The moonlight was bleak and hazy.
Jiang Zhongxue carried Qin Changsheng, retracing their steps back the way they had come.
Her movements were gentle and cautious, as if she were holding a fragile piece of porcelain. Qin Changsheng, noticing the tenderness in her actions yet the icy calm on her face, grew curious and asked, “Jiang Zhongxue, have we met before?”
Jiang Zhongxue’s arm rested on Qin Changsheng’s shoulder, supporting her as she held onto her neck, and replied calmly, “No.”
She lifted her head, studying the slope above as if gauging the possibility of leaping up while carrying someone. Qin Changsheng followed her gaze and saw the slope she had just tumbled down, covered with tangled branches, fallen logs, and layers of old leaves.
The slope was about three to four meters high. Being near a stream in the forest, the ground was saturated with water, and the decaying leaves made the surface damp and slippery, this was the main reason she hadn’t died from the fall. The wet soil and rotting leaves had cushioned the impact when she rolled down.
Qin Changsheng nestled in her arms, lost in thought. Jiang Zhongxue measured the distance with her eyes, took two or three steps back, then pivoted on her feet as if summoning a gust of wind. With Qin Changsheng in her arms, she glided over the muddy ground in a few swift steps, like a swallow skimming the surface of water, and effortlessly ascended the slope without a trace of mud on her.
Qin Changsheng stared in astonishment, the dried blood on her forehead making her expression look particularly comical. She asked in amazement, “Is this the legendary qinggong?”
Jiang Zhongxue remained silent, neither confirming nor denying. After a long while without a response, drowsiness began to wash over Qin Changsheng. Despite her injury, a gash on her head, she stubbornly fought off sleep and continued, trying to distract herself, “Don’t be so stern. We’ve been through life and death together. You saved me, and my Qin family will repay you. Besides, I heard everything you said earlier.”
She pursed her lips and mimicked Jiang Zhongxue’s tone in a soft, delicate voice, “Changsheng, oh Changsheng, how I wish to die with you! I can’t bear to see you cry!”
Jiang Zhongxue continued walking forward, her expression unchanged. Qin Changsheng was deeply disappointed, but as her wound began to throb with numbness, she rambled on to divert her attention, “Jiang Zhongxue, don’t be so cold to me. We’re companions, after all! When you thought I was dying, you were so heartbroken. So why did you act so disgusted with me before? I almost thought maybe I’d offended you when we were young, and now that I’ve grown up, I can’t remember, but you still hold a grudge.”
Jiang Zhongxue offered no response, letting Qin Changsheng continue her nonsensical chatter. Qin Changsheng shivered weakly in her arms and asked, “Jiang Zhongxue, you’re so infuriating. You already call me Changsheng, so why can’t you just get along with me properly?”
Jiang Zhongxue kept walking but suddenly came to a halt. Gently setting Qin Changsheng down, she drew a small knife from somewhere.
Qin Changsheng watched her, her vision gradually darkening until she could no longer make out Jiang Zhongxue’s expression. Jiang Zhongxue focused intently, using the knife to carefully cut a spiky plant growing on a nearby leaf.
Qin Changsheng leaned against the tree trunk, slowly drifting toward sleep, unaware that her chin was being forced open. A bitter, pungent taste surged through her taste buds to her brain, and she reflexively gagged. The drowsiness was completely driven away by the shock of that flavor.
Startled awake by the taste, Qin Changsheng nearly vomited from the bitterness. Jiang Zhongxue watched her calmly, holding a large handful of torn wild grass in her hand. She looked at Qin Changsheng and said, “Don’t sleep.”
Qin Changsheng’s sleepiness had been utterly chased away. Seeing Jiang Zhongxue frown, as if about to stuff another handful of grass into her mouth, Qin Changsheng gasped sharply and hurriedly waved her uninjured hand vigorously. “No more! I’m awake, I’m awake!”
Jiang Zhongxue stared at her suspiciously for a while, repeatedly confirming that she truly wouldn’t fall asleep again, then handed her the grass. “Take this. If you feel like sleeping again, hold a piece in your mouth.”
Qin Changsheng obediently took it and held it in her hand. Now thoroughly startled awake, even if she wanted to sleep, she couldn’t.
Jiang Zhongxue bent down again, picked her up, and let her nestle against her chest. Qin Changsheng leaned in her embrace, holding the grass, and asked again, “What is this? It’s so bitter!”
Jiang Zhongxue replied, “Gentian root.”
Qin Changsheng hummed in acknowledgment and turned the medicinal herb over and over in her hand under the moonlight. Jiang Zhongxue’s brows lowered slightly as she said, “Once, I had a companion who was severely injured. I took him far away, hoping to find someone who could heal him. Along the way, he told me about his past, his wife, and his daughter. He said they were the ones he cared about most. He kept talking and talking. As long as he was still speaking, I thought he was fine. But in the end, he fell asleep and never woke up. I didn’t even know when he took his last breath.”
That had been a comrade who had fought alongside her through life and death. For a decision Jiang Zhongxue had made, he had borne the backlash of a curse that should have been hers.
One person’s heart, the hearts of thousands, how many had devoted their entire lives to her single aspiration, only to be buried in the yellow sand?
After a pause, Jiang Zhongxue said calmly, “He was also the one who told me the name ‘gentian root.'”
Nestled in her embrace, Qin Changsheng felt a small shock. After a long silence, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Jiang Zhongxue held her and said softly, “Later, I went to his hometown to deliver his ashes to his family. But I never expected that the village had been destroyed in the war. His wife and daughter had long since died. What he had yearned for were nothing but two skeletons.”
Qin Changsheng tightened her arms around Jiang Zhongxue’s neck. In that moment, she could feel an overwhelming sadness. Yet Jiang Zhongxue wore an expression of resignation, as if this were all too familiar. She said calmly, “There is too much parting and death in this world. Qin Changsheng, the reason I don’t want to be your companion isn’t because you’re lacking or because we have any grievances. I am a selfish person. I don’t want to invest my emotions in you, that’s all.”
Every person who had ever been her companion now lay buried in the netherworld.
Her entire life had been a series of farewells, each one permanent. No one could escape death. She could only calmly accept the departure of everyone she knew.
Alone in the vast world, solitary and unaccompanied.
No one would stay by my side forever. There was no need to rely on anyone, to obey anyone, or to care for anyone. In the blink of an eye, youth would fade, leaving behind nothing but bleached bones. Everyone was merely a fleeting grain of sand in the vast river of time, vanishing in an instant.
Only loneliness was eternal.
Qin Changsheng grew quiet, clenching her fingers as if to comfort herself, yet a faint, indescribable ache still lingered in her heart. Leaning against Jiang Zhongxue’s embrace, she suddenly asked, “Do you have someone you care about?”
Jiang Zhongxue remained silent.
Qin Changsheng sighed and pressed further, “Then why did you name me Changsheng? If you truly didn’t want to invest emotions in me or become my companion, why say those things to me?”
Jiang Zhongxue replied, “I do have someone I care about, but she died long ago.”
Qin Changsheng fell silent.
After a long pause, Jiang Zhongxue continued calmly, “She was the one I loved most, and she was part of the agreement I made with your Qin family. The reason I call you by that name is simply because you share it with her. She was also named Changsheng, but she isn’t you, and you aren’t her.”
Qin Changsheng was momentarily stunned, a hollow feeling settling in her chest. Then, her eyes widened as she adopted a sympathetic expression, carefully choosing her words: “Did our Qin family… kidnap your beloved?”
But Jiang Zhongxue had just mentioned that the one she cared about was already dead. After a moment’s thought, Qin Changsheng asked again, “Did they kidnap your beloved’s ghost?”
“And forced you to do things for them?”
Watching Qin Changsheng’s wide-eyed, earnest expression as she pieced things together, Jiang Zhongxue lowered her gaze slightly and said nothing. Seeing her reaction, Qin Changsheng seemed to make up her mind and declared seriously, “Don’t worry! Once this matter with Yu Yin is resolved, I’ll make sure our Qin family releases your beloved’s ghost!”
Jiang Zhongxue stared at her speechlessly, about to say something, but Qin Changsheng pressed on with unwavering determination, “I may not know how to chant resurrection spells or write talismans for liberation, but I am, after all, a Ghost Eye. I can see spirits and communicate with them. I can even help convey your feelings to your beloved!”
Jiang Zhongxue’s lips twitched, but she suppressed a sigh and merely responded with a soft “Mm.” Calmly, she added, “If you ever meet her, please tell her I miss her.”
Qin Changsheng, who had been so resolute just moments before, felt her face flush at Jiang Zhongxue’s tender words. She clenched her fists inwardly, exclaiming silently, Oh my gosh! Someone as cold as Jiang Zhongxue can actually be this gentle! I wonder how incredibly handsome and remarkable her beloved must have been! This is mind-blowing!
Then she muttered to herself, “But is our Qin family really that terrible? Did we actually tear lovers apart? It makes me feel like some minor villain!”
But muttering aside, as Jiang Zhongxue carried her forward, they arrived at a place where the air was thick with the scent of blood. A man dressed in black lay face down on the ground, a metal chain coiled beside him, dotted with specks of fresh blood. Nearby, a hunting dog lay lifeless, its throat torn and mangled.
By the moonlight, Qin Changsheng stared until her fingers clenched and her scalp prickled. Though she possessed ghost-seeing eyes and had encountered all manner of spirits, this was her first time seeing a truly dead person, and one who had been hunting her down not long ago at that. A chill ran through her heart, inexplicably stirring a sense of sorrow for the fallen, like a rabbit mourning the death of a fox.
Curled up in Jiang Zhongxue’s arms, she asked in a muffled voice, “Did you kill him?”
Jiang Zhongxue gave a soft hum of acknowledgment. Qin Changsheng sighed, “I thought dealing with ghosts was terrifying enough, but now we have to kill people too.”
After a moment of silence, she added, “When we get back, I’m definitely going to demand more money from the Yu family. Broken arms and legs were bad enough, but now we’ve got blood on our hands. This job is really no easy task.”
Jiang Zhongxue replied calmly, “I’m the one who killed him. It has nothing to do with you.”
Qin Changsheng shook her head in discomfort, forcing a faint smile. “It’s fine. I’ve long been prepared for this. In our line of work, who doesn’t live on the edge? If you hadn’t killed them, they would have killed me. I don’t want to die, so they had to. Don’t worry, I can accept these things.”
Jiang Zhongxue felt a stir in her heart but said nothing. Qin Changsheng averted her eyes from the corpse on the ground and murmured, “Just give me a little more time, and I’ll be fine.”
Jiang Zhongxue nodded. Qin Changsheng then asked, “Where do we go next?”
She was covered in injuries, where could they go now? Could it be that this mission would end halfway?
With her uninjured hand, she fumbled in her pocket for her phone. When she pulled it out, she saw that half the screen was shattered, and water had seeped in. She pressed the power button, but there was no response no matter how long she held it.
Jiang Zhongxue freed one hand and handed her own phone over. Qin Changsheng thanked her, tucked her broken phone back into her pocket, and opened Jiang Zhongxue’s device.
Jiang Zhongxue’s phone was startlingly plain. It looked brand new, with no discernible brand, but the screen was sharp, the battery full, and it felt remarkably smooth in her hand.
Who would have thought Jiang Zhongxue knew how to pick a good phone? Qin Changsheng had assumed someone like her would be using an indestructible Nokia.
Jiang Zhongxue carried her forward without bothering to see what she was doing. Qin Changsheng opened the contacts list, which contained only one number:
1851xxxx048.
The note read: Changsheng’s Brother.