and finally understood Long Li’s scheme.
That was why she wasn’t in any hurry—rushing wouldn’t help anyway.
Long Li hopped down and glanced once more at the root patterns of the Golden Maple. It truly was a thousand-year-old maple tree. Countless red cords were draped over the trunk, interwoven with glittering wooden plaques. Whenever a mountain breeze stirred, they clacked and rattled together, lending the tree a faint air of a wishing tree.
Since they had to wait, Gu Xianwang pondered for a moment before asking softly, “Do you have any wishes?”
Long Li flashed a wicked grin. “What about you?”
The two stood face-to-face in silence, neither willing to speak first. Ye Chan darted glances left and right, her lips pursing as she muttered, “Why don’t you ask me?”
She huffed in annoyance but quickly acted as if nothing had happened, pulling a marker from her bag and holding out her hand. “Sister Long, I want a wooden plaque.”
The girl was as guileless as ever. She squatted by the Ingot Stone to write, oblivious that the two women behind her had a clear view from above. In neat regular script on the plaque: Gourd Little Diamond Never Disbands!
Once finished, she twirled the pen pensively before crossing out the first few words and rewriting it with the three women’s surnames.
An inexplicable pang twisted in Gu Xianwang’s heart. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the blood-soaked cloth pouch. Back in the Yin Vortex, Long Li had pressed on into the Mist Forest despite her grave injuries to retrieve it. Gu Xianwang had secretly hoped she would ask for it back, using the chance to probe its origins. But now, she no longer wanted to know.
If she couldn’t chase that mystery to its end, perhaps she never should have let her suspicions surface in the first place.
“Here, take it back first. What if you lose something this important?” she teased deliberately.
Long Li accepted it with a smile, her thumb brushing the fabric. A faint crinkle of paper sounded from within. “I’ve already lost it once. It might actually be safer with you.”
Gu Xianwang fell silent and turned to watch Ye Chan on tiptoe, trying to hang her plaque higher up.
“Here.” Long Li handed over a plaque and the pen. “I won’t look.”
Gu Xianwang turned away, mulling for a long while before scrawling a few words. When she glanced back, Long Li had already finished hers and was stretching out her long arm to help Ye Chan secure the plaque on a branch tip.
Hearing her footsteps draw near, Long Li turned with a smile. “Shall we hang them together?”
Tall as she was with arms to match, she pinched a high branch and bent it down toward them. The leaves stretched skyward at a height surely closer to heaven than any other wish on the tree.
Gu Xianwang meekly handed over her plaque. At the last moment, she added, “You can look… it’s fine.”
Long Li rose on tiptoe, gazing upward amid the dying light of dusk. Golden autumn hues shimmered in her eyes, the moment captured as if she were etching those words anew upon her pupils—
May we meet on an ordinary day.
She tied the red cord securely, then splayed her fingers. The taut branch snapped back with a rustle, sending the three plaques clinking together like wind chimes beneath a temple eave.
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
“What?”
“My wish.”
“…If you want to tell me, then tell me.”
“You’re not curious anymore. Telling you now would just fall flat.”
“You— All right, all right. So what is your wish?”
Long Li’s eyes curved in a gentle smile, her voice soft as a whisper. “Lest the twin fish miss Xie Bridge.”
