Chapter 13

We stayed frozen, watching it glide out of sight, not daring to move a muscle. My sweat dripped into my eyelashes, stinging, but I didn’t even blink until the last rustle faded away.

“Can we move now?” Qiu Lu asked in a shaky voice.

My arms were locked tight around the stick; my muscles burned from tension. “Yeah… it’s gone.”

Everyone exhaled at once.

“That scared me to death,” Wen Lingyu whispered, still trembling. “I saw its fangs—I thought we were done for… God, I thought we were going to die right here…”

Qiu Lu peeked out from Xu Zirong’s arms, her face chalk-white, lips bloodless.

I forced my voice steady. “Let’s keep moving.”

The forest was full of dangers. We couldn’t afford to let our guard down again.

Deep in the forest, beneath a wide banana leaf, a pitch-black snake writhed and twisted in agony.

“Hissss… hissss…”

Its scarlet tongue flicked out again and again, the sound more like an enraged snarl—or perhaps the wail of something dying.

The snake’s head kept jerking backward, its body thrashing wildly, tail slapping the ground in pain as it tried to break free from the source of its torment—

A crimson worm.

No matter how violently the black snake struggled, that tiny red creature clung unshakably to the spot seven inches below its head. From a distance, it looked like a single, dazzling drop of blood.

The undergrowth trembled with the snake’s violent spasms. At last its strength gave out. After one final convulsion, it froze in midair for a heartbeat, then crashed to the ground like a sack of mud. Its tongue dangled lifelessly from its mouth, never to flick again.

Only then did the scarlet worm slowly loosen its bite. It stretched out four slender legs and began to crawl forward—

—until it reached the pale back of a waiting hand.

“Honghong, you’ve done well.”

The voice that spoke was as clear and melodious as a phoenix’s call. The man lifted the worm closer to his face. The vivid red of the creature mirrored the beauty mark at the corner of his eye.

He turned slightly, his gaze seeming to pierce through the dense layers of foliage, as if it could fall upon someone far away.

After a pause, he set off again at a leisurely pace, strolling through the perilous forest as though it were his private garden, utterly unbothered by the hidden dangers all around.

A faint sigh drifted through the wind.

“Guests are coming.”

“Guests are coming…”

I could’ve sworn I heard a voice—soft, distant, brushing past my ear. I turned quickly, but aside from the three people with me, no one was there.

“What’s wrong?” Wen Lingyu asked.

Maybe I was just hearing things. Better not to overthink it.

I shook my head. “Nothing. Thought I heard something. You all keeping up?”

Panting, Qiu Lu propped herself up with a branch she’d found somewhere. “Even if I can’t, I’ll have to! Let’s go!”

We followed Xu Zirong’s trail markers along the way, yet the forest seemed endless—trees upon trees stretching on forever.

Just as our strength and patience were about to run dry, a sudden burst of light hit my eyes.

Not far ahead, the green canopy thinned. The sky, once hidden, now spread open and brilliant. The blue above was clear and deep as a lake, washing through the weariness in my chest.

We’d finally reached the edge of the forest!

“It’s open ahead!” I shouted, breaking into a run. I burst out from the trees.

Sunlight poured over me. The heavy weight pressing on my heart vanished in an instant. I drew a deep breath, filling my lungs with the sharp, clean air of life.

Wen Lingyu braced her hands on her knees to rest. Qiu Lu’s legs gave out and she collapsed beside Xu Zirong, both of them sprawling on the ground without a care for the dirt, their heads leaning against each other.

I straightened up, joy swelling in my chest—only to freeze, stunned. My mind went blank.

Before us wasn’t a paved road, but a muddy country path. And just ahead stood a great wooden village gate.

It reminded me of the entrance to the Dongjiang Miao Village—similar in structure, but this one had clearly weathered the years. The wood was dark and aged, the gate’s signboard faded and chipped, its carved letters the same strange script we’d seen earlier on the stone stele by the stream.

Could this be it—the hidden Shidi Mountain that Anpu and Ali refused to speak of? Had we stumbled upon the fabled settlement of the shengmiao?

The thought filled me with a tremor of excitement. Our expedition’s goal was to document the customs and culture of the Miao people. The Dongjiang village we’d studied was heavily sinicized, offering only fragments of authenticity. But if we’d truly found the untouched shengmiao—the “pure Miao”—this discovery would be invaluable! No one online had ever confirmed such a find. If we could record their lives, it would be groundbreaking research.

Qiu Lu climbed to her feet, shrinking back a little. “This… this is the village Ali talked about? The one hidden in Shidi Mountain?”

Xu Zirong shaded his eyes and looked ahead. “There’s smoke rising—more than one plume. People live here, for sure.”

Qiu Lu clutched his arm. “But what if it’s dangerous?”

I wasn’t about to let this chance slip by.

“Turning back won’t be any easier,” I said calmly. “We haven’t met a single person on the way in. If we keep wandering like this, we’ll die lost in these mountains. Better to go in and ask for directions. The locals know this place—they might even help us out.”

Wen Lingyu nodded in agreement. “Right. And besides, we’ve come this far. If we go back now, what will Professor Ye think?”

She stepped closer to Qiu Lu, whispering something about “recommendations,” “quotas,” and “competition.” Whatever she said worked—Qiu Lu pouted, then reluctantly nodded.

Once she agreed, Xu Zirong had no objections either.

We tidied ourselves up as best we could, brushing off dirt so we wouldn’t look too shabby, then started down the muddy path toward the gate.

Beyond it, the road widened enough for four people to walk side by side. As we went, I suddenly remembered how, when we arrived at Dongjiang Village, we’d been greeted with a ritual drink at the gate.

But this time, no one came to welcome us. Of course, if this place truly lived apart from the world, how could they expect visitors at all?

After about five minutes, the path ahead abruptly disappeared.

Ahead of us wasn’t a path at all—but a sheer cliff.
No village. No road. Nothing but empty air.

“There’s no way forward? Did we take the wrong turn?” Qiu Lu asked, baffled.

“Impossible. The village gate’s right there—how could this be the wrong way?” I said firmly.

I stepped closer, heart pounding, and leaned out to look. Below stretched a vast valley, rolling deep into the mountains. Trees grew thick and lush, vines spilling over the slopes. Wisps of smoke curled upward—soft yet unyielding, piercing through the canopy and drifting into the clouds.

I tried to trace the smoke’s source, but a ridge blocked my view. Still, I caught a glimpse of a roof corner tucked beneath the trees.

There were people down there.

But as far as I could see, the cliffs were unbroken. No sign of a trail leading down.

While we were puzzling over it, a clear voice sounded behind us.

“What are you… doing here?”

All four of us jumped. Wen Lingyu grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the edge for fear I’d slip.

Behind us stood the boy we’d met before—Shen Jianqing. A woven basket hung on his back, his gaze curious and cool.

My heartbeat stumbled twice.

His beautiful face was unreadable, those long, narrow eyes sweeping over us before pausing briefly on Wen Lingyu’s hand still holding my arm. Only after a beat did his gaze shift away.

For some reason, that look sent a chill through me—cold and glinting, like the black snake I’d seen in the forest.

Maybe I was just imagining things.

Before I could speak, Xu Zirong strode forward, bristling. “You’re asking us why we’re here? Kid, that road you pointed out doesn’t go anywhere!”

Shen Jianqing tilted his head. The silver ornaments woven through his hair jingled softly as he moved. “That road does go somewhere. I didn’t lie to you,” he said with quiet sincerity. His face was open, his tone earnest—too genuine to doubt.

And just like that, the fire drained from Xu Zirong’s anger. Who could keep yelling when faced with a pair of clear, honest eyes like that?

I asked, “Shen Jianqing, you know this area well?”

His dark eyes locked on me. “This is my home. I live down there.”

He lived here—among the shengmiao.

We all exchanged glances, excitement sparking between us.

“Can we… go down and take a look?” I asked carefully, trying not to sound intrusive. “We mean no harm. We just want to see the scenery.”

Shen Jianqing hesitated. “But… my people aren’t used to outsiders.”

Qiu Lu jumped in. “If they don’t welcome us, we’ll leave right away! We promise!” She pressed her palms together, pleading.

“You really want to go? No regrets?”

Our hunger for discovery—this chance to study the shengmiao firsthand—overcame any fear of danger. Even if they didn’t welcome us, we could always retreat. And who knew? Maybe our visit would bring new ideas, new knowledge… maybe even spark their curiosity about the outside world.

A win-win, I told myself.

Seeing our determination, Shen Jianqing finally sighed, shoulders lifting in reluctant surrender. “You can go,” he said. “But you’ll need courage to get down.”

With that, he walked to the cliff’s edge and pushed aside a patch of overgrown weeds—revealing an iron chain rope ladder hanging down the cliff face.

So that’s how they came and went.

The ladder clung to the rock, swaying faintly. If you didn’t know where to look, you’d never notice it.

A breeze passed, setting the chains trembling, tapping against the stone with a metallic rattle that made my stomach clench.