Of Mountains and Rivers 46

It is said that when people are on the verge of death, they may see a beam of light and walk toward it, allowing them to review the complexities of the earthly world. At this moment, life and death hang by a thread, and the outcome depends on which path the person chooses.

Chu Huan saw that beam of light in the darkness. He took a few steps toward it, but then he realized something was amiss. His steps faltered, and he looked down at his hand. Something seemed to be missing. He felt a bit confused, and after a while, he remembered the promise he made to live until old age—the ring was gone.

Suddenly, scenes of the bizarre and surreal wilting flowers, the thorny vines, and the piles of white bones flashed before his eyes. Chu Huan was stunned. He patted himself, wondering, "So, am I going to die here?"

It is said that when one's spirits are at their lowest, occasionally a desire to jump from a tall building may flicker across their face. Chu Aiguo, with his old eyes, had seen it, and he had even once loosened his grip on a cliff. But that doesn't mean he truly wanted to die. How many people in the world genuinely want to die?

Most of the time, it's just a fleeting thought or a circumstance beyond their control. Chu Huan felt a little dazed as he turned back and glanced around. He found that the path behind him was shrouded in darkness, and he couldn't find his way back.

It was strange, but whenever people look back in their lives, it's always in situations where they can't find the way back. So most of the time, looking back is futile.

Feeling a little timid, Chu Huan tried to muster his courage, but he was not willing to admit it openly. He pressed forward, seemingly melting into the beam of light. He closed his eyes and then opened them again, finding himself seemingly back at the entrance of the small apartment he once lived in.

The area had a supermarket, a neatly arranged parking lot, and a green belt maintained by property management. Standing at the intersection, one could even see the bustling traffic on the main road, with countless trains passing through the "subway" that Nan Shan had always longed for.

He heard a soft meow, and when he looked down, he saw Da Mi jumping down from a tree, wagging its tail, and circling around his legs.

Chu Huan picked up the cat, stroked its furry little head, and suddenly felt something. He turned around and saw Stick helping an elderly man with a somewhat unsteady gait.

The elderly man's cane trembled as he tapped on the ground. He was thin and tall, resembling a bamboo stick swaying in the wind. Stick was supporting him with one hand and curiously looking around with his other hand, as if he had just entered a grand garden, exclaiming to Chu Huan in awe, "Wow, so many people here! Do you know all of them?"

Of course, Chu Huan didn't know them. He had lived in this area for three years, and he didn't even have much interaction with his neighbors.

With countless questions in his mind, Chu Huan asked, "Brother, what are you doing here?" He then turned to the elderly man and said, "Dad, why are you here too?"

Stick didn't answer directly; he just smiled, and the expression on his face was somewhat eerie, making Chu Huan feel uneasy.

Chu Aiguo waved Stick away, threw his cane to the side, and sat heavily on the roadside curb. He looked at Chu Huan up and down with his comical little eyes, then nodded contentedly and said, "You've become a bit more decent now."

Chu Huan looked down at himself, only wearing a pair of pants with one leg half torn. From top to bottom, every cell of his body seemed sharp and vivid. He smiled bitterly, finding the praise rather puzzling. He raised his hand and rubbed his chin, saying, "You're getting more and more avant-garde now. How is it over there?"

Chu Aiguo snorted, "We're so poor, it's like ringing bells. Raising a son is worse than raising a dog. During festivals, there's not even someone to burn paper offerings."

As Chu Huan approached him, Chu Aiguo's stick swung fiercely towards him. "Ouch!" Chu Huan hopped away on one leg, then looked at Chu Aiguo's irritated expression and didn't dare to move too far, swaying on the spot. "Dad, what are you doing? I have friends here; don't embarrass me."

Before he could finish speaking, Stick had already raised his hand, covering his eyes. He grinned at Chu Huan with a mischievous expression. He was truly a naturally gifted rogue.

Chu Aiguo continued speaking with a hint of sorrow: "Where's my daughter-in-law? Where's my grandson? Chu Huan, you're quite something! I went over there, and no one can take care of you, huh? Acting on your own, jumping off cliffs, and hiding in deep mountains and forests. You've lost your mind, haven't you?"

Chu Huan slowly half-knelt, bowing his head, and used Chu Aiguo's clothes to wipe his glasses clean. After a while, he lightly smiled and said, "I don't know, maybe."

Chu Aiguo sighed.

Suddenly, many figures appeared behind him, and Yuan Ping was among them—not the one born from the Holy Spring, but the healthy one with wheat-colored skin, still wearing that defiant and resentful expression, but with a shocking blood hole on his forehead.

Chu Huan's gaze scanned each person before softly asking, "Dad, are you here to take me away?"

Chu Aiguo raised his eyes and asked, "Do you want to come with me?"

Chu Huan felt like he was back on that cliff. He hung himself on a branch with one hand, looking down into an abyss below and seeing the people he had known and lost floating in the air.

Before he could be astonished, he was suddenly overwhelmed by unbearable pain. It felt as if he had been thrown into a boiling pot of oil, and his entire body convulsed. His fingers, however, clung tightly to the rough tree trunk.

This seemingly endless torture had just begun, and the suffering seemed to have no end.

Not long after, Chu Huan's arm began to cramp as if the muscles were about to tear apart, and blood marks appeared between his clenched fingers.

Chu Aiguo's voice came from the side: "If it hurts and you want to let go, we'll continue."

But for some reason, the more he was tortured, the tighter Chu Huan clung to the large tree. Blue veins appeared on the back of his hand, and he couldn't imagine that one day he would cling to life so desperately, enduring this kind of pain and fighting fiercely to survive.

"When… Nan… Nan Shan…" When these words came out of his mouth, the name seemed to contain some magical power, and Chu Huan couldn't help but shout with all his strength, "Nan Shan! Nan Shan!"

He didn't know how long he had hung on that precarious branch or how many times he had been thrown into the boiling pot until his vision blurred and the pain turned into numbness.

Suddenly, everything went black before Chu Huan's eyes, and his feet touched the ground. His blood-drenched fingers visibly healed, and Chu Huan's legs wobbled as he turned back. All the light condensed into a mouth behind him, and Chu Aiguo, supported by Stick, stood there quietly watching him.

"I was afraid you wouldn't make it through," Chu Aiguo said, tossing something towards him, and Chu Huan caught it—it was the ring.

"Get lost." Chu Aiguo waved his hand at him. "If you ever decide to get married again, find someone to make a better-looking pair of rings—and don't forget to burn some paper offerings. Finding a stepmother for you costs money."

Chu Huan was taken aback, watching Stick being supported by Chu Aiguo as he was about to leave. He quickly reached out and stopped him, saying, "Wait, Dad, let this guy come with me."

Stick patted his hand and said, "I can't go back. You, good-for-nothing, help me take care of my son."

Chu Huan felt ominous, forcing a smile. "Your brat is a big trouble. I'm not taking care of him. You go back to yourself."

Stick sighed, turned around, and faced Chu Huan, where a massive hole of blood appeared on his chest, as if a door had been hollowed out. Chu Huan was surprised, but Stick seemed to look at him with sorrow and say, "You, good-for-nothing, I really can't go back."

Chu Huan's pupils constricted, and Stick smiled slightly, adding, "Our clan leader is going crazy. I can't leave you behind. Go."

After saying that, he gave Chu Huan a powerful push, and instinctively, Chu Huan grabbed into the void but caught nothing.

He seemed to fall from an infinite height, experiencing various tortures like drowning and being skinned alive. Then, his soul returned to its place, his vision blurred, and the next moment, excruciating pain swept over him. Chu Huan didn't even have the strength to curl up, and a muffled groan escaped his throat.

Nan Shan opened Chu Huan's tightly clenched jaw and passed him some water. Chu Huan's spirit stirred for a moment, thinking, "This is real."

He was only conscious for a brief moment before falling into a deeper coma.

Chu Huan woke up and slept intermittently, not knowing how much time had passed. But every time he opened his eyes, Nan Shan was holding him tightly, as if he had never let go.

When he finally regained some consciousness, he noticed that it was already dark outside.

Chu Huan was disturbed by Yuan Ping's low voice. He heard Yuan Ping say to Nan Shan, "Leader, let him rest for a while and at least have a few bites to eat and move around a bit—his fever has gone down, right?"

Nan Shan didn't respond, but the long hair that fell on Chu Huan's shoulder moved slightly, probably shaking his head.

Yuan Ping sighed, "You can rest assured; really, this guy is like a cockroach; as long as he doesn't die on the spot, he won't die."

Chu Huan couldn't stand it anymore; regardless of his weakness and hoarse voice, he struggled to say, "Could you please go away?"

Nan Shan trembled all over, anxiously brushing aside his hair, surprised and delighted. "Chu Huan?"

Chu Huan lifted his shoulder slightly, causing a piercing pain.

"Don't move," Nan Shan held him down firmly, asking in a rush, "Do you need water? Are you hungry? Does it hurt?"

Chu Huan replied weakly, "It hurts."

Nan Shan's breath hitched.

Chu Huan felt like he had traveled a long distance before coming back, feeling exhausted and weary. Seeing familiar faces brought peace to his heart, and he couldn't help but smile faintly.

Meanwhile, Yuan Ping, who had been forgotten on the side, grumbled to himself, "Can't you give me a glance? I'm still poking around here. Am I invisible?"

Not only was he like a lightbulb, but he was also an ignored lightbulb. Annoyed, Yuan Ping glared at the half-alive Chu Huan and stood up to leave.

Nan Shan took a deep breath and leaned close to Chu Huan's ear, speaking softly, "When you come back with me, will you accept a blood exchange? I don't need you to make any promises; in the future, you can leave if you want or stay if you want. I don't want anything from you, alright?"

Chu Huan raised his hand and tightly grasped Nan Shan's fingers.

"You're a fool," Chu Huan thought in his heart, "always making unprofitable deals."

Because of Chu Huan's injuries, they stayed in place for several days. Nan Shan was practically glued to his side until Chu Huan regained some mobility. Finally, Yuan Ping managed to catch a chance to talk to him privately.

"I have something to ask you." Yuan Ping sat down somewhat sullenly, seeing Chu Huan's indifferent expression. He couldn't hold back his frustration and kicked his leg. "I'm talking to you; you're ignoring me, right? You're mixed up here, not caring about your dad?"

Chu Huan raised a hand to his forehead, and after a moment, he opened his lips and said softly, "My dad is gone."

Yuan Ping plucked a tuft of grass from the ground, tore it into pieces, and threw it down. After a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, "What did you mean by 'not thinking'? That day, you said something about 'unperceived sensations, nonthoughts, and unmanifest consciousness, unperceived by the eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, or mind, and unmanifest forms, sounds, smells, tastes, and objects.'"

"My mom believed in Buddhism, and I heard her talk about it when I was young," Yuan Ping continued, "but how did you know about it? Aren't you a good dog of materialism, despising all this feudal superstition?"

"I just said it casually," Chu Huan said in a low voice. He pursed his lips, and they cracked, looking somewhat haggard. "Sometimes when people encounter unsolvable problems, they know they are not almighty and instinctively seek an explanation to help them get through it."

Yuan Ping finished tearing apart the whole piece of dry grass and continued, "For example, using the perspective of some religion, pretending that you are on a higher plane, pretending that everything you encounter in this world is illusory hardships for cultivation, This way, you will feel strengthened, wearing an iron-clothed determination in your heart."

Chu Huan chuckled, "It's like a spiritual chicken soup; unfortunately, in the end, I can't convince myself; I can't believe it."

Yuan Ping remained silent for an even longer time. Finally, he spoke, "In these past two days, I haven't seen Stick. Don't you want to ask about him?"

"I know," Chu Huan said, "I saw him. He asked me to take care of his son."

Yuan Ping's nose tingled, and tears nearly fell. He suddenly understood how Chu Huan had felt all these years.

He lifted his hand and pinched his nose hard, forcing the tears back in. "I wasn't doing it for you, you know? I did what I should have done."

Chu Huan responded, "I understand."

At that moment, Chu Huan finally turned his head to look at Yuan Ping. Their gazes seemed to lightly collide multiple times in the meantime. Chu Huan said, "I did what I should have done too, even though it took a bit longer."

He felt like a stone that had been lodged in his chest for a long time had suddenly shattered. As if after many years, he had finally made peace with himself, shaking hands to reconcile and smiling to let go of grievances.

Yuan Ping's tears finally fell, but he felt ashamed and quickly wiped them away. "How are my parents doing?"

"Auntie has passed away, Uncle. He insisted on going to live in a nursing home. I and Lao Wang occasionally go to see him," Chu Huan replied.

Yuan Ping shifted his gaze, his thick eyebrows twitching for a moment. Suddenly, he asked, "Do you think there is an afterlife for people?"

People don't have an afterlife. Both of them, as good dogs of materialism, once firmly believed in this.

However, with time, Chu Huan remained silent for a long time before answering, "Yes."

Yuan Ping pressed on, "Can we meet again in the next life?"

Chu Huan firmly replied, "Yes."