I didn’t expect that the next day, I wouldn’t see Shen Jianqing.
I woke early, back aching. I had curled up all night, clinging to the blanket.
The stains from the medicine had dried, forming a stiff, dark, irregular circle across the bed, faintly bitter, absurd, and ridiculous.
I wasn’t sure whether my body was unusually tough or whether the medicine from yesterday had worked, but my fever had subsided. Body temperature normalized, strength returned, though the foot remained injured.
I got out of bed, limping to the window, testing the iron bars. They were solid, unyielding.
Previously, the windowsill had just a few grooves; now, for me, they were reinforced with indestructible bars.
When I first moved in, I had joked that if bars were added, it would feel like a prison. I hadn’t realized that joke would become reality.
I slumped back onto the bed, letting out a deep breath, my worries following me like shadows. My right foot was beginning to tingle and itch—the slow sign of the wound healing. If I couldn’t get it properly set and bandaged, it would certainly leave a lasting effect.
I had no choice now. I had to rely on Shen Jianqing.
This realization left me torn and in pain. I despised my own weakness, but I hated even more the culprit who had caused all this.
Just then, the sound of a lock turning came from the door. My heart immediately leapt into my throat, my breath catching. The sound of iron locks had become a conditioned reflex for me.
The door creaked open, and a tall figure entered.
It wasn’t Shen Jianqing.
All the words I had ready to shout instantly died in my throat. Deep down, I felt an inexplicable relief, as if a death row inmate had just been told their execution was postponed. I could delay facing Shen Jianqing for a little longer.
The newcomer wore a plain, blue-gray Miao outfit, clean and simple, with just a band of embroidery on the collar—none of the silver jingling like Shen Jianqing. His skin was dark from laboring outdoors. His face was honest and rustic, square-shaped, with full lips.
Finally, a new face. I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Hey, hello!” I greeted.
He didn’t respond, simply setting down the food he carried.
I bounced on my right foot, hopping forward on my left, eager. “I want to leave! Please, let me go!”
I tried to dart for the door.
But before I could reach it, he grabbed the back of my collar with one hand.
“Dong Nu!”
He said something I couldn’t understand, then with undeniable force yanked me back inside and swiftly closed the door.
I hopped to the door, pounding on it. Even though I knew he wouldn’t understand, I stubbornly shouted uselessly, “I don’t agree! You’re holding me illegally—you could go to jail! Let me out!”
The man efficiently locked the door and walked away. No matter how I banged, yelled, or cursed, no one paid me any attention.
No one could understand my helplessness and despair.
Every time my injured right foot touched the ground, pain shot through me. My left leg bore all my weight, quickly growing weak. I leaned against the door and slowly sat down, burying my face in my hands.
Even if the people here understood me, they might not be willing to help.
What could I do…
Had Qiu Lu and the others made it out? Were Shen Jianqing’s warnings true, or just a threat? If they’d been affected by the gu insect, what about me?
The thought drenched me in cold sweat.
A while back, A’Li had accidentally mentioned that the Miao of Shidi Mountain could use gu. Shen Jianqing’s words confirmed it. Had I… already been affected by it?
The more I thought, the more discouraged I became, my whole body icy. I didn’t know how long I lay there, but eventually I struggled to my feet and made my way to the table.
Yesterday’s food had been cleared, replaced with fresh dishes. There were sticky rice cakes, cured meat, and rice—rich with Miao flavor.
I had barely eaten all day yesterday and was starving; my stomach growled repeatedly. But looking at the food, I had no appetite. My throat tightened, mouth bitter.
After hesitating, I pinched a piece of sticky rice cake into my mouth and returned to the bed.
The cake should have been sweet, filled with brown sugar. But to me, it tasted like chewing wax—no flavor at all.
I lay on the bed a while longer, and unexpectedly, I fell asleep again. When I woke, the sky outside was painted with crimson clouds. The sun hid behind layers of clouds, descending slowly and unwillingly.
The door opened again, and light footsteps came inside. I assumed it was the same Miao man from the morning, and lay drowsily on the bed, unwilling to move or engage.
So I was completely unprepared for the voice I heard.
“You… lunch… not eat, no?”
Broken, halting, but unmistakably Mandarin—and a girl’s voice at that!
I felt tears prick my eyes. I rolled over and sat up to look.
A slender, graceful figure leaned against the door, the red glow of the setting sun behind her, the mountains beyond, birds returning to the forest. The beauty of the scene paled compared to the shallow dimple in her smile, which made anyone meeting her gaze forget everything else around them.
I remembered her name: Wan Ying.
My heart skipped a couple of beats—I heard Mandarin again—but I feared encountering the same cold indifference I had met from the earlier Miao man.
Wan Ying tilted her head. “You… Li Yuze, yes? Why… not speak? My Mandarin… not good. You… understand?”
I widened my eyes, hesitating. “I understand! You… you know my name?”
“I… heard… before… they… call you… I… think… your name.” Wan Ying’s eyes shone with a sly light.
I understood. So that was it. I had so much I wanted to say, I didn’t know where to start. Summoning my courage, I asked, with hope, “Can you let me leave here?”
Wan Ying stepped into the room, closed the door behind her, and shook her head. “No. If I let you go, Shen Jianqing… very angry. If he’s angry, consequences… very bad.”
See? I knew it. No one here would stand with me, no one would help.
Seeing my pale face, Wan Ying smiled. “Shen Jianqing… not good to you?”
Not good? She actually asked that? Looking at me in this sorry, pitiful state, wasn’t the answer obvious?
Wait, doesn’t she like Shen Jianqing? Shouldn’t she be furious seeing me? Calmly asking questions instead… I thought maybe, given Shen Jianqing’s lies and theatrics, perhaps everything he’d said before was just a story he staged to gain sympathy.
“Where did Shen Jianqing go?” I asked, not answering her, but questioning instead.
Wan Ying said, “Don’t worry about him. He went to catch… a traitor.”
The final “a traitor” tumbled out of her mouth almost broken off, and there was something indescribably strange in her tone.
Who cared about him? If he died out there, that would actually be the best outcome. I imagined it maliciously in my mind.
I paused, asking, “A traitor?”
Wan Ying said, “Should be… will be back soon.”
As soon as we leave, there’s a traitor in the Miao village? How could such a coincidence exist! I pressed further, “What kind of traitor?”
Wan Ying smiled mysteriously. “Cannot… tell you. A traitor… is a traitor.”
She began to rise, preparing to leave.
“Wait!” I called after her. I didn’t know why I spoke first, before thinking. Perhaps it was my boredom and loneliness, desperately needing someone to talk to. Or maybe I wanted to keep her here, hoping I could find a chance to escape.
Wan Ying turned back, looking puzzled.
From this angle, her profile bore a slight resemblance to Shen Jianqing.
I racked my brain for a topic. “Your Mandarin… is really good. Have you… been outside, heard people talk?”
The topic was awkward. I already expected her to ignore me.
“I… not… outside? Shen Jianqing… very good, really!” Wan Ying said, brushing it off, but her eyes gleamed with pride. “I haven’t gone out. It was Shen Siyuan A’Nai who taught me.”
I caught the crucial part immediately.
“Shen Siyuan… A’Nai?”
“It means… uncle.”
I froze, a bad suspicion forming, but I sought confirmation. “Shen Siyuan… is Shen Jianqing’s father, right?”
Wan Ying nodded matter-of-factly. “Shen Jianqing… is unusual. For hundreds of years, our people… haven’t intermarried with outsiders. He’s the first Miao child with a Han parent.”
Wan Ying referred to Shen Jianqing’s father as “uncle.”
A chill ran down my spine, but I almost laughed at the absurdity.
Had Shen Jianqing ever told me a single truth? He said Wan Ying and the village chief bullied him constantly, even seized his property, leaving him no choice but to hide in the forest. In reality, Wan Ying was his cousin, and the chief—if I wasn’t mistaken—was his grandfather!
From the very start, had anything he said ever been true?
Lies, deceit, schemes upon schemes. And after I had rejected him, I had fallen into long-lasting guilt, even absurdly imagining him as a girl… I was just glad I hadn’t made a horrible mistake while not fully in control of myself.
I didn’t notice when Wan Ying left, perhaps bored of my silent daze. The door clicked shut, and darkness quickly enveloped the room.
Shen Jianqing had left candles in the room, but I felt too exhausted to care, unwilling even to speak, let alone move.
Every breath drained me, every motion required full effort.
So I sat silently on the bed, letting the darkness swallow me bit by bit.