After the snowfall, a gentle rain followed.
It drizzled softly, seeping into the mountain forests and valleys, weaving around every corner of the landscape. The rain blanketed the mountains, falling tenderly like a giant hand stroking the contours of the ridges, erasing thousands of years of resentment and pain.
Specks of light, like summer fireflies, rose slowly, drifting toward the vast sky. The wind whispered softly, the trees sighed, and the animals let out mournful cries, as though bidding farewell to something. There were no wails or sobs, yet the air was thick with inexpressible sorrow.
The barrier dissolved, just as suddenly as the mountain deity had disappeared. At the foot of the mountain, the boundary line divided two entirely different worlds.
Within the barrier, warm rain fell from the sky; outside, the long street echoed with angry shouts. Within, the snow covered the muddy ground; outside, giant rats wreaked havoc, disrupting the fragile peace.
Just moments ago, inside the barrier was hell and outside was the human world. But in the blink of an eye, inside became paradise while outside turned to ruins.
It was a stark reminder that life and death, fortune and misfortune, always existed side by side, defying simple notions of good or bad.
Ji Si gazed at the mountains, listening to the voices from all directions, and suddenly spoke: “A mountain requires the harmony of heaven, earth, and humanity. Only after centuries of tempering by thunder and lightning can a mountain deity be born.”
“When all things choose the deity, the deity nurtures all things, embodying compassion and benevolence.”
“Humans were once among those things,” Ji Si continued, his tone gradually devoid of emotion. “But humans were unwilling to remain equal with other beings. They proclaimed themselves the most intelligent of all creatures, yet failed to fulfill the responsibilities of a ‘leader.’ Aside from plundering, they showed no signs of protection.”
“In a mere hundred years, they’ve drained an entire mountain of its spirit.”
He allowed himself a rare hint of mockery. “Who knows how long it will take to nurture another mountain deity? Without the protection of a guardian spirit, they’ll have to rely on their own luck.”
Si Nuocheng stayed silent, digesting Ji Si’s words carefully. After a while, he adopted his usual professional demeanor and asked directly, “So, what will happen during this ‘blank period’?”
“Who knows?” Ji Si grinned wickedly. “Maybe a boulder that was supposed to roll east will be blocked by roots and crash west instead. Maybe a heavy rain will cause a mudslide that should stop halfway down the mountain but instead floods an entire village.”
“Or maybe an unavoidable earthquake will shatter the terrain entirely,” Ji Si continued. “Moving mountains and diverting rivers—the Ningyuan Mountains might just turn into the Ningyuan Great Rift Valley.”
Si Nuocheng: …
“The cost of losing a mountain deity is something humans can’t afford.”
Just like now, where the rats had burrowed so deep into the mountain that who knew what worse things might be lurking in their tunnels. But Ji Si wasn’t planning to play babysitter—cleansing the mountain of its filth was already a generous act. The rest would depend on fate.
“It’s time for us to go.” Ji Si withdrew his staff, and the mystical protective circle dissipated. In that instant, Si Nuocheng felt the light around him dim as if he had stepped out of a warm greenhouse into a harsh winter.
“What was that?”
“You can think of it as a protective circle,” Ji Si explained patiently. “It doesn’t matter what you use—a finger, a branch, or chalk—just draw a circle around yourself. As long as the starting and ending points connect, it becomes a circle.”
“Believe it will protect you. Imagine your energy and aura being contained within the circle. It’s a simple self-protection technique based on willpower, one even ordinary people can use.”
“The circle we were in earlier prevented anyone from seeing our true forms.”
That explains it…
No wonder Yu Mingyang’s camera couldn’t capture Ji Si’s face. So this was the reason?
The protective circle was intriguing—Si Nuocheng found himself quite interested.
With sharp focus, he absorbed Ji Si’s explanation and even started to extrapolate: “So, what about robbers? Does this work in a hail of bullets? Would the protection weaken if the circle isn’t drawn perfectly round?”
“Or, does the strength of the circle depend on its saturation or its size? Or is it proportional to the person’s own power?”
“For example, if I and a sumo wrestler use the same compass to draw equally-sized circles, would my circle be stronger, or would his?”
Ji Si: …
Under the dim glow of the streetlamp, the two stared at each other. One radiated a mystical aura, while the other exuded scientific curiosity. After a long silence, the High Priest finally managed to squeeze out a response: “You’d better not learn it. I don’t think you’d get the hang of it.”
Si Nuocheng: …
He was unconvinced!
The warm rain falling over the Ningyuan Mountains seemed like a divine blessing. It landed on the wounds of the soldiers in the snowy battlefield, easing their pain and helping them breathe more steadily.
The severely injured fell into a deep sleep, while those on the brink of death whispered their last words. When the searchlights of the rescue helicopter finally swept over them, the nightmare seemed to come to an end—though the aftermath would still be challenging to resolve.
A new team would have to enter the mountains, working with experts to locate the rats’ tunnels. Residents at the mountain’s base would need to be evacuated, and the Ningyuan Mountains sealed off. Tourism companies and developers would need to be dealt with, ensuring the area remained closed until the crisis was resolved.
Most critically, they needed to focus their efforts on tracking down one mysterious individual—the High Priest JS, the source of the prophecy.
There was a mountain of tasks to handle, but tackling everything at once wasn’t feasible. They would peel back the layers bit by bit, working toward the answers they sought.
By the next morning, despite his injured arm, Shen Yunting insisted on joining the main team’s second expedition into the mountains. Meanwhile, Jiang Ziying stayed at the hospital to tend to her wounds.
By noon, her facial injury was finally treated. The old doctor tending to her sighed deeply: “Girl, this isn’t a place you should’ve hurt! You should consider a minor surgery to patch it up. Otherwise, having a scar on your cheek—it’s such a pity! It might even make finding a partner harder.”
Jiang Ziying shook her head. She wanted to smile, but the pain was too much. “As a soldier and police officer, my face isn’t important. Besides, anyone who truly loves me wouldn’t care about my face—they should care about who I am.”
“Girl, you can’t say that,” the doctor replied, adopting a fatherly tone. “Don’t waste a good opportunity. If your face can be fixed, fix it. I don’t want to hear people talking about your scar later.”
After a moment of thought, Jiang Ziying nodded. “If I have time, I’ll get the surgery.”
The doctor seemed relieved. It was rare to meet young people willing to listen, and it warmed his heart. With a smile, he handed her some medication: “Change the dressing daily. Don’t slack off.”
“Understood, thank you.”
Jiang Ziying made her way back to the main team. The streets were lined with the corpses of giant rats.
The previous night, they had been swept up by the wind and hurled to the ground, causing chaos in the town. The economic losses were incalculable.
It was said that the falling rats alone had killed dozens of people, with countless more injured.
After the incident, the reactions from the victims’ families were almost comical. First, they scolded the deceased for stepping outside. Then they laid their bodies on planks and brought them to the police station, wailing loudly and demanding compensation for the “natural disaster.”
This method might be unconventional, but if there’s a first, there will be a second. It seems like Ningyuan’s detention center is probably packed to the brim today…
Jiang Ziying quickened her pace. At a street corner, she brushed past two tall, well-built men. It was a chance encounter, and instinctively, she glanced up.
Just one look, and she slowed down her steps.
One of the men was strikingly handsome, exuding an air of sharp authority, while the other had an elegant demeanor, carrying himself with a leisurely, poetic charm. Together, their black trench coat and white long robe moved away gracefully, their long black hair swaying in arcs that brushed against the tip of a scepter.
The refined man gave a casual shake, letting his silky hair flow naturally, spreading across his back like a piece of fine satin. The other man spoke, his voice deep and magnetic: “Great Prophet, what do you think about tomorrow’s stock market trends?”
“Great CEO, what kind of energy field do you think the clouds in the sky belong to?” Go ahead, hurt each other some more!
They walked past her, completely ignoring her presence as they continued their conversation.
Quite a feast for the eyes…
Even just catching a glimpse of their profiles was incredibly pleasing.
Either of them standing alone would easily top any list of the most handsome men. Together, the visual impact was nothing short of stunning.
Jiang Ziying had always thought she was immune to good looks, but this wasn’t about resistance—it was about never having met a worthy “opponent” before.
Regrettably, as attractive as these men were, her priorities lay elsewhere. Duty called, and a police uniform was far more important at the moment.
Jiang Ziying kept walking briskly. With public buses unable to navigate the crowded streets, she had no choice but to cover a distance of five stops on foot. The long road was inevitably eventful; as she passed a small park by the corner, she saw three kids pushing around a smaller child covered in paint.
Wrinkled sheets of drawing paper lay scattered on the ground, and the easel bore marks of mischief. As an adult approached to intervene, the bullies whistled, made faces, yelled “weirdo,” and ran off.
Jiang Ziying frowned and stepped into the park. She squatted beside the quiet child and began picking up the scattered drawing papers and paint. She wanted to appear approachable, but the injuries on her face made it hard for her to smile.
Unable to manage a smile, she softened her voice as much as possible and asked gently, “Hey there, are you all alone? Where are your mom and dad?”
The child didn’t look up, silently gathering his belongings as if lost in his own world. He carefully flattened the wrinkled papers, rubbing out the creases bit by bit.
“Do you know your home phone number?” Jiang Ziying asked softly. “Auntie can help you call your family, okay?”
The child secured the paper back onto the easel and began cleaning the sand from his paintbrush. Then, with a seriousness that belied his young age, he dipped the brush in paint and began working on a portrait.
The painting depicted a pitch-black mountain and a dark gray night sky. In the center was a ghostly white figure, arms spread wide, with a perfectly straight… stick? floating above its head.
The child scooped some lead-gray paint and splattered it beside the “white ghost,” meticulously shaping it into a “gray ghost.” From start to finish, he didn’t say a single word, treating Jiang Ziying as if she were invisible.
Jiang Ziying had no choice but to stay put and wait. She could tell there was something unique about this child, making it impossible to simply walk away.
She considered calling the local police station but decided against it, recalling the chaos there. Thus, she stood and waited for half an hour.
Finally, the child picked up a toothbrush, dipped it in white paint, and carefully flicked it across the night sky. She couldn’t tell if he was painting stars or snowflakes, but just then, a worried mother holding a shopping basket arrived. Seeing the child, the mother let out a long sigh of relief.
She hugged her child and asked gently if he was hurt. When he didn’t respond, she sighed softly, her tone filled with love and patience. Finally, she turned to Jiang Ziying, bowing in gratitude and smiling bitterly.
“Thank you so much. My child is a bit special. He…”
“He’s a little on the autistic spectrum,” the mother whispered, her voice low. “But he loves to wander off, always carrying his sketchpad to strange places.”
“Last night, I took him to stay at his grandmother’s house. I thought he was sleeping in the room. Who knew he’d sneak out in the middle of the night with his sketchpad and hide in the bushes under a streetlamp to draw?”
“I was terrified!” The mother shuddered at the memory. “And now, today, I brought him home, and he’s hidden here to paint again. It’s enough to drive someone crazy.”
Her voice quivered with emotion, but she held herself together in front of the child. She thanked Jiang Ziying profusely once more. After the child finished his painting, the mother bent down, efficiently packing the paint and brushes into her shopping basket.
As Jiang Ziying was about to leave, the once unresponsive child suddenly looked up and stared at her with wide, clear eyes that seemed to reflect an entire unblemished world.
“Dongdong, Daddy made your favorite cola chicken wings. Let’s go home, okay?” the mother coaxed.
The child didn’t respond. Instead, when his mother tried to hug him, he dodged to the side and held out his painting to Jiang Ziying.
At that moment, the mother gasped, covering her mouth in astonishment, and Jiang Ziying froze in surprise.
“This is… for me?” she asked tentatively, glancing between the child and his mother. “Should I… take it?”
The child didn’t answer. He looked at her—or perhaps through her, as if seeing someone else entirely.
“Take it! Please, take it!” The mother was delighted, nearly overjoyed. “This is the first time he’s ever voluntarily given someone a gift! Could he be recovering?”
Jiang Ziying accepted the painting. The paint was still wet, and the strokes were incredibly juvenile, yet it felt like the child was offering her his entire world. She carefully folded it and bid the mother and son farewell with a smile.
The child, lying on his mother’s shoulder, continued to stare at her.
Abruptly, he mouthed something, but no sound came out. Fortunately, Jiang Ziying had studied lip-reading; otherwise, she would have thought he was simply moving his lips.
He said just three words: “Go find him.”
What “him”? Who was “him”? Was it a he, she, or even an it?
Was it just childish nonsense, or some kind of clue? Could it be connected to an old unresolved murder case nearby, with the child as an inadvertent witness trying to hint at a key detail?
On a whim, Jiang Ziying looked down at the painting.
Go find him…
Author Notes:
PS: The first clue in Ji Si’s daily “identity-exposure” saga, the “painting,” is now in place. Dear children, keep up the good work and aim for even better drawing skills!
PS (from Si Nuocheng): Actually, the proper way to use a protective circle is to redraw it on the ground, step inside, and fire up a Gatling gun: rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat! That way, we combine metaphysical defense with scientific exorcism. Perfect synergy.
Ji Si: …
