Chapter 124: Return to the Mountain

The sky was overcast, heavy black clouds hanging low as if they could be touched.

Qin Qing sat in the airport lounge, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the armrest.

Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, she stared blankly at the leaden clouds. They looked like a pack of beasts lying in wait, ready to pounce at any moment.

“Don’t worry, the flight won’t be affected.”

Shi Jiang’s voice pulled her back to reality.

A steaming cup of coffee was handed to her. Qin Qing took it, the warmth of the cup seeping into her hands and offering a quiet sense of comfort.

She took a sip. It was a little too hot, the bitterness hitting her tongue first before the rich aroma spread through her mouth.

“Probably just nerves from the past few weeks, and I haven’t been sleeping well,” Qin Qing said, setting down the coffee and tearing open a pack of whole wheat bread. “Lately I’ve been feeling anxious for no reason.” She tore off a small piece and popped it into her mouth.

Compared to the airport restaurant’s food—adjusted to suit the general palate but stripped of any real character—these baked goods at least offered a consistent taste.

Shi Jiang sat down beside her, having swapped shifts with another security colleague who’d gone to the restroom.

“I’ll schedule a check-up for you when we get back.”

“No need,” Qin Qing shook her head. A few crumbs and nuts had fallen onto her lap from the bread, and she picked them up and ate them.

Long-term experience had proven that modern medical checkups were far less intuitive and accurate than the health metrics on her System Panel.

Ever since the Tag Function was developed, she had set a fixed tag that would immediately alert her if any of her health indicators dropped abnormally.

Across from her, an older man was playing the news on speaker from his phone. The volume was a bit too loud for Qin Qing’s liking.

She couldn’t help but hear the news anchor clearly reading off a long list of officials who had been dismissed for serious disciplinary violations.

“Maybe it’s just me,” she said, taking another bite of bread, “but it feels like the crackdown’s gotten more intense lately. There’s more news like this than before…” Mid-sentence, she noticed the strange look Shi Jiang was giving her. “Wait, what’s with that face?”

Shi Jiang grabbed another bag of bread, but instead of opening it, she started kneading it repeatedly in her hands.

“You seriously have no self-awareness? You really don’t know why?”

Qin Qing looked genuinely confused. “Decisions at that level? It’d be weird if I did know.”

Shi Jiang’s hands worked the bread more forcefully. The soft loaf was crushed and deformed inside the packaging, gradually compressed into a dense, doughy lump.

Only then did she tear open the bag and take a fierce bite out of the unappetizing mass, speaking with her mouth full, “You’ve forgotten how many lists you’ve submitted? Pulling one thread unravels the whole web. Every name on those lists drags out a whole chain of others.”

She took another big bite. In no time, the once fluffy bread was down to a third of its size.

Qin Qing quickly looked away, afraid that watching any longer would ruin her appetite.

No matter how many times she saw it, she still couldn’t understand Shi Jiang’s “violent” treatment of bread.

Shi Jiang had always disliked bread, complaining that it took up too much space and wasn’t filling enough. Eating it felt like “drinking air”—completely incapable of satisfying hunger in the short term.

So whenever she had no choice but to eat bread, she would always put it through this “physical processing” first.

The old man’s phone continued to blare the news…

Qin Qing blinked and summoned the System Panel that only she could see. It hovered quietly at the center of her vision.

Suddenly, a long-forgotten chill crept up her spine—she realized just how terrifying she had become.

When had it started? When had she become someone who could alter the course of others’ lives?

Those once-distant high-ranking figures, people an ordinary citizen like her could never dream of touching, were now facing investigation because of a few sheets of A4 paper she casually submitted. Those seemingly weightless documents carried enough gravity to change lives.

Qin Qing slowly raised her hands, palms up.

These hands, which looked so ordinary, now held unimaginable power. A question she hadn’t thought about in a long time resurfaced: Why had the System Panel chosen her? What did it ultimately want her to do?

The silent System Panel offered no answer.

Outside, the clouds still hung low. The lights in the departure hall cast blurred reflections on the glass, merging her silhouette with the churning sky, indistinguishable from one another.

The flight, as predicted, was not delayed.

On the plane, amid the roar of the engines, Qin Qing dozed off. She vaguely remembered dreaming—something important.

But when she fully woke, she couldn’t recall a thing.

She knew it had only been a dream, but the feeling left behind was still deeply unsettling.

At the baggage carousel, a girl’s suitcase was too heavy. As she tried to lift it, she misjudged the force, and the suitcase swung out, slamming into Qin Qing’s shin before falling to the floor. A sharp jolt of pain made her instinctively reach down to touch the spot.

The girl hurried to apologize.

Qin Qing crouched down, burying her face in her knees.

She didn’t respond, leaving Shi Jiang to handle the conversation.

Another security officer squatted beside her. “Does it hurt a lot? Let me check if the bone’s okay.”

Still curled up, Qin Qing shook her head and gave the officer a push.

But he had a solid stance. Even with her sudden force, he didn’t budge.

She still didn’t speak.

Not because of the pain.

It was the growing, unshakable anxiety gnawing at her from within.

She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, her tone would come out wrong—that her words would become sharp blades, wounding the girl who meant no harm, or the security team that had been running nonstop at her side.

Seeing their charge curled up on the floor, unmoving, the two male security officers exchanged a glance and signaled to Shi Jiang.

As a woman and someone who had spent more time with Qin Qing, Shi Jiang had the advantage of familiarity.

Receiving the silent plea for help, Shi Jiang knelt down on one knee and placed a hand on Qin Qing’s back.

A muffled voice came from Qin Qing.

“Don’t mind me. Just let me be for a while.”

Shi Jiang withdrew her hand and stood up, positioning herself with the other two colleagues in a triangle around Qin Qing, shielding her as she sat curled on the floor.

Time passed. The luggage carousel spun on, empty. All the travelers had already left.

Only then did Qin Qing rise to her feet.

Expressionless, she walked toward the exit.

“Woof woof woof…”

Amid the crowd waiting to pick up arrivals, she unexpectedly spotted Mumu!

The warm little body leapt into her arms, and that familiar furry scent—equal parts fragrant and musty—instantly soothed Qin Qing.

Mumu squirmed uncomfortably in her embrace, trying repeatedly to lick her face. Qin Qing kept pressing him down like a game of whack-a-mole.

Frustrated, Mumu barked in protest.

Qin Qing burst out laughing.

Mumu had come with Zhang Yao to pick her up. Once he saw Qin Qing, he refused to walk on his own and insisted on being carried.

Qin Qing hoisted him up with practiced ease, immediately noticing he’d put on some weight.

Qin Qing: “…”

You really don’t have to pretend you missed me that much.

She looked down at Mumu. His beady eyes looked right back at her.

Along with Zhang Yao, another figure had come to meet her—a young man in a Daoist robe, hair tied in a topknot. It was Little Daoist Star River, the grand-disciple of Daoist Wuwang.

Holding a lollipop between his lips, Xinghe spotted Qin Qing and the others, then rummaged through his cloth satchel and offered them each a lollipop. Shi Jiang and the others declined, but Qin Qing picked an apple-flavored one.

Xinghe stuffed the rest back into his bag.

He said, “My grand-aunt Wuyong said you were back, so my grandmaster sent me down the mountain right away to pick you up. The free clinic is piled with medical cases waiting for your help. How about coming up the mountain with me tonight?”

Qin Qing didn’t respond.

Xinghe didn’t press. He simply said, “This time of year, the mountain’s really lovely. The jacarandas and hydrangeas are in full bloom, and the fruit’s ripe too. Our temple’s orchard is bursting with cherries, mulberries, loquats—branches heavy with them.

The early red plums will be ready in another half month. But Master Wu Tun says they’re best when they’re just turning yellow—perfect for cold dishes…”

Qin Qing turned to Zhang Yao. “I came back to rest anyway. I’ll take Mumu and stay up on the mountain for a few days.”

She could tell she wasn’t in the best state. Being up there might help.

Zhang Yao glanced at Xinghe.

Xinghe grinned around his lollipop, flashing a row of big white teeth.

Zhang Yao said to Qin Qing, “Let them go with you too.” He was referring to Shi Jiang and the others.

“Just Shi Jiang is enough. The monk’s quarters are limited, and she can share a room with me.”

Xinghe nodded enthusiastically. “Too many pilgrims at the temple.”

And so it was settled.

Two people and a dog rode up the mountain in Xinghe’s beat-up pickup truck.

The sky hadn’t fully darkened yet, but dusk had already brought mist to Jinyun Mountain. The Taoist temple nestled within looked like it was veiled in a sheer blue curtain.

Bronze wind chimes on the temple eaves trembled softly in the evening breeze, startling a few gray magpies returning to their nests.

As Xinghe drove the old pickup through the mountain gate, Qin Qing caught the scent in the air—sandalwood mingled with the freshness of grass and trees. It was the signature fragrance of Baiyun Temple, calming and serene.

It wasn’t until they entered the temple grounds that Qin Qing realized what Xinghe had meant by “too many pilgrims.”

Though it was already eight in the evening, the temple was still bustling. Judging by their attire and demeanor, many of the people clearly planned to stay overnight.

Qin Qing returned to the same monk’s quarters she had stayed in before.

The old persimmon tree in the courtyard had begun to bloom. It was the first time Qin Qing had seen persimmon flowers—small, yellowish-white blossoms with inward-curved petals, each one like a tiny bell.

They didn’t have much scent, but bees buzzed busily around them nonetheless.

After watching the bees for a while, Qin Qing went inside to bathe and changed into a dark blue Daoist robe. The linen-cotton fabric, washed many times, was soft and comfortable.

Her hair was still damp when Xinghe came to call her for dinner.

Qin Qing casually broke off a twig of persimmon flowers and twisted it into a little bun on top of her head.

Outside the carved wooden windows of the dining hall, a few small birds pecked at rice bran scattered in a bamboo trough. They didn’t fly away when people approached, completely at ease.

It wasn’t a mealtime, but the dining hall was already full.

The dishes had been made personally by Master Wu Tun.

Braised spring bamboo shoots in oil, dry-fried green beans, stir-fried fava beans, chilled red amaranth, pickled bracken, tofu soup with rapeseed blossoms, and a large plate of wild vegetable sticky rice cakes.

Wu Tun stood by the table, eyes crinkled in a smile.

He slid the bamboo shoots toward Qin Qing. “The rest are fine, but these shoots are especially tender. If you hadn’t come back now, you’d have to wait until next year to taste them.”

Naturally, Qin Qing savored them carefully. Master Wu Tun’s cooking was as reliable as ever—delicious and well-balanced.

Shi Jiang, however, didn’t seem to appreciate the seasonal spring dishes.

She scooped a large bowl of rice, dumped several dishes and some soup on top, and stirred it all together. The resulting mess looked exactly like the contents of Mumu’s dog bowl beside the table.

Qin Qing was used to it. Master Wu Tun, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to say something but held back. In the end, he simply turned away and moved his chair closer to Qin Qing.

After finishing her bowl of food-slurry, Shi Jiang focused on the sticky rice cakes—probably because they were more filling than the vegetarian dishes.

The bright lights of the dining hall drew curious pilgrims wandering the temple grounds. Someone poked their head in and asked, “Is it still possible to get dinner?”

Without even looking up, Wu Tun replied, “The dining hall stops serving at seven. No food left.”

The incense pilgrim looked displeased, his eyes practically saying, “Before you lie through your teeth, could you at least clean up the scene first?”

No matter how they questioned him, Daoist Wutun insisted there was nothing.

Eventually, the pilgrim was dragged away by his companion. Daoist Wutun even got up to shut the dining hall door and slid the bolt into place.

He came back and said, “They can’t get in now. Focus on your meal.”

The door could keep out the pilgrims, but not the master of the Taoist Temple.

The Old Celestial Master knocked on the dining hall door.

Behind him, a young disciple was carrying a large basket.

The Old Celestial Master slowly took a seat, fingering a string of prayer beads. “Having a meal, are we?”

He gestured for the disciple to open the bamboo basket, revealing a cluttered assortment of items inside.

“Heard you were coming back, so the others put together a few things for you,” the Old Celestial Master said as he stroked his beard, introducing each item one by one. “This is a new incense blend from Junior Martial Brother Wujiu—light one stick tonight to keep the mosquitoes away and help you sleep. This honey was harvested from the hive managed by Martial Grand-Nephew Xingcai…”