Of Mountains and Rivers 67

By the side of the river, four individuals all appeared drenched and bedraggled, except for the Patriarch’s staff, which remained securely protected. It stood motionless, as if intending to shine through the ages. The burning staff emitted an increasingly serene “bip-bop” sound, and the flames were dazzling, almost lonely.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Yuan Ping spoke abruptly, “So…”

He choked on the first two words, feeling as though each word in the sentence weighed over a thousand jin, pressing heavily on his throat, making it nearly impossible to utter, like he was coughing up blood.

“So… the children on the plains, the villagers in the valleys, they will all eventually turn into powder like that wizard, right?” Yuan Ping slowly lifted his eyes. He had round-shaped eyes with double eyelids. Despite having long passed his youthful years, there was a hint of innocence when he widened his eyes—earnest and good-natured.

The bloodshot eyes of the earnest and good-natured Yuan Ping were filled with blood vessels. His slightly thick double eyelids trembled slightly as if bearing a tremendous grievance. “We thought we were saving them, but in reality, we turned them into powder.”

Chu Huan, annoyed by his words, waved his hand impatiently, “What did I just say? This is purely speculation, baseless speculation.”

Despite considering himself to have excellent self-control, Chu Huan, although occasionally smoking without developing a habit, would habitually flick his fingers when particularly irritated. This action carried a suggestive meaning known only to a smoker, to the extent that Yuan Ping, catching a glimpse from the corner of his eye, reflexively yearned for nicotine.

Yuan Ping scratched his disheveled hair and sighed heavily, “If only we had some cigarettes.”

Hearing this, Luger, as stern as a headmaster, slowly turned his gaze to Yuan Ping. The mere glance made Yuan Ping’s neck ache, causing a certain reluctance to write a self-reflection in the corner

Luger remained indifferent, resembling a wooden sculpture, and continued, “Whether it’s speculation or truth, regretting now serves no purpose.”

Nanshan knew that the Patriarch of the Gatekeeper was not a heartless person, but someone who was accustomed to being self-centered. Clumsy in social interactions, and lacking sensitivity, he never knew how to take care of others’ emotions. Feeling a bit weary, Nanshan rubbed his forehead, interjected, and interrupted Luger’s lengthy discourse, “How far are we from the Sunken Star Island now?” 

Luger paused for a moment, and after a while, sluggishly grasped Nanshan’s meaning and descended the steps with a dull expression, “Oh, we’ve walked more than half of the way.”

Nanshan hung his bow, arrows, and weapons in place, stood up, and declared, “Let’s go, keep moving forward.”

His voice was husky but resolute, “Since we’ve reached this point, what else can we do?”

“Sharpen the knife, don’t miss the firewood. The road is still long, and you’re still staggering. Sit down,” Chu Huan said expressionlessly on the side, “Rest for a while before continuing the journey.”

Nanshan lowered his head, his gaze sweeping over Chu Huan’s somewhat chapped lips. A desire sprouted in his heart, a longing to pull him closer and share a genuine kiss, and to draw in precious warmth. Yet, the fear that this fleeting happiness might drown him lingered, causing him to lose the courage to grit his teeth and continue moving forward. 

Ultimately, Nanshan stood in silence for a moment, then obediently sat down beside Chu Huan, wrapping his arms around him. He buried his nose in Chu Huan’s shoulder, lingering there with affection.

Nanshan could not help but wonder, what would he be like without Chu Huan?

Would he have never mustered the courage to venture into the Fallen Land?

Perhaps he could carry his distant and unattainable desire to explore the outside world, eventually sinking into the shadows with the sacred mountain and his fellow clanspeople.

Even with the Patriarch’s staff by his side, how much longer would he hold on?

“It’s alright, I can still walk.” He released Chu Huan, casually saying, “You’ve talked so much, is there any information on the Mountain Gate? The situation with those guests and the consumed individuals in the cave seems so similar. Do you think they might also be related to the Fallen Land?”

Chu Huan hesitated for a moment, about to carefully analyze his words. But Nanshan continued, “When we truly defeat ‘it’, maybe the boundary over there will disappear. By then, can you take me for a flight in the sky?”

Upon hearing the second half of the sentence, Chu Huan suddenly understood. Nanshan wasn't really expecting an answer; he was just expressing his desires aimlessly.

Chu Huan smiled, "Sure, we can. But with all those knives, spears, axes, halberds, hooks, and forks on you… it seems like you can't bring them along."

Nanshan, excited like a child, said in rapid succession, "It's okay, if we can't bring them, then we won't. Can we fly all the way to your original home?"

Chu Huan raised an eyebrow, playfully asking, "My original home?"

Nanshan, caught off guard, didn't expect Chu Huan to turn the tables like this. He became a bit nervous, stuttering for a moment, "You… you are now part of my… our clan, so it's obviously your original home."

Chu Huan remained silent, just chuckling.

Nanshan didn't know what Chu Huan's laughter meant. After pondering for a while, he still couldn't come to any conclusion. He just felt inexplicably that he was being teased.

The Patriarch of the Mountain Keeper's face blushed slightly. Feeling a bit flustered, he awkwardly changed the subject, "Do you really have so many people there?"

Yes,” Chu Huan lowered his voice tenderly, “Walking in the bustling downtowns, there’s bound to be people bumping into you. During rush hour on the subway, you need staff to push you in before they can close the doors. Once you get off, it’s like being squeezed into a photograph.”

Nanshan seemed to find it amusing—whatever Chu Huan said, he found it all amusing.

Luger, on the other hand, revealed an undisguised disgust. He whispered to Yuan Ping, “Really?”

Yuan Ping thought for a moment, realizing that there was nothing he could refute. He could only nod with a heavy heart.

Luger’s eye twitched slightly, an unusual hint of affection appearing in his gaze. He glanced at Yuan Ping with a look of pity, patted his shoulder, and awkwardly consoled, “Then, in the future, live well on the mountain.”

Yuan Ping sighed, "When I just graduated, my parents made me live frugally. They didn't buy me a car, and every day, I had to squeeze onto the subway to go to work. It was so crowded that it was unbearable. Now that I think about it… as long as I can get out of here, even if I'm thrown into the crowded subway, I can sleep like a log posing as a pheasant standing on one foot until the end of time."

Chu Huan really wanted to chime in with a "me too."

It wasn't fatigue or exhaustion that Chu Huan felt; it was a kind of weariness, as if he were completely drained and couldn't summon any energy. But Chu Huan didn't say a word; he just didn't have Yuan Ping's big heart.

He didn't know if the Mountain Keepers, including Nanshan, were all like this. Focused as they were, they seemed to hold nothing back. Along the way, Chu Huan noticed that Nanshan's gaze seemed to linger on him wherever he looked. It wasn't a misconception or self-indulgence. Often, when Chu Huan unintentionally furrowed his brows, Nanshan, as if growing eyes on the back of his head, would turn around to ask.

Chu Huan didn't know if, like Yuan Ping, he could casually say something like "I'm so tired I can't lift my legs”, and it might disturb Nanshan's sleep.

Sometimes, this deep-rooted connection made Chu Huan mentally tense. He thought, if the monster surrounding the mountain had come a bit slower, if Yuan Ping, that talkative jerk, hadn't cleverly informed them, perhaps Chu Huan would be the only one here right now.

But if it were really like that… Chu Huan envisioned himself holding a picture of Nanshan, just like the American soldiers in movies preparing to meet Mr. Lincoln, occasionally taking it out to look, and then quietly dying somewhere.

It seemed a bit tragic.

Chu Huan chuckled at his own thoughts. As expected, any movement he made seemed to alert Nanshan. Nanshan immediately turned around sensitively, and Chu Huan narrowed his eyes, blowing a roguish whistle at him. Then, shamelessly seizing Nanshan's chin, he pulled him over and slickly opened his lips, kissing him recklessly.

Their intention was to lighten the mood—after all, it was too dark ahead. But as they adjusted, it turned into something shamelessly public.

Luger, adopting an expression of disdain, observed the monkey play with cold eyes and sneered at Nanshan, who seemed at loss as to where to put his hands, “The mighty Patriarch of the Mountain Keepers is really pitiful.”

Despite saying so, he felt a sudden twinge in his heart. The life of a Gatekeeper seemed so monotonous and tedious, living like an ascetic monk at the Mountain gate, carefree and unburdened, with only the day the Mountain Gate closed offering a momentary respite.

A long time ago, a girl from the Mountain Keepers’ side fell in love with a man from their side. Ignoring the warnings of both Patriarchs, she insisted on marrying him, going to great lengths to be with him. Luger remembered that, despite spending more time apart than together for most of the year, those two had indeed been happy for a while.

And then?

And then… the man and the woman grew old, and eventually, they both passed away. The woman’s death was final, but the man continuously revisited the fleeting sweetness of a life he should have left behind in the sacred waters.

He couldn’t forget it. The repeated deaths couldn’t erase the profound and unforgettable moments of sweetness. As generations passed, the Mountain Keepers acting as intermediaries had forgotten the women of their own tribe, but the Sacred Spring still preserved those untouchable memories.

Since then, Luger personally established a strict rule—Gatekeepers were not allowed to marry outsiders.

He glanced back at Yuan Ping, as if considering Chu Huan and Nanshan as negative examples. Coldly, he said, "The rules of the gatekeepers are strict, no such thing is allowed. Do you understand?"

"What?" Yuan Ping was shocked, feeling more and more like he was dealing with a strict headmaster. No smoking, and now they were being restricted in love affairs. What was the point? He didn't have to take the college entrance exam again!

Unable to bear it, Yuan Ping wailed, "Patriarch, is this becoming a monastery? All these years, are we all just doing something behind the Mountain Gate…"

Luger gave him a cold look.

Yuan Ping continued, “… to comfort loneliness?”

Luger frowned, not understanding what he was agonizing over. “It’s not like our clan doesn’t have women.”

"But those women are already someone else's wives, Patriarch!" Yuan Ping mourned, "The rest either become male mistresses or turn to same-sex relationships!"

The bond among gatekeepers of the same clan was paramount. If anyone dared to stir up jealousy or engage in miscellaneous affairs under Luger's nose, they would be dealt with mercilessly. Considering this, did they have to either age in loneliness or bend themselves? Yuan Ping suddenly lost the courage to go on.

Seeing Nanshan and Chu Huan now made Yuan Ping even more annoyed. He immediately joined the "I want to die" group, not sparing a good word for Chu Huan, "I say, buddy, isn't it about time? Pay attention to your manners. It's like a certain something stuck on another certain something¹."

Nanshan only just snapped back to reality, reluctantly suppressing the restless emotions in his heart. He let go of Chu Huan and asked with a bit of confusion, "What?"

Chu Huan, displaying the psychological stability of an old rogue, gave Yuan Ping a teasing look, grinned, and replied, "Nothing. He said you're a beautiful flower."

When a farmer faces the earth with his back to the sky, he occasionally straightens his back and looks into the distance like a simple yet mysterious ritual.

Looking into the distance can bring strength to a person.

Chu Huan suddenly had a whimsical idea. He reached back and drew out an arrow, lighting the arrowhead on the Patriarch’s staff. He was seated and didn’t move, leaning against the bowstring while using his body to pull a massive bow over half a person’s height. Then, he reclined without falling, his waist forming an incredible arc, the arrow pointing to the vast and boundless dark sky.

Pulling the bow round and tight like a full moon—²

The arrow whizzed up to the highest point, then descended before burning out completely. Fire tore through the terrifying shadows of the fallen land, suddenly revealing a corner of the obscured, true sky.

And that arrow, like a true spark, gazed upon the entire world from the darkest place.

The following journey became relatively arduous. Although the group had grasped some of the patterns of the Fallen Land and developed a bit of understanding through long and painful adaptation, it seemed that the Fallen Land was ready to tear them apart.

During their long trek, they encountered countless wooden figures nailed to the ground in a state of confusion, each with diverse shapes and expressions.

Trapped in false sorrow, some people cried loudly, screamed, while others, like Xiang Lin's wife, chattered incessantly, repeating themselves endlessly. As they delved deeper, the Fallen Land finally tore apart its gloomy facade, revealing its irritable aggression towards the outsiders.

What attacked them was none other than the people who had been swallowed by the Fallen Land.

At that moment, Chu Huan’s speculations about the Fallen Land were proven in two aspects.

Firstly, the swallowed individuals weren’t consumed by “it” but rather nurtured by “it”.

Secondly, “it” trapped these people’s consciousness in certain scenes to assimilate them. They became “its” accomplices, bodies, and weapons.

At this point, the four of them realized that “should the swallowed be awakened” was no longer a philosophical question.

The swallowed individuals were tools used by the Fallen Land to attack them. It nurtured them, treating them as its extensions. The Patriarch's staff was shrinking day by day. Chu Huan and the others gradually found themselves in a situation where, if they couldn't awaken these individuals, they would be constantly pursued and attacked.

Yuan Ping was chased by a shadow like a forsaken dog. The snake-like shadow emerged from an ordinary middle-aged woman. As they approached Sunken Star Island, the attacks they faced became more varied.

One end of the shadow rooted in the woman, while the other stretched out, relentlessly pursuing Yuan Ping.

Yuan Ping swung back, igniting the flame on the Patriarch's staff with a long knife. Exerting too much force, he nearly extinguished the flame. Pivoting on the tip of his toes, he turned and delivered a fierce slash to the shadow. Before the shadow could retreat, it received a furious blow in mid-air, instantly crumbling. However, Yuan Ping's face showed no sign of relief. Bent over in pain, he shouted at Chu Huan, "Hurry up! Are you okay? I can't… can't catch my breath, might… might suffocate…"

Chu Huan was busy searching for loopholes in the silent complaints that no one else could hear. Hearing this, he thought irritably, "Damn it, if you can't even hold your breath, why are you still screaming then?"

Luger impatiently pulled Yuan Ping over and cast a breath-healing spell on him.

Yuan Ping became silent.

At the moment when the shadow dispersed, as if "it" had suffered a heavy blow, Chu Huan heard the woman's lament in chaos. Seizing the opportunity, he immediately shouted, "What's the use of crying? Open your eyes and see clearly, close your eyes and think carefully. Just now, you were saying that a man who had a hard life in his early years died. He's been dead for fifteen years. Where did he betray you? Who instilled these inexplicable thoughts in you?"

The woman choked for a moment, “Who… who are you?”

As the connection was established, the suffocating feeling in the air immediately dissipated by more than half. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, except for Yuan Ping, who was still fuming and trying to tidy up the shattered pieces of his worldview.

Chu Huan utilized his eloquence to the fullest, employing all the deceitful tricks he had accumulated throughout his life but rarely used. His art of deception reached its pinnacle through daily practice.

After dealing with the woman, the four of them skillfully counterattacked the shadows that immediately pursued. Chu Huan leaned heavily against a large stone, looking at the staff that was now only half its original length. "Are we almost at Sunken Star Island…"

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a faint “rustling” sound in his ears.

Chu Huan instinctively shrugged his shoulders and quickly moved aside, turning his head to look in suspicion.

Suddenly, as if an invisible hand had reached out to write something, there was a string of characters in the Liyi Clan’s script being carved on the large stone where he had just leaned against—Be careful!