In 1963, floods and droughts swept across the land simultaneously. People suffered from crop failures and were driven from their homes. For a land that had nurtured five thousand years of brilliant civilization, it was no different from any other year, yet for many people, disaster-stricken or not, this year seemed exceptionally long.
Changsha was a city that had suffered greatly during the years of war, but fortunately, she was bursting with vibrant vitality, much like this nation that had risen from the ashes.
In stark contrast, a certain group of people—or rather, nine prominent families—was transitioning from glory to decline. Known as the "Nine Gates", perhaps to reverse this plight or perhaps to counter enemies lurking in the shadows, in 1962 they mobilized nearly all their strength to launch the largest tomb-roiding expedition in history at Four Girls Mountain.
Yet for over a year, the results were meager, and instead they suffered heavy casualties, losing a vast number of men. Among them, the last patriarch of the Zhang Family and the final Kirin also vanished without a trace during this operation. The Nine Gates had no choice but to return to Changsha with the remaining personnel, thoroughly disgraced.
Buddha sat in the main hall, listening to the report from his adjutant, Zhang Rishan, while the heads of the Nine Gates families sat on either side. His voice was gentle yet powerful, but the content was enough to infuriate anyone. It was hardly surprising, given the heavy casualties and complete lack of results, yet out of deference to Buddha, no one dared to vent their anger.
Having finally dismissed the family heads, Zhang Rishan watched as Buddha furrowed his brow and asked, "Have they been found?"
Zhang Rishan lowered his head, looking somewhat dejected. "No, but one thing is certain: he is still alive."
Zhang Rishan glanced up, sensing a faint, inexplicable melancholy lingering about Buddha.
Without a word, Zhang Jianshan walked slowly out into the courtyard and looked up at the starry sky.
After a long silence, he sighed, "The Nine Gates..."
...
In early 1964, compared to the drought on the Loess Plateau, Liujia Village in the Jiangnan region enjoyed favorable weather and smooth harvests.
A man named Zhang Xilin had moved to Liujia Village last year, bringing along his son and daughter-in-law, claiming they were refugees fleeing a disaster. After consulting with the clan elders, the village head settled their family in a remote corner at the eastern end of the village. There stood two old houses that had been vacant for years, and by cultivating a few patches of land nearby, they could barely scrape by.
And so, the family settled down in Liujia Village.
In the blink of an eye, it was the summer of 1965.
After finishing dinner, Zhang Xilin watched his son and daughter-in-law sitting in a daze on the threshold, his thoughts drifting involuntarily into the distance.
He thought of his youth spent practicing Daoism on Mount Longhu—the most unforgettable chapter of his life. He thought of his master, Zhang Jingqing, his closest senior brothers on Mount Longhu, Zhang Zhiwei and Tian Jinzhong, as well as his fourth brother, Wugensheng, and his sworn brothers...
He had thought he would spend the rest of his life living in hiding like that, but through a strange twist of fate, he had rescued two unconscious people suffering from injuries. The young woman was fine; she knew she was a disciple of Mochi Garden. Although he had never heard of the sect, she seemed well-educated and refined. The young man, however, was harder to figure out. All they knew was that his name was Zhang Qiling, and he could remember absolutely nothing else.
First, both of them were gravely wounded, so leaving them behind didn't seem quite right. Second, his secluded mountainous forest was sparsely populated, so keeping them around was no trouble at all; they could simply keep each other company.
And so the two stayed by his side, inquiring about the Mochi Garden sect while recovering from their injuries. It was only the year before, once they had fully healed, that they moved here with him under the guise of his son and daughter-in-law—a cover that looked completely natural to any outsider.
On the surface, the two were right in the prime of their youth, and logically speaking, there was no way they would willingly content themselves with hiding away in the countryside and mountains alongside an old man.
Yet the man named Zhang Qiling not only suffered from amnesia, failing to remember even where he had fled from, but he was also naturally taciturn and quiet.
In his spare time, he could sit there in a daze for an entire day, barely retaining any memory of what had happened in the past, and even carrying a slight sense of carefree contentment about him. Every sunrise, Zhang Xilin would spend a while practicing seated meditation, and Zhang Qiling would follow suit—though he neither meditated nor did morning exercises, simply sitting there blankly until Zhang Xilin stood up to go work the fields, at which point he would quietly follow along.
And what about Mo Shanshan? Originally living a peaceful life at Mochi Garden copying the famous Chicken Soup Calligraphy scrolls from the Tang Kingdom, in the blink of an eye she found herself plunged into this deep mountain wilderness. Not only had her cultivation vanished entirely, but she was also inexplicably hunted down.
Fortunately, as a grand talisman master, even without cultivation her physical combat skills remained. Though somewhat battered, she had managed to escape with her life.
Yet in such a vast world, where was she supposed to go? Especially with that group of relentless enemies hot on her heels. It was then that she crossed paths with Zhang Qiling, who was likewise being hunted.
Only, he had looked utterly wretched—without even a pair of shoes, wearing nothing but tattered rags, looking as though he had been hauled straight out of a mud pit. Yet his eyes were astonishingly clear, so pure that he hardly seemed like a mortal of this dust-laden world.
What was even more baffling was that despite his condition, there was no foul odor on him!
Then she glanced down at herself. Her clothes were still relatively intact—at least they weren't rags—but after being hunted for days on end, her very life was in mortal peril, let alone taking a bath. She was covered in a foul stench, and even her beautiful large cloak was long gone, with no idea where she had lost it.
Comparing the two, they were actually in equally miserable states. Yet as strangers who had merely crossed paths by chance, it was obviously impossible for them to pour their hearts out to one another. Thus, by unspoken mutual consent, the two chose to ignore each other and continued hiding from their respective pursuers.
Their second encounter took place in a cave while taking shelter from the rain. Days of continuous downpours had washed away all traces, throwing her relentless pursuers off her trail and finally giving her a chance to catch her breath.
When she arrived at the cave, Zhang Qiling had already lit a campfire. Pale-faced and shivering, she approached the warmth of the fire, bowed respectfully to Zhang Qiling, and asked, "Pardon the intrusion. May I sit here for a while?"
Hearing this, Zhang Qiling merely raised his head to look at her, uttered a faint "Mn," and said nothing more, nor did he look at her again.
Mo Shanshan bowed once more in gratitude and quietly seated herself beside the campfire.
After a long while, the warmth of the fire finally dispelled some of the chill in her body. Feeling perhaps a bit awkward, Mo Shanshan looked at the man across from her and asked softly, "I am Mo Shanshan, hailing from Mochi Garden. I was driven here by pursuers. Thank you for taking me in. May I ask your esteemed surname?"
"Zhang Qiling."
Mo Shanshan waited for him to continue, but the man simply stated his name and fell completely silent.
She did not press further, instead gathering some dried grass to spread on the ground and lying down upon it. The dim firelight illuminated her pale face and slender figure, giving the deceptive impression of extreme fragility.
She felt no confusion as to why she had let down her guard—perhaps he simply possessed a quality that naturally inspired a sense of security. In any case, after being hunted for so long, she could finally sleep soundly at last.
...
Early the next morning, the moment she woke up, she saw Zhang Qiling sitting there in a daze. Struggling to sit up, her head felt heavy and dizzy, and her throat burned like fire, as if every ounce of strength had been drained from her body.
After catching her breath, she noticed that the campfire from the night before was still burning fiercely, while beside the sitting man lay a large pile of firewood, and his body bore numerous additional cuts and scrapes. Remembering the faint sounds of fighting she had dimly heard the previous night, she found it hard to imagine that this stranger she had met by chance had kept watch over her like this for the entire night.