Trees towered thick and lush; grasses grew tall and green.
The mountains were still and silent, cliffs flanking either side. A cool mountain stream coursed gently between them.
Following the river, I kept moving forward, the gorge running beneath my feet. This was the same route I’d once taken with Qiu Lu, Xu Zirong, and Wen Lingyu—yet now it felt like a lifetime ago.
I wondered how they were doing now.
I assumed Lu Qi’s meaning was that Wan Ying would meet me somewhere in the forest. But I’d walked for quite a while without seeing her.
And the farther I went, the more unease stirred in my chest.
I’d escaped too hastily, too chaotically. My mind completely blank, I had run without bringing anything with me. My pack—my journal—and that camera…
Gone. All I had was the thin robe on my back. No clothes, no food. No one could survive deep forest like this.
I couldn’t go back.
All I could do was hope Wan Ying had brought something for me—anything to keep me from total desperation.
Just as that thought crossed my mind, a clear voice rang out from behind me.
“Li Yuze.”
Wan Ying.
“You finally made it! Remember to check whether Shen Jianqing is—”
Her words abruptly cut off.
I turned back, joy rising in my chest—only to freeze the moment I saw what was behind her.
Wan Ying wasn’t alone.
Two strong Miao youths stood behind her, one of them carrying a wine jar in his arms.
This… was clearly not a friendly welcome.
And yet, for some reason, I felt unnervingly calm. Maybe after so many betrayals, I had already prepared myself for the worst.
I had placed all my hopes on one gamble. Turns out, I had bet wrong again.
“Li Yuze, I knew you’d come. You never disappoint,” Wan Ying said with a bright smile—exactly the same smile I’d seen countless times before, yet for the first time, cold sweat slid down my spine.
I steadied myself. “Wan Ying… you’re taking me out of here?”
She took the wine jar from the youth beside her. “Of course you can leave… but first, you must drink this.”
The wine from the Saturn-Cutting ritual. The one infused with insects.
Of course. Leaving was never going to be easy.
If I wanted to survive, I absolutely could not drink it. A-Song was proof of that. Back then, the parasitic gu hadn’t worked on me only because of Shen Jianqing. Now… I couldn’t expect the same miracle.
There was no way they would let me walk out carrying their secrets.
I should’ve seen this coming.
Seeing the hesitation in my eyes, Wan Ying tilted her head, her smile deepening.
“What is it? Didn’t you beg to leave? What are you hesitating for? Come on—drink it, and you’ll be free.”
I stepped back. “Free? Like A-Song?”
“And what’s wrong with that kind of freedom?” Wan Ying replied. “Or… do you want to turn back instead?”
The ground behind me crumbled—loose pebbles slipping downward. I staggered, realizing the gorge and rushing river were directly at my back.
Before I could speak, Wan Ying’s expression shifted sharply.
“You think you can just run back to him?”
A chill ran through me. “So you lured me out here on purpose?”
Her smile widened with triumph. “You only realized that now?”
“Why?”
“Why?!” she snapped. “Because you outsiders have ruined our peace. Look at A-Song. Look at Shen Jianqing—bewitched, obsessed! All because of you people!”
I frowned, stopping myself from stepping back any farther. “Even so, if you wanted to deal with me, you didn’t need to lure me out here.”
In the village, she’d have had countless ways. But instead she’d used the most troublesome methods—
Telling me about Shen Siyuan.
Bringing me medicinal herbs.
Pretending to care.
None of that had been necessary.
If she feared Shen Jianqing protecting me, then when he was injured—was that not the perfect chance? But she hadn’t acted then either.
And the herbs she gave me had indeed been for driving out parasites—Shen Jianqing himself confirmed it.
Wan Ying said, “You outsiders are so stupid. Just a little effort, and you followed me like an obedient dog.”
As she spoke, she shook the heavy silver rings around her neck, the metal clinking sharply.
“Do you remember what I told you? In our village, the finest gu masters can become the next chieftain. Do you know why I could accept Shen Siyuan… but not you?”
She could accept Shen Siyuan but not me?
Shen Siyuan had been Ah Qing’s husband. He was an outsider too. Yet after living here until his death, his name was embroidered onto a ribbon and tied to the stone bridge—a symbol of recognition. Proof that the village could accept outsiders.
So why couldn’t they accept me?
And then, like lightning, I remembered something Shen Jianqing had once said—something from a very, very long time ago.
“From the time she was sixteen, Wan Ying has been obsessed with me. She’s the chieftain’s granddaughter, and I… I’m just someone who lost both parents. Lately she’s been pushing harder, and the chieftain’s pressuring me too. I can barely breathe.”
It had been so long since then.
At the time, I thought he said it just to make me pity him. He’d lied to me so much—I couldn’t believe anything he said.
But in this moment… the words resurfaced with startling clarity.
Maybe he hadn’t lied at all.
And the moment that clicked, everything else fell neatly into place.
Wan Ying liked Shen Jianqing.
Or rather—Wan Ying wanted Shen Jianqing.
She couldn’t tolerate me because I stood in her way. So she had to get rid of me.
Absurd. Completely absurd. Weren’t they cousins?
My gaze drifted to Wan Ying’s face, then instinctively to the youths behind her. Their clothing was simple, lacking Wan Ying’s extravagance and Shen Jianqing’s fine detailing—just two rings of embroidery around their collars and sleeves. They didn’t understand her words but stood ready, loyal, waiting for her command.
Waiting for her command…
A sudden realization struck me, cold and sharp.
“You don’t want Shen Jianqing,” I said, voice trembling. “You want the chieftain.”
Wan Ying’s brows lifted high, surprise glimmering in her eyes. The silver ornaments at her ears sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight.
“You actually figured it out,” she said, this time smiling with genuine delight. “I think I finally understand what Shen Jianqing sees in you.”
They tolerated Shen Siyuan—accepted him—because Ah Qing possessed an extraordinary talent for cultivating gu, strong enough to protect the village. As the next chieftain, her father wouldn’t want to marry her off, to let her power slip into another family. Shen Siyuan’s arrival solved the old chieftain’s dilemma perfectly—his daughter could remain both chieftain… and his daughter.
So he had allowed all of Ah Qing’s madness—not because he was a helpless father caving to his daughter, but because it was exactly what he wanted to see happen.
But Shen Jianqing was different.
He had lived on his own since he was young, even keeping his own family name. If the old chief wanted to protect his position—and the position of his bloodline—he couldn’t rely solely on that maternal connection anymore. He needed Wanying to tie everything together.
And as for the distinction between the chief and the ordinary villagers—just look at the difference between the two Miao youths behind Wanying and the elaborate clothing she wore.
It was absurd. A tiny, isolated patch of land, and yet the hearts within it were just as tangled and sinister.
I laughed coldly, again and again—at this ridiculous village, at this selfish, pathetic chief, at Wanying, at Shen Jianqing.
Her face darkened. “What are you… laughing at?”
“You want Shen Jianqing to believe I left on my own. Even if I later go mad, lose my mind, or die, he won’t blame you. Maybe one day he’ll even give in to reality and do exactly what you all want from him.”
“We’ve had… some misunderstandings,” Wanying said. “But a family… always finds a way back together. We can’t let… you keep affecting… our relationship.” She gestured for the men behind her to step forward. “Enough talking. Before you completely lose… your mind and become… a puppet for the worms, I’ve explained your doubts. You… should be grateful.”
Grateful?
She actually expected me to be grateful?
In a way, she had given me yet another lesson.
The two Miao youths stepped toward me at her signal. One of them opened the clay jar, and the strong smell of liquor spread through the trees.
I watched them warily, quickly calculating my chances of taking down both of them.
Judging from their thick, solid frames and the fact that they were nearly two heads taller than me, the answer I reached was: almost zero.
Against Shen Jianqing, I’d needed a sneak attack. Against these two in a direct fight? I had no chance.
They kept approaching; I kept retreating—closer and closer to the cliff edge.
“Stop moving back!” Wanying shouted. “Another step and you’ll fall! The river is… fast. You’ll die!”
But drinking this “wine,” turning into another Asong—or worse—what difference was there between that and death?
I couldn’t stand the thought of becoming someone who dragged others down, someone who couldn’t think, couldn’t control themselves, couldn’t live without being taken care of. If that was my future, I’d rather die here and now.
The moment that thought solidified, I made my decision.
I had gambled so many times, and every time I lost. But fate couldn’t let a gambler lose forever. It had to give me one chance.
Just one.
I steadied myself, glanced at the churning river far beneath my feet—then pushed off with all my strength.
I lunged outward, my body dropping straight into the torrent below.