Yang Zengyue went straight to the high-speed rail station. Several hours later, at the station, she met the friend and elder-brother figure who’d come to pick her up—Fan Jinggang.
The moment he saw her, Fan Jinggang walked over, lifted the backpack off her shoulder to carry it himself, and said, “Manyue, I’ve got everything arranged the way you asked. The construction crew can move in tomorrow.”
The bond forged since childhood meant the two never wasted words when they talked.
Fan Jinggang understood Yang Zengyue’s temperament well, whatever she asked of him, he never questioned overmuch.
“Mm. Once I’ve cleared out everything in the herb fields, I’ll settle the bill.” Yang Zengyue tallied the funds this project would need against her own savings, for now it should just about be enough.
As for how to earn the money for the later phases, she had no idea yet.
When the cart reaches the mountain there’ll be a road. [1]a way will turn up when the time comes jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_2943104_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_2943104_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); No need to rush.
Fan Jinggang drove, Yang Zengyue sat in the passenger seat with her eyes closed, resting, looking quite worn out.
She knew Fan Jinggang was puzzled. When she said she’d clear out the herb fields entirely, it meant she’d no longer grow medicinal herbs, and Fan Jinggang understood that.
Without opening her eyes, she just said, “Once I’ve seen Master, I’ll tell you the reason.”
It was a long stretch of road from the rail station to Sikun Mountain. Yang Zengyue’s heart was extremely complicated just then.
She turned to look out the car window at the now-unfamiliar surroundings, thinking about how she should broach things once she saw her master.
In the dozen-odd days since she’d come back, she’d been busy without pause, gathering materials, laying out plans, not a moment’s rest.
She worried there simply wasn’t enough time.
The hour of homecoming, however, was anything but calm.
Before dusk, Yang Zengyue arrived at the Sikun Mountain she’d been parted from for seven years. She was finally home.
At the foot of the mountain lay a village of only twenty-odd households, all longtime residents.
Following the winding mountain road upward, hidden behind layer upon layer of trees, at the spot nearest to Sikun Mountain proper, stood a three-story detached little Western-style house.
Its exterior was painted white, with a steel frame set atop the top floor to make a fashionable roof, so it had high, upswept eaves, the glazed tiles were rather dazzling in the light of the setting sun.
This was her home.
The house had a large courtyard, with a small room on either side of the main building. The left was a garage, a black pickup truck parked inside, the right held the bathroom and washing area.
On the west side of the courtyard stood a grape vine laden with fruit, clusters of still-unripe grapes hanging from the branches, green and glistening. Over the east wall stretched the boughs of a pomegranate tree, hung with many pomegranates.
On the east side stood a hand-pump well that looked to have some years on it, the water in the basin was still rippling, so someone had clearly just used it.
Around the walls grew all sorts of flowers and plants, some looking different from ordinary greenery, more like medicinal herbs.
This courtyard was full of the warmth of daily life.
An old man, hair and beard all white, with the bearing of an immortal, sat beneath the grape vine slowly waving a palm-leaf fan to cool himself.
Hearing the car, the old man was the first to look toward the sound.
Yang Zengyue opened the car door, pushed open the front gate, and as she looked up her gaze met the old man’s exactly.
Unable to hide the emotion in her heart, her eyes already brimming with tears, she called out in a low voice, “Master.”
She pushed the gate wide and strode in.
Yang Zengyue threw herself into the old man’s arms like a young swallow returning to the woods.
Just before she reached Jiuxiao, the dog Pumpkin suddenly darted out to leap up at her, and got neatly kicked flying by Yang Zengyue…
After landing, Pumpkin looked utterly bewildered, unable to grasp why its owner had spurned it, its eyes glimmering, looking thoroughly wronged.
Chen Jia’er, in the middle of fussing over dinner in the kitchen, heard the car and flung the carrot she’d been about to julienne onto the cutting board, then bolted out.
And then she saw the beautiful sister she’d longed for day and night, thought of for a dozen-odd days, her faith, her idol—Yang Zengyue, still a young girl now, but a big shot in the apocalypse.
She also caught the look in Pumpkin’s eyes, and cried inwardly that this dog must be turning into a spirit…
Jiuxiao saw his granddaughter’s movement, crisp, clean, and with the force perfectly measured, and knew her kung fu had improved again.
He gently patted the top of the head that had thrown itself into his arms. “There now. Grandpa’s been good, I haven’t gone gallivanting off anywhere.”
Yang Zengyue forced down the grief in her heart, lifted her head and fixed her eyes on Jiuxiao, afraid that in a single blink he’d vanish again. “Master…”
“Mm, I’m here.” Jiuxiao could plainly feel his granddaughter’s sorrow.
He didn’t understand where this grief, almost enough to destroy heaven and earth, came from, but there had to be a reason.
Watching all this from a distance, Chen Jia’er, who shared the same experience as Yang Zengyue, understood.
That was the feeling of losing something and getting it back.
Just like her own mood at this moment.
Her Sister Zengyue had come back too.
How wonderful.
Fan Jinggang was very surprised as well.
Yang Zengyue normally never let her emotions show.
In their childhood, when he’d brought others to fight her, no matter how heavy the injury, he’d never once seen her cry.
Yet now, this grown-up version of her, though no tears fell from her eyes, Fan Jinggang knew she was weeping.
It seemed like remorse, and self-reproach, and joy too.
A very strange, very complicated emotion.
After her brief lapse, Yang Zengyue recovered her composure. Then, her face calm but her heart wildly stirred, she looked toward Chen Jia’er standing in the kitchen doorway.
This girl who should have been off traveling somewhere, enjoying a life of luxury, who had no business being here.
That pretty, adorable girl, upon seeing Yang Zengyue, cast everything aside and flew straight over, hugging her tight.
Seeing this girl not slow down even as she reached his granddaughter, and his granddaughter making no move to kick her flying, Jiuxiao knew this really was an old acquaintance.
His granddaughter never let anyone get so close to her, no matter who they were.
Unless she allowed it.
Yang Zengyue was actually a bit dazed. Not only had she seen her master, but Chen Jia’er was here too.
Before she’d even grasped what was happening, this adorable girl a little shorter than her had wrapped her arms around her waist.
She gently reached out, stroked the girl’s hair, and said softly, “Jia’er?”
“Mm, it’s me.” The heavily nasal voice, and the sound of sobbing, reached Yang Zengyue’s ears, as familiar as ever.
“Jia’er said she wanted to reunite with Sister Zengyue in the next life. I couldn’t wait, so the moment I woke I settled everything at once and came straight to Sikun Mountain. You told me before—Sikun Mountain is your home.”
Chen Jia’er lifted her head, tear tracks still on her face, but her eyes already crinkled into a smile.
The vow she’d made before dying had actually come true.
Heaven only knew how overjoyed she’d been when she woke a dozen days ago and found herself back before the apocalypse.
She could meet Sister Zengyue and the others again, they could be reunited.
What Chen Jia’er had just whispered in her ear were the very words she’d once said to her in that final battle at Zhaoqi Mountain, on the brink of death.
Yang Zengyue remembered them clearly.
“You’re the same as before, still afraid of nothing?” Yang Zengyue said, a bit helplessly. Chen Jia’er kept clinging to her, with no intention whatsoever of letting go.
“Not afraid. Wherever Sister Zengyue is, I’ll charge through a mountain of blades and a sea of fire [2]face any danger jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_2943104_1_2').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_2943104_1_2', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });. What’s more, Sikun Mountain is your turf.” Chen Jia’er shook her head like a rattle-drum.
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