The mountains stretched endlessly, dense forests cold and austere.
Southern winters still held a touch of green. Evergreen trees remained lush year-round, keeping the season from feeling barren.
I leaned against the window, staring out at the scenery.
The bus moved steadily along the road, like a crawling creature weaving through the forest. There’s no other way to reach Tongjiang Miao Village—only by car.
Today is New Year’s Day, the very start of the new year.
The bus was crowded and noisy, filled with people taking advantage of the holiday to travel. I sat in the last row, in a corner, my mood lifted slightly by the lively atmosphere.
Children chirped, asking their mothers how much longer the trip would take. Elderly passengers lectured the group on Miao village customs and traditions.
Listeners nodded repeatedly, fascinated and respectful.
I lowered my head, running my hand along the sleeve of my down jacket.
Honghong struggled out of the sleeve, black eyes rolling, its front limbs brushing against the back of my hand.
Honghong had been lethargic since last month. I had asked friends from the College of Agriculture for advice, but none of them could identify its species. I had fed it tender grass—it ate. I had fed it insects—it ate. It didn’t seem picky, yet its spirit remained dull.
I worried for it.
I had never seen how Shen Jianqing had cared for Honghong, only his insect container.
I gently stroked Honghong’s back; it seemed to enjoy it, resting on my hand without moving.
I’m going back to Shidi Miao Village to find Shen Jianqing. Though the village still scares me, my resolve is strong.
The problem is, I don’t know how to get in.
I considered two options. One person must know the way—An Pu.
When I was first rescued, he said he had returned to the mountains to look for me and had even encountered Shen Jianqing. That meant he must know the way into the village. From what he implied, he must be familiar with Shidi Miao Village.
I got his contact info through Teacher Ye. Hearing my plan to return, An Pu fell silent for a long while. I couldn’t tell if he was unwilling to help.
Finally, he stammered, “You… just get there, to Tongjiang Miao Village. Once you arrive… um, I’ll be… busy these days, there.”
Then he abruptly hung up.
If he won’t help, I’ll let Honghong guide me. It might be slow or take detours, but it won’t refuse me.
I made up my mind and felt reassured.
The closer I got to Tongjiang Miao Village, the more anxious I became, mixed with a small thrill and excitement.
My palms grew sweaty, and I wiped them on my jacket. The scenery outside the window blurred past, though I wished it would hurry, go faster.
Finally, the bus slowed and stopped. The driver shouted to everyone, “We’ve arrived at the village! The gate is just a few steps ahead. No parking inside!”
Tourists began to disembark in small groups. I was at the back, following the crowd.
I grabbed my suitcase and hurried toward the village.
I had been here before; the surroundings felt familiar, as if I had seen them just yesterday.
I didn’t want to waste a single second, running straight for the village gate.
Nothing else existed in my mind—only Shen Jianqing. I wanted to see him faster, faster…
Turning a corner, the wooden village gate appeared.
It stood silently, like a gentle giant watching over the busy feet below. The gate hadn’t changed since my last visit, but my state of mind had.
It was New Year’s Day, and many visitors were here. A long line had formed beneath the gate. Tired Miao youths and girls tirelessly offered travelers the first cup of village wine.
I fidgeted, wanting to stomp my feet, yet helpless.
Suddenly, Honghong, tucked in my sleeve, became restless. It climbed onto my hand, waving its front limbs, seemingly trying to communicate something.
Somewhere in the crowd, I sensed a burning gaze fall on me.
Instinctively, I raised my eyes.
And there, amid the bustling crowd, I saw Shen Jianqing, dressed in Miao attire.
In an instant, everyone around me faded and blurred, all sounds disappeared, and I could only hear my own wildly pounding heart. My chest ached as my heart thumped violently against my ribs.
We were separated by a distance neither too far nor too near. He was smiling at me, and yet my vision blurred.
I realized I was crying.
Belatedly, I guessed that my expression must have looked awful—not exactly suitable for a reunion.
Shen Jianqing held a bowl of wine in his hands. Through the throng of people, his lips moved.
He was silently calling me.
Brother Yuze.
At that moment, the heart I had been suspending finally found its rest. The rootless drifting weed had finally sailed into its harbor.
See? He really did wait for me in the same place.
“Brother, since you’re here, don’t leave! There’s good wine in the village—”
Shen Jianqing sang the gate-keeping song, walking steadily, step by step toward me.
Some tourists in line looked at him in confusion, then back at me, standing outside the crowd.
I could hear whispers, perhaps complaints about this gatekeeper’s lack of professionalism, or perhaps speculation about our relationship.
But what did it matter what others thought? My eyes held only Shen Jianqing.
His semi-long hair had been cut short, and the dark, gloomy aura around him was gone. The jingling ornaments were gone too, replaced by only a silver necklace around his neck.
Shen Jianqing arrived in front of me, holding the bowl of wine up to my lips.
“Brother, you must drink the gate-keeping wine to enter the village!”
I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and tilted my head slightly, opening my mouth.
Shen Jianqing immediately tilted the bowl.
The clear, sweet wine slid along the curve into my mouth, crisp with a faint aroma of rice.
A bowl of wine must be finished while being watched. Just as Shen Jianqing was about to withdraw his hand, I suddenly grabbed it.
He laughed and asked, “Brother, do you know what it means to touch my hand?”
Back when we first arrived, An Pu had told us some rules of the Miao village.
When drinking gate-keeping wine, one cannot touch the cup or the person pouring it. Doing so signals affection, and the feeling is hard to reverse.
I lifted my chin, feigning hesitation. “If it’s about becoming the groom in the village, I suppose I wouldn’t mind.”
Finally, Shen Jianqing laughed, arms wide, and pulled me into a fierce embrace.
“Brother Yuze, I knew it—I knew you wouldn’t leave me.”
He pressed against my ear, speaking firmly, though his voice trembled.
I stayed silent, hugging him tightly, as if holding my entire world.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people talking and taking pictures—but it didn’t matter.
I finally knew what I truly wanted.