Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Bian Hong's hand had only lightly brushed against Rong Feng when the man suddenly startled awake, jerking his head up from the stone platform.

His eyes were bloodshot. He was dazed for a long moment before seeming to finally come to his senses, staring blankly at Bian Hong, who had turned to look down at him.

Then, just as Bian Hong was about to withdraw his hand, Rong Feng suddenly seized it and held on tight, pressing it gently back against his own cheek.

Rong Feng stared at him for a long time, afraid that this was all still an illusion from his dreams. He frantically felt for the pulse at Bian Hong's wrist—thankfully, it was still beating steady as ever.

Bian Hong, on the other hand, gave the man a small smile.

And so the weight pressing down on Rong Feng's chest finally broke loose. He couldn't hold it in anymore. Gripping Bian Hong's hand, he bent forward, pressing his forehead against Bian Hong's shoulder, gasping for breath.

Bian Hong raised his other arm and slowly rested his hand on top of Rong Feng's head, gently comforting him. Then his gaze drifted off toward the bright sunlight spilling into the cave.

After the spring rain, everything came back to life.

Bian Hong had just woken up and was still somewhat weak, but the fierce plague had completely left his body. In fact, the rare herbs and miraculous flowers he'd taken over the past few days had even healed some of the old hidden injuries he'd carried for years.

He felt light and at ease, as if all the foul qi in him had been purged along with the black water he'd been vomiting for days.

Bian Hong knew he'd caught the plague, but he had no idea how he'd been cured. Ever since he'd passed out, even his memories of entering Mieming Mountain were patchy—day and night blurred, reality and dreams indistinguishable.

But the moment he opened his eyes and saw Rong Feng, he knew how agonizing it must have been.

This man had always been strong, steady, and self-reliant in front of him. When had he ever looked so wrecked and defeated? Now he was hunched over beside Bian Hong, his body trembling slightly.

Bian Hong didn't know how to comfort people. His life had never given him the chance to learn such a caring skill. What little he knew, he'd picked up from Yuan Ding and Guan Bao.

But those two kids had long stopped needing his comfort—sometimes they even comforted him, their big brother.

So in the end, he cleared his throat and managed to rasp out one full sentence.

"I... I'm hungry."

Bian Hong didn't know that those three words alone were enough to snap the man right out of it. Before long, Rong Feng was bustling around, building a fire and getting food ready.

The dried rations they'd brought had long since gone soggy from the damp, becoming inedible. But Rong Feng didn't waste the ruined flatbreads either. Instead, he took a few of them and stepped out of the cave, found a relatively dry patch of ground beneath the trees, crumbled the breads and scattered them on the ground. Then he grabbed a rock and hid nearby, waiting.

Bian Hong had felt a little awkward after saying "hungry" just now, but Rong Feng helped him up and fed him a small bowl of water. Then, when the man opened the bundle and pulled out a few damp flatbreads, Bian Hong figured they were for him.

He'd already opened his mouth, ready to eat, only to watch Rong Feng take the breads and head out of the cave.

Bian Hong blinked, then slowly closed his mouth again.

The man was only gone a short while. When he returned, he was carrying two wild pheasants with bright, colorful feathers. He walked over to Bian Hong and pulled out half a gnarled ginseng root with thick, healthy root hairs from the bundle.

Just from the remaining half, you could tell it was an extremely rare treasure. If taken outside, it would be used to keep the dying alive—practically worth its weight in gold.

Bian Hong's guess was right. These past days, his life had been held together by that now-gone half of an old ginseng root.

And now, with his body weak after recovery, a bowl of "ginseng chicken soup" was just what he needed.

Rong Feng worked fast. Before long, the ginseng and chicken were in the pot. Hardly any seasoning was needed—the birds, raised deep in the mountains on insects and wild fruit, were already flavorful enough.

The medicine pot over the fire had also lost its original purpose. The steam rising from it was no longer bitter and sharp, but filled with the smell of food, making your mouth water.

At first, Bian Hong couldn't even hold the bowl of broth on his own. Rong Feng had to hold him up and feed him spoonful by spoonful. Later, with the soup's nourishment, he gradually regained enough strength to climb down from the stone platform, sit by the fire with Rong Feng, and split a chicken leg each.

Bian Hong recovered remarkably fast. By that evening, he was already able to go out for a walk.

He pushed himself so hard because time was short.

Even though this place was a paradise, out beyond the mountains, people were still suffering from the plague, waiting for Rong Feng and Bian Hong to bring back the medicine and walk out of Mieming Mountain alive.

And so, under the moonlight, the two of them gathered the tender new shoots that had sprouted from the vines after the spring rain across the great valley.

Rong Feng wouldn't let Bian Hong set foot in the cold, wet, rain-and-snow-soaked mountain terrain to pick the vines. He only told him to pick enough of what grew inside the cave.

Anything more, they couldn't carry back anyway. The snow in the mountains was melting fast, and the snow sled could no longer glide as easily as it had in winter, no matter how much it carried—now it would get caught on exposed roots and dead grass.

And so, almost in a rush, on the second day after Bian Hong's recovery, the two of them dragged the wooden sledge that Rong Feng had hastily lashed together, loaded with a large quantity of vines, and headed out of the mountains.

Before leaving the cave, Rong Feng piously arranged stones at the entrance into a small stone altar, the kind used for offerings beneath the Mountain Lord's stone. It was quite simple—just stacking stones to support one another in a triangular pile, with a flat stone slab placed on top.

Rong Feng took the medicinal wine that the old physician had given them for stimulating circulation and relaxing tendons, poured it into a medicine cup, and placed it steadily on the altar. Then he bowed and performed the ritual of offering.

Bian Hong also imitated Rong Feng's manner and properly paid his respects to the Mountain Lord.

Although he had never seen the Mountain Lord's true form, from Rong Feng's descriptions, it was an extraordinarily majestic and fierce creature, covered in resplendent patterned fur—the very embodiment of the mountain's "spirit."

Bian Hong guessed it might be a tiger, because he had discovered a few strands of yellow-and-black banded fur among the soft dry grass on the stone platform inside the cave.

So this was very likely one of the Mountain Lord's dwelling places within Mieming Mountain—otherwise, where else would there be such a structurally exquisite cave and a stone platform cushioned with soft grass?

But Rong Feng shook his head, believing the Mountain Lord was not a tiger, perhaps merely a tiger-like creature. After all, he had never truly come into close contact with it either.

But regardless of what species it was, the two of them were filled with nothing but gratitude and reverence. Before leaving the cave, Bian Hong cleaned and wiped every corner inside and out, even replenishing the stone platform with softer, fluffier grass before they departed.

And not long after the two had left, a great beast truly did emerge with imposing bearing from the sparse, slanting forest, leisurely returning to this cave. It paced through every corner, sniffing carefully.

Finally, it shook its gleaming fur, picked up the medicinal wine from the stone altar in its mouth, turned around, and lay back down on the freshly padded stone platform. Lowering its massive head, it licked at the wine in the cup with satisfaction.

And that stone platform, which had only been half-occupied when Rong Feng and Bian Hong lay on it together, was now filled to exactly the right size by this great beast—though perhaps, as it grew larger with age, this den was already beginning to feel cramped.

But that was of no concern. It possessed many such hidden sanctuaries tucked away in the mountain's secluded valleys. Vast as Mieming Mountain was, there was nowhere it could not go...

And as for Rong Feng and Bian Hong, already on their way down the mountain, they would have no chance to witness such a sight.

Rong Feng, using the sun and the lay of the terrain and forests, had calculated his approximate position within the mountain. Then, picking a direction, he dragged the sledge forward.

Bian Hong wanted to help Rong Feng pull the sledge, but the man simply wrapped him up tightly and then placed him into the pile of vines instead. Bian Hong realized that not only had he failed to help pull the sledge, he had actually climbed onto it himself—adding to Rong Feng's burden.

Bian Hong tried to get up, but Rong Feng ahead of him was utterly unreasonable. He pulled the sledge behind him at a brisk pace, and Bian Hong couldn't even manage to stand.

In the end, he gave up, sighed, and burrowed himself back into the vines.

And the further they went, the more familiar the scenery became to Bian Hong—it seemed to be the territory they had patrolled when he and Rong Feng had entered the mountains in winter.

Except then it had been covered in thick snow. Now the mountain ridges and valleys were gradually cloaked in light green, no longer bearing the austere, killing aura of winter's silver-clad landscape.

Everywhere was filled with the vitality of spring, all things competing to burst forth. Bian Hong even spotted that troop of golden monkeys in the distance—their numbers seemed to have grown—still swinging freely among the treetops of the mountain wilds.

That afternoon, after resting for a while, they continued their journey home. During a break, Rong Feng crouched by a clear stream, using the water's reflection to shave his beard and trim his sideburns. He was once again restored to his former vigor and spirit.

And he seemed even more steady and reserved than before, carrying a kind of settled, masculine bearing.

Bian Hong couldn't quite articulate it. He felt that Rong Feng had changed, but it was a very subjective impression.

But when the man walked over to him, lowering his head beneath the dappled shade of the trees and gazing at him with those mismatched brown-and-blue eyes, Bian Hong felt like everything was just as it had always been.

The farther they walked, the more familiar everything felt to Bian Hong, especially when they dragged the sled toward the familiar jumble of rocks.

The rock pile was formed by countless stones of varying sizes stacked together, and there were often leftover winter moths hiding in there—plump and full of protein in late winter and early spring, making them the favorite food of many animals just waking from hibernation.

Especially bears.

In that short time, Bian Hong had already spotted at least three bears clawing at the rock pile in search of moths to eat.

Bears aren't friendly with each other, and they'll attack each other if they get too close—especially mother bears with cubs, which give birth during hibernation and then produce milk for their cubs to nurse and grow.

But such mother bears usually end up thinner and weaker, because raising cubs uses up more energy, and when spring comes and they wake up, they're starving and even crankier.

Though these creatures wouldn't harm Rong Feng and Bian Hong as they passed by, the two still walked more carefully.

Only when Rong Feng suddenly stopped in front of a rock pile did Bian Hong finally get the chance to stand up from the sled. He quickly pushed himself up, got off the sled, and started to walk ahead to help the man pull the vines.

But as soon as he reached his side, he too stopped in his tracks, just like Rong Feng, silently gazing at the jumbled pile of rocks ahead.

There, under the piled-up boulders, lay a gaunt mother bear.

The two quickly set down what they were carrying and cautiously approached step by step, planning to help.

But when they got closer, they realized the mother bear had been dead for a while. A winter of hibernation and nursing had used up all the fat that protected her body. Perhaps while she was clawing at the rocks for moths, the already unstable pile collapsed and crushed her.

Without the cushion of fat, the massive stones had snapped her breastbone, killing her on the spot in the midst of her search for food.

This was a common thing in these mountains—just the cycle of life and death.

But what Bian Hong couldn't get over was that nestled beside the mother bear, who'd been dead for who knows how long, was a furry cub.

Perhaps because it had gone too long without its mother's milk, its fur was already messy from hunger, yet it had never left her side. At that moment, it was curled up, pressing tightly against the mother bear's already cold body.

Then it blinked its big eyes and looked shyly at the two humans coming toward it.

Bian Hong stood there for a long while, then finally looked up at Rong Feng.

Rong Feng let out a sigh, carefully stepped forward among the scattered rocks, and reached out to scoop up the cub that was still clinging to its mother.

Suddenly pulled away from its mother, the cub waved its fleshy paws and let out whining cries.

It wasn't until Rong Feng placed it into Bian Hong's warm arms that, after a moment of settling, it finally nestled in and stopped moving.

Bian Hong held the cub—thin from hunger but still heavy in his arms—and bounced it gently.

"Can we keep it?"

Looking at Bian Hong, who raised his face with hopeful eyes, Rong Feng couldn't say anything else. He simply nodded.

"We can."