The next day, Qin Yuhu came bright and early to pick up Lian Youming.
With the New Year fast approaching anyway, there was little work in the hamlet besides preparing for the winter fishing. Besides, in Lian Youming's current physical condition, merely walking out to the fields was a struggle, so no one expected much from him.
Furthermore, considering that sending the educated youth down to the countryside had been a last-minute decision, the villages and hamlets that took them in had received material subsidies—which amounted to the old hens raised by the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain, along with a few fat pigs.
So when Lian Youming went to ask for leave, the village party branch secretary readily granted him ten days, adding that if that wasn't enough, he could just return before the winter fishing began.
Winter at year's end was long and cruel. In Tahe, dawn came later and later, and even when the sun rose, it hung mostly along the southern horizon, shedding a pitifully meager warmth.
Before the vast expanse of white frost and snow could melt, it froze over again. The howling northwest wind whipped up cold frost, swirling and dancing across the earth like spirits condensed from ice and snow.
This time, Qin Yuhu had not ridden his sidecar motorcycle, having procured a mule cart instead.
When Lian Youming asked out of curiosity, he learned that the tires had slipped on an icy patch of road, throwing Qin Yuhu when he drove back to town yesterday.
Lian Youming didn't care whether the bike was damaged, but seeing that his old uncle was unharmed, the heart in his throat finally settled back down.
Bundled up tightly, he sat on the cart with his hands tucked in his sleeves, neck shrunk, head lowered, and legs dangling over the edge like a young bride returning to her maternal home.
"Uncle, did that person named Gong leave?"
"What 'person named Gong'? Babbles like a fool again, this boy. Do you even know what she does? Going by the operas and storytelling, she's an imperial palace master... She hasn't left. Still staying up on the mountain."
Qin Yuhu sat sideways on the cart shaft, swathed in thick layers—cotton-padded trousers, cotton-padded boots, and a cotton cap, his hands encased in heavy deerskin gloves. Every time he opened his mouth, a plume of white steam puffed from beneath his muffler like a leaky teakettle.
Lian Youming muttered an "oh," thoughtful, and asked no more.
It was the last month before the New Year, and though the cold was terrifying, it could not dampen the festive spirit.
People bustled through the streets, wrapped up like sticky rice dumplings, faces bright with smiles as they wandered about, busy buying supplies for the New Year.
Qin Yuhu did not head straight home, driving Lian Youming to the railway station instead.
As the year drew to a close, travelers were returning home.
After waiting about forty minutes while Qin Yuhu and Lian Youming looked left and right, a figure among the crowd coming out of the exit—wearing a cotton cap and a heavy mink coat—tiptoed up behind them and let out a sudden roar: "Dad!"
Then, amid giggles, she unwrapped her muffler to reveal a round, chubby face. Though on the plumper side, she was by no means plain—with large eyes, a tall nose, and fair skin, she possessed an undeniable vibrancy and bold charm, coupled with an exuberant personality.
This stout girl was Qin Yuhu and Shen Qinghong's daughter, named Qin Hongxiu, who was studying at the Forestry College in Harbin.
Hearty and straightforward, Qin Hongxiu slung an arm around Lian Youming's shoulders and said in a grave, deadpan tone, "We meet again, tovarishch."
Lian Youming cleared his throat and maintained a serious expression, declaring solemnly, "Comrades, before you lie two paths: one is victory, and the other is death. Death does not belong to the working class... Ouch!"
Qin Yuhu promptly rewarded each of their foreheads with a sharp flick of his knuckles.
Grimacing, Qin Hongxiu climbed onto the cart and handed her satchel to Lian Youming. "Here, the books I brought you. I got them all from my classmates. Along with the usual review materials, I found two foreign language readers—one in Russian, one in English. When I have time, I'll teach you."
Having collected his daughter, Qin Yuhu leaped down from the shaft, grabbed the reins, snapped his whip, and vanished into the morning light with rhythmic shouts urging the mule onward.
***
Up in the mountain forest farm.
The soldiers who had taken over were already gone.
The wooden cabins were buried under heavy snow, their doors and windows blocked, resembling snowy mounds from afar. Aside from the stark desolation, there was only the mournful howling of the wind.
Yet amidst this dead, deserted expanse of ice and snow, a young woman sat cross-legged atop a thick tree stump that would take three or four people to embrace. Her lips parted slightly, her throat and tongue vibrating as she drew in and expelled breath.
*Roar!*
As her chest and abdomen rose and fell, a faint, dragon-like rumble sounded in Gong Wu'er's throat. She tilted her head back and opened her eyes, exhaling sharply. A ribbon of white vapor soared like a dragon taking flight, shooting straight up three or four meters into the air before dispersing into nothingness.
After completing her breathing exercise, Gong Wu'er showed no visible difference, yet the snow around the stump had melted back more than half a meter, exposing the soil beneath—resembling a drop of black ink spattered across the pure white snow.
Gong Wu'er rose to her full height and walked into the earth houses where the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain had lived.
There were six earth houses in total. Aside from the three used for keeping pigs and chickens, three remained: one quiet room for meditation and rest, one for practicing martial arts, and the last, completely bare, with no windows, its floor inlaid with grayish-blue bricks.
At the sight of this last earth house, Gong Wu'er stopped. Without glancing anywhere else, her eyes fixed directly on the blue bricks covering the floor.
Though ancient, such bricks were not uncommon; they were mostly tomb bricks salvaged from old graves and repurposed.
After a moment's contemplation, Gong Wu'er shifted her feet, appearing to walk aimlessly. Yet after completing a circuit and arriving at a corner of the house, she pressed down hard with the ball of her foot. The tightly fitted blue bricks gave way with a rumble, collapsing downward to reveal a hidden passage.
Her eyes flashed. Without hesitation, Gong Wu'er turned, fetched an oil lamp from outside, and cautiously made her way down.
In the lamp's glow, a flight of blue-brick steps sloped downward.
After descending a short distance and finding no traps or mechanisms, Gong Wu'er gathered her breath and accelerated her pace, transforming into a swift shadow.
Only after descending forty or fifty steps did the space suddenly open up before her.
*Phew!*
A faint chill blew from behind. Holding the lamp, Gong Wu'er gazed at the sight before her, her flickering eyes softening as she let out a slow breath.
There was another world beneath, hiding an ancient tomb.
Yet this ancient tomb had clearly been renovated. There was little foul rot, nor any coffins or dry bones; it had been deliberately remodeled into a secret chamber. Though gloomy, numerous traces subtly revealed that someone had lived here.
At the deepest part of the secret chamber lay a horizontal stone bed.
Gong Wu'er lit the wall torches one by one and slowly walked over.
Not only was there a bed, but chairs, stools, and several meditation cushions on the floor were also present, all blanketed under a thick layer of dust, as if disused for a very long time.
Yet Gong Wu'er noticed that the dust on the stone bed was very thin and light, as though newly settled. Someone had clearly lain on this bed not long ago.
She reached out with her slender left hand, rubbing the pads of her fingers across the stone bed's surface, seemingly searching for something.
Unfortunately, her probing yielded nothing.
As she glanced around, Gong Wu'er's gaze suddenly locked onto the wall beside the stone bed.
This wall was made of solid rock rather than piled blue bricks. It seemed to have been coated with a layer of grayish-blue plaster. Though ordinary at first glance, it appeared unusual to Gong Wu'er's eyes.
Just as she hesitated and scrutinized it, a chuckle came abruptly from behind.
"What is there to see? Could the real treasure be hidden underneath?"
The newcomer strolled forward with hands clasped behind his back, but upon spotting that wall, his steps abruptly accelerated.
Within the dim chamber, wind howled and torchlight flickered. Under the fiery glow, a fist that looked forged from bronze and iron struck out like an arrow loosed from a bow, smashing violently toward the wall.
*Bang!*
*Bang!*
*Bang!*
Looking closely, three distinct fist prints were stamped into the wall.
On the other side of the stone bed, a figure as agile as an ape flipped through the air and landed upright.
The newcomer was a young man in a Sun Yat-sen suit—lean of build with broad shoulders, a sallow complexion, and a dull, wooden expression. Yet his eyes shone with sharp cunning. When he wasn't smiling, he looked harmless enough, but once his lips cracked into a grin, his entire demeanor transformed, baring a vicious countenance filled with ferocious malice, resembling a savage mountain demon.
Xue Hen.
Yet neither Gong Wu'er nor Xue Hen paid attention to one another at that moment. Their eyes remained glued to the wall before them.
For the moment those three punches landed, the plaster on the rock wall had cracked rapidly and fallen away in flakes, revealing what lay beneath.
Much to their surprise, an engraved inscription had been preserved beneath the plaster.
As the characters emerged one after another, they formed a poem:
*"I have a hut of three rafters, dwelling at the spirit source.*
*Unshielded on all four walls, left open and desolately bare,*
*The myriad forms of creation serve as bracket sets,*
*Tiled over by the azure sky.*
*Attaining the state of no-leakage for many a year,*
*The karmic affinity is sealed.*
*Cultivating until three thousand meritorious deeds are fulfilled,*
*Subduing the fiery dragon, taming the fierce tiger,*
*An earthly immortal."*
"An earthly immortal?"
Xue Hen's gaze followed the characters, and when he reached the final lines—especially the four words "earthly immortal"—his face twisted into sheer frenzy, his eyes turning increasingly savage, mad and demoniac.
"A poem by Lü Dongbin."
"Hmm?"
"There's more?"
Gong Wu'er noticed two additional characters at the end of the inscription.
"Mount Lu?"
These two characters seemed remarkably abrupt, the brushstrokes seemingly broken yet connected, unfinished as if words were left unsaid.
Xue Hen saw them too, his dark eyes lighting up.
"Interesting. Lü Dongbin? Mount Lu?"
Soon, however, Xue Hen tilted his head with hands still clasped behind his back, slowly looking toward Gong Wu'er. As the firelight shifted across his face, he reverted instantly to that wooden, dull countenance. "Though you are one of Baguamen's young prodigies, you willingly serve others and have entered the halls of government. You are no longer a pure martial artist... Call that brother of yours to face me instead."
Though his tone was bland, it was laden with chilling killing intent.
Gong Wu'er's expression remained impassive. "Your words are mistaken. The world has changed; where are these 'halls of government'? Your body is here, but your heart remains in chaotic times. You slaughter the innocent and seek to contend with the world's masters. You have already strayed into evil. Turning back now is not too late."
In the same flat tone, Xue Hen replied, "Your heart is shackled by rules—how could you ever perceive heaven and earth? Go back to your tiny plot of land."
Their paths diverged; words were no longer needed.
Gong Wu'er narrowed her phoenix eyes slightly, drawing her fingers inward like an ox's tongue.
Xue Hen sighed softly. "A cycle of sixty years ago, how splendid the martial world was! Heroes emerged in throngs, luminaries rose together, and peerless powerhouses roamed north and south. Alas, I was born several decades too late. Fortunately... heh-heh... the martial path is not extinct, the martial world is not far away, and I have discovered an earth-shattering secret. Perhaps I truly can measure myself against the ancients and break through to the supreme realm of martial arts."
Gong Wu'er said calmly, "It seems you have resolved to walk down this dark path to the bitter end."
Xue Hen said softly, "Who is right and who is wrong—it is still too early to say."
Gong Wu'er's eyelids twitched. "Then let me experience your skills!"
Xue Hen gave a mocking grin. "Gladly."
The moment the words fell, both figures moved simultaneously, shifting sideways as swift as lightning.
A sudden gust rose, instantly snuffing out the surrounding torches. Within the pitch-black space, fists and palms clashed, lethal intent erupting in all directions.
***
Tahe County.
On the journey back, snowflakes began drifting from the sky once more.
Qin Yuhu drove the mule cart up to the supply and marketing cooperative. After giving the two a few instructions, he headed off to the state-run restaurant.
In this freezing weather, and with Shen Qinghong being pregnant, it was naturally inconvenient for her to cook. All their food had been pre-ordered at the restaurant, needing only to be reheated at home.
Watching Qin Yuhu's departing figure, Lian Youming hopped off the cart.
Back at the forest farm, he had saved up twenty or thirty yuan, which, along with the pocket money he brought when he arrived, totaled about a hundred and forty yuan. Additionally, his parents had mailed him a hundred yuan in yesterday's parcel.
Thinking of how Qin Yuhu had taken care of him all these days, Lian Youming told Qin Hongxiu to watch the cart while he slipped into the supply and marketing cooperative.
Lifting the thick cotton door curtain, a wave of warm air immediately wrapped around him.
Lian Youming stepped up to the counter, his gaze sweeping across a dazzling array of foodstuffs and premium fur goods.
To his surprise, there were quite a few mountain specialties here—he could even spot wild ginseng and lingzhi. Though their appearance was somewhat inferior, it was enough to delight him.
This saved him a lot of trouble; he could try some of the recipes recorded on the brocade silk.
If he could replenish the Five Qi and lay a solid foundation, he could cultivate that Three Yin Earth Fiend Force, combine it with the Toad Fishing Skill, and even study the Golden Bell Shield.
The saleswoman, in her forties or fifties, leaned against the counter cracking melon seeds. Seeing Lian Youming lingering, she couldn't help asking, "Young brother, don't just wander around. What caught your eye?"
Lian Youming asked, "How much is this wild ginseng?"
The saleswoman raised her chin. "It was bought from mountain roamers. The quality isn't great, so the price is naturally cheaper. Those roots in front of you are six hundred a jin."
Lian Youming's eyes lit up. The price was indeed... surprising.
Seeing Lian Youming standing there motionless, the saleswoman grew slightly impatient. "Are you buying or not? If not, don't waste time."
Lian Youming merely smiled and shifted his gaze to the corner of the counter, where two wristwatches lay. "I'd like one wristwatch and two bottles of Maotai. Also, fetch me two pairs of muntjac-hide cotton boots, two pairs of gloves, and two boxes of that clam shell moisturizer."
The saleswoman instantly perked up. "We don't require ration coupons for watches here—Shanghai brand, eighty yuan. Maotai is nine yuan a bottle without coupons, seven with coupons. As for the boots and gloves, the four pairs come to five yuan and fifty cents. The clam shell moisturizer..."
As she spoke, she retrieved two grayish clam shells from beneath the counter. These were the shells of hard clams, serving as the hand cream of this era.
"Seven and a half cents a box; fifteen cents for two."
Seeing Lian Youming actually pulling out money, the saleswoman recommended, "We also have malted milk extract. Young man, want a tin?"
Lian Youming shook his head. He had bought that before, and it had nearly sickened him with its cloying sweetness; he had mostly left it for his younger siblings to mix with water.
Turning to buy some sweets and peanuts, he settled the bill and stepped out of the cooperative.
Just as he emerged, Qin Yuhu happened to return. Seeing Lian Youming carrying a pile of goods, his face darkened instantly—especially when he spotted the wristwatch, his single eye widening terrifyingly.
"The money your parents sent was saved bit by bit through scrimping and saving! Who told you to squander it? Go right back in and return it all! I don't need your treats!"
With that, he reached for the leather belt around his waist, undeterred no matter how Qin Hongxiu tried to pull him back.
Recognizing the exact same habit as his own father, Lian Youming explained hurriedly, "Don't! I bought all this with money I earned myself! The money my parents sent is still right here!"
He quickly pulled out the hundred yuan his parents had sent.
Seeing the money intact, Qin Yuhu's face softened considerably, though his tone remained displeased. "Even if you earned it yourself, you shouldn't throw it around like this. Go return it, quick!"
Lian Youming rolled his eyes. "Fine, Uncle Qin. If you insist on treating me like a stranger, I'll just head back to the hamlet. Besides, I didn't buy this for you—it's for Aunt Shen. My mother and Aunt Shen are like sisters, and she told me before I came to show proper filial respect. What's wrong with me buying a few things?"
The dynamic between the two families was rather unusual. Initially, the fathers were like brothers, and then Lian Youming's mother and Shen Qinghong grew close, eventually treating each other like sisters born of different parents. So Lian Youming simply called Qin Yuhu 'Uncle' and Shen Qinghong 'Aunt', addressing each independently.
Qin Yuhu was rendered momentarily speechless.
Lian Youming chuckled. "Come on, don't just stand there. Let's go home, I'm freezing to death."
Qin Yuhu held his breath for a long time, let out a cold snort, and finally cursed helplessly, "You little brat, just this once! Don't you dare do it again, or I'll beat you raw!"
Lian Youming nodded perfunctorily and climbed back onto the cart. "Hurry and thread your belt back on. Why do you have the exact same temper as my dad, whipping off your belt the second something doesn't go your way?"
Hugging the armful of food, Qin Hongxiu doubled over with laughter.
***
Heavy snow drifted from above, gradually swallowing the figures of the three.
Chapter 16