Chapter 21

At the base, we ran into Qiu Lu and the others. They were surrounded by a group of villagers, happily walking together. Though they didn’t share a language, gestures conveyed enough, and from afar, I could see their faces nearly frozen in laughter.

A young man in dark gray Miao clothing walked beside Wen Lingyu, occasionally glancing at her. His gaze was… not entirely innocent. Wen Lingyu seemed aware and kept edging closer to Qiu Lu.

Qiu Lu, oblivious, waved her arms energetically, gesturing and interacting with the local girls, language barrier notwithstanding.

Wen Lingyu nervously clutched Qiu Lu’s sleeve, avoiding the young man’s gaze.

I leapt down the last few steps and shouted, “Xiao Wen, Qiu Lu, Xu Zirong! I’m here!”

Wen’s eyes lit up like she’d seen a savior and ran over in two or three quick steps.

Qiu Lu was still gesturing and talking with the girls beside her. The girls’ expressions changed immediately upon seeing us—smiles stiffening, unsure whether to approach or retreat.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Qiu Lu asked, turning to wave at me. “Li Yuze, where did you go?”

Shen Jianqing and I approached. Before we could speak, the young men and women nodded at Shen Jianqing, glancing nervously at each other, laughter gone.

“I wanted to take photos from higher up and ran into Shen Jianqing, so we came down together,” I explained. “How come you’re all walking together?”

Qiu Lu grinned. “These people are so friendly! Once they realized we’re not bad, they took us on a tour of the stilted houses.”

“You don’t even speak the same language?” I asked.

Xu Zirong pulled Qiu Lu close. “We communicate with our eyes, okay? Look at my sincere gaze!” He exaggeratedly winked at me.

The young man who had been walking beside Wen approached Shen Jianqing and said something. Shen’s expression darkened; he nodded slowly.

Seeing Shen’s nod, the group patted Qiu Lu on the shoulder, pointing to the stilted houses in the distance. Qiu Lu understood, nodded repeatedly, and waved “bye-bye.”

They turned and left.

Shen Jianqing said, “He just said the leader is inviting you to the ‘Cutting the Fire Stars’ ceremony tomorrow night.”

“What’s ‘Cutting the Fire Stars’?” Qiu Lu asked curiously.

Shen explained, “It’s a unique ritual of our tribe, calling the spirits of deceased tribal heroes back to bless…”

“To bless what?” I asked.

“To bless a year of smooth fortune, free from disaster.”

Xu Zirong perked up. “We’re really lucky—coming here and stumbling upon such a big festival!”

Shen Jianqing didn’t respond.

Time passed quickly, and before night fully fell, we returned to Shen Jianqing’s stilted house.

I had taken a lot of photos today—people, landscapes, architecture. The only regret was not climbing to the mountaintop to capture a panoramic view of the village. Well, there would always be another chance, I thought.

Back in my room, I began sorting through the photos, deleting the extras and the failed shots to free up storage for the next session.

At the end, I came across the very first photo I had taken that day, the one I had snapped casually while demonstrating the camera to Shen Jianqing.

The image showed the blue-gray stilted houses, and the camera had captured Shen Jianqing’s window in the center, pushed open slightly.

I had intended to delete it, but something strange on his windowsill caught my eye. Zooming in with my fingers, I studied it closely.

It was a gray-black vessel, roughly the size of a bowl but much deeper, with a black lid. Its sides bore some carvings in pale gold—a butterfly with wings poised to take flight, and next to it, half of a bug, the other half hidden from view.

A sudden thought struck me: this object was no ordinary item. And then, memories of what Ali had said surfaced in my mind:

“We cannot do it, but the people of Shidi Mountain… maybe they can.”

The Miao of Shidi Mountain were said to practice gu—mystical poison arts. At the time, I hadn’t paid it much mind, treating it as nothing more than a story for entertainment. Now, though, I began to doubt the reliability of that claim.

Knowledge of Miao gu exists only in oral tales; no one had truly seen it. Admittedly, curiosity gnawed at me.

If I could prove that Miao gu was real, if I could show the world the truth behind it… this expedition would become historic.

But it was already late; it would be wrong to disturb Shen Jianqing now. Besides, the memory of his embrace and those ambiguous words made my heart pound faster—I did not want to see him alone at night.

Better to rest early and stop overthinking. I sighed and lay down.

Life in the mountains had no electricity, no internet—dull for those used to high-tech living. After dark, all one had was a few candles. Sleep was the only option.

I lay there, wide awake.

A full moon hung in the pitch-black sky, reflecting sunlight from afar. Its light streamed into the forest, casting shadows that stretched into the room. In the moonlight, I could vaguely make out the interior.

Unable to sleep, I climbed out of bed and sat by the window to gaze at the moon.

It must have been near the fifteenth day of the lunar month—the moon full and bright. Occasionally, clouds drifted across it, only to vanish quickly. Tomorrow would likely be another fine day.

Leaning lazily on the windowsill, my gaze drifted downward, noticing strange marks etched into the wood.

Hmm?

I leaned closer under the moonlight.

The windowsill was made from a single slab of wood, polished smooth by the years. In one corner, there were overlapping scratches.

Clearly, these were not knife marks; a knife would leave deep, sharp cuts. These were shallow, erratic… like scratches made by fingernails.

Someone must have scratched here repeatedly in boredom during sleepless nights. I smiled faintly, imagining the insomnia of the room’s previous occupant.

After a while, drowsiness returned, and I yawned, climbing back into bed. But tonight, sleep would not come easily.

No sooner had I drifted off than a dream gripped me.

I seemed to be back in the forests of Shidi Mountain, following the stream, tracing Xu Zirong’s marks, and eventually becoming completely lost.

The dense woods swayed with the wind, shadows flickered, and leaves rustled, merging with my footsteps.

Every danger lurked in unseen corners.

Mechanically, I swung a branch before me, probing the uncertain path ahead.

Suddenly, the branch brushed something soft. A hissing sound escaped, and from the underbrush emerged a black snake.

We faced off cautiously.

It coiled, body arching, ready to strike. Its forked tongue flickered in and out, terrifyingly unnatural. Its jet-black eyes fixed on me, cold and emotionless—an alien predator.

I froze, waiting for it to retreat.

But strangely, it did not. Seconds dragged on, and unease gnawed at me; my breath caught in my chest.

Suddenly, my vision blurred!

The snake lunged at me!

Its body twisted unnaturally in midair. When it struck, it had become a massive black python, coiling around me, wrapping my body tightly, leaving no escape!

“Ah!” I fell to the ground, hands clutching its head to avoid its gaping jaws. I looked back—no companions in sight.

“Qiu Lu! Wen Lingyu! Xu Zirong!”

No response.

I was doomed.

The python’s scales were cold and slick under my hands. Though it could not bite, it did not panic, simply tightening its limber, boneless coils around me.

Being caught in a python’s coils meant only two outcomes: suffocation, or having your ribs crushed. Either way, death was inevitable.

With every breath I exhaled, its tail tightened a little more. In the end, my chest was squeezed to its limit, leaving no space to breathe at all. The suffocation grew stronger and stronger, and the shadow of death closed in.

Despair sank deep into my heart. My grip weakened, and the snake’s head slipped free. It snapped its jaws open at an impossible angle—nearly one hundred and eighty degrees—and clamped down on my neck!

“No!”

I screamed and tore myself out of the nightmare. For a moment, the dream still clung to me; I could even feel the pain. Clutching my neck, I sat up, my chest rising and falling with my ragged breaths.

Sunlight spilled in through the window. Only then, in my daze, did I finally realize—it had only been a dream.

Thank God. Just a dream.

But it had felt so real. My neck still throbbed faintly.

I lifted my hand to touch it and felt an uneven patch of skin, like a swollen bump.

I grabbed my phone—which was turned off—and used its black screen as a mirror.

On my neck was a large, obvious red mark, the kind left by an insect bite.