Once they left the valley, dawn had broken.
Chen Yu had no idea how long he had spent in Black Mountain, but when the sunlight outside landed on his face, he felt as if he had just surfaced from the bottom of the water. The air was warm, the breeze was sweet, and dewdrops glittered on the wild grass by the roadside, as though nothing had ever happened.
Yingning stopped at the mouth of the valley.
“I’m not going into the city,” she said. That eternally smiling expression had returned to her face, but this time there was something more in the smile. “Foxes from Ling Fox Valley don’t have an easy time entering human cities.”
She glanced at Chen Yu, then at the broken umbrella in his book chest.
“Tell Xiaonian’s father about her for me.” She paused, and her smile faded for half a second. “Just tell him... there was a girl named Qin who thought she was very brave.”
Then she turned and left. Her silver-white tail swayed twice in the morning light before she disappeared into the mountain forest.
Wu Wei watched the direction in which she had vanished and muttered, “Was she secretly crying just now?”
“No,” Chen Yu said. “Foxes don’t cry.”
He paused.
“They smile.”
The city was called Luming City. It wasn’t large, but it was bustling.
A long line had formed at the city gate. Vegetable sellers, donkey drivers, porters carrying loads, people with medicine baskets on their backs—every kind of person was packed together, making a racket. The city guards leaned lazily against the wall and couldn’t even be bothered to inspect anyone. They simply waved people through.
Chen Yu and Wu Wei entered the city with the crowd.
“A wealthy merchant surnamed Nie,” Chen Yu said, stopping an old man selling candied hawthorns. “Do you know where he lives?”
The old man looked him up and down. “Which Nie? There are plenty of people surnamed Nie in the city.”
“The rich one.”
“There are plenty of rich ones, too.”
“The one whose daughter went missing.”
The old man’s expression changed. He set down his rack of candied hawthorns and sighed. “You mean Master Nie. The Nie Residence in the eastern part of the city, the one with white lanterns hanging over the gate. It’s been three years. They hang them every year, saying they’re calling the girl’s soul home.”
He pointed them in the right direction, then added, “If you’re going, you’d better hurry. I hear Master Nie is moving away, back to the Central Domain or somewhere.”
Chen Yu thanked him, then headed east with Wu Wei.
The Nie Residence wasn’t hard to find. At the very end of a street stood the largest house. White lanterns did indeed hang over the gate, but they weren’t the ghastly white of mourning. They were a soft, milky white, and each lantern bore a neatly written character: “Nian.”
The gatekeeper was an aged servant. When he heard that they had news of Master Nie’s daughter, he froze, then his eyes reddened. He practically ran inside to report it, losing one of his shoes along the way.
It wasn’t long before a middle-aged man hurried out.
Master Nie was a little over forty. He wore a plain-colored robe made of fine material, but its style was simple. He didn’t look like a wealthy man so much as a schoolteacher. His face had the ashen weariness of someone who hadn’t slept well for years, but his eyes were bright—almost unnaturally bright for someone his age.
He looked at Chen Yu and Wu Wei. His lips moved, and after a long while, he finally forced out a sentence.
“You... you’ve seen my daughter?”
Chen Yu nodded.
He set down the book chest, took out the shattered oil-paper umbrella, and placed it in front of Master Nie.
Master Nie stared at the umbrella for a long time. Most of its ribs were broken, and several holes had been burned through the canopy, but the red cord tied around the handle was still there. A tiny silver bell hung from the cord, though it could no longer ring.
“I bought this for her,” Master Nie said softly. “When she was three, she said she liked listening to bells ring.”
He reached out to touch the red cord, his fingers trembling.
Wu Wei stood beside them, not knowing what to say. Chen Yu said nothing either. Sometimes silence was more precise than any words.
Master Nie remained silent for a long time. Then he raised his head and looked at Chen Yu.
“Is she... still alive?”
“She isn’t,” Chen Yu said. “She’s gone. Before she left, she asked me to tell you three things.”
Master Nie’s body swayed as if someone had shoved him, but he held his ground.
“She said she wanted to come home.”
Master Nie closed his eyes.
“She said she missed you very much.”
His shoulders began to tremble.
“She said she doesn’t blame you.”
Master Nie did not cry out loud. He simply stood there with his eyes closed, his shoulders shaking over and over, like a tree stubbornly holding itself upright in a violent storm.
After a long time, he opened his eyes. They were completely red, but his voice was steady.
“Come inside and sit,” he said. “I want to hear you tell me about her.”
Master Nie invited them into the main hall and had tea and refreshments brought out.
Chen Yu wasn’t very good at telling stories. He simply recounted everything from beginning to end: the little ghost girl in the ruined temple, learning how to harm people from a handbook; being hunted by Ruyan; hiding inside the oil-paper umbrella; following them into Black Mountain; recognizing the human trafficker Uncle Wang; holding up the umbrella in front of the tree heart to block the vengeful spirits; and finally turning into golden light and dispersing.
He spoke in a flat tone, as though reading a report. But Master Nie listened intently, not missing a single detail.
When he heard the words “Uncle Wang,” Master Nie’s hand tightened around his teacup until his knuckles turned white.
When he heard Xiaonian say in front of the tree heart, “When I died in this mountain, no one came to save me. Now someone is saving this mountain. I want to help,” he finally couldn’t hold himself together. He buried his face in his hands.
Wu Wei sat beside him, head bowed, staring fiercely at the tips of his own shoes.
Chen Yu finished speaking and took a sip of tea. It was excellent, better than any tea he had drunk in this world.
Then Yingning’s memory orb came into play.
More precisely, Wu Wei pulled a thumb-sized bead from his robes. A faint light moved inside it.
“Yingning gave this to me.” Wu Wei placed the bead on the table, his expression complicated. “She said she has a habit... Whenever she sees something interesting, she secretly records it. She said it wasn’t a very good habit, but it happened to come in handy this time.”
He channeled his spiritual power, and the bead lit up.
A screen of light projected from the bead, like a window opening in midair. Inside the window were the underground caverns of Black Mountain, the battle before the tree heart, and Xiaonian’s figure holding the oil-paper umbrella in front of the fissure.
The image wasn’t very clear, and the angle was crooked and wobbly. Yingning had obviously recorded it in secret and hadn’t dared to bring it out in the open. But Xiaonian’s face could be seen clearly.
Master Nie stared motionless at the small, pale-blue figure in the screen of light.
In the image, Xiaonian said, “When I died in this mountain, no one came to save me. Now someone is saving this mountain. I want to help.”
Master Nie reached out, wanting to touch his daughter’s face within the screen. His fingers passed through the light and touched nothing.
The screen of light vanished.
The hall remained silent for a long time.
Master Nie gripped the memory orb tightly in his palm, as if afraid it might fly away.
“This...” His voice was hoarse. “Can you leave it with me?”
“Yingning said it was meant for you in the first place.” Wu Wei nodded. “It’s yours.”
Master Nie kept them there for three days.
During those three days, Chen Yu gradually learned about Master Nie’s circumstances. His name was Nie Guangyi. He had originally been a member of a collateral branch of the Nie family in the Central Domain. When he was young, he had brought a little capital to the Northern Domain to do business, built himself up from nothing, and amassed a considerable fortune. His wife had died young. Life had been relatively stable after he remarried—until his daughter disappeared.
He searched for three years. He spent most of his fortune, hired people to search the mountains, offered rewards, prayed to the gods and Buddha—in short, he had tried everything. His second wife had taken a sum of money and run off in the second year of his search. He hadn’t even chased after her.
“Money can be earned again,” he said in a mild tone. “Once a person is gone, they’re gone.”
Now that his daughter’s story had an answer, he was strangely calm. It wasn’t the calm of letting go, but the calm of finally knowing the truth. The truth was cruel, but at least he no longer had to wonder.
On the morning of the third day, Master Nie called Chen Yu and Wu Wei to his study.
Three boxes and a land deed sat on the desk.
“I’ve already sold off most of my property,” he said, in the tone of a man making arrangements for his own funeral. “What remains has been divided into several portions. Each of these three boxes contains five hundred taels in banknotes and some loose silver. The three of you can each have one—please deliver Miss Yingning’s share to her.”
Wu Wei hurriedly waved his hands. “Uncle Nie, this is too much—”
“It isn’t,” Master Nie interrupted. “No amount of silver would be enough to repay what you did for my daughter.”
He paused and looked at Chen Yu.
“There’s one more thing.”
He led them to the rear courtyard.
A donkey was tethered in a corner of the courtyard.
It was a perfectly ordinary gray donkey, not particularly large or handsome. Its ears drooped, and its tail swatted at flies every now and then. But its eyes were anything but ordinary—large, round, and gleaming black, with something in them that was difficult to describe.
It wasn’t spiritual awareness or demonic aura, but a kind of... stillness that had seen through something.
Like an old man who had lived for a very long time, stuffed into a donkey’s body.
“This donkey was left in my care by the old gentleman in the courtyard,” Master Nie said. “The old gentleman says it’s descended from his mount. It has exceptional potential, but calamity is written into its fate. It needs to follow someone lucky in order to grow up safely. He said this donkey is fated to meet you and asked me to hand it over to you.”
Chen Yu looked at the donkey, and the donkey looked back at him.
Their eyes met.
The donkey snorted loudly, then turned its head away.
“...It doesn’t seem to like me very much,” Chen Yu said.
“It doesn’t like anyone,” Master Nie said, managing a rare smile. “But it likes everyone when it’s eating candy.”
Chen Yu took a piece of osmanthus cake from the refreshment plate on the table and held it out to the donkey.
The donkey gave him a sidelong look. The meaning was unmistakable: That’s it?
Then it snatched the osmanthus cake away in one bite and chewed loudly. Once it had finished, it shoved its nose against Chen Yu’s hand, making its meaning perfectly clear—Got any more?
“All right,” Chen Yu said. “You’re in.”
On the day they left, Master Nie stood at the gate to see them off.
Chen Yu left the shattered oil-paper umbrella with him. When Master Nie accepted it, his fingers rubbed the red cord tied around the handle, the one with the silver bell. He remained silent for a long time.
“Chen Yu,” he suddenly said, “where are you going?”
“I don’t know.” Chen Yu held the donkey’s lead and thought for a moment. “I guess I’ll head east. I hear there’s a Tianfu Sect in the east. That’s Wu Wei’s sect.”
“Tianfu Sect is northeast of here, in the Northern Domain,” Wu Wei added. “It’ll take about two months if we use the official roads.”
Master Nie nodded. “Take care on the road.”
He watched Chen Yu and Wu Wei lead the gray donkey farther and farther away until they grew smaller and finally disappeared around the corner.
He stood at the gate for a while longer.
Then he turned and walked back into the courtyard.
An old man was sitting beside the stone table in the courtyard.
He looked to be in his seventies or eighties, with a full head of white hair and beard. He wore a gray cloth robe washed nearly white and a pair of straw sandals. A pot of tea and two cups sat before him. He was leisurely pouring himself tea, his movements unhurried, as though nothing in the world was worth rushing for.
A bamboo staff leaned against him. It was very old, its tip worn smooth, with a tiny gourd tied to it.
Master Nie sat down across from the old man.
“Old gentleman,” he said, “I’ve handed your descendant over to Chen Yu.”
The old man took a sip of tea and smiled. It was a faint smile, but his eyes held the gentle warmth of someone who had witnessed too many years.
“You’ve worked hard.”
Master Nie was silent for a moment, then raised his head and looked into the old man’s eyes.
“Old gentleman, about what you promised me—”
“I remember.” The old man set down his teacup, his tone still unhurried.
“I’ve taken care of the donkey for three years. You said that as long as I safely delivered it into that person’s hands, you would do me a favor.”
“Mm.”
Master Nie drew a deep breath.
“I want my daughter to be reincarnated one more time.” His voice trembled, but every word was perfectly clear. “Let her be born into the Nie family. I don’t ask her to remember her past life, and I don’t ask her to recognize me. I only ask that in this life, she can grow up safe and sound.”
The old man looked at him for a long time.
The courtyard was very quiet. The only sound was the rustling of wind through the old locust tree.
“Are you sure?” the old man asked. “Reincarnation involves karma, and the price is not small.”
“I’m willing to pay anything.”
The old man smiled again. This time there was something more in it, something like satisfaction, or perhaps emotion.
“You’re a good father.” He rose and picked up his bamboo staff. “I’ll take care of it.”
He walked toward the courtyard gate. After a few steps, he suddenly stopped and looked back at Master Nie.
“Once you return to the Central Domain, go to the Nie family’s main branch. Within three years, you’ll see her again.”
Master Nie froze.
“Old gentleman—”
But there was already no one in the courtyard.
The teapot on the stone table was still steaming, and the tea in both cups was still warm. On the stone stool where the old man had sat, there was only a locust leaf that had drifted in from somewhere.
Master Nie sat there, clutching the shattered oil-paper umbrella and staring at the empty stone stool. Suddenly, he smiled.
It was the first time he had smiled in three years.
From the distant street came the faint, deeply reluctant bray of a donkey, followed by a young man’s calm voice—
“Stop braying. You won’t get any more candy just because you keep doing it.”
The donkey brayed even louder.