Chapter 25

What kind of person is Shen Jianqing?

I once thought he was gentle and pure, that even if his upbringing wasn’t ideal, he had somehow grown into someone radiant.

Now… I wasn’t so sure.

Is he really who he appears to be?
Does the path he pointed out really lead us out?
Does he… truly want us to leave?

Step by step, I backed away, using every ounce of strength to stay silent, holding my breath until I finally slipped out of the woods. Once I was sure he couldn’t see me, I turned and ran.

With no candle to light the way, the darkness felt suffocating. I stumbled and tripped my way back to the house, only daring to breathe freely once I slammed the door behind me.

Wen Lingyu heard me and rushed out, still holding a damp towel. Seeing my panic, she asked anxiously, “What happened? You couldn’t find Shen Jianqing?”

I swallowed hard and shook my head, still out of breath. “Don’t—don’t tell him I looked for him. Promise me. Understand?”

My tone was too harsh. Wen Lingyu flinched. “What on earth happened?”

How could I describe what I’d seen? It was too terrifying, too bizarre. Was I supposed to tell her I suspected Shen Jianqing of controlling insects? I didn’t even believe the words myself.

“He’s not who he pretends to be. And both Qiulu and Xu Zirong falling sick at the same time—it’s too strange. Xiao Wen, don’t be afraid. Let’s get their fevers down first. No matter what, we’re leaving tomorrow.”

Wen Lingyu’s brows drooped, her naturally round eyes dimming. “Okay. As long as you’re here, I’m not scared.”

I patted her shoulder, and we each went to tend to the couple.

Thankfully, after taking medicine and being watched over until three in the morning, both Qiulu and Xu Zirong finally cooled down.

Xu Zirong woke up at one point, dazed, voice hoarse from the fever. “A-Ze? Why are you here?” Then he dramatically yanked up the blanket. “I have a girlfriend, okay? Don’t try anything.”

Me: “……”
Honestly?

Seeing him still had the strength to crack jokes, I figured he was fine.

“Please. What’s there to like about you?”

Xu Zirong blinked innocently. “My youthful, healthy body?”

“With you looking like a boiled shrimp right now?”

He burst into a fit of coughing.

“Just rest,” I said, exasperated.

“Thanks, A-Ze, my best brother!” he called out as I reached the door. I felt a flicker of warmth—until he added, “Can you get me a glass of water?”

“…Sure,” I sighed. Taking care of the sick came with the job, I guessed.

Once Xu Zirong settled down, relief washed over me—but the headache came roaring back. My temples throbbed, pain spreading across my scalp. The girls’ room had gone quiet. I massaged my temples and forced myself back to bed. I had to sleep before dawn.

When I finally woke, the sky was just turning pale—barely six. After last night’s chaos, my mind refused to rest any longer. The pain had dulled but lingered beneath the surface.

Remembering the decision I’d made, I dragged myself up. We couldn’t stay here another second. The longer we stayed, the more likely something would go wrong. As long as Qiulu and Xu Zirong could walk, we had to leave today.

I opened my door and saw Wen Lingyu. She looked like she hadn’t slept either—dark shadows under her eyes, her face pale as paper.

“Qiulu’s okay now. Whenever you say we leave, we leave.”

Right as she finished speaking, both Qiulu and Xu Zirong stepped out of their rooms in perfect sync. Their faces were rosy, spirits high—nothing like people who’d been fighting high fevers just hours ago.

Compared to the two of them, Wen Lingyu and I actually looked more like the ones who had been sick.

“Let’s hurry up and get packed,” I said.

Qiulu stepped forward. “Thanks for taking care of us last night. We’ll handle the luggage today!”

Wen Lingyu shook her head. “You two just got better. You shouldn’t push yourselves.”

“I’m totally fine now!” Xu Zirong declared. He even curled his arm to show off his biceps. “Still strong as ever!”

“Just let him do more work,” Qiulu said, ending the debate.

Their fevers had come quickly and vanished just as abruptly. Both of them burning up at the same time, then waking at dawn perfectly recovered—that alone was strange enough. But now wasn’t the time to question it.

“Then if everyone’s ready, let’s go,” I said.

“We should ask Shen Jianqing one more time about the way out,” Qiulu suggested.

At the mention of Shen Jianqing, the scene from last night hit me like a cold wave—the swarm of black insects surrounding him, and his eerily calm expression midst the chaos.

“Don’t bother him. We’ll figure it out ourselves.” I exchanged a glance with Wen Lingyu. In her worried eyes, I saw how pale I looked.

Under the stilted house, the space was empty. Shen Jianqing’s door was shut tight, his windows closed, and he was nowhere to be found.

I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. If I really ran into him now, I didn’t know if I could stay composed.

We traveled light and followed our memories back the way we had come. Soon, we arrived at the foot of the cliff.

We just had to climb the iron chain back up to leave this place.

But reality struck us again—hard, and without warning.

The iron chain on the cliff was gone.

We sprinted around the area, searching over and over. Wild grass, moss, and tiny flowers clung to the rock face—but there was no trace of the chain.

Where was the chain that had been hanging here?!

Without it, how were we supposed to climb back up?

It felt like a black insect had crawled into my chest and bit down, sending waves of cold, prickling fear through me.

“Are my eyes tricking me? Or is this the wrong spot? The chain isn’t here,” Qiulu muttered, rubbing her eyes, unwilling to accept it.

“No way. This is exactly where we climbed down,” Xu Zirong insisted.

“Did someone cut it from above?” Qiulu said.

The chain had been heavy—ridiculously so. The chains on Luding Bridge can weigh forty tons; a chain over a cliff would only be heavier. Cutting it loose would take enormous effort. And if they didn’t care about retrieving it, the chain should’ve fallen down here. Removing it without making noise was impossible.

“Whatever the reason, we can’t climb out. We’re stuck,” I said, frowning.

“What do we do? Should we go back and ask the Miao villagers for help?” Qiulu asked.

Before I could answer, Wen Lingyu shook her head violently.

“They don’t understand our language, and they may not want to help us,” I said.

Xu Zirong added, “What about Shen Jianqing? What happened between you two? Why are we trying to leave without him knowing?”

I let out a quiet sigh. They deserved an explanation, so I told them everything I’d seen in the woods last night—and all my suspicions.

The three of them fell into a long silence.

Later, I would often think back to this moment. We were all university students then, naive and idealistic, eager to see the world through the kindest possible lens. We had barged into the territory of the Shengmiao, thinking we would be welcomed with rustic warmth. But to them, our arrival was a threat—
A danger to the peaceful, isolated life they had preserved for generations.

Why would they ever let us leave alive?
Let alone let us go home and publish articles about their customs?

But that truth was far beyond our grasp at the time.

Xu Zirong tried climbing the cliff directly. But the rock face was covered with vegetation and moss—slick and impossible to grip. He climbed two steps before slipping, and I barely managed to catch him.

“No good,” he said, shaking his head. “If I can’t get up, you guys definitely can’t.”

We were trapped—no way forward, no safe retreat.

My gaze drifted into the distance, and suddenly I remembered the broad river running through the Shengmiao settlement. We had focused so much on the arched bridge and the red ribbons hanging from it that we’d completely ignored the river.

“I think… there might be another way out,” I said quietly. “Just a guess.”

“What is it?” Qiulu pressed.

“We follow the river. It can’t be dead water. If it flows, it must connect to the outside world. If we follow the river’s path, we should be able to find a way out.”

Wen Lingyu’s eyes lit up with realization. “That might work.”

We didn’t have any other options.

With a direction, we shouldered our backpacks and set off. We didn’t know where the river came from or where it led, but once we reached it, we followed the current downstream.

The path was all mountain terrain—wild, unmarked, barely even recognizable as a path at all.

We stumbled often, twisting our ankles more than once.

Qiulu had it the worst. Her foot rubbed raw inside her shoe, blood soaking into the foam padding until it swelled. Xu Zirong winced every time he looked at it, but there was nothing he could do.

The mountain path didn’t care about our plans. Before long, we found ourselves entering a narrow gorge. The idyllic Shengmiao village was already far, far behind us.

The path through the gorge grew even steeper, the mountains pressing so close together it felt like the river had been squeezed between them. We walked along the narrow ledge at the edge of the ravine, roaring water churning beneath our feet, the thunder of the current echoing in our ears.

Looking up, all I could see was the opposite cliff and a thin slice of sky wedged between the peaks. Sometimes a few birds darted across that narrow blue line—nothing more.

Mountains climbing on both sides, seamless and unbroken.