Chapter 19

I wandered into a bamboo grove nearby. Far from the settlement and fields, the grove leaned against a mountain. The bamboo was tall and dense, and the ground was carpeted with long, yellowed leaves that crackled crisply underfoot.

Early summer was the season for fresh bamboo shoots. Beneath the bamboo, conical green shoots peeked from their husks, emitting a faint, refreshing fragrance.

I ventured deeper, turning a small bend—and suddenly the scene changed dramatically.

Behind the mountain, countless small earthen mounds appeared, like graves.

They were neatly arranged, each similar in size and shape, giving the impression of disciplined soldiers rather than graves. The more distant ones looked ancient, the earth blending with the surroundings; the closest mound appeared freshly made, the soil bare and well-maintained.

But hadn’t Shen Jianqing said that the mountains’ soil was limited, so they cremated rather than buried? Where did these graves come from? They were clearly from different times, yet buried together with identical specifications.

The more I thought, the stranger it seemed. Graveyards carried a heavy, eerie energy, and even I—a bold person—felt a shiver of apprehension.

At that moment, rustling footsteps came from above, the sound of dry leaves crunching.

“Hey—Tatu! Tatu!”

Two men in black Miao clothes appeared at the top, waving their hands and gesturing for me to leave, shouting loudly with agitated tones.

Seeing living humans, I actually felt a sense of relief.

I tried to explain, but without a common language, I could only gesture as best I could to show I meant no harm. Under their insistence, I reluctantly retreated from the bamboo grove.

Looking back, they stood high above, eyes wide, watchful. When I dared glance again, they raised fists and shouted a low threat, their exaggerated expressions etching deep forehead lines.

I could only hurry away.

Once out of the grove, I headed back to meet the others. But when I reached the embankment, there was no sign of Qiu Lu, Wen Lingyu, or Xu Zirong.

They had probably wandered off somewhere too. Scanning the flat fields, there was no one in sight—only the green crops swaying gently in the wind.

With nothing left to photograph in the fields, I made my way toward the Miao settlement. That way, I could find the others, wait for Shen Jianqing, and capture photos of the settlement—a triple win.

With that in mind, I climbed the slope lined with stilted houses.

Perhaps due to our prior encounters, the villagers were less guarded this time, but they still didn’t approach. I tried to ask permission to take photos, but they treated me as if I were invisible.

“Hello, may I take some photos?” I said softly to a middle-aged woman. Realizing she didn’t understand, I gestured with the camera, waving my hands.

The woman, with dark, weathered skin that spoke of long labor, glanced at me briefly, then returned to sifting seeds in her basket.

Well, she clearly didn’t want to engage.

I gave up on forcing interaction and continued wandering, taking photos at my own pace.

They didn’t react at all to my camera. I guessed that as long as I didn’t act aggressively, these Miao villagers wouldn’t approach me voluntarily.

That suited me fine—peace and quiet. I thought to myself.

I hadn’t had time to really observe the settlement before. It occupied most of the mountainside, built along the natural contours. From below, each stilted house’s eaves seemed to support the next house above, layer upon layer, forming a magnificent sight.

Narrow paths connected the houses on each level, and at the mountain entrance, a long, steep stairway had been carved out—almost sixty degrees, extremely dangerous, but the only way to link the stilted houses up and down.

I estimated there were around forty or fifty stilted houses here, housing nearly two hundred villagers.

Standing at the bottom, I looked up at the seemingly endless steps. No handrails, uneven stone slabs for each step—one misstep and you could tumble down.

I swallowed hard and began my ascent.

The scenery was breathtaking, and I wanted to reach a high vantage point to capture a panoramic view. Though the stairway was perilous, it was the only route upward.

After climbing for a while, I was drenched in sweat. Looking up, my goal was still far off, and the path behind me looked steep and unforgiving.

Eventually, I reached a slightly flatter area and rested on a stone. My legs ached, ankles tingled, and my knees felt like they wanted to give out.

But to give up now would render the climb pointless.

After resting, I was about to continue when I suddenly heard quiet voices from the trees beside the path.

One voice was unfamiliar—it was female—but the other I recognized instantly.

Though I couldn’t understand their words, the timbre was unmistakable. Low but clear, like the song of a phoenix—Shen Jianqing, in the forest.

Normally, eavesdropping would be wrong, but since I didn’t understand them, my sense of guilt was halved.

I decided to move forward, reasoning that it would be less awkward if I kept going and they emerged without noticing me.

Then a low, repressed growl of anger erupted.

It was Shen Jianqing.

Curiosity got the better of me; my feet moved on their own toward the trees. I tiptoed, intending only to catch a glimpse. If there was a conflict, I could step in; if not, I would leave quietly, not burdening them.

Through the dense foliage, a striking vision appeared: the woman’s bright red Miao attire blazed against the green, her elaborate headdress gleaming, a silver necklace pressed against her slender neck, hair pinned neatly inside the crown—she looked like a magnificent phoenix.

Such beauty is unforgettable at first sight. This was the young woman who had helped the elder the other day.

I had noticed her glances toward Shen Jianqing then, and today confirmed my suspicion.

Shen had been pulled away by the little girl—was it to see this beautiful woman? Standing under the trees together, they looked perfectly matched, like a pair of destined lovers.

Shen Jianqing’s profile was sharp and cold, his right eyelid marked with that distinctive red mole, lending him a stern, untouchable air.

The young woman stepped forward to tug at him, but Shen dodged. She didn’t seem angry, only sad, her bright eyes almost speaking as they followed him.

After some exchange, the young woman lowered her hands, helplessly nodded, tears welling in her eyes, and left the forest, her steps heavy with reluctance.

Had they argued?

From her posture, they seemed very close. Surely not a trivial lovers’ quarrel—but now, as an outsider, I had witnessed something private.

I shifted to leave quietly, not to disturb Shen.

But as I stepped back, I suddenly noticed a blood-red insect clinging to a silken thread, dangling near my ear!

“Ah!”

I screamed and jumped aside.

Bright colors in nature often signal danger, and I had never seen such a red insect before—its vividness felt ominous.

Though I avoided it, my presence was now revealed.

Shen Jianqing turned sharply, his gaze slicing through the air like a drawn sword. Upon seeing me, surprise flickered across his face, quickly softening into a gentler look.

The awkwardness didn’t vanish—it shifted entirely onto me.

“I… I wasn’t eavesdropping. I just happened to be passing by, and you were speaking loudly.”

Shen lowered his head, shoulders lifting in a helpless, troubled shrug. “You got to see a show,” he said.