Life: A Black and White Film

Author: Mo Bao Fei Bao

Description:
Wen Han has arrived in Nepal on vacation and, as a Buddhist believer, also a pilgrimage.
But very shortly after entering the borders, she runs in again into someone she had had one
encounter with six months ago, hundreds of miles away on the far-off Tibetan Plateau. He,
at the time, had been a monk. But now, when she saw him, he had returned to the secular
life and carried a gun on him.
She inadvertently gets to know this man, Cheng Muyun, more, and each time, as another
layer of him is revealed, she is both terrified and drawn to him. A rogue? A criminal? Or
something else? Dangerous, yes. Yet, he can be so tender. But always magnetic.
With each step closer that she gets to him, though, Wen Han, an ordinary, 1/4-Chinese girl
from Moscow, is drawn more into a dangerous, frightening world she had never before
imagined. And with each step, as she understands this man named Cheng Muyun more, her
heart falls more for him, deeper and deeper, until the thought of being apart from him is
too hard to bear. But, they are fated to separate—from the very first day, he had told her
that.
 Prologue
Who First Awakens from the Great Dream? The Life I Have Led Only I Myself Know

"Who first awakens from the Great Dream? The life I have led only I myself know."
"Oh?" He was surprised. "Venerable Lama, you have read the story of the ‘Three Visits to
the Thatched Cottage’?"
The venerable old monk continued, "Life is like a dream. Only you know the things you
have done, be they good or bad. Am I correct in my interpretation?"
"That is correct." He lowered his lids slightly, concealing behind his eyelashes the glint in
his eyes.
"Many of the stories you all have are very interesting." The venerable old monk looked at
him. "Young person, as this line says, whether you did evil or good in your past is
something only you know. Why are you here? When shall you leave? These are things you
need not tell me."
The venerable old monk smiled.
The surroundings fell into silence.
Cheng Muyun sat for a short while and then rose to his feet, leaving the old monk's side.
Alone, he passed through door after low door, walking along section after section of a stone
pathway that was sprinkled with sunshine, until at last he stepped in through the doors of a
meditation hall.
The monasteries here were always dimly lit. Inside, sunlight was practically unseen.
There was only the light of butter lamps.
Young lamas were all sitting on knee-high platforms, silently chanting, and behind them
were hundreds of thangkas and wall paintings. All around, there were corridors that were
two persons wide. This was a remote place, and only in the best times of the afternoon
would there occasionally be backpackers coming in. The backpackers and the young monks
seemed as if they existed in two different worlds, and in the dim yellow light cast by the
butter lamps, they peered at and surveyed each other.
Only he lowered his eyes, brushing past these few travelers.
In the eyes of these travelers, he, with a red dhonka garbing his upper body and a maroon
zhen wrapped over it, was merely a lama who was already in adulthood, and his only
difference from those young lamas was his age.
He stepped out of the main hall and carried on walking, following the stone path.
Cheng Muyun.
Why did you come here? Why did you persuade the old lama to let you hide here under the
identity of a monk?
The answers to all these only you know.
You once walked back up from the pit of hell, crossing mountains of daggers and seas of
flame before you could stand here in this place. If everything in this world is merely an
illusion, then all those people who have all along wanted to take your life and all those
people who have all along wanted you to save their lives, when will they dissipate away?
All of a sudden, a golden light flashed in front of his eyes.
Reflexively, he turned his head to the side to look. Beside that line of prayer wheels, there
was a girl wearing a white sun hat. Her right hand slid over the row of prayer wheels as she
murmured something in a quiet voice only she could hear.
Cheng Muyun, with the sun behind him, watched the entire time as she drew nearer in
front of him. His entire body maintained a guarded state that was poised and ready to
spring at any moment. The sharp blade that he carried for protection slid from his arm
down to his palm. The girl finally finished spinning the last prayer wheel. When she lifted
her head and noticed him, she gave a very friendly smile and, bringing her palms together
reverently, bowed to him in a respectful, ceremonial greeting. "Good after-midday, lama."
Her accent was very strange, and her word choice was even stranger, like a foreigner who
was learning Chinese.
However, her facial features looked Chinese.
Pagodas stood numerously like a forest. Chants of mantras resonated endlessly.
Cheng Muyun, his back to the sun, slowly brought his palms together, the blade concealed
between his hands, and gave a slight nod in her direction. His motions carried no sound,
not even the noise of clothing rubbing against itself.
This was the Cheng Muyun that Wen Han saw in their first meeting.
At the time, she had thought that he truly was a lama. Later, she learned the truth… She still
felt that Cheng Muyun had the greatest enlightenment and understanding—the greatest
Buddha-nature—in a man that she had ever seen. But he was also like a snake. In Nepal,
there is a type of snake that has a slender neck, facial pits beside its mouth, and a red tail,
and it often wraps itself deep into the densely growing branches. To her, Cheng Muyun was
like such a snake—a coiled snake sleeping soundly and alone.
No evil could come near to him. No fear of gods or demons did he hold.
 Lama means "teacher" or "guru." Strictly speaking, it is used to refer to a respected
spiritual teacher, but has come to be used as an honorific for Tibetan monks in general.
In the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the story is told of how Liu Bei thrice visited the
thatched cottage of Zhuge Liang, hoping to persuade Zhuge Liang to be his strategist. After
two unsuccessful visits where he does not even get to see Zhuge Liang, on the third visit,
the man is home but sleeping, so Liu Bei patiently waits for him to rouse. This story is what
is known as the “Three Visits to the Thatched Cottage.” The line, “Who first awakens from
the Great Dream? The life I have led only I myself know,” is quoting from the poem that
Zhuge Liang says when he awakens. In the poem, the Great Dream is referring to life, that it
is merely like a dream, an illusion. But how many people truly understand this and know
the life they have led as well as the world as it is?

酥油灯 "su you deng." Butter lamps are a ritual item of Tibetan Buddhist temples and
monasteries. Traditionally, clarified yak butter was burned but nowadays, vegetable oil or
vegetable ghee is commonly used.
A thangka is an art form of Tibetan Buddhism. It is used to record and depict a Buddhist
message or philosophy. It is a multi-layered scroll consisting of a painting (or sometimes
embroidery) mounted on textile and then covered with silk to protect it.
A dhonka is one of the garments making up the basic monastic robe of a Tibetan monk. It is
a wrap shirt with cap sleeves, generally a maroon color or maroon and yellow accented
with blue piping.
A zhen is one of the garments making up the basic monastic robe of a Tibetan monk. It is a
maroon wrap for everyday wear that is worn on the upper body.
 Chapter 1 – They Meet Again in Nepal

Half a year later, in the Himalayas.

"September and October are Nepal's rainy season. Also low season for tourists." In shoddy
English, the driver was explaining things to them. "Very few people… Must go to the inn I
recommend to you. My good friend owns it."
Actually, all four of the customers inside this vehicle also had very shoddy English.
Two were Russians, the other two were ethnic Chinese who were born and raised in
Russia. When shoddy skills meet shoddy skills, the advantage is that "I get what you're
saying and you understand what I'm saying"—everyone is happy.
Right now, outside the window, the rain was coming down in torrents and had turned this
international highway that led to Nepal into a muddy mess.
Though it was called an international highway, it could not even compare to the winding
mountain road in China's Tibet she had travelled back then.
Through the rain-stained glass, Wen Han's gaze fell on the backpackers by the roadside.
Due to the heavy rain, many people were beginning to abandon their vehicles and, with
their large bags upon their backs, proceed by foot along the foot of the Himalayas.
"From what I can see, you will need to get off the car soon, too." The driver sighed, "India
and China have sandwiched Nepal in between them and restrict Nepal in everything. India
won't even let them fix up a road and make it into a good one."
"You're saying the Indian government is imposing restrictions?" Sitting behind the driver,
Wang Wenhao nudged up the glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose as he asked, "Why
would India restrict Nepal from fixing a road?"
"Nepal is surrounded by India on three sides and China on one. Young man, you should
understand, if the roads of Nepal, this country that is in the middle of those two, are fixed
up, the Indians will feel uneasy."
As Wen Han listened, her gaze suddenly halted on one spot., this translation has been taken
without consent of th
At first, she only caught a glimpse of a person whose face was more than half-concealed by
the hood of a black hiking jacket and who was wearing sunglasses even in the rain, like a
movie star who wanted to cover up all his distinctive features. However, right as she was
observing him, that person removed his sunglasses. It was apparent that he was taking a
glance at this one and only car that was still struggling holding up and making its way
along, even when the road was about to collapse.
Those eyes were simply too unique…
It was that lama she had encountered in Tibet?!
A lama who had returned to the secular life?
That couldn't really be possible, right? Was she mistaken?
Their vehicle rocked and jolted in the pits of mud. Her entire body was suddenly pitched
upward by the car's rocking and then slammed back down into her seat again. She was still
thinking about that lama who had left the monastic life, and whipping her head around, she
searched with her eyes. The vehicle had already driven past that stretch of road. In this
torrential downpour, the sights were blurred. But in that instant when she at last located
him, she clearly saw a black pistol now in his palm. Turning in the direction of a backpacker
whom their vehicle had just passed, he raised his arm—
"Ah!" Wen Han let out a reflexive cry.
Everyone's gaze fell on her.
Speaking incoherently, she stared wide-eyed out the window.
But alas, the vehicle had already turned a corner, and she could no longer see anyone.
Wang Wenhao patted her on the shoulder, not knowing what had frightened her. "Get some
rest. We'll be getting off the car soon, and I’m guessing we'll probably need to walk seven or
eight hours before we get to their capital city."
Wen Han was still having difficulties recovering herself. Her mind was filled only with that
image from a moment ago.
When she heard Wang Wenhao say that they were getting out of the vehicle, her thoughts
immediately jumped to that person holding the gun. What if, when they got off the car, he
suddenly chased after them and caught up? What should they do?
"I just saw someone holding a gun." Gripping Wang Wenhao's arm tightly, she whispered to
him in Russian.
One of their companions, Agnesa, moved in close to them. "What did you see? A gun?"
"It was a gun," Wen Han stated, her voice quivering slightly.
She had seen guns in Moscow as well. In that place where half of the city was controlled by
the mafia, guns were not something that needed to be kept hidden. However, in this foreign
land, by the foot of the Himalayas, to suddenly see such a scene was very terrifying to her.
They were here travelling on vacation. If they were to suddenly encounter some anti-
government forces, how should they handle it?
But what if she had simply been seeing things and that lama was just carrying a black
object of some sort, not a gun?
As a result of her words, though, her companions also grew nervous and asked the driver
whether he could persevere and continue driving. Pointing at the road ahead that had
already caved in, the driver refused their request. As they stepped out of the vehicle, all of
them were a little anxious. Pulling their own bags securely onto their backs, they began
forging ahead in the rain, and without even consulting each other, their footsteps were all
rather hurried.
Several times, Wen Han had wanted to turn around and look back, but Wang Wenhao had
stopped her every time. "There really are anti-government forces here in this place. Don't
look back. If we do run into some, maybe both sides can just pretend that they don't see
each other."
Seeing that they were all behaving like there was an enemy soldier behind every tree and
bush, Wen Han did not tell them that she had actually seen that person half a year ago in
Tibet.
Fortunately, they had all grown up in Moscow and had more or less seen some of the fierce
fighting of the Russian mafia, so they at least were not scared out of their wits. They merely
intuitively fell into silence as they trudged ahead.
After hiking like this for six hours, they arrived in Nepal's capital city of Kathmandu.
The rain had already stopped. Covered in mud, the four of them walked in this teeming city
that was a gathering place for tourists. Wen Han did not go to the inn that the driver had
recommended to them and, instead, found the little inn that she had reserved long ago by
phone. They asked around for directions for quite some time before finally stepping into a
long, narrow alley paved with stone. Wen Han would glance at the business card in her
hand and compare it to the signs of the inns, until they finally came to a halt in a corner.
She told everyone, "It should be this place."
Agnesa breathed out in relief. "I'm going to take a hot shower. I want to become alive
again." As she spoke, she draped an arm on Wen Han's shoulder. "Do you think you might
have seen wrong? But I guess it's all good, even if you did see wrong. It helped me finish
that trek, which should have taken seven or eight hours, so quickly."
Reaching out a hand, Wen Han pushed open the wooden door of the inn.
Amid the scraping sounds of the door's hinges, a little boy quietly lifted his head and looked
at them.
A typical Indian face.
Laughing, Agnesa murmured in Russian, "God, we walked for six hours only to return to
India again?"
Agnesa's older brother, Roman, grinned as he replied, "There are a lot of Indian people."
While the people behind her were whispering way, Wen Han had already started
communicating with the bellboy. The boy was quite good. Flipping through a yellowed
notebook, he found Wen Han's name. "This one?"
Wen Han nodded. "Is hot water guaranteed here?"
"Yes."
The boy led them to the third floor. This floor had three rooms available.
He told them that the rooms on the second floor were already booked up, and only the
third and fourth floors were left. There were three rooms on the third floor, so that meant
one person would need to stay on the fourth floor. Looking at his companions, Wang
Wenhao voluntarily suggested that he would stay on the fourth floor.
Wen Han quietly told Wang Wenhao in Russian, "The second floor is definitely unoccupied,
too. It's low season right now. I asked people who've been here before. Most of the inns and
hotels are empty during this period. This kid is telling us this just to make us think that the
rooms in this place are in high demand."
She was actually being very simple and naïve when she spoke these words. Of course, it
was not the sort of naivety where she was completely ignorant and oblivious, but rather,
she was just the stereotypical girl who used the internet to find out about the world and
had never experienced the true dark side of real life.
Gazing at her, Wang Wenhao answered perfunctorily, "Really?"
He did not care at all whether the inn was empty or full. What he wanted more was to stay
in one room with her.
He was planning, before this trip came to an end, to find an opportunity here in Nepal to
profess his feelings to Wen Han. Though he was not a Buddhist believer, Wen Han was a
firm believer in Buddhism, and he could be accommodating of her beliefs. The most
important point was, he had stayed by her side and waited for her from when she was
eighteen years old to this day, where she was now twenty, and he was near the end of his
patience.
He had hinted to her many times before but had never been given the chance to move to
the next step.
Wen Han. Wen Han.
In Nepal's capital of Kathmandu, he was going to make her fall in love with him. Thinking
this, Wang Wenhao escorted Wen Han to her room and, before leaving, finally removed his
glasses to gaze very tenderly at her. "After you've had your shower, sleep for a while. The
three of us, though, want to play some poker. If you're not tired, come up to the fourth floor
and find us."
Wen Han nodded.
Stepping into the room, she very quickly rinsed her body clean with hot water. Washing her
hair thoroughly as well, she then rubbed it with a towel until it was half-dry. After
completing all these things, Wen Han leaned against the windowsill, and alone, she stared
down at the empty alleyway, while also contemplating what to eat tonight. Her thoughts
turned to Wang Wenhao. She truly could not think of anything about him that was not
good. He was gentle and considerate, he had a stable job, and he loved her very much.
But she was still unsure.
In Moscow, men were especially hot commodities. "Love" and romance could happen at
any place, any time. But what she wanted was a different type of relationship, one that was
with a man who, even if their final ending was that they were to separate, she would
willingly throw herself wholly in without holding anything back, just to give it a try with
him.
Wen Han set down her towel, changed into a soft, blue blouse, and wrapped on top of it a
shawl that she had bought in India. Facing the mirror, she flashed a smile.
Then, she stepped out the door of her room and proceeded up to the fourth floor.
The fourth floor was also very quiet. The doors of the four rooms were all closed.
Hmm… Earlier, she had gone into her own room first, so she did not know which room they
were in.
"Agnesa?" she whisperingly asked in Russian. In this place, it should only be the few of
them in their group who understood Russian. They should definitely be coming out soon to
find her, so this should not disturb anyone.
"Agnesa?" Her gaze circled around.
Her voice was light, for fear that she would disturb people she did not know.
Because her family had also been running a little inn since she was young, she was
especially cognizant of this.
Right when Wen Han was hesitating over whether she should call out once more,
movement could be heard coming from behind her to the left. It was obvious that only the
grinding of rather old and rusty hinges could produce such a strange noise.
She immediately turned around. "Why did it take you so—"
In only a split second, her wrist was caught in someone's grasp, and she was dragged into a
dimly lit room.
The sound of a heavily-closing door echoed out.
Wen Han's back slammed into the wooden door. A tall figure pressed up against her,
enveloping all of her in an unfamiliar, dangerous body heat. Her mind was completely
blank as that person crushed down on her lips. Without giving her a chance to even protest,
a tongue that felt as if it had just drank the water of a glacier slipped inside her mouth,
entwined itself with her tongue, and then thrust straight into the deepest part of her throat.
She wanted to struggle, but two fingers were already pinching each side of her throat, and
she dared not move.
"Shhh… Do not scream, and do not struggle."
At last, there was a voice.
And it was actually, in a low tone, speaking Russian.
Wen Han had never known that a man's strength could be so great. She was like a snake
that was being squeezed at the weak point behind its head. She could not swallow, could
not breathe. All her hope of living and the feeling of being alive depended on her throat. But
now it was entirely under the control of a man's hand, and she was forced to tilt her head
far back.
Compelled to look into a pair of eyes.
It was him… It was him…
Instantly, a chill came over her entire body, and she began trembling in weakness, because
of lack of oxygen—and because of him.
That wordless monk on the Tibetan Plateau half a year ago. That man who, several hours
ago, in the deluge of rain, had raised a gun. And the man who now was already lifting up her
long skirt with his palm.
But he seemed to have forgotten her.
Those eyes were taking her in. In this moment, her only thought was that those eyes were
like the Himalayan Mountains that rose up in the blowing snow. They carried a fearsome
force and power in them that one dared not look up at, and exuded a sense of unpredictable
danger.
Her fingernails dug incessantly into the wood-plank door. Deprived of oxygen, her head
began to spin, and explosions of white light danced before her eyes.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered to her. "The kind of beauty that enthralls my mind and
soul."
She gasped desperately, but was not able to take in any oxygen. The more she gasped, the
more she was unable to get any air.
She wanted to speak, but she had lost the ability of speech. Only tears flowed relentlessly
from her.
"Dearest, why have you been crying this whole time?" he murmured lightly in Russian, as if
these words were being spoken to a lover. "Oh, yes, I forgot to say, it is a pleasure to meet
you, here, in Nepal."
The he in this moment was no longer the serpent that slumbered soundly and peacefully.
The snake that had lain coiled upon the lengthy border between lands was already slowly
awakening, raising its body high and gazing down from above, its scarlet, forked tongue
flickering forth at her.
Once again, his lips crushed hers.
And he cared not that muffled protests were streaming desperately from her, that she was
struggling and kicking frantically.
From her lips and teeth to the tip of her tongue, he sucked ruthlessly, extracting away the
last traces of oxygen that were in her throat, until there remained not even the slightest bit.
The fingers that were squeezing her throat from both sides seemed to loosen their hold
slightly, but it was only to allow her to inhale some air with all her might and then have it
cruelly sucked away by him again.
This area was a foreign tourist enclave. This was Thamel.
There were backpackers from countless different countries here. There were inns
everywhere spaced tightly next to each other, one after the other. Outside the window,
there was even someone singing loudly in the local language. There was Indian music. She
could even already hear Agnesa's laughter echoing up from downstairs…
And there was also the top floor. The sound of speaking voices could be heard from the
laundry room on the top floor.
They were all so close, so clear.
But there was nothing she could do.
In this room, amidst the kisses of this man that were practically plundering, in this world
where oxygen was gradually slipping away from her, she was even beginning to
hallucinate. Her body's fierce reaction to lack of oxygen caused her chest to ache dully—the
pain of suffocation.
Her tears streamed ceaselessly, following her cheeks and jaw to fall onto the back of his
hand.
Warm. Sticky.
Cheng Muyun could feel that the back of his hand was completely drenched. Suddenly, his
interest waned. "I do not like forcing people. This should be something that pleasures us
both."
All the shackle-like strength holding her abruptly disappeared.
He had finally released his hold on her. He refastened his belt that had been half undone
but could not be bothered to tuck his button-up shirt back into the waist of his pant, leaving
it hanging loosely on the outside, like a man who had just finished indulging in his sensual
pleasures and had hastily dressed again.
Air, air.
Wen Han knew only to breathe with all her might. However, because she was too desperate
and rushed, coughs racked her body fiercely as she leaned her back into the door. Never
before had she known that being strangled for so long was so terrifying. She watched as the
person before her retrieved that brightly-colored, beautiful shawl from the floor. Right as
he was straightening back up, she threw out her arms ferociously, with the intention of
shoving him away, opening the door, and fleeing.
But it was as if she was facing a wraith. This man had extraordinary reaction speed.
Before her hands could even come in contact with him, the shawl was already wrapped
around them, binding them.
"You really are… very unique. Is it because I was too rough just now?" He still emitted a
languid air as he pressed her arms up high against the door. "Or is it because I am different
from other customers that you have had, and you want to leave a deep impression with
me?"
"You—" Throbbing pain was coming from Wen Han's wrists, but she finally understood
why this terrible calamity had suddenly befallen her. That feeling of terror just a moment
ago, like she was approaching the depths of hell, was instantly replaced by a sense of
degradation. She was so infuriated she could not even put together a complete sentence.
"Let go of me! I'm not a prostitute." Her voice was a little raspy from coughing and rage.
Held in a posture like she was being crucified on a cross, she glared furiously at that man.
"Shhh… Do not be angry." It was apparent that he was not taking her seriously and viewed
her cries as a different form of flirtation and teasing. "I am a very generous person, and the
price I will pay will not disappoint you."
Cheng Muyun's gaze slid downward to unabashedly take in and appreciate the view of her
chest. The blouse had pulled open there, and her bosom rose and fell in rhythm with her
furious breathing.
"Let go of me." Wen Han's body was trembling. "Let me out…"
She swore, she must have been mad in order to have thought, when she first met this man
in Tibet, that his eyes contained the purest and most unadulterated look out of all the lamas
she had seen in Tibet.
"What if I say no?" He bent at the waist and moved in close to her.
When he spoke these words, there was absolutely no laughter in his eyes.
His eyes were cast downward, examining her with absolutely no remaining hints of the
toying lust and passion from earlier. She still remembered his strength, where merely two
of his fingers could control her in their hold, and she knew that in a moment of displeasure,
he truly would… Moreover, he had a gun.
She was on the brink of breaking down. Those eyes did not belong to a human. There was
no light within them at all. It was all darkness, like a whirlpool. And they seemed as if they
could devour her at any time.
Without any warning, a knock sounded on the door against her back.
"Excuse me, is someone here waiting for a beautiful Russian woman?" The voice belonged
to a woman and had the very distinctive flair of Moscow.
Wen Han stiffened. His hand immediately stifled the cry that she let out.
With an "hmm," he replied in Russian to the person outside, his tone lazy. "Darling, wait a
moment. There's one more in here with me, putting her clothes back on."
Wen Han's eyes widened. Her body pinned by his, she was unable to move. She could only
glare furiously at Cheng Muyun. See! I'm not the one! It's not me!
As if understanding what she wanted to say, Cheng Muyun kicked up with the toe of his
boot the shawl that was on the floor, and he wrapped it over Wen Han's shoulders. In a
voice that was barely audible, he told her, "What a shame that you're not the one."
And then the door was opened.
He had not given her the opportunity to cry or lash out in fury at all before he exposed all
the suggestiveness of this scene to the now open space. In this moment, Wen Han's mind
was completely blank. She knew only to clasp the shawl closed tightly, bite down hard on
her lip, and glower at him.
The young girl outside the door was taken aback for a moment. Holding down her French-
style sun hat with her left hand, she murmured in Russian, "Oh, my dear God."
Wen Han could clearly hear the suggestive tone in the girl's voice.
And she also realized at last that he had not been lying. He truly had been waiting for…
"special services" from a girl who spoke Russian. The man behind her set his hand on the
doorframe and lightly thrummed his fingers against the door. "Do not take offense, love. I'm
willing to make it up to you."
Waves of heat were rolling over Wen Han's body, but her hands and feet were cold. She
threw a fierce glare at him.
He shrugged.
With weak steps, Wen Han walked toward the stairs.
The girl let out a cheery laugh. Then, the door was shut behind her.
Wen Han heard the door's lock sliding into place. Running downstairs until she was in front
of the door of her own room, she tremblingly dug out her room key, wanting to open the
door.
That silver key, though, was quivering incessantly in her hand. After finally managing to
stab it into the keyhole, she shoved open the door and rushed inside. And then, she fell back
hard against the door, gasping heavily.
Why was it, no matter where she went, she would still run into that person?
Even if this incident had been a "misunderstanding," there was still that eerie identity that
he had once had in Tibet, as well as that scene in the Himalayan Mountains where he had
raised a gun… Wen Han wanted to take a shower, but as she removed her clothing, there
was an unspeakable feeling of shame and humiliation.
She wanted to somehow ease this awful feeling, yet she was unable to repress it.
Her mind would always turn back to that person and his actions.
Her legs felt limp, and she had no strength to continue standing. She wanted to walk over to
the bed and lie down for a while.
How should she tell her friends who were travelling with her about this incident? How
should she say it? If she let them know about it, would they go find him for retaliation? But
he had stated clearly that it was a misunderstanding…
And anyway, it was too humiliating for her to speak about.
While these thoughts were whirring through her head in a confused jumble, the female
owner of this inn unexpectedly arrived at her room. After Wen Han opened the door, she
discovered rather belatedly that that shawl was still wrapped around her shoulders.
Beneath the shawl, naturally then, was her blouse that had been torn earlier. Inviting the
innkeeper into her room first, she slipped into the bathroom and changed into a cotton,
short-sleeved t-shirt.
This female innkeeper was also ethnic Chinese. Back then, it was because of the innkeeper's
ethnicity that Wen Han had booked this inn online.
After all, at the very core of her, the blood that pulsed through her was still Chinese. This
sense of trust was innate.
The innkeeper's long hair was casually swept up and held in place rather loosely at the
back of her head by a wooden hair stick. A string of sandalwood prayer beads hung from
her wrist. Smiling, she spoke in Mandarin that was out of practice but still could be
considered good pronunciation, saying to her, "One of my regular guests has paid for your
group's entire stay here. That means you won't need to pay any more for all your
subsequent costs, including your costs here at the inn, your rafting trip, or your expedition
to Mount Everest."
Wen Han paused briefly in surprise, but then was immediately able to guess who it was.
"He said," the innkeeper laughed, "you have enthralled his mind and soul, so… he is most
willing to pay for these expenditures for you."
"I don't need it." Even now, Wen Han was still unable to restrain the trembling in her body
as she thought about his behavior, especially the look in his eyes when he had held her
throat in his shackle-like grip. "He's a regular guest here?"
"Yes." The innkeeper laughed. "He comes here often. The room on the fourth floor has been
left for him for the long-term."
"Do you know… what kind of person, like, what he was, before?"
"Yes, I know. He's mentioned it before." The female innkeeper did not really care much
about this.
But he carries a gun on him.
Wen Han did not say this. She still felt residual fear, so much so that after the innkeeper
mentioned that he was a regular guest, she was even more afraid. It was… the type of terror
that came from the depths of her heart and continued to suffuse outward. It was very hard
to explain. Never before had she been so scared of a person.
After saying a couple more sentences, the innkeeper rose to leave, but when she reached
the corridor, she remembered something. Turning around, she said, "There are two men in
your group. Since we are both Chinese, I'll secretly tell the bellboy to bring guns that can be
used for self-defense to them. You know there are a lot of anti-government militants in this
place, and it's just not safe. Gun control is bad, too. Take them to guard against the
unexpected."
Wen Han was taken aback.
The person in front of her had already stepped onto the curved staircase, and Wen Han
could only hear the sound of lithe footsteps treading on the wooden stair steps.
Turning back into her room, Wen Han reflected on the innkeeper's words. Then, as she
once more thought back upon the series of impressions that she had of that person,
uncertainty began to arise in her. Could it be that that person really was just a normal
monk who had left the monastic life, and there was nothing strange about him? Based on
what the innkeeper had said, gun control was really lax here and most guns were for self-
defense. So, really, it was nothing to make a fuss about.
But…
Wen Han heart was still unsettled. After eating dinner in Agnesa's room, she made up an
excuse and told Agnesa to go down to the first floor with her. There were two computers
downstairs that could be used to go online. In this city, this was already considered a very
good amenity. The remaining two men in their party also came downstairs, saying that they
were going to stroll around and check out Thamel's scenery. Since there was not much for
lights in this place when it was past nine o'clock, it was not very suitable for girls to go
walking around. Leaving the two girls behind to surf the internet could be considered a safe
plan.
When their group of four stepped downstairs, the Indian bellboy was in the midst of dozing
off. Hearing the sound of their footsteps, he startled awake and stared at them.
Wen Han pointed at the computers. The boy caught on, and leading these two young
women to the "cybercafé" that consisted of only two computers, he helped turn the
computers on and enter the password.
"You're anxious to check your email?" Agnesa did not have much of a dependency on the
internet, and very bored, she tapped on the keyboard.
Wen Han went onto a forum and found the thread that introduced and described this inn.
Without exception, all the posts praised the innkeeper for being friendly and thoughtful.
Because this female innkeeper liked to sign off with "Hu" [胡 Hú ] in her communications
with guests when exchanging information during room bookings, she was often fondly
referred to by the nickname, "Little Fox" [小狐狸 Xiao Hu Li].

"All Chinese people who go to Nepal should go to Little Fox's inn. Absolutely a great quality
place for a nice price, and it's really safe, too."
"The Nepali tea in Little Fox's place is so good."
"I totally want to go back again. The last time I went, I actually ran into a man who spoke
Russian. He had a really good sense of humor and was very likable. I heard that he even
used to be a monk…"
Wen Han's eyes paused right there.
She checked the date. It was posted three months ago.
He truly was an old, frequent guest here, and he never avoided talking about his past?
Her conjectures, her misgivings and suspicions—all those bad thoughts were one by one
shattered by facts. She could not even find a dubious point that she could call him into
question on and use as basis to tell her travel companions that she had once felt that he was
a very strange, very dangerous person.
Behind her, the door of the inn moved, which brought about the tinkling sound of a bronze
bell.
The wind that had taken this opportunity to rush in through the door caused the lighted
incense sticks to quiver. At the time, one of the reasons she had chosen this place was also
that the female innkeeper here was a devout Buddhist. The religious beliefs of this place's
owner could be deeply sensed in even the entire inn's furnishings and decorations.
While Wen Han was still staring fixedly, as if in a trance, at that screen, an arm suddenly
appeared and propped itself beside her. "It seems that a little bit of curiosity about me has
arisen in you. Should I be happy about this?"
He had returned from Kathmandu, Nepal's nighttime, and his entire body carried the
characteristic aroma of this city.
Mysterious. Rough. Dusty.
Wen Han practically leaped up out of her seat.
This man had noiselessly drawn near, and she and Agnesa had not detected it at all. She
was afraid of him and wanted to avoid him. However, his frivolously harassing tone also
very much carried a distinct Moscow flavour and was a very pleasant surprise to Agnesa, to
the point that a favourable impression of him was immediately created. In particular, the
one sentence that he had spoken in Russian when he approached them felt especially near
and dear to her.
Because her friend was by her side, Wen Han could not let herself have any verbal conflict
with him, but it was evident still that she very much had an aversion to him.
Cheng Muyan's manner, on the other hand, was very courteous and gracious, and his every
movement and gesture wholly demonstrated the model example of a gentleman. Amid Wen
Han's words and attitude that were intentionally trying to make things difficult for him, he
still again and again passively conceded to her and, moreover, put on the pretense that they
had merely by chance run into one another this afternoon in the laundry room. In a casual
tone, he chatted with them. "The coffee in this inn is terrible, but I do know a shop here in
Thamel that still sells coffee at night. Its food is quite good also."
"Oh?" Agnesa cupped her chin lightly in her hand and rested her elbow on the low bar
table, accentuating even more the perfect curve in front of her chest. "Just how good is
'quite good'?"
"How good?" Cheng Muyun repeated her question in a light voice, the ending pitch of his
last word trailing upward slightly. "This question that has no standard to judge against is
very difficult to answer. At the very least, you won't taste the taste of India in it."
Most of Nepal's food and drink and dietary habits tended to imitate India's.
Their journey had taken them from India to here, so they had long since had enough of
those spices that would show up at all times. When they heard him say this, they actually
seemed to feel that all different sorts of rich, strong, biting scents of spices were once again
beginning to waft about everywhere around them.
"Then let's go try it out," Agnesa said with a laugh.
"It's dangerous going out at this time of day," Wen Han reminded her softly.
Cheng Muyun's physique was not like the average ethnic Chinese. His height advantage that
allowed him to look down on others was exhibited simply by sitting right where he was.
Resting his arm on the back of the couch, he leaned back languidly, seeming through his
whole posture and the cadence of voice as if he would doze off at any time. This person was
utterly able to carry himself as if he, alone, was a painting. For example, right this moment,
he called up into people's minds the image of an antique stove of Russia, and in the entire
open space, there was only his face on which the dancing light of the stove's flames was
cast.
Perceiving Wen Han's somewhat loathing gaze on him, he glanced at her from beneath his
eyelashes, which had remained lowered this entire time.
"To be of service to such beautiful ladies is my honour. If you two ladies do not mind, please
wait a moment." He rose to his feet from the crimson couch. "I shall return with two cups of
rich and fragrant and authentically local coffee."
After saying this, he gave a polite nod of his head and then left the bar area.
Accompanying his action of pushing open the door was once more the jingling of the
bronze bell, a mysteriously pleasant sound that warmly saw this guest off.
"Wen Han." Through the glass of the door, Agnesa took a glance at Cheng Muyun's backside
as she quietly complained about Wen Han's cool behaviour. "What's up with you? I've
never seen such an interesting Chinese person before. He has my favourite color of eyes,
pure black. Did you notice? I've never seen a man with such long eyelashes and whose eyes
could hold such a gorgeous look, like…" Agnesa wanted to describe it but found that she
was lost for words. Unexpectedly, one of the spices that they had eaten in India popped up
in her mind. "Like rosemary[bewitching, persistent fragrance]. Let me tell you, Wen Han, he
just needs to look at me and then I'll feel my whole body getting hot."
"Mm-hmm. I know you like that type."
Wen Han pulled her shawl tighter around herself. She could not just sit here and continue
pretending anymore that nothing had happened, waiting for that unique cup of coffee that
that man had described. She needed to find an excuse to leave behind the still-enthusiastic
Agnesa and go back upstairs alone.
It seemed the sky was quite overcast tonight. There was not really any starlight.
Wen Han followed the staircase and walked up to the third floor. A faint breeze drifted in
through a window. She discovered a card beneath her room door. A corner of the card
poked out from beneath the door, as if it had been deliberately placed this way. She picked
it up. Sure enough, some simple words had been scrawled on the card—a handwritten love
poem. At this moment, Wang Wenhao was strolling around outside with their other travel
companion, Roman, and this card must have been placed here by him before he left, while
she was not paying attention.
Stepping into her entirely darkened room, she pulled open a drawer and set the card inside.
The cards from the previous twenty-four days had also been dealt with in this same way,
placed in a drawer of an unfamiliar inn to wait for someone else to take it away. After
prudently locking the door and all the windows, she went to take a shower.
Stretching her hand forward, she tested the water temperature. It was okay. It was not cool,
though just barely.
She flipped her hair forward and massaged her scalp.
What Wen Han did not know was that, after that man whom she feared left the inn, he had
merely pulled out a U.S. greenback from somewhere on him and handed it to the other,
relatively-older bellboy, who was watching the door. "Go buy two cups of coffee for those
two ladies inside." It was not necessary for him to tell the boy from which shop to buy the
coffee. This Indian bellboy was already familiar with his habits, and very cheerfully, he took
on the role this time of errand boy.
This regular guest at the inn liked to use U.S. greenbacks.
As long as he took them, his boss lady naturally would help him change the American
dollars into rubles, and then he would earn a nice bit of profit from his errand boy fees.
Such a generous inn guest. As the bellboy squatted outside the door of the coffee shop, he
was even praying that this guest would stay for a longer time at the inn.
The lifestyle of the Nepali people was very laidback.
Most shops opened for customers at noon and then closed by six o'clock in the evening.
The lights were now dim as he walked on the streets at this time of night. Somewhere in the
distance, there was the clear sound of a dog barking. He strolled along the street, leaving
the Thamel district where foreign tourists usually resided and continuing ahead.
When he passed by an old, small temple, he at last halted his steps.
In the darkness, a lonesome figure with a hunched back stood on the dirt road behind the
temple. Cheng Muyun stepped over toward him. The hunchbacked old man immediately
pressed his palms together in greeting and beckoned to Cheng Muyun to follow him. The
two treaded down this path that was laden with small puddles and mud, passing between
two walls, and after taking many twists and turns, stepped into a small underground
casino.
Due to a lack of renovation funds, the entire space emanated a feel of derelict, raucousness,
and extravagance that was intermixed with the noise of money being exchanged, and
smoke pervaded and hovered in this place.
Once Cheng Muyun stepped foot into the casino, his guide transformed from a stooped-
over old man into an Indian boy with a red bindi dot between his brows.
Following the boy, he finally arrived at his destination for tonight.
The boy lifted open for him a cloth curtain on which there was an illustration of the Six
Realms of the Wheel of Life.
Cheng Muyun stepped inside.
Beneath the glow cast by the wall lamps, there was a middle-aged man beside the gambling
table, playing dice with himself. In the remainder of the space, there were seven or eight
men, some sitting, some leaning against the gambling table. Only one faced the Buddha
statue that was in the wall, praying.
When Cheng Muyun walked in, the gaze of every person shifted over to him.
Amber, black, and blue eyes—people of all different nationalities.
The black-haired man who had been praying to the Buddha statue also turned his head,
showing his white teeth as he smiled. The middle-aged man casual setting down his yellow,
ivory dice cup onto the gambling table and introduced them to one another. "Cheng Laoban,
this is the bodyguard, Meng Liangchuan, you wanted to hire. You specifically requested for
him by name, so the price—"
"The price does not need to be negotiated." Looking at that man who was shorter than him
by half a head, Cheng Muyun spoke in Chinese, telling him straight up, "I shall pay the price
you ask."
Meng Liangchuan shrugged. "You’re fast and decisive. For the next six months, I'll be in
charge of your safety as well as all your needs in Nepal."
In fact, the people in this room were all additional back-up alternatives that Ke Laoban had
prepared in the event that Cheng Muyun was not satisfied with Meng Liangchuan. Seeing as
the two had already reached an oral agreement, there was no need for the others to remain.
Ke Laoban was both the middleman in this transaction as well as Cheng Muyun's long-term
source of intelligence information. After he instructed the others to leave, he began to brief
Meng Liangchuan on the plans for the next half a month.
Their main target was this group of tourists who had suddenly arrived at the inn that
Cheng Muyun was staying in.
"Amongst them, there is a man with glasses named Wang Wenhao. His official, proper
identity is a university professor, but he is also a trafficker of illicit goods. In name, he came
here to Nepal for leisure travel, but secretly, his purpose is, within the next ten days, to do a
deal on a batch of smuggled goods with someone in Druma." Ke Laoban explained to Meng
Liangchuan, "Cheng Laoban's target is that item that Wang Wenhao is hoping to exchange
for."
"What is it?"
Ke Laoban cast a glance at Cheng Muyun. "I can tell you that this particular item was
originally in Cheng Laoban's private collection. Back then, it was stolen and then passed
through the hands of several people, and so has long since been out of the control of
anyone's authority."
Meng Liangchuan gave an "oh." He understood now and, hence, did not pursue the question
any further.
Most items kept in private collections were generally priceless.
He truly had not expected that, in this profession of his, he would have a chance to come
into contact with Cheng Muyun, face to face. How could he describe this? The name "Cheng
Muyun" was associated with too many incredibly amazing things of the past. And he of the
past would absolutely never have needed a "bodyguard" trained off the streets, either.
Of course, these had been Meng Liangchuan's thoughts previously.
Everyone knew that several years ago, Cheng Muyun had rid himself of all his money,
donated all of his estate, and vanished from the face of the earth. From the corner of his
eye, Meng Lianchuan admiringly glanced over the man beside him.
What item could cause him to re-emerge into the world of men again?
They continued to discuss their plans.
"This Wang Wenhao is here as a vacationer. What about his goods? How did he bring them
in?" Meng Liangchuan was puzzled.
"His goods were sent here to Nepal half a year ago. These last couple of days, Wang Wenhao
has been searching for a middleman and is planning on hiring a few bodyguards. Once the
deal is done, he's going to immediately leave the country and return as fast as possible to
Moscow."
"Who's the other party that he's doing the deal with?"
"Don't know."
"Time and place where the goods are going to exchange hands?"
"Don't know." Ke Laoban stated this matter-of-factly.
Meng Liangchuan grinned. "So we can only be by his side and wait for any opportunity to
arise at any time."
"That is correct." Ke Laoban chuckled, "I have already arranged it so that you and another
person will go meet him tomorrow, and you will be recommended to be his 'bodyguard.'
That way, you will have the greatest chance of coming in contact with the goods."
Meng Liangchuan comprehended his meaning. "I have no problems with that. I just want to
know who the other person is. I don't really like working with strangers."
"I am the other person."
The voice came from Cheng Muyun.
He was toying with four small dice. The old, yellowed dice were weaving between his
fingers, but even with such tightly-spaced movements, the four dice never once collided,
nor were there any sounds of them brushing against one another.
His motions were skillful and made not a sound.
The literal translation of the text is "she was like a snake that was being squeezed at its 7
cun location." is a saying in Chinese, 打蛇打七寸 "if you are to attack a snake, you should
attack at 7 cun down from its head" (where cun is a length of measurement tha,
traditionally, is the width of one's thumb at the knuckle). The belief was that a snake's
heart is located at around the 7 cun mark, and consequently, that is its greatest weak point.
If a snake is squeezed at that location, it will instantly become paralyzed and unable to fight
back. While the actual measurement may not be accurate, the idea is that, when attacking,
strike quickly at the snake's weak point to immediately immobilize it. The saying therefore
also means to take down an opponent swiftly by identifying his weakness and striking
there.
Thamel is a touristy, happening district in Kathmandu, its narrow streets containing
numerous shops, restaurants, bars, cafés, hotels, etc.

迷迭香 "mi die xiang." The Chinese name for rosemary sounds actually quite poetic, and
literally means "a bewitching, persistent fragrance."

六道轮回 "Liu Dao Lun Hui." The illustration is the traditional Buddhist representation of
cyclical existence, or the “Wheel of Life” (also known as the Wheel of Karma, or
Bhavachakra). Very simplistically, in Buddhist belief, in the cycle of life, death, rebirth and
suffering, a person's existence is determined by karma. Depending on karma, a person is
reborn to exist in one of the Six Realms, which is described using the Wheel of Life. The
illustration depicts a wheel that is subdivided into three "higher" realms—the Realm of
Gods and Heavenly Beings, the Realm of Demi-Gods, and the Human Realm—and three
"lower" realms—the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, the Hell Realm, and the Animal Realm. (Note:
I am not learned at all on Buddhism so please only take this to help with visualizing in the
story and not as proper Buddhist doctrine.)

老板 "lao ban." The most direct translation of this is "boss." However, used here in the
context of the story, there should be an underlying tone of respect. "Boss Cheng" seems to
take away that feeling of awe and deference to someone powerful (and feels more like
flunky goons addressing their boss), and therefore I have chosen to keep this in its pinyin
form as Laoban.
Additional Comments:
Just a little note.
The two names, “Agnesa” and “Roman,” were not actually in novel. These characters’ names
were written as 阿加西 and 朗姆, respectively, which in pinyin are “Ajiaxi” and “Langmu.” I
actually messaged the author and asked her if she had had any Russian or, at least,
romanized (non-pinyin) names in mind for these two characters when she wrote the story.
The short answer was no. LOL. Thinking that it would be kind of weird to have Russian
characters with Chinese-pinyin names, with Mo Bao Fei Bao’s permission, I tried to come
up with a female and male name that sounded *relatively* similar to the Mandarin
pronunciations of the names in the story but were names that are actually used in Russia.
That was an interesting task in itself. “Roman” was actually easy to come up with, but I
ended up reading through some interesting Russian genealogies and spending a few days
creeping Facebook, looking up girls in Russia, to come up with a few girl name options.
Anyway, the choices were run by the author, so “Agnesa” and “Roman” both have Mo Bao
Fei Bao’s blessing to exist in her story.
In case you’re wondering about the difficulty in getting online and why people don’t have
smartphones everywhere, this story takes place approximately 15 years ago from present
day. I will note the textual evidence when we get to those parts, but for now, just trust me.
Regarding Cheng Muyun’s actions in both this chapter and the last one (and, well, in
general), there is truth, there are illusions, there are hidden intentions that have not been
revealed yet, and there are things that are meant to be deliberately misleading. Can’t
answer any more than that. I’ll just quote myself from my introduction post. “… then
(sometimes much, much later) you realize why he did something and you understand…”
Keep speculating away, but your impressions may continuously be overturned (at least
mine were).
 Chapter 2 - The Person at the Foot of Mercy's Seat

An arm encaged her tightly. She was unable to push it away, utterly unable. Her entire body
was breaking out in sweat from panic.
Suddenly, as if imparted with immense brute strength, she shoved the man fiercely away.
And then, she abruptly sat straight up in bed, her breathing heavy and only darkness before
her eyes. Outside the window, no moonlight shone. There was hazy blackness, and it
seemed even to be raining.
Sure enough, September was Nepal's rainy season.
From morning to night, the rain had drizzled down without so much as pausing.
The sound of raindrops against the window caused the night to seem cold—especially cold.
The hands of the bedside clock glowed, and they now showed a time of twelve o'clock.
She had slept for only two hours before awakening? Feeling somewhat edgy, Wen Han
pushed open the window, but unexpectedly, her face was doused with rainwater and she
hastily shut it again. In this space of time of opening and closing the window, she spotted a
man's silhouette drawing closer, walking leisurely along the narrow, rundown road paved
in stone. When she lowered her head for a look, that figure also lifted his face and seemed
to be looking up at the third and fourth floors here.
It was him?
Wen Han retreated back a step.
No, wait. She should not be hiding. He could not see her.
It was obviously brighter outside the window than in the room, so how he could possibly
even see into here? Wen Han comforted herself in this way before throwing a surreptitious
glance out the window again. There was no longer anyone there. He should have returned
to his room. Didn't he just go to buy coffee? Why did it take two hours to come back? she
puzzled to herself. But suddenly, she realized she was showing an out-of-the-ordinary
amount of care and interest in this man.
Wen Han warned herself, ‘You cannot pay such attention to him anymore.’
However, there still remained an uncertainty that swirled at the bottom of her heart. She
returned to the bed and lifted open the blanket, wanting to attempt to sleep once more.
Then, she heard the distinct sound of a pair of men's boots approaching her direction. Next
was a knocking sound. It was someone knocking on the door of the neighboring room? Sure
enough, she soon heard Agnesa's voice, a tone of delight in it, saying with a laugh, "What's
that? Have some drinks? Sure… Okay, no problem. I'll tell a few more friends to come along.
Oh, and… thanks for the coffee."
The man's footsteps moved away.
Very shortly, Agnesa was knocking on Wen Han's door, telling Wen Han to go downstairs
with her to party the entire night away with all the other guests whom fate had brought
together in this place.
"A rainy night in Nepal is just too suitable for events like this one," Agnesa stated. Wen Han,
however, could not find the connection between "a rainy night in Nepal" and "partying the
night away." She was unable to refuse, though. The female innkeeper, Little Fox, was too
charismatic, and the dozen or so guests who were staying on the four floors of the little inn
all came in response to the invitation.
Fortunately, what gave her some peace of mind was that Wang Wenhao and Roman had
also come downstairs and would accompany her down.
Since she was, after all, travelling with male companions, her anxiousness was somewhat
eased. At the very least, she felt that that man likely would not so readily come and harass
her again. After changing into an ankle-length skirt, she deliberately selected a top with a
proper collar line and mid-length sleeves. Dragging out the process for a long time, she at
last went downstairs with Wang Wenhao. A lively atmosphere had already filled the entire
first floor, and someone was playing a Russian song on an accordion.
It was Roman, who had come down a little earlier than them.
He was sitting at the center of that small bar table, very merrily singing a little Russian love
song to the innkeeper, whose eyes were glazed with drunkenness.
When the song came to an end, the female innkeeper gave a low laugh and clapped her
hands, but her gaze was on Cheng Muyun, who was lying on a soft chaise longue, smoking
hookah. "Yun, do you want to try?" The latter chuckled, not refusing her suggestion.
Seeing that his song performance had brought no admiration onto himself and rather, it
was the man in the corner, half-leaning back into the chaise longue and blowing out faint
clouds of smoke, who held all the attention of this beautiful innkeeper, Roman was a little
irked.
Cheng Muyun glanced at the accordion in Roman's hand. "Now that you mention it, it has
been a long time since I last touched one."
"You’ve learned before how to play?" a girl asked very inquisitively. It was evident she, too,
was drawn to Cheng Muyun's past experience of having been a monk. "So what did you do
before?"
"Me?" In a low voice, Cheng Muyun stated a single word: "Trafficking."
The entire room broke out in a roar of laughter.
Everyone knew he was a monk who had left the monastic life, and hence they treated these
words as spoken in jest. In fact, there were some men who, in order to attract the attention
of some girls, even took Cheng Muyun's topic and continued along with it. "Guess what. I
often will take gold and make it into clothes hangers, real clothes hangers, the type that you
can use to hang your clothes dry. Then, I'll bring them into India. If I'm caught, I just need to
pay that extra bit in fines, but if I'm not caught, I rake in a lot of dough."
The innkeeper clapped her hands together. "All right, the jokes are enough now." The group
carried on with their laughter, and they began to chitchat about the things they had all seen
or heard in their journeys as well as the crummy weather Nepal had been experiencing this
last half a month.
The girl who had asked the questions earlier drifted her gaze over and circled it about
Cheng Muyun. He was the target of many of the girls here tonight. A fling in Nepal—this
man was just too suitable for one.
Wen Han chose a rather inconspicuous corner and took a seat.
This female innkeeper certainly knew how to set the ambiance. The couches on the first
floor had been removed for the night, and a large number of low chaise lounges had been
added instead. Many people were gathered around where Cheng Muyun and the innkeeper
were, so it was actually quite quiet where Wen Han was sitting. Amidst the merry laughter,
Cheng Muyun really did catch the accordion that Roman tossed over, and rising swaying to
his feet, he hung it from his shoulders and tried pulling the bellows a couple of times.
All the people had thought he was merely joking around, but to their surprise, a very
smoothly-played tune that was brimming over with liveliness and passion was heard.
An accordion's voice is always romantic and boldly unreserved, like the men of Russia.
Many people had not heard this song before, but as chance would have it, Moscow-born
Wen Han had, and from a black vinyl record at that. Although its name was Unlucky, the
tune itself was very languorous, and in particular, when sung by a man, it exuded the
unique feeling of a person who, after becoming drunken, was lying on a windowsill while
the night wind blew against him, half-reciting, half-singing about the person he loved.
Cheng Muyun's voice was not very husky, so his ending tones when he sang sounded even
more resplendent.
Playing the accordion, he crossed through the hookah smoke that people all around were
blowing out, his eyes at times lowered and at other times teasing and provocative. When
Cheng Muyun had sauntered up in front of Wen Han, he halted his steps. Crouching down
slowly, he continued to play the accordion to her, and his singing even carried a sigh in it
that was particularly sexy.
All the people present began to laugh quietly, applauding and whistling.
Everyone merely viewed this as a scene of a man expressing strong fancy toward a
beautiful woman who had suddenly appeared before him. Wen Han shifted her gaze away
to look at the bell at the doorway, trying as much as she could to avoid his eyes.
"He sings quite well." Wang Wenhao slipped his hand up to rest it on Wen Han's shoulder,
saying quietly to her, "And he's very skilled with the accordion, too."
Wen Han gave an absentminded reply.
After the song came to an end, Cheng Muyun suddenly spoke in Chinese, "You are
exceptionally beautiful tonight."
The expression on Wen Han's face shifted slightly. Wang Wenhao, in contrast, was much
more composed than her and answered Cheng Muyun on her behalf. "Thank you for your
admiration toward my girlfriend."
Cheng Muyun's eyes that seemed shrouded in a dense fog of mystery remained fixed on
Wen Han. "It is my pleasure."
……
With her eyes cast downward, Wen Han stared at her own fingers while they randomly
wrote on the table several mathematical formulas that she commonly used. Stay calm, stay
calm.
Behind her, someone broke out into chortles, and a man's voice was heard remarking, "I
know why this monk returned to the secular life. He wasn't able to let go of the earthly
desires of men."
"Yes, yes, that's right, that's right. He might have even been an amorous monk in the
temple."
Even the female innkeeper, who was in the midst of enjoying drinks, did not forget to join
in on the jesting. "No, he abandoned monkhood because the women of the earthly world
could not bear to let him go."
Some people laughed, others broke out in noisy joking and banter, and even more women
chased their gazes after Cheng Muyun.
There were also those who watched detachedly as a bystander—such as Wang Wenhao.
And still more who were filled with intense jealousy—such as Roman.
He was indeed rosemary, the persistent, bewitching fragrance that was intense and caused
people to sink in and become immersed in it—he so easily caused people to immerse
themselves in him.
Candle flames burned fiercely.
The light wisps of smoke from hookahs, as well as the growing number of provocative and
amorous actions between men and women, filled this foreign land's night with an
atmosphere that dazed and enchanted the senses. Wang Wenhao seemed to perceive that
more and more she did not want to remain sitting here, so at three in the morning, after
making up an excuse, he accompanied her back to the third floor. Ardent music and
laughter still echoed downstairs, but here, it was especially quiet.
"I feel as if you're not feeling very well today?" Wang Wenhao took her key from her hand
and helped her open her door.
Somewhat distractedly, Wen Han answered, "A little bit. Maybe… I'm just not used to the
food and climate and stuff here."
Wang Wenhao smiled.
She wanted to turn on the lights, but his hand had already covered hers.
Wang Wenhao's palm was exceptionally hot. As she pulled her hand back, she sensed him
drawing nearer to her. His warm breath on her was very suggestive, as if he wanted to kiss
her but was still maintaining a slight and very gentlemanly distance. Not daring to move,
Wen Han hesitated for several seconds, then hurriedly took half a step backwards.
However, Wang Wenhao had already detected that she had not been focused, and as if
given encouragement, he slipped his around her from behind her back.
"I'm sleepy," Wen Han spoke up uncomfortably.
"All right." In a soft voice, Wang Wenhao told her, "Good night."
A figure suddenly appeared.
Cheng Muyun walked up the stairs. He was wearing black military boots that had hard
soles, and the sound he emitted as he stepped on the wooden floor was loud and heavy.
Wen Han and Wang Wenhao simultaneously turned their heads toward him.
"My apologies." Cheng Muyun brought his chin in slightly, his eyes sweeping a half-circle
over the two. "I have disturbed the both of you."
Wen Han awkwardly pulled her gaze back.
Deliberately ignoring him, she said quietly to Wang Wenhao, "Good night."
Then, she heard the sound of his footsteps continuing upstairs.
She stepped into her room, closed the wooden door, and leaned her back against it,
listening as Wang Wenhao's footsteps moved off into the distance. Gently, she blew out a
breath.
The entire night was imbued with the music and laughter of the first floor.
The rain, however, fell from the deep of night until the early morning hours, never ceasing
and, in fact, showing the trend that it was coming down with increasing strength.
When the sky was showing the first faint tinges of dawn, Wen Han woke.
Due to the incessant rain, the room had grown stuffy and humid. Wen Han remembered the
innkeeper had mentioned that, since the innkeeper herself hated Nepal's monsoon season,
she had purposely added a clothes dryer in the fifth-floor laundry room. This could also be
considered one of the distinguishing features of this inn.
Here, dryers were a luxury item.
Despite sleeping for less than three hours and having a splitting headache, she was unable
to fall back asleep, so carrying her long workout pants, her hiking jacket, and a few other
articles of clothing that were machine washable out of her room, she walked up to the
laundry room on the fifth floor.
It was five o’clock in the morning. The merry noise and commotion had concluded.
This was the perfect time, while the other inn guests were still sleeping, for her to wash her
clothing first and then dry them in the dryer.
There were two washing machines, both of them very dated. Not only were their capacities
small, there was also no piping that allowed water to fill the drums automatically. The
faucet needed to be turned on first until the washer was completely filled with water, and
then the machine could be switched on. After Wen Han had stuffed all the clothes that were
in her arms into the washing machine, the drum was already packed full.
Twisting on the faucet, she watched as the water continuously flowed out from the chute
inside the washer.
"It should be able to turn, right?" She murmured this question to herself.
"It would be safer if you took out one piece of clothing," a voice answered from behind her.
"That is my personal experience."
A shudder racked through Wen Han's entire body.
The morning breeze that was intermingled with rain drifted in through the window.
She took a half-step backward to dodge the rain, trying to find some better opening words
that could be used to pay an impassive, neutral greeting to this uninvited person who had
shown up. But before she had a chance to formulate the words in her mind, something
suddenly tightened around her waist, and she was pulled against a firm chest.
As her eyes widened, a hand covered her mouth.
Both her arms were captured and twisted behind her back, easily held captive by his one
hand. He pressed her entire body into a corner of the laundry room.
The water continued to rush out, its sound flooding her ears.
"Last night when you were kissing someone else," Cheng Muyun asked softly, "did you
think of me at all? In your mind, did you compare whom you like kissing more?"
Last night, she didn't even—
… And even if there had been a goodnight kiss, what did that have to do with him?
"If right now there was a couch in here, or a thicket of grass, I would push you onto it
without the slightest hesitation." Cheng Muyun's voice was like the tender whispers that
were spoken on a bed. "From the first time I laid eyes on you, I have not been able to
control this thought."
She wanted to evade his gaze.
It was completely in vain.
It was apparent that his eyes could see into the deepest reaches of her consciousness.
Softly, he stated, "In these last two hours and more, I have been constantly thinking about
you."
She lowered her eyes, sensing his sleek, long legs against hers.
That hand that covered her mouth and nose slowly shifted away.
By her ear, Cheng Muyun whispered in Russian, "Do not cry out."
It was only in that instant earlier, when she had been surprised and received quite a fright,
that she had thought about calling out loudly for people to come. But right now, right this
moment, she actually…did not even think about yelling for help.
When Wen Han became aware of this point, even she herself did not dare believe it.
Gasping slightly, she tried as best as she could to not look at him. "What excuse are you
going to use this time…?"
"No excuse." His breath blew against her face. "I want you."
She had encountered very forthright and enthusiastic suitors in Moscow before.
Even if she were forced into a corner, she would still resolutely stay away from them.
But this man…
Just now, in that moment when he—this man whom she had tried all along, with all her
might, to detest and to avoid—had forced his kiss on her, she had suddenly discovered that,
in fact, she subconsciously was not at all repulsed by the feeling of kissing him…
Love at first sight?
She would not admit to that.
But there was obviously a peculiar vortex between the two of them that was drawing each
person to the other.
While she was telling herself in her mind, which was roiling with turbulence, to calm down,
it was plain that his eyes had already seen into the depths of her awareness with a single
glance,.
He spoke no more. Forcefully, he sealed her lips with his own and began, one by one, to
unfasten the buttons of her top…
A tremor shook Wen Han's entire body…
"Your body is responding and obliging me. In comparison to that gentlemanly friend of
yours, you actually desire me more." In the corner of this laundry room, Cheng Muyun's
voice was forming a swirling vortex for her that she could not resist. "Just as I desire you."
As a result of this undue intimacy between them, her body seemed to soften and become
restless, her head felt light, and her legs grew limp.
She should not be like this.
She must not be like this.
She closed her eyes.
Cheng Muyun's kisses became rather soft. Gently, he shifted out from beneath her tongue
and wandered over to the most sensitive upper part of her mouth, sliding the tip of his
tongue back and forth over it, again and again. Her body slowly began to tremble. Unable to
control her body's response, she pushed her chest up slightly…
At some point in time, the water sounds began to change.
The washing machine's drum was already entirely filled. There was too much water, such
that water was even beginning to stream out from the pipe on the side of the machine.
He suddenly loosened his hold on her.
Wen Han's legs were a little weak. Slowly, she leaned back against the wall, unable to
believe the response to him that she had shown, as she flustered fastening up her blouse
again.
Shutting off the faucet, Cheng Muyun took a plastic tube that was used to drain water and
set it into the cement sink. Then, wiping his hands clean on his own pants, he walked back
up in front of Wen Han, lowered himself into a half-crouch, and fastened her buttons one at
a time for her. "I vowed that I would never return to Russia, and you should very shortly be
going back to Moscow. We will not have any further contact whatsoever after that.
Therefore, anything that happens between you and me in these next few days will only be a
romantic fling in Nepal." His hand tilted her head upward so that that face that was still
flushed from the passion of a moment ago was facing him. "Are you willing?"
The old washing machine was now in the midst of operation, and the noise it produced was
rather loud.
Cheng Muyun's fingers followed the contour of her collarbone and slid down, coming to a
rest at the location of her heart. "We will be very happy."
If a man you would never meet again in your life, one who had the ability to cause people to
lose themselves in him, here at the foot of the highest peak in the world, invited you to
intimacy with him, as lovers…
… but the duration of that was ten days, would you accept?
To be able to have him for several hundred hours or to never have him—how would you
choose?
It was clear Cheng Muyun had not allotted much time for her to make her choice.
Five twenty in the morning.
He locked the door of the laundry room from the inside.
Pulling her into his embrace, from the collar of her blouse, he slipped his hand deep inside.
The blouse that only a moment ago had been refastened was now forced open again by the
strength of his arm. There was the sound of plastic buttons dropping on the floorboards.
She wanted to protest, but he had already lifted her up and set her onto a two-high stack of
old wooden crates in the corner.
Spread out on top of those crates was an Indian-style blanket.
And all control was lost on everything that followed.
……
On this morning, when the inn's young bellboy was carrying some of the innkeeper's
clothes up to the top floor, he happened to see the female guest who was staying on the
third floor step out from that top-level laundry room, holding in her arms some garments
that were already dried. Her cheeks were dusted with a peculiar rosy glow. While the
bellboy was thinking to step aside for her, from the laundry room walked out, as well, that
regular male guest who was staying here on a long-term basis.
His head bowed; the bellboy walked up the stairs with the clothing in his arms.
From the corner of his eye, he had clearly seen a secret scene. That regular male guest had
grabbed the female guest by the arm and, lowering his head, had taken her lips between his
own. The female guest had seemed a little anxious and wanted to dodge him, but he had
caught her by the wrist. And so, with no other choice, under the menacing gaze of that
regular male guest, she had taken two steps backwards and nodded her head.
The female guest fled from there.
That regular male guest, on the other hand, leaned his hand against the wall, watching as
that woman's silhouette ran down the stairs. The sound of her footsteps had completely
faded away into the distance before he gave a subtle, almost imperceptible glance at the
bellboy, who had been peeping furtively at them from the doorway of the laundry room for
a long time already.
The bellboy hunched his shoulders slightly, and with his head tucked down, he went into
the laundry room.
Wearing clothes that were freshly dried, Wen Han returned to her room. Wrapped in the
mound of clean clothing that she was haphazardly carrying in her arms was one dirty
garment—it was her blouse that he had torn open until all the buttons had ripped off.
Before she left, she had even tried to find those buttons. She had recovered three, but the
whereabouts of the other two were unknown.
She stuffed that blouse to the bottommost layer of her suitcase. Recalling everything that
had happened just earlier, she slid down against the edge of the bed until she was sitting on
the floor, her body curled into a ball, her arms wrapped around her legs, and her back
against the bed.
Right at this moment, what came to mind was actually a teenage Agnesa after the first time
she had a date with a boy. When she came back, her face had been crimson, and
exhilarated, she had described the remarkable sensation of kissing. "That boy wanted to
touch my breasts but he didn't even dare undo my clothes." At the time, Agnesa had worn a
brilliant smile.
Wen Han pressed her face against the bed sheet. Her eyes were closed, and in her mind, all
she could see was the laundry room on the top level.
Having a date. Why did she think of this description?
"When you've thought it through, come find me." These were the words that man had
spoken.
He—
She discovered right then that she did not even know what his full name was. She had only
heard the innkeeper call him "Yun" last night.
The pronunciation had sounded Chinese.
When it was lunchtime, she absentmindedly went downstairs with Agnesa.
Although they were more than ten minutes late, Wang Wenhao's lips still had a patient
smile on them as he waited downstairs with Roman. Seeing Wen Han, he stood and
suggested, "Let's walk around outside and go see the temples that are in this place.
Supposedly today is a holiday for them here."
The female innkeeper was leisurely tidying up the pipes and accessories that had been used
last night for hookah smoking. "In Nepal, one-third of the year is made up of holidays. If you
stay here, you will often be celebrating some sort of festival or holiday." A dimple showed
at the corner of the innkeeper's lips when she spoke, and it gave off a distinct, coquettish
feel.
Roman's palms seemed to grow slightly hot. "It's a pity we're only staying here for ten days
this time. Next year, when it's not rainy season, I'll come to Nepal again. When that time
comes, dear innkeeper, would you be willing to be my guide?" Roman's English was not
smooth to begin with, and now, coupled with some flirtatious intentions, he was tripping
over his words even more.
Wen Han could not hold back a giggle as she listened to him.
"Oh? Just ten days?" The innkeeper lifted up her hair. "Why so rushed? The journey just to
get here is a hard one, so why aren't you staying a few days more? I remember from your
information that your group's room booking is for twenty days?"
This reminded Wen Han that she had been the one to book the rooms, but she had
forgotten to correct the initial information given. With a rather sheepish smile, she
explained, "Because some things suddenly came up for one of the people in our group, we
had to, last-minute, shorten our vacation."
Although she actually did not know, either, why Wang Wenhao had suddenly changed his
mind and shortened their twenty-day stay to ten days.
Smiling, the female innkeeper gave a wave of her hand and told them, "No problem. This
time of year, there aren't many tourists in Nepal anyway, so you haven't really held up
much business."
Prior to coming here, Wen Han had done her research, and she knew that today was the
first day of Nepal's Teej Festival.
When they stepped into a temple, they saw that gathered together everywhere were Hindu
women dressed in splendid attire, joyously laughing, singing and dancing, and not even
really paying attention to the fine, drizzling rain that had not so much as paused. Agnesa
was watching this novel scene interestedly, and tugging incessantly on Wen Han's arm, she
urged Wen Han to introduce this festival to her.
"This is a fasting festival where they seek blessing for the men. After today's great
celebration, tomorrow, these Hindu womenfolk will fast for twenty-four hours to pray for
blessing on their husbands and families. The last day is a cleansing day, and they will
thoroughly wash their bodies clean."
"So what about the unmarried girls?"
"They pray that they will find a good man and have a happy family," Wen Han answered
quietly.
Woman dancing during Teej Festival. Teej generally falls in late August or early September.
Hindu women and girls are seen dressed in fine, red clothing, singing and dancing joyously
in celebration.
Surrounding them were women dressed in red saris, and all of them were adorned with a
red dot, which had been placed there by the priest when they came in, on the centre of their
foreheads. After standing there for a while, they discovered that the two men in their group
had disappeared. With a couple sentences of grumbling, Agnesa stated that she had had
enough here and wanted to leave. From this morning to the present, Wen Han's mind had
felt as if it was drifting, and she was unable to take in this type of cultural experience and
scenery either. So, she and Agnesa left the temple together.
When they stepped back onto the stone pathway leading to the inn, they unexpectedly saw
Wang Wenhao and Cheng Muyun sitting by the entrance of a small, Western restaurant by
the roadside. There was also a smiling man with them. Wen Han halted her footsteps,
whereas Agnesa suddenly became enthusiastically friendly. Pulling Wen Han by the arm,
she strode over to them and took a seat.
"Ah! It's leaking rainwater in this spot." Agnesa had sat down too quickly and had not
noticed that the chair was wet.
Wen Han tilted her head up to glance at this outdoor awning. It was not that there was a
leak. Those two seats on the outside were beyond the edge of the awning and were not
even under its cover.
Cheng Muyun smiled. Turning slightly, he said something to a person on the other side of
the open window in a language that everyone did not understand. Before long, the owner of
this Western-style restaurant jogged out and invited them to go inside to sit.
Their entire group stepped into the restaurant and sat down at the table by the window
next to the street.
Beside Wen Han was Agnesa, across from her was Wang Wenhao, and diagonally across
from her to her right was Cheng Muyun. As she held her menu, she tried as best as she
could to make herself appear as if she was not acquainted with him at all.
And Cheng Muyun, as they had previously agreed, very obligingly acted along with her.
Other than occasionally showing the same interest in her that he had displayed during last
night's revelrous party, the remainder of his time was used to deal with Agnesa's extreme
friendliness.
"You really used to be a monk?"
Cheng Muyun answered, "Really."
"Why did you leave the monastic life?"
"The Dharma has eighty-four thousand paths to enlightenment." With his elbows on the
table and his hands folded together, he propped his chin up on the back of his hands and
looked at Agnesa with solemnity. "I have chosen the Dharma path that is most suitable for
me."
Agnesa was amused by his words. "So from what you're saying, you're still working on the
path to enlightenment?"
"That is correct."
"So… what if you violate one of the Buddhist precepts?"
Wang Wenhao gave a smile. "Agnesa, your question is too subtle. Let me help you phrase it
more clearly." He patted Cheng Muyun on the shoulder. "This beautiful lady in front of you
is actually trying to ask you, are you willing to violate the precept of celibacy?"
"Precept of celibacy?" Cheng Muyun's peripheral gaze ever so briefly swept to the corner
before moving away again. "Enduring the pains brought by lust and sensuality is also one of
the eighty-four thousand ascetic practices of Dharma." This was a very novel way of
speaking about this concept. The faces of everyone present showed intrigue with this topic.
Even the man beside Cheng Muyun felt that this was very curious and interesting.
Only Wen Han was staring at the steak in front of her, carrying on in seriousness with
cutting up her beef.
The steak in this place was very much overdone and was basically a strength and quality
test for her knife. In the beginning, she had cut off a large chunk, but after putting it into her
mouth, she needed to chew for a long while before she was able to make the meat soft and
easy enough to swallow. Therefore, for the next piece, she had no choice but to work even
harder to cut off an even smaller piece from the steak.
"What about 'mutual cultivation' [“cultivation” through sexual intercourse between a man
and a woman] toward enlightenment?" Agnesa suddenly glanced at Wen Han. "Mutual
cultivation. We read about it in the library before."
With a clank, the knife's cutting motions banged into the plate.
The two tables of tourists beside them were startled, and they all looked in their direction.
A tinge of embarrassment showed in Wen Han's eyes as she flashed an apologetic smile at
the people around her…
"Mutual cultivation?" Cheng Muyun quietly repeated those words. "That is a very old and
also very mysterious and profound topic."
Observing Wen Han with her head down, cutting her steak, Wang Wenhao seemed a little
displeased. Giving a light cough, he evaded this topic and, instead, asked Wen Han how
their time at the temple had been. Agnesa seemed extremely irritated by the fact that the
women fasted for an entire day to pray for blessing for the men. In bafflement over this
practice, she stated two or three sentences denouncing it, while, in passing, also expressing
her interest in henna tattoos.
In India, because she had not been acclimatized to the country and hence had been unwell,
Agnesa had managed to miss out on this traditional art form. "Wen Han likes it a lot, too.
Too bad she had to stay with me in the hotel. And I'm not sure whether the people here will
apply henna to non-Hindu women. From your fingertips to the tips of your toes… I wonder
what it feels like when they're painting it on. You know, I'm really ticklish.
The atmosphere was pleasant as they ate their dinner.
Every so often, Wang Wenhao would talk quietly to Wen Han, asking her if she had slept
comfortably last night.
"Pretty good. It's just a little humid. Too bad the dryer upstairs can only handle clothing,"
Wen Han remarked. "It'd be nice if our bed sheets and blankets could be dried, too."
"If you are regular guests, it can absolutely be done." As if he was not at all well-acquainted
with her, Cheng Muyun glanced sideways at her, his eyes narrowed in a slight squint. "The
innkeeper's room has a wall fireplace that imitates a Russian style. She can help you set the
bedding by the heat until it is dry and warm.
"Really?" Agnesa elatedly asked, but then her reaction switched to a plaintive one. "Too
bad… None of us are regular guests."
Still resting his chin on the backs of his hands, Cheng Muyun smiled, "I would think that
there should not be any problems with that."
The result, naturally, was that there were not any problems with that.
It seemed the innkeeper never refused any one of his requests.
However, Cheng Muyun did hint to them that they should keep quiet about this, lest the
other guests at the inn found out about it. He even was so kind as to personally bring the
bedding over for the two ladies. Wang Wenhao was not so fragile and delicate and politely
declined his offer. When Roman learned about this later that night, he was even more
displeased and warned Agnesa to be wary of that man. "There's something poisonous
about the look in his eyes."
Agnesa jeered back at Roman, "You're just jealous because you see that the lady innkeeper
treats him specially. I'm vowing here, he will be mine, so you can just rest assured and
boldly go and woo your Little Fox."
Agnesa was absolutely determined to get what she wanted and even asked why Wang
Wenhao had been sitting with him at dinner. Also, who was that short man who was a
stranger to them? Wang Wenhao explained that after he became separated from them, he
had run into Cheng Muyun, who had been with a friend. Cheng Muyun had invited him to
have dinner with them, and he had not refused.
"See? You're a man and you can't even refuse him, let alone us women." Grinning, Agnesa
slipped an arm around Wen Han's shoulders. "Wen Han, he shouldn't be the type you like,
right?" When she said this, she even flicked her gaze in Wang Wenhao's direction.
Wen Han gave a couple of coughs.
Sitting on Agnesa's bed, she carried on with taking the playing cards that were stacked in
her hand and laying them out in sequence until, in the end, they covered half of the bed.
Wang Wenhao was standing behind her, and discovering an error in their order, he leaned
his face in close to the back of her shoulder and gently told her, "There's a mistake."
Wen Han paused blankly for a brief moment, feeling Wang Wenhao's breath against her
ear.
Hastily, she pulled away from him, and throwing down the cards that were in her hands,
she jogged over to the window to look out with Agnesa at the view of the street.
Her head was filled only with the words Cheng Muyun had said to them earlier, when he
was taking the bedding from Agnesa's room. "I will bring it back at night." Agnesa had been
exhilarated and, very enthusiastically, had told him that she would definitely wait for him,
that even if she had to wait until the sun came out, she would not mind.
It was past ten o'clock that night when Cheng Muyun finally appeared with the bedding in
his arms.
When the door of Agnesa's room was opened after he knocked on it, Agnesa, under the dim
yellow lighting of the hallway, took the bedding from him. Upon discovering that the
innkeeper had even very thoughtfully wrapped a cloth around the outside of it, she was
very pleasantly surprised.
"Where's Wen Han's?" Agnesa noticed he had only brought this one set of bedding back.
"It will be ready soon. The innkeeper will bring it over herself shortly."
Agnesa's eyes sparkled, and the corners of her lips curved upwards. Suddenly, she leaned
in beside Cheng Muyun's ear. Although the blanket in her arms separated their two bodies,
her face was very close to his. "Thank you."
Stepping backwards unhurriedly, Cheng Muyun smiled.
Agnesa thought he would understand the obvious hint that she had given in these late night
hours. Alas, this man who aroused her interest did not express any of the same eagerness
toward her.
Reluctantly, she was about to close her room door.
"Would you like to try getting a henna tattoo?" With narrowed eyes, he glanced at the door
of the adjacent room. "Tell your friend to come along. I know a nice, little shop."
Agnesa's eyes lit up. "Sure! Otherwise I really don't know what I'd do tonight anyway."
"In half an hour, I shall respectfully await downstairs the pleasure of your and your friend's
presence."
Only a door separated this conversation from her. Wen Han heard it all very clearly.
In fact, from the moment she heard the sound of footsteps, she had leaped up from the bed
and taken a seat anxiously on the couch, her bare feet pressed tightly together as she sat in
a very solemn and proper posture, waiting for him to knock on the door.
She had continuously told herself, she needed to take the bedding very quickly, say thank
you to him, and then just shut the door.
She absolutely could not give him any opportunity.
However, she had not expected that after all her waiting, in the end, what she would hear
was his invitation to Agnesa and herself to fulfill their henna tattoo dream—yet another
surprise. She was never able to guess what his next move would be. From this afternoon
when she went to the temple, she had persuaded herself that she should not waver
anymore. Who would have thought that on her way back, she would already be having
dinner with him? Then, because of her one, casual sentence of griping, he had ended up
taking her bed sheets and blanket from her. And so it had been until now, when, late at
night, the topic of henna tattoos all of a sudden came up.
……
When Agnesa came to find her, Wen Han made up countless excuses but was still unable to
escape from going. After all, she could not outright state the true reason for trying to stay
away from him.
"Didn't you complain about missing out on the chance to get one done when we were in
India?" Agnesa put a red, French-style, wide-brimmed hat onto her own head and then, in
passing, helped Wen Han put on her black one.
The drizzling rain was fluttering down outside. Naturally, holding an umbrella did not
create nearly as alluring a picture as wearing this type of hat did.
The several of them all arrived downstairs.
As before, it was still a night scene of hookah and smiling and conversing guests.
This morning, a few guests had checked out, but then another few girls from Hong Kong
had arrived, and they were now chatting quietly.
The jasper-green glass door blurred the view of the late-night streetscape outside.
Holding down her hat, she lifted her eyes. Through the glass that was blanketed with
streaks of water droplets, she saw him. Agnesa pushed open the door. There was the night
wind that blew in. And there was also his gaze as he turned around.
"Such a strong wind?" Agnesa held her hat down with her hand, as well, and striding
through the doorway, she stretched a hand out, facing it upward to catch some rain. "How
come this rain has just never stopped?"
Wen Han stepped out after her, avoiding his gaze as she gave a polite nod in greeting.
Taking a couple of steps forward, he casually closed the inn's glass door for them. His
barely audible voice glided into her ear. "The entire daytime, you kept showing up in my
vision. Were you testing my self-restraint?"
Caught off guard, Wen Han looked back in surprise.
……
"Will there be a big storm here?" At the same time, Agnesa also turned around, smiling
sweetly. "Or perhaps the question is, when will the weather clear up? Will we get to see
Nepal's sun in the next ten days?"
"You will have to see what your luck is."
With an expression that showed he did not really care either way, he pointed at somewhere
far down the dim street.
In that direction was the little shop he had mentioned.
She and Agnesa walked along the muddy road, avoiding puddle after puddle.
At the corner of the street, they turned, arriving at their destination.
Cheng Muyun led them inside to the first level. The shop owner was staring at a small, old
and worn television. Seeing them, he stood and exchanged a few words with Cheng Muyun
in a language Wen Han was unfamiliar with, before calling out some instructions through
the black curtain behind him. A young woman came out and, pressing her palms
respectfully together in greetings to the two of them, she spoke a sentence in the local
language. Then blushingly, she lifted her head to look at him. She was waiting for him to
translate.
Cheng Muyun tilted his chin and motioned with it. "She is telling the two of you to go
upstairs."
After stating this, he pulled over a chair and sat down, leaning his side into the chairback in
a posture that indicated he would patiently wait for them.
Walking upstairs, the two of them saw four little rooms partitioned only by thick curtains.
The two rooms to the left and right were both occupied. When they arrived upstairs, a girl
wearing a black, surgical-style face mask happened to be stepping out from one of the
rooms next to where they were, carrying a tray of dyes in her hands.
Wen Han and Agnesa each chose a room. Lifting open the curtain, Wen Han stepped inside
and then, rising up onto the tips of her toes, closed up the curtain's gap again. She turned
around to see a simple bed, and spread on it was a blanket adorned with an Indian-style
design.
Only a single, thick curtain separated this room from the adjacent one, and she could
clearly hear the customer inside the other room laughingly asking something in, as before,
a language she did not understand.
While she was still hesitating over whether this bed was clean or not, behind her, a figure
lifted open the curtain. "Remove your top and lie down on there." Turning in surprise, she
saw a familiar pair eyes. Although he was wearing a black face mask that concealed more
than half his face, she still knew it was him.
Her mouth opened slightly, and her heart began to jump erratically.
Narrowing his eyes, Cheng Muyun set his index finger against the outside of the black face
mask.
It was obvious he was warning her not to make any noise, that next door there was another
customer, and that just a few steps away, in another room across from her was Agnesa.
"What… what are you doing here?" Her voice was very light, as if she was being a thief here.
Setting the tray that held the dye and a hot towel down onto a low table, he sauntered over
to her.
She stepped backwards, bumping into the bed.
He lifted up the hem of her shirt, but she held his hand down, glaring at him powerlessly.
Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, "Look, there is a bed here. Every customer here
does the same."
Wen Han hesitated. Yes, those words were correct, but—
He did not give her any further opportunity for wavering. Removing Wen Han's cotton,
long-sleeved t-shirt, he pushed her onto the bed, held her by her lower abdomen and the
small of her back, and turned her over. And then, standing beside the bed with one knee
kneeling on its edge, he held down her right wrist and felt for a tube of dye.
Dye touched the very tip of her finger.
It was very cool. Her skin, however, was searing hot.
In the beginning, she had felt discomfited since, after all, all that remained on her upper
body was her bra, and lying like this on the bed in front of him gave her a feeling of
uneasiness. As time passed, though, she began to appreciate his drawing. Cheng Muyun's
eyes were lowered, and his entire gaze moved only between her arm and the dye applicator
tube. The drawing began at the tip of her fingers and traversed down to the back of her
hand. Initially, there was only a vine, but gradually, at the end of the vine, a lotus flower
began to appear.
A lotus flower intertwined with a vine.
Such a bizarre combination.
"Wen Han?" From the other room, through two layers of curtains, Agnesa called to her.
Giving an "mm-hmm," she cast a guilty glance at him.
"You know that man? The day before yesterday, I saw a woman in his room. She spoke
Russian, too. Seriously, such a loose, amorous guy." Agnesa spoke in Russian, likely because
she reckoned that in this place, only she and Wen Han understood the language. "Just
earlier, when he was bringing the dried, warmed blanket back to me, I hinted to him that he
could stay in my room tonight, but he pretended he didn't understand what I was saying."
There was a warm, rough feeling on her shoulder. Through that black face mask, he kissed
her left shoulder. She dared not move.
Agnesa's giggles drifted over to her. "Why aren't you saying anything? Oh man, oh God, I
can't laugh anymore. It'll mess up my henna tattoo. This young, handsome henna tattoo
artist of mine is already starting to throw warnings at me with his eyes."
She gave an "mm." All around, quiet was once again restored.
Outside the window, the light that shone from the inns beside the street was suggestive.
It so happened that a new bar had just opened, and light from it filtered through a spread of
leaves and vegetation, spilling a colorful glow that passed through the window and landed
on the ceiling.
Amid this stillness, she grew increasingly unsettled, and she pushed herself up on her arms,
wanting to move about.
Wen Han’s teeth clenched tightly on her lower lip. Her body was a little stiff from purposely
maintaining the same position.
In India, she had seen someone who, after getting henna applied on both hands, had needed
to sit in one place for one to two hours to ensure that the stain would hold. One to two
hours…
"Why… did you leave the monastic and go back to a secular life?" She spoke softly in
Chinese, hoping to put an end to this eerie silence.
Her voice was very light, so light it could nearly waft away with the incense.
Drawing with focused seriousness, Cheng Muyun replied, "My heart has turned and already
believes, so wherever I may be, whatever I may be doing, there will still be no difference.
Even if I were to make love with you, it would still be the same." The drawing flowed
ceaselessly from his hand, and the design had already spread up to her arm. It was no
longer a diminutive, winding little lotus flower; rather, it was a large one that blossomed in
layers upon layers.
"But when committing to the precepts to abstain, lust is one of the greatest things from
which you should abstain," she quietly countered.
"Oh? Do you truly believe that?"
"Even non-Buddhists know that…"
"And even if one should break that precept, so what?" He leaned in and whispered this by
her ear.
Setting down the tube of dye, Cheng Muyun traced his fingers along the curve of her spine
and glided them downward. The contour of her back was very smooth and flowing, and her
spine dipped deep into it.
Dye was beginning to be applied to her legs now.
Wen Han screwed her eyes shut. The erratic beating of her heart caused her body to rapidly
grow hot.
"Do not move," he instructed her, his voice light. "Maintain this position. Do not ruin the
lotus flower on your back."
Wen Han clamped down tightly on her lip with her teeth. Because she was purposely
holding herself still, her arms were feeling somewhat numb.
Perspiration began to surface in small, densely spaced beads on her back. Bringing the side
of his face against hers, he guided her in a low voice, "Your arms are numb?"
She did not speak.
"In that space between suppressing one's sensual desires and giving way to them, there is a
remarkably wonderful period." He spoke softly, "Don't you think so?" Wen Han could sense
his breath against the back of her ear, and her own fingers were twisting the bed sheets
with all her might. It felt as if there was a fire being held in her throat.
In a low tone, Cheng Muyun uttered her name, speaking in Chinese, the language that only
she and he could understand. In that moment when he gently called her, she even had the
mistaken feeling that he had already fallen in love with her.
It was the type of love that had come into existence at first sight.
This night carried on until two or three o'clock. Across the way, Agnesa was very heavy-
eyed. Through the curtains, Agnesa said, just now, the owner had come up and informed
her that that Chinese man had left a message for the two of them, telling them to wait one
or two hours until the stain had completely set. They should sleep for a while first and then
go back when morning came.
He, when she was utterly drained, had also finally told her that she was nearly free to move
about again as she pleased. Wen Han, though, had absolutely no strength left in her to
move, and soon, she was asleep.
Early in the morning, the two of them walked downstairs.
Cheng Muyun sat leaning back in that shabby old armchair on the first floor, his legs
crossed and resting on a low cabinet, looking as if he had not left that spot the entire night.
Languidly, he rose to his feet, moving and stretching his arms. "I hope you two ladies had
an enjoyable time last night."
With his jacket in his right hand, he pushed open the door first.
When they returned to the inn, the innkeeper was leaning against the doorway of the room
on the first floor and smilingly looking at them. "Yun Laoban, you came back at the perfect
time. I took a long-distance call here that left a phone number and asked you to call back as
soon as possible."
He bid the two of them goodbye, then walked through the door behind the innkeeper.
After he had taken a seat on the couch, the innkeeper very soon brought over a cup of hot
Nepali milk tea. Cheng Muyun was feeling a little fatigued as he undid the two buttons at
the top of his shirt that only not long ago had been fastened. With two fingers, he picked up
the cup by its brim and took a sip.
The innkeeper looked at him. "How was last night?"
He set his arm on top of the back seat cushion of the couch, not giving her an answer.
"You're not worried that she has some sort of special identity? You said yourself that you
saw her half a year ago."
"I have touched every inch of skin on her and the frame of her entire body. I know her body
better than she knows it herself. That body is very straightforward and pure." There were
absolutely no traces of having been put through any training.
But her figure is very good. She must like sports or exercising? he thought.
In addition, the person who had applied the henna for the other Russian girl last night had
also examined that body—extremely ordinary.
"It's so strange that that man would actually bring a few ordinary people along here with
him on vacation."
"It is a very good smokescreen." Cheng Muyun gave this assessment.
The female innkeeper pondered for a moment. Walking over to the window, she stared out
at the endless number of Westerners, both men and women, who were strolling along the
road. "Just earlier, before Wang Wenhao left, he was still asking me about whitewater
rafting on the Trishuli River."
"Yesterday when he and I made contact, he had already said that he would be going rafting
next." Cheng Muyun continued moistening his throat with the milk tea. The entire night of
suppressing his own sensual desires had caused his nerves to now be even more taut. He
was finally beginning to admit that sex that one could not have was both the most exciting
and the most exhausting. "I very much dislike spending an entire day in a rubber raft, as
well as listening to people screaming uncontrollably, as a way to pass the time."
Furthermore, as the "local bodyguards," he and Meng Liangchuan would need to bring
along Wang Wenhao's goods and go rafting with these people.
Such a torturing itinerary and travel plans.
"A whitewater rafting trip is a minimum of two days, one night. In your opinion, do you
think he'll choose to hand off the goods that night at the campsite?"
"It is possible."
Feeling rather uncomfortable, he furrowed his brows together.
The sounds of a bunch of women, and even men, screaming in fear were already beginning
to echo in his mind.
On the wall directly across from Cheng Muyun, there hung a Tibetan-style blanket.
He, however, was thinking of the lotus flower on her body.
The song's name in Russian is Невезучий , and it was originally sung by Vitas.

双修 "shuang xiu." To the layman, the idea of "mutual cultivation" is what has often been
portrayed on television or in novels, where a man and a woman engage in intercourse not
for sexual pleasure but because it will move them to a higher level of enlightenment or
cultivation.
Additional Comments:
As many of you keenly recognized, this scene in the laundry from the previous chapter and
beginning of this chapter was featured in , when Chu Jian went to visit Jian Bianlin on the
set. Jian Bianlin was acting the role of Cheng Muyun.
A random girl he had a chance encounter with half a year ago, far away in another country
where he was still a monk, suddenly showed up here where he was, six months later. We
don’t know details, but we do know Cheng Laoban is here with some sort of plans. How
could Wen Han’s arrival not trigger some suspicions initially?
 Chapter 3 – The Shadows of Fate

After returning to her room in the inn, Wen Han opened up her notebook and quickly jotted
down notes from the trip.
D1 (9.9): Entered Kathmandu, Nepal via India (arrived 16:06 local time). Stayed in Thamel.
D2 (9.10): Nepal's Teej Festival. Went to Boudhanath and Durbar Square in the morning.
Exchanged some currency. Got henna tattoo done at night.
D3 (9.11):
The tip of her pen halted.
What should she do today?
This question did not linger around for long before Roman was excitedly informing her and
Agnesa that their plans had changed and that today, they would be going whitewater
rafting on the Trishuli River. Everyone was now in a rush due to this unexpected
arrangement. She did not have much stuff and very soon was packed and organized. When
she arrived downstairs, she came upon Wang Wenhao rather displeased disputing with the
innkeeper over why the rafting trip had suddenly been moved up to take place earlier than
planned.
"Dear, you do know that the weather here in Nepal has been terrible of late." The innkeeper
wore a smile on her face. She was long accustomed to dealing with all different sorts of bad-
tempered guests. "Rainy season is not a good time for whitewater rafting. I contacted
several river guides, but none of them were very willing to take you. I had to do a whole lot
of persuading before two were finally willing to do it, but they only agreed to a one-day
excursion."
Wang Wenhao pulled off his glasses, very crossly wiping the lenses. "I do not appreciate it
when people disrupt my plans. This way that you are all doing things is very disrespectful
to people."
Very rarely did Wen Han see him like this. Walking with Agnesa over to him, the two girls
tried in low voices to soothe him. "This time of year is rainy season in Nepal and is indeed
unsuitable for rafting."
Wang Wenhao flicked a glance at Wen Han and did not carry on expressing his dissent. "I'm
going out for a walk to change some more money. You guys wait here in the lobby."
After saying this, he left straightaway, the expression on his face inexplicably seeming
somewhat strained.
As Wen Han set her backpack down on the couch in the lobby, she saw Cheng Muyun
leaning against the green glass cabinet at the front reception, his head tilted to the side,
listening to the questions of two female Korean travellers. Right at this moment, he lifted
his eyes and glanced at the lobby area, his gaze very indifferently passing over her, seeming
as if they had had no interaction whatsoever before.
Wen Han forced herself to shift her eyes away and look out the window.
Out on the street, a few armed soldiers walked by. In every corner of every street of this
place, people carrying arms could be seen, and it left people feeling very tense.
This place was Nepal, separated from Russia by the country of China. He had said before, in
this lifetime, he would never return to Moscow. And she could not stay here; even her visa
did not allow her to stay.
Wen Han pressed her lips together, discovering that she was actually imagining the
possibility of being in a long-term relationship with him.
Wake up, Wen Han. You're going to be going back to Moscow really soon. He's already
clearly said that he cannot give you a future with him. Do not have any contact with him
anymore.
Her hands gripped the couch beneath her tightly until deep creases formed in it.
……
When Cheng Muyun took advantage of the time when Agnesa ran outside to buy some little
souvenirs to walk toward her with a cup of milk tea in hand, she had finally resolved herself
to her decision. In a low voice, she told him, "We should maintain an appropriate distance
between us."
Cheng Muyun ceased his steps. The smile in his eyes faded, but yet, strangely, the corner of
his lips curled upwards. "As you wish."
Draining in a single breath the cup of milk tea that he was holding, he set the white
porcelain cup on the windowsill and walked away.
Even when they were heading out, he did not make another appearance in front of them
again.
As there were not many vacationers, there were only two rubber rafts and fifteen
participants at the starting point of the rafting journey. Having spent their time, day in and
day out, making their way and mingling with those on the streets of Nepal, Cheng Muyun
and his friend with the short build were very well acquainted with the guides here, and
hence they became half-guides themselves, controlling the backs of the rafts and shouting
out commands.
Cheng Muyun led one raft while Meng Liangchuan was in charge of the other.
The guides happily took this opportunity to kick back and relax, paddling together with the
vacationers.
Cheng Muyun did not even put on a lifejacket and wore only a protective helmet. Standing
at the river's edge, he was explaining to some of the male tourists some matters that would
need particular attention, since, after all, they could not place their reliance on the female
vacationers. In this type of high-risk, adventure activity, men were the main force and
strength.
When all was ready, he held down the rubber raft with one foot and instructed that eight
tourist participants should climb into it.
The female vacationers practically all swarmed forward at once, and he had no choice but
to stop them. "Ladies, you must think this through carefully. In a little while, there are going
to be dangerous rapids and currents. My advice is that it is best if every woman is paired
with a man. That way, there will be men to take care of all of you." His eyes shot a glance
over the river's surface. "You should know, I cannot handle so many women falling into the
water all at once."
Everyone laughed, and then they reassigned the groupings.
In reality, once the raft was truly in the water, who could bother to care whether the guide
was a hot-looking guy or not? When the raft was still in gentle waters, everybody could still
find this fun and amusing, working together to paddle along and race and compete with the
other raft. However, once they entered the rapids and experienced the terrifying
excitement of plummeting from the crest of a wave to its bottom, the paddling vacationers
were so busy their hands and feet were in a flurry, and cries of fright and shrieking started
to intermix with the other sounds.
In the midst of this atmosphere of adventure and peril, Wen Han also temporarily forgot
about the awkwardness between her and him.
"Hurry! Help save him!" This bellow suddenly burst forth from Meng Liangchuan. Someone
had fallen overboard. The entire time, Cheng Muyun had seemed rather apathetic, and only
now did he show some seriousness. "Head back upstream!"
He immediately switched positions with the river guide, personally taking up an oar and
turning the raft around.
Working against the current, this raft of vacationers also paddled with all their might.
"Wen Han, Wen Han! I can't anymore!" Agnesa cried in Russian as she watched her paddle
fly away from her.
"Hold on to my waist!" Wen Han shouted. Her palms, too, were sapped of all strength from
paddling against the rapids, but still, she held her paddle in a vice grip.
He cast a quick glance in their direction. Upon confirming that the two of them had not yet
fallen into the water, he turned his eyes back onto the river.
The furious, roaring waves were such a fearsome sight.
Cheng Muyun tossed a rope to the river guide, who quickly wound it around his body
before handing it behind him to—
He halted in surprise.
The person behind the guide was Wen Han. In the eyes of other people, she was the
slightest and frailest of girls.
Wen Han, on the other hand, did not hesitate at all, and taking the rope, she copied the
guide and wrapped it around her own waist before forcefully knotting it tight. Although her
hands were trembling slightly, she still completed these actions very swiftly.
Looping the rope around his right hand, Cheng Muyun jumped into the rapidly flowing
river. With a single hand, he grabbed the vacationer who had fallen in, lifting him up by the
lifejacket. Because of the forceful pull on them by the rope, Wen Han and the river guide
were suddenly jerked forward.
Luckily, this lasted for less than twenty seconds before Cheng Muyun tossed the fallen male
vacationer back up into the raft.
Cheng Muyun then hopped back in as well. As he lowered himself into a half-crouch and
saw that the man's complexion was ashen, he simply gave a firm smack to that man's face.
The man, who had been so terrified his soul had practically left him, finally pulled in a gasp
of air and let out several fierce coughs. Then, covering his cheek, he stared with fright at
Cheng Muyun…
With this interlude, when they arrived at the white-sand beach, he was even more so the
focal point of all the women's eyes.
His entire body was sodden from the rescue, but it was unsuitable for him to take off his
pants, so he removed only his shirt and shoes to allow them to dry. He was not carrying
many things with him. There was a dry bag that contained his knife and gun for self-
protection, and now it was tossed off to one side.
With feet and upper body bare, he sat on a boulder in the sun, his back toward where she
was.
The afternoon sun swathed his body in a faint halo of light.
Wen Han took the dry, white towel that the river guide had readied ahead of time, undid
the hair tie that held her hair, and gently rubbed her hair. Unwittingly, she observed him
from the corner of her eye. A large area of his back was covered by a tattoo. She had seen
this type of tattoo before. Some monks believed that enduring pain of the skin was also a
type of practice that would lead to enlightenment, and with not a single part of their bodies
drugged against pain, designs would be tattooed onto their bodies.
On Cheng Muyun's body, there was a lotus flower.
A large stretch of intertwining vines and layer upon layer of lotus that all came together
until, in the end, they formed an even more complete picture of a single lotus flower.
This man in different surroundings and circumstances gave people different feelings and
impressions.
For instance, right now on this beach on the riverbank, as he sat and basked in the sun, he
looked very harmless. It was just that he was a little too quiet, such that even his friend,
Meng Liangchuan, was bored when trying to talk to him and would rather avoid him and
chitchat with the two river guides instead.
A female traveller walked over to him, asking him about the tattoo on his back. It was one
of the two Korean girls who had had a pleasant chat with him at the inn. That girl's English
was not very fluent, but her voice was very soft and gentle and was mixed with some
curiosity about him. Cheng Muyun did not speak much, but his word choices and speed at
which he spoke were both controlled just right so that the other party could understand
him.
Wen Han wrung the towel that was in her hands. Actually, no water came out. It was only a
little damp.
He so very easily attracted the attention of women who did not know him well. Before long,
Agnesa also seized this opportunity to get closer and began chatting with them. Wen Han
could hear the giggles of the Korean girl.
Wang Wenhao sat down next to Wen Han. "Since we came to Nepal, you've been avoiding
me."
"Have I?" She pulled her gaze back.
"Are you still feeling unwell?"
She shook her head. "I'm almost entirely better."
Wang Wenhao gazed at her eyes that were beneath the radiance of the sunshine. Though
her adoptive parents were both ethnic Chinese, she possessed a unique pair of eyes that left
people enthralled and feeling intoxicated. Only when looking carefully from a close distance
would a person discover that the depths of her eyes carried a deep blue color that was very
different from black.
When this beautiful girl looked wide-eyed at him with her large eyes, it always caused a
burning heat to form in his abdomen, as well as the most primal of urges in him, where he
wanted to press her into his embrace and bite down on her lips or even her body. While her
response and actions on the raft earlier had astounded him and left him pleasantly
surprised, he still preferred the girl who was before him right now, who caused him to
want to take care of her, take her into his arms, and kiss her.
Wang Wenhao wanted to move to the next step with her.
Evading him, Wen Han told him quietly, "Don't be like this."
"Wen Han?"
"We've known each other for more than two years already." She tried her best to word
what she wanted to say in a way that would not hurt his pride. "If I could fall in love with
you, I would have fallen in love a long time ago. Don't waste time on me."
"Wen Han," Wang Wenhao interrupted her, "don't be so direct to tell me that. Think
seriously about it again. Altitude changes much too quickly here and that can affect a
person's emotions and judgment. Let's talk about it again when we're back in Moscow.
Right now, do not be in a hurry to give me an answer."
Wen Han did not want to talk anymore, and picking up her backpack, she went and joined
the main group.
The guides informed them, "The rest of the trip is going to be amazing. We are going to
camp out in the wild jungle. Nepal has prohibited the hunting of animals, so that place is a
paradise for wild beasts—the Bengal tiger, leopards, rhinos, elephants, as well as
freshwater dolphins and crocodiles.
Crocodiles. She had never seen one before.
She thought, the upcoming stunning scenes of nature would allow the things that had
occurred between him and her these last two days to fade from her memory. Those had
been so short-lived they could utterly be viewed as a splendidly beautiful and, also,
dangerous dream in a foreign land.
The vacationers plus the two river guides, Cheng Muyun, and Meng Liangchuan made a
total of nineteen people, and they all began walking in the direction of Chitwan National
Park.
After several hours had passed, all those girls who had tried to strike up a conversation
with Cheng Muyun had now already temporarily forgotten about this man's charm. They
merely walked and walked wearily, complaining about why they still had not arrived at the
campsite yet.
And so this continued from afternoon to dusk, until, when the sky was about to turn dark,
they at last saw a very large lake.
Elatedly, Roman exclaimed that tomorrow they could come here to see crocodiles. But what
Wen Han noticed was that there were several soldiers holding guns and standing sentinel
by the lake. When Cheng Muyun walked over, he gave them a nod in greeting, pulled out
two packs of cigarettes from his pocket, and tossed the packages to them.
Catching them, the other party then smilingly pointed at a spot somewhere not too far up
ahead.
That was their campsite.
Late this night.
Inside her tent, she stared fixedly at the only lamp within that small space, and as she lay on
her belly in her sleeping bag, she allowed her mind to go blank. After a long time, she finally
turned off the lamp to go to sleep, but her slumber was fitful. All of a sudden, a shadowy
figure slipped into her tent and pounced onto her. "Hey, baby, they're all having fun
outside. Why are you staying in here all by yourself?" Agnesa grinningly asked her. "I've
found that the people here are all really interesting. Those soldiers we saw guarding the
lake during the day are out there, too."
While Agnesa spoke, she was dragging Wen Han out of the tent.
Who said there were a lot of people outside..?
Beside the campfire, the only people remaining were the two guides, Cheng Muyun, his
friend, and also those several gun-carrying soldiers they had seen standing guard by the
lake during the daytime. When the two girls slipped out of the tent, the men by the
campfire all simultaneously looked over at them.
"Why did you two suddenly come out?" a guide asked puzzledly.
Cheng Muyun sat on the other side of the fire. His face was not visible, and only the outline
of his body could be seen.
"I'm not really used to sleeping in a tent." Agnesa strolled over to them. "Why aren't all of
you sleeping?"
"It has not been very peaceful around here of late." Meng Liangchuan had not caught on to
anything, and very kindly, he gave her an answer. "We need to leave a few men here to
stand guard." One of the guides in passing poured a cup of liquor for each of the two ladies.
This particular guide had participated in the peacekeeping activities of the United Nations
before. Those several soldiers, as well, were stationed here year round to guard against
poachers and to protect the greater one-horned rhinoceros. This was what the men had
been chatting about just a moment ago.
After listening to them talk for a little while, Wen Han more and more felt that she could
not stay sitting here. Moreover, she was very easily affected by alcohol, and after
consuming only half a cup, her face had already started to turn red.
"After my father passed on, his ashes were scattered in India's Ganges River." The guide
took pride in this. This was a privilege that only the rich here could have. "The Brahmin
caste occupies the highest status in Nepal."
The guide was already somewhat drunk.
Glancing at his watch, Cheng Muyun told Agnesa, "You can both still sleep for a while. There
is still some time until daybreak."
The reflection of the blazing flames danced in his eyes, more intense than even the liquor.
Despite the fact that he had not consumed any alcohol.
Wen Han's emotions were a somewhat on the edge, and with the alcohol acting as a
catalyst, she was not able to control them.
Wordlessly, she rose to her feet and returned to her own tent. This time, she truly did sleep.
The instant she shut her eyes, it was as if she had been pushed into a whirlpool, and heavy
headed, she slipped away from consciousness.
However, it seemed that before long, she was awoken by screams of terror.
Abruptly, she sat up. Vaguely sensing that this was not a dream, she immediately crawled
out of the tent.
There was no one beside the campfire. Far away, silhouettes of people were flocked
together in one place, hugging their heads and squatting down beside the tents.
In the darkness, she had taken only two steps forward when someone suddenly seized her
by the arm and crouched down. "Poachers! They must be poachers! There are so many
Tibetan mastiffs!" Agnesa cried in Russian, her words quivering.
Pain stabbed Wen Han's wrist from Agnesa's grip. She patted Agnesa's hand, her own arm
sore from the anxiety that clenched her. What about him? Where was he? Frantically, she
searched around with her eyes but was unable to find the two guides and him, or his friend
Meng Liangchuan.
All around, there were only the snarling and barking of dogs, ferocious and ruthless-
sounding.
Injured, two soldiers who were stationed to guard the lake held their wounds as they
roared out furious shouts. A group of hounds pounced into the jungle thicket, clamping
down and tearing with their teeth or being clamped down upon and torn at by teeth. In the
black of the night, nothing could be seen. There were only the yowls and cries of beasts.
Someone carrying a hunting rifle was taking backwards steps, and as he walked past where
Wen Han was, he narrowed his eyes. "If you see any animal, slash at it. If you don't hack
them to death, you'll be the ones bitten to death." Meng Liangchuan yanked out a knife and
tossed it at her feet.
Reaching her hand out, Wen Han pulled the dagger over and clutched it tightly.
She did not know what use there was for her to have a dagger. The speed of those darting
shadowy figures was too terrifying. Her sight had become blurry from fear. The landscape
before her eyes shook and would suddenly grow larger, then suddenly smaller. All of a
sudden, the tent behind them, which was used to hold cookware and utensils, was knocked
over, and two animals flipped and rolled into it. Amidst the smashing sounds of pots and
bowls crashing to the ground, the beasts, swathed in the tent canvas, came charging in her
direction. Behind her, Agnesa gave a shrill shriek as Roman yanked her by her collar, and
tumbling and scrambling on their hands and feet, they raced toward that largest tent.
Besides hiding, there was nothing they could do.
"Wen Han!" Agnesa yelled her name.
She did not move.
She had clearly seen a familiar-looking shadow entwined with a Tibetan mastiff, rolling on
the ground with it. Under the moonlight, there was blood on Cheng Muyun's face. The look
in his eyes was even more ferocious and chilling than the beast beneath him. With a single
stab, he thrust his knife straight into the Tibetan mastiff's heart, then dragged the blade
crosswise, nearly splitting the beast in two at the chest.
Blood came gushing out, a brilliant red, completely staining his pants.
Climbing back up onto his feet, he cast an emotionless glance at Wen Han.
Wen Han's feet seemed to have a mind of their own and wanted to run toward him.
But in that moment when she let her guard down, a shadow suddenly dove at her. The
instant the beast's jaws clamped down on her shoulder, Cheng Muyun had thrown himself
at her, tearing her back out from the Tibetan mastiff's mouth. The two crashed together
into the ground, the sky and the earth seeming to spin around them as their bodies bowled
toward the pitch-black waters of the lake.
Right before they were about to hit the water, he thrust her aside onto the lakeshore with
his knee. In that split second before she slammed into a rock, she watched as Cheng Muyun
rolled into the water—
There were crocodiles in the water…
She lost all consciousness.
So painful. Such a sharp, acrid smell.
The pain in her shoulder was becoming more and more intense. She clenched her teeth
together tightly, but no matter what she did, she simply could not bear through this. Tears
surged forth unceasingly, falling along her cheeks. She had woken to extreme pain. The
view before her eyes was hazy as she groaned in a dazed stupor.
A voice was saying in a low tone to her, "I need to treat your wound for you."
Half of Cheng Muyun's body was covered in blood—there was his, and there was Wen
Han's.
Sitting on the metal cot in the tent, he set Wen Han on his thighs and held her in his arms.
The other vacationers were still overcome with terror, and gathering tightly around the
two of them, they moved in close. To them, they could only depend on these two men and
the guides.
The campsite outside was in utter shambles. Corpses of hounds and Tibetan mastiffs were
strewn all about.
The sight was simply too stimulating to the senses and the heart, and an ordinary person's
nerves could break down from simply beholding it.
"I'm going to say, this wound of hers is quite frightful—"
"Shh…" Cheng Muyun quietly put a stop to Meng Liangchuan's words.
Wang Wenhao's face was pale as he gazed at Wen Han, who was half-drenched in blood. His
care and worry were genuine, but he could still only watch. Cheng Muyun had been the one
to save Wen Han and bring her back. When he climbed back up alive from beneath the
crocodiles, the first thing he had done was pick her up into his arms. So, Wang Wenhao had
no excuse he could use to seize Wen Han back from him.
Wen Han's gaze was blurry, and she only roughly knew that the person by her side was
Cheng Muyun.
She was fevering. Her throat was parched. And she was so engulfed in pain it seemed as if
her soul had already left her and drifted somewhere beyond the heavens.
"Dearest." Cheng Muyun's lips were against her ear as he spoke softly. "The first time I saw
you, when you were holding your hands with your palms pressed together, your two index
fingers were unconsciously rubbing lightly against each other. Do you know? You were
drawing my attention." He allowed his hand to feel down along Wen Han's arm. "My
observation skills are extremely good, so good I will notice every action, every move of any
person, including how heavy or light each breath is."
Cheng Muyun's words were like bait that hooked in her attention, because these were all
things that she was curious about and even wanted to hear. He was analyzing himself for
her. Regardless of whether what he said was true or not, there was still an indescribable
lure in it to her.
More than half of the garment on her arm was already torn open. The lotus flower henna
design seemed glaring beneath the blood.
With his bare hands, Cheng Muyun washed her wound, cleaning out the sand that was in
her flesh.
There was absolutely no gentleness or tenderness in his actions. He looked only for speed.
Blackness swam before Wen Han's eyes from the pain, and a shriek burst from her lips.
He held her down. "Of course, it is not for this reason that I am interested in you. I have said
before, from the moment I first saw you, there has been a strong desire in me to get close to
you, to kiss you, to caress you…"
Cheng Muyun pinched her chin between his fingers, tossing out his last five words: "To
make love to you."
With his tongue, he forcefully put a stop to her action of inflicting injury upon herself.
Swiftly, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, snaring the tip of her tongue and bringing it
into his own mouth, where he entangled their tongues together.
Most of her body was numb from pain, and she felt absolutely nothing, including this kiss.
He plunged deep into her throat, then grabbed the deep green bottle of liquor from Meng
Liangchuan's hand. The translucent liquid was poured over her shoulder that was exposed
to air.
Something exploded inside her body, and her hands clutched fiercely at the front of his
shirt.
Tears gushed relentlessly from her. She could not see anything at all and could only
powerlessly draw closer to him.
Cheng Muyun carried on kissing her continuously while making a gesture, indicating to
Meng Liangchuan that he should apply the medical ointment to Wen Han's wound and
bandage it. Meng Liangchuan’s expression was pondering as he skillfully took care of this
follow-up work. He saw that Wen Han had already blacked out from the pain, and beside
them, the look in Wang Wenhao's eyes showed that he truly wanted to kill.
Meng Liangchuan lifted a brow.
Even yesterday, he had already sniffed out that this girl must be very interesting.
Hmm. Very unusual, indeed. Meng Liangchuan gave a couple of coughs.
After this incident, those several lake-stationed soldiers gathered round in the campsite,
rambling incessantly as they expressed their gratitude to Cheng Muyun. They believed that
tonight had been an act of revenge by poachers. Cheng Muyun and Meng Liangchuan
exchanged a look, then also glanced at their "employer." That "university professor," Wang
Wenhao, was very placidly wiping his glasses, and not speaking a word, he simply patted
the soldiers on their shoulders.
Arrangements were made for Wen Han to rest in the largest tent, and a very simple bed
was set up in there for her.
One of the male vacationers who had also been injured was staying inside this same large
tent as well, but a curtain-like cloth separated them. When Wen Han regained
consciousness again, Agnesa was by her side taking care of her. In a quiet voice, she
explained to Wen Han that everyone was temporarily remaining here to rest, and only the
guide who had suffered wounds had, after treating his injuries, already gone back in order
to hire some locals to protect the travellers and escort them back to a safe place.
Because many people were injured, the guide also needed to find a doctor and purchase the
rabies vaccine. As a result, there was a chance that they might have to wait through this
night, too.
Wen Han's throat and tongue were parched, and her fever ran high and would not break.
Yet, she would still think of Cheng Muyun.
She coughed a couple of times, wanting to open her mouth to speak, but Agnesa had
already turned the conversation topic onto her. "Wen Han, why would that guy kiss you? It
was so scary at that moment, and even now, I still haven't figured it out. He's showing a lot
of interest in you. Wang Wenhao is really ticked off. I don't even know how you're going to
be with him when we go back…" As Agnesa spoke, she was still immersed in residual fear.
"How come there were so many ferocious animals? This place is just too scary. We need to
hurry and just go back."
Agnesa carried on talking.
With great difficulty, Wen Han shifted her hips and legs, feeling as if her entire body was
broken and falling apart.
When evening came, she took only a few bites and then was unable to eat any more. Agnesa
brought some anti-inflammatory drugs and anesthetics and rather awkwardly helped her
use them. In the end, though, when it was time to apply them onto the wound, she did not
dare do it herself, and hastily dashing outside, she called for Meng Liangchuan to come.
With his fist against his lips, Meng Liangchuan gave a light cough. "I have only applied
medication on men before. My hands aren't gentle. Miss Wen Han, please don't mind."
Wen Han was fevering, and feeling as if her head was splitting, she barely managed a slight
shake of her head as she obligingly sat up.
Meng Liangchuan had absolutely not been trying to appear humble. After only just
removing her gauze dressing, it already hurt so much that Wen Han could not hold back a
cry of pain. All she could do was think of other things to try to divert her focus. "That friend
of yours, did he encounter any crocodiles when he fell into the water yesterday?"
Meng Liangchuan gave a chuckle. "Cheng Muyun? He nearly died in those waters
yesterday."
This person's tone sure was light and unconcerned.
She, however, felt her heart quiver in alarm when she heard this. Yet, she also realized it
was not her place at all to worry. Cheng Muyun—it was only now that she learned his real
name from the mouth of someone else.
Meng Liangchuan continued his account. "We should fish up that crocodile that Cheng
Muyun left half-dead and sell it to smugglers." After a moment, though, he said, "No, that's
no good. Since the start of the new government, Nepal has been extremely strict on
trafficking." He rambled away, and the way he treated her wound was not something to be
spoken highly of either.
When he left, the male vacationer who was also in the tent was already fast asleep and
snoring heavily.
Wen Han swallowed the anti-inflammatory medication with some water.
Outside the tent, there were the sounds of voices the entire time. The vacationers, who had
endured great shock during the previous day, were all unable to sleep, and so they now
simply gathered around the campfire, singing loudly and drinking, using this way to combat
the fear of the arrival of another night.
Selecting a rock that was furthest from the campfire, Cheng Muyun sat on it, one leg bent
and his arm resting languidly on its knee.
In the darkness, he was doing something unhurriedly with a knife.
Someone drew near from behind him. "I think I should personally remind you that I am
paying you to guarantee the safe delivery of the goods, as well as my personal safety."
Turning his head, Cheng Muyun glanced Wang Wenhao over. Then, with a lift of his arm, a
bloody object went flying toward the face of Wang Wenhao, who flustered blocked it with a
hand.
Thunk. The object dropped onto the grass.
"White-lipped pit viper. It tastes quite good." Cheng Muyun's voice was husky, and there
was a thick, enigmatic smile in his eyes. "Do not miss out on it."
Late into the night, Wen Han's high fever persisted.
A shadowy figure lifted up the tent flap, stepped inside, and, settling into a half-crouch
beside her bed, touched her forehead and the pulse in her neck. Dazed and disoriented
from the fever, Wen Han tried to grab on to that hand, but her attempt came up empty. Her
voice was faint as, muddled, she mumbled in Russian that she was uncomfortable.
His hand left her forehead. Unconsciously, she stretched out her arm, trying again in midair
to catch that hand. This time, he was not so hardhearted as to evade her and allowed her to
clutch his sleeve.
Wen Han, though, did not know whom her hand had grabbed.
Only yesterday morning, she had rejected this man and requested that he keep his distance
from her.
Cheng Muyun gazed down at her from high above. This carried on for a long time until
finally, he bent over and thrust his fingers into her long locks that were spread beneath her.
"Darling, let go first. I am going to get you some water."
This voice—
Several dozen hours ago, he had used this type of casual, flirting tone to talk to her on the
bed of that henna shop.
He left, but very shortly returned to the tent holding a kettle of water. Taking the lid off, he
took out the towel that was inside the copper kettle and wrung it out.
The warm water that was mixed with some liquor caused the faint scent of alcohol to
pervade through the entire tent.
The male traveller on the other side of the cloth curtain was woken by the pleasant
fragrance of alcohol. Surreptitiously lifting up a corner of the curtain, he saw that man who,
in last night’s scene that had seemed from hell, had wrestled with Tibetan mastiffs and
climbed out from the completely blood-tainted lake. Now, he held that wounded girl, and
after removing her shirt, unfastening her bra, and lifting up her long skirt, he had the girl lie
face down on his lap.
The male traveller was gawking as he watched this.
Without so much as lifting his eyelids, Cheng Muyun kicked up the kettle lid with the toe of
his boot. A shadow went flying out.
There was a muffled "mmph." The curtain dropped back down.
From the inside of her arm down to her fingertips, then from the inside of her thigh down
along the areas where there was a concentration of blood flow in the veins, he wiped with
the wet towel. During this entire process, Wen Han was still in a confused state, and hazily,
she heard him say, "You should not have come to Nepal." Or perhaps he had not said this at
all; she had dreamt it.
Two entire hours.
He wiped her down several times. At last, she began to perspire, and gradually she felt
better.
She opened her eyes, and in her first return to consciousness after this serious bout of
illness, she peered at him in confusion.
Pulling off that heavy pair of military-style boots, he allowed his body to relax, and he lay
down on his side beside her. As one of her shoulders was injured, she could only lie on her
side, and so as chance would have it, this bit of space was left for him. She felt his arm reach
over and encircle her. "At any time, I could be like that beast and die in some place without
so much as a sound. If I had met you a few years later, or perhaps a few years earlier, things
would have been much simpler."
He did not carry on speaking, his lips instead pressing against the skin of her back that was
exposed, feeling the temperature of her body. Like a snake entwining itself around a
person, he enfolded her entire body into his embrace.
But he avoided the wound on Wen Han's shoulder.
Fatigue was also overcoming her. Before she had a chance to consider what the male
vacationer who was separated from them by a single curtain could hear, her head was
already feeling thick and heavy, and she wanted to allow herself to fall into a deep sleep. In
this state of both physical and mental exhaustion, she gave up on trying to fight with
herself, and letting her instinct take over, she burrowed herself against him.
Once she came in contact with the warmth of his body, with his skin, she would feel very
safe.
In the deep hours of the night, Cheng Muyun wakened naturally and wanted to slowly pull
his arm away.
Wen Han's sleep had not been sound in the first place, and when the hand on her waist was
taken away, leaving an empty coldness in its place, she was startled awake.
In that moment when she initially awoke, she had a feeling like she was in a nightmare, as if
everything was merely her dream and when she roused, she would find that she was
sleeping beside a warm, little windowsill with the light of the newly-risen sun shining on
her eyelids… Alas, when she woke, she was once again plunged into the intense pain from
her shoulder. The topical anesthetic that Cheng Muyun had applied on her wound was
already starting to lose its effect. This type of pain encompassed countless variations.
Right now, right this moment, it felt as if her wound was ablaze.
"All this time, I never asked you why you came to Nepal," Cheng Muyun unexpectedly
inquired.
"Because I am a Buddhist believer and felt that it would become my regret if I did not come
here," she murmured.
"Is that so?" Cheng Muyun all of a sudden fell into a brief silence before switching the topic
and remarking, "I heard that your travel plans are to cross the border into Mongolia and
then from there return to Moscow."
Wen Han was a little surprised, but after thinking about it, she surmised, perhaps it was
Agnesa, or maybe it was Wang Wenhao, who had mentioned it when chatting casually with
him. Over these last days, he seemed to have become quite acquainted with her friends, so
it would not have been hard for him to learn this.
Besides, it was not as if their route of travel was a military secret.
There were some daily necessities piled inside the tent, delivered here beforehand by the
guides in preparation for the previous night's camping portion of the itinerary. There were
also a few boxes that contained contents unknown and happened to be placed in the centre
of the tent.
Moreover, with the cloth curtain that had been pulled across the middle, they were
separated from the other wounded, male traveller.
However, they were only visually separated; she believed that sound was not blocked at all.
She therefore tried as much as possible to keep her voice low. This man beside her, though,
suddenly was in the mood to chat. Never had she thought that she would lie on the same
bed with him and talk simply about ordinary things of life. From Wen Han's major in
university to her adoptive parents, he seemed interested in hearing them all, and after a
topic had come to an end, he was always able to bring up a new question.
"A major in mathematics. What would someone with a major in mathematics do?" Cheng
Muyun was particularly interested in her field of study. "The only job I can think of that is
light and not dangerous would be a teacher. It sounds like it would be quite a good career
—"
It seemed that a man like this naturally was not supposed to speak about such topics.
As Wen Han conversed about these things with him, there was a strong sense in her that
she was doing something discordant. It was as if he could talk to you about firearms, about
the many religions and beliefs in Nepal, and even about hookah or henna tattoos. All of
these things were fine… But the exception was, when he talked about studies, work, etc. etc.
—things from ordinary life—there would be a sense that he actually did not really
understand and was not really familiar with these things.
"Are you deliberately trying to find topics to talk to me about?" She at last could not help it
and ended the conversation herself.
"Me?" Cheng Muyun's arm was propped on the bed, supporting the side of his face as he
looked at her. "I find this all very entertaining and interesting."
"Entertaining and interesting? Don't tell me you have never needed to go to school or
needed to have a job?"
"A job?" He savoured those two words. Tucking his chin in slightly, he brought his head
down and answered her, "I believe I likely do have the need for one, but it is simply that
mine is a little more dangerous than the career that you will select in the future."
If it had been before yesterday night, she would have assumed that this man was purposely
making his words sound mysterious.
Now, though…
She tilted her head back to look into his eyes. He lowered his eyelashes to return her gaze.
"You—"
"In the future, when you are in a classroom in front of some kids, will you tell them about
these few days you have had here in Nepal?" Cheng Muyun jumped in first to speak.
Leaning his forehead against hers, he softly used his own questions to disrupt her
continued queries. "Or tell them how you fooled around with a man in a laundry room? Tell
them that a man stripped you naked in an austere, little inn and applied henna on you? Tell
them that on the banks of the Trishuli, you experienced an attack by poachers?"
Very gently, his fingers touched her eyelashes, then glided down along her nose and all the
way to her lips. Cheng Muyun kissed her with a tenderness that he had never shown before
since they met. This man—perhaps it was when he wanted to be gentle and tender that you
were doomed.
"Good night, dearest."
The sound of his voice slowly permeated from the tip of his tongue and seeped into her
heart.
Getting off the bed, Cheng Muyun pulled on his boots. Wen Han, however, suddenly tugged
on him. Right as he turned around, she released her hold again. She had all of a sudden
remembered that she was covered in blood and was wondering whether she could change
her clothes. Normally, this would not be a difficult thing to do, but now she needed another
person's assistance.
Yet, when her hand grabbed ahold of him, she realized that she actually had not even
thought of asking for Agnesa and, rather, had thought of him first.
"What would you like to say?" Cheng Muyun straightened himself and stood beside the bed.
"There is a clean top in my backpack." Wen Han requested in a whisper, "Could I trouble
you to help me change my clothes?"
For once, Cheng Muyun spoke no unnecessary, extra words.
Bringing over the backpack that had been set at the end of the bed against the tent, he
pulled out a black shirt from it and helped her change into this clean garment that was free
of bloodstains.
From undressing her, to examining the wound once more, to, finally, helping her put on her
clothing, he personally did all of it.
The following morning, Wen Han was woken by Agnesa.
The pain from her wound still bore into her heart in bursts. She used dry shampoo to try, as
much as possible, to make her sweat-soaked hair more bearable to look at.
"We're planning on cancelling the trip and returning to Kathmandu." With a smile, Agnesa
handed a comb to her, but switching to a frown, she reminded her, "When we get back, take
a nice shower before we talk about anything else. Right now, don't let any man come near
you. The smell on you seems a little… There's a really strong alcohol smell."
Wen Han's throat was dry, and turning around, she felt for the kettle, trying to cover up the
slight blush that tinged her cheeks from not being able to tell the truth about what had
occurred the previous night.
When the two left the tent, there was excitement going on outside.
A girl wearing a red sun hat and white pants sat, one leg crossed over the other, on a
bamboo chair. Her back was towards them as she gave injections to those who had suffered
bite wounds and also urged the people to continue with follow-up vaccinations when they
returned to Kathmandu or their own countries. She asked Meng Liangchuan to help her
check the number of people. At that same moment, Meng Liangchuan happened to spot
Wen Han, who had just stepped outside. "Oh, right, there is one more."
Meng Liangchuan snapped his fingers at Wen Han.
Holding down her hat, the girl turned her head to look. When she saw Wen Han, something
flashed across her eyes. She gave a warm "Hi!" before asking, "It's you?"
It's her? Wen Han was taken aback slightly, and a strange feeling also seemed to press
down on her chest. Just earlier, she had still very anxiously been trying to make her
complexion look somewhat better and had hurried out so she could express her thanks to
him. Now, though, that mood had utterly evaporated. What remained before her eyes was
the image of the very first time she saw this girl: the scene of how, with her clothes torn to
tatters by Cheng Muyun, she, in a wretched state, had wrapped a shawl around her upper
body; and how, against the sound of his fingers lightly thrumming the doorframe and also
the chime of the girl's cheery laughter, she had fled in panic.
This girl…
In just a few short days, Wen Han had nearly forgotten about her.
This was the girl whom Cheng Muyun had said the innkeeper had recommended to him to
provide "special services" and bring him pleasure for an entire night. And now, she had
shown up here.
Wen Han's face was ashen, and she gave a vague reply in acknowledgement. Amongst
Agnesa's curious inquiries, she gave a brush-over explanation that she and this girl had run
into each other once in that little inn in Kathmandu. Walking over, she tried as much as
possible to seem natural as she sat down beside the girl and let the girl give her the
vaccination.
The situation could not get any more awkward.
And as it would turn out, Cheng Muyun was not in the camp right now.
For the entire afternoon, Wen Han watched as this girl, like an angel, helped the wounded
re-treat their injuries and showed a pleasant and kind manner to everyone. The emotions
that roiled within her were very strange and unfamiliar and made her very uncomfortable.
She even wanted to go back into the tent again, throw the covers over her head, and sleep.
"It's way too expensive," Roman muttered beside Wen Han, grumbling about the priciness
of the porters hired by the guides. "We’re vacationers who fought in resistance against
poachers. We should be treated as guests, but instead this price is practically like they're
treating us like enemies."
Wang Wenhao did not attend to what was going on here. The entire time, he was watching
over everyone's bags and luggage.
"Wang Wenhao is such a very patient person," Agnesa quietly praised. "Look, he's not just
looking after our stuff. He's also checking the other travellers' bags to see if everything is
packed well and properly."
Those lake-stationed soldiers, with rifles on their backs, were in the forest picking up the
bodies of the hounds that had been bitten to death last night. Wen Han saw one of the
soldiers gnash his teeth and say something, and there was a vicious look in his eyes that
sent chills down a person's back.
Perhaps because, day in and day out throughout the year, these soldiers were constantly
fighting against those poachers, this ferocity from always being in battle mode had long
since leached into their very bones and seeped into their marrow.
For some reason, she remembered that two nights ago, after Cheng Muyun had nearly
severed a Tibetan mastiff in two, the look in his eyes as he turned his gaze on her had
seemed like it belonged to a devil—one that soaked in black blood year upon year and had
just climbed out from the pit of hell.
Her eyes made a sweep around.
He still had not returned yet. The sky was already dark.
No one had expected that Cheng Muyun would make an appearance late into the night, and
he brought back more than ten elephants with him.
Many of the elephants here were used for sightseeing purposes and were not allowed to be
taken from this place and used as a mode of transport. Nobody knew how he had managed
to resolve that issue. It seemed there was nothing this man could not do.
The vacationers, who had been sitting in their own tents to stay out of the rain, all cheered,
and grinningly, they conversed about how glad they were that they would not have to be
walking in the rain tomorrow.
It was not that Wen Han had not heard the cheers.
However, inside the tent, as she faced that kettle that had not yet boiled, she forced herself
to remain unmoving. While she sat here, that girl who had had a passing fling with him was
also in this campsite. Maybe… she had specifically come here just to see him again.
Outside the tent, the guides were busy settling the elephants and the mahouts, the elephant
handlers.
There was a bustling atmosphere of excitement. Laughter rang out ceaselessly.
Wen Han could not restrain her mind from continuing with these thoughts. For the whole
day, she had had to watch that girl, and the other party from time to time had studied her
with a probing gaze as well. It was as if she knew clearly that Wen Han was also one of his
women.
His black boots appeared on her right side.
"If you can forget about staring at that kettle and use those beautiful eyes of yours to give
me one glance…" His voice appeared next. Bending into a half-crouch, he said in a low tone,
"I will stay here tonight."
Wen Han evaded him.
"What is the matter?" His chuckle was light and sexy.
Reaching one arm behind her head, he gently pushed her face toward him. But he could feel
that she was resisting and trying to dodge his action.
He gave another laugh and bit down on her earlobe.
Wen Han drew in a sharp breath. Afraid that someone might hear, she could only whisper
as she writhed against him. "I don't want to. I told you already not to come near me—" I
don't want, in this quick, hurried journey, to have a passing relationship with you that's just
going to evaporate away quickly, nor do I want to see you with another woman…
But she was unable to make herself say these words.
Cheng Muyun's eyes were fixed on her.
Slowly, the arm confining her loosened its hold.
Gasping, Wen Han got off her small stool in a panic and backed away several steps.
She was jealous because of that girl, but she dared not admit it. After all, she and this man
before her had not even known each other for more than a hundred hours.
With one hand on the floor supporting himself, Cheng Muyun straightened back up. In that
instant that he lifted his gaze, he had already returned to his usual state. His silence was
such a sharp contrast to the clamour outside the tent that it felt incongruous with the
surroundings.
Due to two days and two nights without rest and also all the wounds that covered him, his
body had all along been running a high fever and had become a little ungainly.
Furthermore, this afternoon, he had walked for such a long period.
In short, he was not very responsive to his brain's commands.
However, this did not prevent him from using the last of his patience to speak to her.
"Tomorrow, I will be leaving this group." The first sentence that came from his mouth was
one of leave-taking.
"Tomorrow?" she blurted.
"Yes, tomorrow. I shall be ending this fine journey prematurely." The corner of his lips
curved up slightly. "I wish you and your friends a pleasant time in the remainder of your
stay in Nepal."
Wen Han did not know how she should reply to that.
She had not expected that it would be such words from him.
Although she had known that their time together would be very short, she had not
imagined that their parting would be tomorrow. Just a moment ago, she had even prepared
herself that he would behave as he had a few days ago and had already thought through
how she would handle it.
Bending at the waist, Cheng Muyun picked up his drenched jacket from the small medicine
rack where he had tossed it earlier, moved his right shoulder about slightly, and then,
without a word, left this large tent.
The downpour outside the tent was growing more intense, and the rain had come together
to form gullies of water on the muddy ground. His black boots treaded slowly through the
streams, circled away from the cluster of tents, and headed toward the canopy that served
as shelter from the rain.
Those elephants were all gathered under the trees, taking cover from the rain. Meng
Liangchuan and the guides were under the makeshift canopy shelter, discussing how the
people and the goods, in such heavy downpour, could smoothly leave this place, steer clear
of the collapsed sections of the paths and roads along the way, and arrive at the next
location.
Wang Wenhao was also under the canopy and was very agitated as he, in a loud voice,
quarrelled incessantly in Chinese with Meng Liangchuan about something. Wang Wenhao
detected that, behind him, someone had stepped into the canopy shelter, and when he
turned around and saw it was Cheng Muyun, his anger shot up another few levels. Just
earlier, he saw with his own eyes Cheng Muyun walk into that large tent that Wen Han was
in. This man actually dared to take his money and then, even after being given a warning,
still try to get close to his woman—
"Let me tell you now! Tomorrow, I'm firing you! When we get to the next place, I'm going to
need another—"
Before Wang Wenhao could finish, his shirt collar had already fallen into Cheng Muyun’s
grip that was slowly closing. Cheng Muyun leaned in close and, through the lenses of the
glasses that rested on the bridge of Wang Wenhao's nose, he stared straight into the depths
of Wang Wenhao's soul. "You keep a good eye on those goods of yours. I cannot guarantee
whether or not, in the next second, I will give up my payment and throw you and them into
the river together to feed those starving little beasts. You should know, Nepal's government
is very protective of its wild animals, and there would not be any resulting troubles if they
ate you."
Each word was spoken in a low voice, so low that chills came over even Meng Liangchuan
as he listened in.
Wang Wenhao raised both his hands; his face dark as he sought a truce. "Fine, fine, we'll
just say I don't dare provoke you two. I'll give you your full payment tomorrow. We can
part ways amicably."
Thud! The sound of a fist smashing into tissue and bone was accompanied by an agonized
cry. Wang Wenhao stumblingly took a few panicked steps backwards before tumbling into
muddy water. In his wretched state, he cursed and swore, and it took two tries before he
was able to crawl back to his feet.
Step by step, Cheng Muyun sauntered out of the canopy shelter. He pulled out a dagger
from his waist and stood in the rain with legs apart.
In the tents not far away, the vacationers all gathered by the entrances, tensely watching
this fight that had suddenly arisen. Everyone saw the dagger that he was gripping there in
the rain, and their minds were all replaying the scene from two nights ago of how this very
dagger had nearly split a vicious Tibetan mastiff completely in two.
He walked up beside Wang Wenhao. In the instant that Wang Wenhao threw himself at
him, his knee slammed heavily into Wang Wenhao's body.
Wang Wenhao once again dropped into the mud.
The knee of the man before him pressed down into his right leg. With a thunk, the dagger
stabbed into the muddy ground, leaving only its black handle protruding.
Amid the noisiness of the falling rain, Cheng Muyun used a voice that was so light it could
not possibly get any lighter to ask the person beneath his knee, "Did you get a kick out of
that?"
The caste system is a social hierarchy in Hinduism. In ancient society, there were four
social classes, called varna, of which Brahmin was the highest ranking and the varna from
which priests were selected. These social classes are still deep-rooted in the societies of, for
example, India and Nepal, and Brahmins still occupy this high social standing.
Additional Comments:
I got more than one inquiry about this, so I wanted to just lay out the text that describes the
current “relationship” between Wang Wenhao and Cheng Muyun. If you already
understand what’s going on between them, feel free to skip.
Chapter 1.3: Scene in that secret gambling hall where Cheng Muyun first met and hired
Meng Liangchuan. In that scene, the middleman and Cheng Muyun’s primary source of
information, Ke Laoban gave some information to Cheng Muyun. The conversation between
Ke Laoban, Meng Liangchuan, and Cheng Muyun”
"His [Wang Wenhao’s] goods were sent here to Nepal half a year ago. These last couple of
days, Wang Wenhao has been searching for a middleman and is planning on hiring a few
bodyguards. Once the deal is done, he's going to immediately leave the country and return
as fast as possible to Moscow… I have already arranged it so that you and another person
will go meet him tomorrow. You will be recommended to be his 'bodyguards.' That way,
you will have the greatest chance of coming in contact with the goods."
Meng Liangchuan comprehended his meaning. "I have no problems with that. I just want to
know who the other person is. I don't really like working with strangers."
"I am the other person."
The voice came from Cheng Muyun.
Chapter 2.2: At the Teej festivities in the temple, Wen Han and Agnesa discover that they
cannot find Wang Wenhao. They leave the temple. On the way back to the inn, they see him
again, with Cheng Muyun.
When they stepped back onto the stone pathway leading to the inn, they unexpectedly saw
Wang Wenhao and Cheng Muyun sitting by the entrance of a small, Western restaurant by
the roadside. There was also a smiling man with them. Wen Han halted her footsteps,
whereas Agnesa suddenly became enthusiastically friendly. Pulling Wen Han by the arm,
she strode over to them and took a seat.
Chapter 3.2: Cheng Muyun just rescued Wen Han from the mouth of a Tibetan mastiff. She
is resting in the tent and everyone is gathered around the campfire. Cheng Muyun is sitting
further away when Wang Wenhao approaches him.
Someone drew near from behind him. "I think I should personally remind you that I am
paying you to guarantee the safe delivery of the goods, as well as my personal safety."
Chapter 3.3: The final scene in this chapter.
Just earlier, he saw with his own eyes Cheng Muyun walk into that large tent that Wen Han
was in. This man actually dared to take his money and then, even after being given a
warning, still try to get close to his woman—
"Let me tell you now! Tomorrow, I'm firing you! When we get to the next place, I'm going to
need another—"
Therefore, the conclusions we can draw are:
Wang Wenhao is trafficking illegal goods and wants to hire a couple bodyguards in Nepal to
make sure he and his goods get to their destination safely. Cheng Muyun wants to get close
to Wang Wenhao’s goods. As a cover, he and Meng Liangchuan pose as bodyguards for hire.
The scene in chapter 2.2 at the Western restaurant is when Wang Wenhao “hired” them,
and unbeknownst to Agnesa and Wen Han, they walked right in on the deal. Wang Wenhao
is not happy about the interest Cheng Muyun is showing in Wen Han and chooses to fire
this “bodyguard.”
A few random comments…
If the scene of Cheng Muyun’s bare back facing you (can’t dwell too much on this—it can be
nosebleed-inducing!) seems familiar, I shall link you over , to My Darling. Poor Jian Bianlin
had to film this in cold weather, completely unlike the jungles of Nepal.
Also, notice how the description of Cheng Muyun’s tattoo is quite similar to the henna
design he drew on Wen Han. Just noting this and maybe making you ponder… Coincidence?
Also, I’ve mentioned before that I like Wen Han. She’s one of my favourite MBFB female
leads. (Tong Yan is another.) In this chapter, I like how she keeps her head on to do what
she needs to do in the rafting rescue, and also how she turns Wang Wenhao down, kindly
and respectfully and as much as possible “in a way that would not hurt his pride,” but is still
absolutely clear on what her stance is.
Lastly, just wanted to reiterate that I am not at all familiar with the Hindu caste system and
hierarchy. The brief description is only to help give you a general understanding of what
the river guide was trying to refer to, in case you had never been exposed to it before, and
to know that such social standings still exist. It will come up again later in the story. If you
want to know more, I’m sure quite a few of my readers are much more learned than myself
on it.
 Chapter 4 – Night in Lumbini

"Are you nuts?!" Struggling against him, Wang Wenhao wanted to grab the dagger, but he
had only just lifted his arm before Cheng Muyun's two fingers were gripping his throat.
There was not even a sliver of a gap. No oxygen was allowed to pass through into him.
Wang Wenhao's head was arched backwards. His two hands grasped wildly at Cheng
Muyun's wrists, fighting as he tried to break free using all his strength born from the urge
to live. Utterly useless.
The torrential rain interspersed with thumb-sized chunks of ice pelted down on Wang
Wenhao's face.
In that split second, the memory was called up in his mind of that night when he first
entered the smuggling trade, of that instant when he, his eyes constantly looking around
him, had taken the money with trembling hands, only to have it ripped from him again and
a gleaming knife thrust at him. That had once been his moment of greatest fear, where he
had believed he would die in that corner of Moscow's railway station. Later, his business
grew bigger and bigger, while in contrast, that fear had faded.
There was no problem that money could not solve.
But now, this here, it wasn't the same! This was completely different!
His gaze, which was blurred due to lack of oxygen, saw hell.
Something was swaying back and forth. It was the image before his eyes, as well as his own
body…
Wen Han was frantically shaking Cheng Muyun's arm, crying out, "You let him go! Let him
go!" She had run all the way over here, falling two times on the way, and her face was
completely splattered with muddy water.
He shifted his gaze slightly, turning it onto her.
Inside those eyes that were red due to high fever was the reflection of Wen Han's face, her
hair chaotically splayed over her shoulders. "You madman! Let go of him!" Wen Han was
trembling from fear, but still she shoved at him with all her might, not knowing at all that
beneath his sodden clothing, separated from her by only a layer of cloth, were all the
wounds he had sustained two nights ago.
With the eyes of everyone on him, he released Wang Wenhao and pulled his dagger that
was stabbed in the soil back out. His lips were pressed together and curled up in a
dangerous-looking arc.
Turning, he left.
That was just too terrifying.
All the men who witnessed this scene felt their hearts quaking and their flesh creeping. The
women, on the other hand, seemed as if they were watching something exhilarating, and
while they were at it, they let their hearts pound rapidly for this hand-to-hand combat that
had taken place between the two men. That was just too manly! Too hot-blooded!
Of course, this did not include Wen Han.
Just now, when she had stopped them from a close distance, she had also been struck with
fear because of his rage. When they were back inside the tent, Wang Wenhao's face was
pale as he incessantly downed hot water and also told them, tomorrow, they absolutely had
to get away from this tourist group, get away from that man. She was still clutching her
right hand tightly with her left, caught in retrospective fear.
The two guides came to make peace, their palms continuously pressed together as they
apologized, and they also said that those two men would be leaving tomorrow.
"What? They're leaving tomorrow?" There was an obvious touch of disappointment along
with Agnesa's surprise.
Roman grew even more displeased, grumbling that Agnesa could not even differentiate
between friends and enemies, that after her own friend had been given a beating, she
would still keep thinking about the other party.
Agnesa laughed, mocking Roman for not seeming the least bit like a man from Moscow, that
he would place so much importance on a street fight. "You go take a look, which bar doesn't
have a fight or two after midnight?"
As a result, the first half of this night was passed amid Agnesa and Roman's bickering.
In the latter half of the night, Agnesa was asleep, and Wen Han had also gradually regained
her calm.
Rushing out of the tent to break up the fight had been her instinctive reaction. She actually
dared not even admit that she had actually been more afraid that he would get hurt, even
though he was obviously far stronger physically than Wang Wenhao.
This heavy rainstorm had brewed for several days, and when it was completely done, they
at last got to see their first clear sky since arriving in Nepal.
Early in the morning, the guides assigned the travellers each to one of the elephants that
Cheng Muyun had brought here last night.
Wang Wenhao was still burning with fury, and the other male travellers were already
coming over, trying to soothe him. "See, even when he left last night, that guy did not hold
grudges and left all the elephants for the tourists."
"You can imagine, then, that everyone's emotions were just so high strung because of last
night's storm and that awful disaster three nights ago," the two Korean girls added. They
were very sad to have to part with that man.
On each elephant, in addition to the mahout, three to four people could be seated within the
square, railed enclosure on its back.
Wen Han did not want to listen to the endless bickering between Agnesa and Roman and
chose to sit with two strangers. When the elephants got up and were leaving the campsite
in an orderly manner, she still had not seen him.
He was gone already?
Holding the railing in front of her, she continuously scanned around.
She felt a pressing urge to see him. Last night should not have been like that. She at least
should have gone to find him in the later part of the night, to say goodbye to him or maybe
something else, to exchange contact details with one another…
The elephant, though, was not aware of her reluctance to leave and, with the rest of the
group, pressed on nonstop with its forward walk.
When the first elephant passed by the riverbank, a melody began to ring out, an unfamiliar
tune. Someone searched curiously around—there, on the opposite side of the river! A
white-garbed blind man wearing the local dress was blowing into an instrument, playing
this tune, and squatted beside him was a boy collecting money from passing travellers.
One of the girls in their group called out in excited surprise, "It's him, it's him!"
More people looked in that direction.
As it turned out, the important thing that captured their attention was not the white-garbed
blind man; rather, it was the man who was lowered in a half-crouch in front of the blind
man, handing a bill of money to the boy.
Across the river, with his back to their team of elephants, he stretched out that same right
hand that had nearly asphyxiated a grown man last night and patted the top of the boy's
head.
Even when the group and their elephants disappeared from view, his eyes still remained
closed, concealing away all the light in them, as he quietly listened to the blind man play
this Buddhist song.
Never did he turn to look even once at her.
……
When the elephant team arrived at an area obstructed by a landslide and it was discovered
that they would not be able to pass through, the travellers had no choice but to pay for their
services and then watch as the elephants deserted them.
"Let's go." Wang Wenhao reached his hand over to support Wen Han, but Wen Han shook
her head, sidestepping his gesture. He was somewhat displeased, but then, as he thought
about the fact that this time's business transaction was already completed and they would
be returning to Moscow shortly, he let this little incident go.
The mountain trails were difficult to travel.
The people around her were all griping in low voices that their luck on this expedition had
really just been too terrible.
Wen Han's entire mind, however, was filled only with that final image of his backside. Was
he mad? Even in the end, he had not given her so much as a single glance.
They walked like this for three or four hours, until finally, they saw a small village.
The guides bid everyone to sit down and rest and wait for the vans here. In the meantime,
the porters also unloaded all the travellers' bags and piled them up in an open area on the
ground.
"Once the vans get here, we will be heading to Pokhara. There is hot water there, as well as
delicious food. It is the second largest city in Nepal. I am sure it will help all of you quickly
forget about the unpleasant experiences from a few days ago." Clapping his hands, the
guide enthusiastically introduced the city of Pokhara to everyone.
Wen Han and Agnesa pulled out moist towelettes from their small backpacks, wiped their
hands clean, and began to divide up some crackers.
Shortly after, Wang Wenhao, who was on out on the open ground helping to check and take
tally of everyone's bags, suddenly began acting strangely. First, he loudly reprimanded
those porters. Then with a scowling expression, he ran over and, after swigging half a bottle
of water, sat down in silence for a long time with his face buried in his hands.
Right as the vans arrived, he unexpectedly leapt to his feet and rushed over to ask the
guides whether he could hire one of the vans to go to Lumbini.
"Lumbini?" the guide repeated in surprise. "That's not part of our itinerary."
"I know, I know." Wang Wenhao's voice was scratchy, and he was breaking out in cold
sweat from anxiety. "But I must go there. You know that"—Wang Wenhao turned around
and pointed in Wen Han's direction—"my female companion there is a devout Buddhist.
This is my surprise to her."
Wen Han was taken aback.
Before coming here, she had indeed mentioned that she wanted to go to Lumbini, but after
arriving in Nepal, it seemed as if all their plans had been thrown out the window. She had
even forgotten that she had once said she wanted to go there—Lumbini, the place where
Queen Maya Devi had given birth, or more specifically, the birthplace of Lord Buddha.
The guide gave Wang Wenhao a warm hug. "As a Nepali, I am very happy that you, sir, and
your friends like Lumbini so much. However, there are only two vans here today, and we
have seventeen people. We really are unable to pull out one van to fulfill your request."
Wang Wenhao unremittingly continued his persuasion, saying various exaggeratedly
devout words, such as, if he did not go to Lumbini in this journey, it would become a
lifelong regret, etc., etc. In the end, he finally managed to sway the guides. Though they did
not let Wang Wenhao's group take a van, they did promise that they would allow one van to
come back and bring them to to complete that devout pilgrimage.
This was an unexpected travel plan.
Apart from Wang Wenhao, nobody knew about it, even the other three in the party.
Wen Han even had a sense that this particular part of the itinerary had only just been
decided upon—this was her gut feeling.
Although Agnesa and Roman were surprised, they speculated that Wang Wenhao was
doing this to win back Wen Han's heart that she had left with that ethnic-Chinese man, and
therefore they did not really object.
Hence, the four separated from the large group. In the afternoon, a van returned and took
them to Lumbini.
"See, Wang Wenhao still is so good to you, even though, yes, he can't beat out that man."
Agnesa comforted in a low voice, "Oh, yes, God, I get it. That man can cause any woman to
lose her heart to him. But don't be so downcast anymore, like you've lost your soul, my
dear. Think about where we're going. It's so exhilarating. Lumbini, the birthplace of
Buddha."
Sitting by the window, Wen Han stared out at the wide stretch of paddy fields, her mind
very blank.
The initial anticipation and thrill after first arriving in Nepal; the excitement of the
evocative atmosphere after meeting Cheng Muyun; and also later, the distancing between
the two of them, the jealousy, her injuries, and their separation. With the speed at which
these last few days had come at her, they felt like the passage of more than twenty years.
They arrived at their destination by nightfall.
Wang Wenhao seemed to have already researched where they should stay and headed
directly to an unassuming inn.
This place could not compare to Kathmandu and was very basic and crude.
There was air-conditioning in the lobby that was producing cold air with hums of whirr,
whirr. Against the window was a row of old computers. Several travellers were surfing the
internet with their backs to them.
Wang Wenhao and Agnesa went to the bar-height reception desk to check in while Roman
went to the washroom.
Wen Han, on the other hand, stood in the courtyard and kept watch over everyone's bags.
The French-style sunhat on her head was very inharmonious with this place and was also a
little dirty, but it could cover her rather unsightly complexion.
With the light of the setting sun, she could see that written on the wall were the words,
"Home for Chinese people in Lumbini."
That was such a nice sentence. Home for Chinese people.
As she stared dazedly at this, her thoughts once again turned to him.
"Did you come to this strange, unfamiliar place because you wanted to find me?"
The voice of the person who spoke this was very light, its inflections as if he was flirting,
and it struck straight into the most tender reaches of her heart. She whipped her head
around to look toward the man standing at the entrance of the courtyard, leaning against
the door.
He was smiling, his hand resting on the doorframe and two fingers tapping lightly against
the door. "What? I guessed correctly?"
Wen Han unconsciously took half a step forward.
He pulled up the hood of his hiking jacket, slipped it on, and, with his face partially
concealed, ambled toward her. "Don't be anxious. I will come find you tonight." Then he
brushed past her.
Nepal's scent of incense drifted in through the seam of the door.
Meng Liangchuan hopped over the threshold, nearly bumping into a female traveller who
wanted to step outside. With a shrug of his shoulders, he gave an apologetic smile, then
tossed a bag of flatbread to Cheng Muyun. "Eat it while it's hot."
In only a short period of time, the four of them—she, Cheng Muyun, Meng Liangchuan, and
that female traveller whom she did not know—had all passed by the doorway, as if they
were all the most ordinary of backpackers with no connection whatsoever between them.
The two men headed directly up the staircase to the second floor.
Before the outline of their figures disappeared from view, Wang Wenhao caught a glimpse
of Meng Liangchuan's backside in his peripheral vision. Meng Lianchuan was also looking
at him and quickly flipped a middle finger at him before springing up to the second floor.
Acting as if nothing had happened, Wang Wenhao lowered his head and continued writing
out his passport information. But his left hand, which was on the counter, was clenched
tightly in a fist.
The second floor was a very simple hallway.
Cheng Muyun walked to the very end, pulled out a copper-colored key from his pocket, and
opened the lock.
"Just now when I was buying the bread, I kept having a feeling that I've missed something."
Biting down on a flatbread, Meng Liangchuan followed him into the room, pulled over a
folding chair, and sat down.
"Oh? What have you missed?" he offhandedly asked in reply.
Meng Liangchuan's brows twisted together, his index finger tapping against his temple. "I
haven't sorted it out in my mind yet."
From Kathmandu, when they intentionally moved Wang Wenhao's rafting trip one day
ahead of schedule to throw a wrench in Wang Wenhao's plans, and then followed him and
spied out when the goods would be exchanged…
To when they had seized the opportunity, on the same night the poachers attacked, to
switch out Wang Wenhao's goods and then left behind a message seemingly from another
criminal entity, stating that Wang Wenhao should personally come to Lumbini to "buy
back" his own things…
To now—
"Why did we need to come to Lumbini?" Meng Liangchuan at last threw out his first
question.
"Because Buddha is here. I am here on a pilgrimage."
"……" Dropping his head, Meng Liangchuan simply carried on eating his flatbread.
"This place here is a holy place to all Buddhists of the entire world. Every day, there are
large numbers of travellers who arrive here from all different places. The security here is
extremely tight. Even beneath that large tree on the park grounds of Lumbini Garden, there
are armed soldiers standing guard. No one dares rashly engage in any armed confrontation
here that will shed blood. It is just like how no one would dare cause trouble in the holy city
of Mecca or Jerusalem. Whether it is a bystander or your own heart, neither will allow such
a thing to happen." When Cheng Muyun finished saying this, he also reflected for a moment
on his own words. "This reason sounds unimpeachable, doesn't it?"
At least, here in this place, her safety factor would be the highest.
Meng Liangchuan gave up on pressing for answers.
Simply put, irrespective of what this man before him said or did, he always left people's
hearts feeling uneasy. There must be something more real, more tangible that was being
hidden away and kept secret.
Three hours later.
Wen Han had already washed all of her dirty clothes and hung them out to dry on the
balcony that was cloaked by night. She stared at her fingernails, which were so clean from
soaking in laundry detergent that they were white, as well as the henna design on her hand
that had not yet faded. Under the moonlight, she could see that he had been extremely
meticulous and detailed in his drawing.
If this man opened up a henna shop, his doorstep would probably be destroyed from all the
customers trampling across it?
The light bulb in the room suddenly went out.
Wen Han jumped in shock.
Sounds of laughter echoed up from downstairs, as well as low gripes of "Power outage
again" and "Nepal is honestly the country in the world that most loves to have power
outages." It was not just here. She could see that the few shops on the street not far away
were also without lights, and some people had already lit candles.
Next door, there was the sound of a telephone ringing.
The finish of this place was really crude. Through the single wooden wall, one could listen
in on any slightly louder sounds in the neighbouring room. In the other room, Wang
Wenhao picked up the telephone receiver.
And on the other end of the telephone line, Meng Liangchuan stated, "Wang Laoban,
welcome to Lumbini."
At the same time, the phone in Wen Han's room also began to ring.
Hastily wiping her hands dry, she ran over and lifted the receiver.
"Open your room door and follow the hallway on the right all the way to the end. I will wait
for you in the room that has been left unlocked." In the receiver, even the sound of the
breeze in his room was especially clear.
With a click, the call was hung up. All that remained was a rhythmic beep, beep.
Still clutching the telephone receiver, she heard her own heartbeat.
She grabbed her room key and, without taking anything else, shut the door behind her as
she stepped out of the room. Several foreigners who had been downstairs earlier happened
to be coming up now. As Wen Han brushed shoulders with them, she heard them talking in
Kyrgyz. The two words "Sunauli" and "Belahiya" appeared twice in their discussion. She
vaguely recalled that these seemed to be names of places in India and were both border
entry points.
Perhaps because they detected that Wen Han could understand what they were saying,
those several men lifted their eyes and glanced at her.
Purposely putting on a shy smile, she stepped aside to let them pass.
She had been like this since she was a child, always unable to refrain from paying attention
to strangers and what they were saying, and every time she was noticed, she would do this
to cover up for it.
When she reached the end of the hallway, indeed, as he had said, there was one room with
an engaged lock hanging on the door and another with its door unlocked. Pressing down on
the door handle of the latter, she quietly slipped inside.
Inside the room, a candle burned on the folding chair.
Her breathing was light as she shut the door behind her.
He sat leaning back into a small couch, his upper body bare. On a little table on one side of
the couch, there was, surprisingly, a small radio, and coming out from it was a language
that she did not understand but seemed to be spoken in a very emotionally roused way.
"What are you listening to?" She moved closer to him.
By the light cast by the candle, she could see his tall, lean body, as well as those wounds
crisscrossing his chest and back that were enough to cause anyone who saw them to feel
deeply disconcerted.
A faint sense of turmoil stirred in her eyes.
"Are you thinking just how horrible were you that you actually deepened and worsened
these wounds with your own hands?" Pulling the radio over, he turned the volume to the
maximum. "I am listening to the news. There is a general strike going on in several cities in
Nepal. I surmise that you will need some extra patience regarding your return trip to your
home country this time around." He was actually answering in seriousness the question she
had thrown out to try to cover up for her unease. His eyes, though, were taking in the long,
blue skirt she was wearing, as well as her little actions—how she nibbled lightly on her lip,
how the curve of her chest rose and fell—that were a result of her bit of self-restraint,
where she wanted to walk up to him but yet remained where she was in hesitation.
She realized after the fact that she, too, was observing him as he sat before her.
Aside from the shock brought by those wounds, she also clued in that this was the first time
she had seen him without a shirt on. Every line of this man's body, from his shoulders to his
pelvis, was very sharp and defined. His posture now, as he sat with legs apart, very clearly
allowed her to see—
An obvious red hue climbed onto Wen Han's cheeks.
"How about this? From here to India, you only need a single car ride." At last, in the midst of
this gaze being exchanged between them that was both reserved and suggestive, he was the
first to cross the boundary, pulling on the corner of her skirt so that she had no choice but
to come closer to him once more, until she fell into his lap. "I will take you to Sunauli. You
can return to Moscow from there if you so choose."
"But I just came here from India."
As her hand came in contact with his scorching hot chest, the tips of her fingers curled
inward. His skin did not have the fineness and smoothness of women’s skin, but it gave her
an unfamiliar sense of pressure and a real, rough-feeling heat.
The type of heat that belonged to a man—
Cheng Muyun grabbed her hand. Those eyes that were beneath his lashes were fixed on
her.
His gaze was moist and sexy.
"All right, darling, this topic has now come to an end. Let us engage in something else." He
lifted her hand and gently touched his tongue to her palm.
The tingling in the centre of her hand caused her body to grow even more limp. "The
soundproofing doesn't seem to be very good here."
She remembered, in Kathmandu…
Every moment between the two of them, before they had quarreled. Though it had only
been a very short period, it even now still caused her body to heat up as she thought back
on it.
"I know. Look, there is a radio over there." In that narrow space, he turned her so that she
was beneath him. "They can only hear the news about the general strike."
With a buzz, the little light bulb above their heads suddenly lit up.
Images also began playing on the television in the corner of the room, simultaneously
describing the same situation as the radio. The picture showed the march staged by the
general-strike participants taking place in the dark of night, as well as physical clashes and
armed clashes—
The sounds produced were noisy.
In this constantly-changing country of Nepal, in addition to the weather, the political
situation was unpredictable as well.
His lips, right now, right this moment, were like fire searing her.
"I have never asked you for your age."
"I just had my twentieth birthday last month."
"More or less what I guessed." His voice was very light and right by her ear.
Wen Han's body arched slightly.
Unconsciously, her hands slid up to wrap around his neck.
Desire, to those who have just begun to try it and give in to it, is absolutely the most potent
of drugs and can easily cause people to become addicted. And she realized that, if the one
giving the drug—the poison—was this man, no one would be able to find an antidote for it.
She had once translated some material about rosemary.
In Europe, this intense, aromatic herb was scattered by Italians into the graves of the
departed to represent remembrance that would carry on forever. And in the Victorian era
of long ago, rosemary was also a symbol of remembrance—of an everlasting, devoted, and
steadfast love.
Her chest heaved and her head felt dizzy from this thought that had arisen in her mind. The
scene before her eyes rocked fiercely, as if she had sunk to the bottom of water and was
looking up at the ceiling through its silent currents.
……
All this time and even now, he never took things to the final step.
However, he already knew her body like the back of his hand and knew how to most
quickly bring her to completely release her passion. And then, lowering his head again, he
continued to kiss her ceaselessly until, exhausted, she calmed.
"I have gotten into a little bit of trouble." He saw her to the door.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she halted her steps.
"So tonight, there is no way I can spend the entire night with you." He brought his head
down to whisper by her ear, "Right now, pick up your skirt, go back to your own bed, and
sleep. Do not go wandering around."
The Lumbini Development Zone, also known as Lumbini Garden in Nepal (not to be
confused with the Lumbini Gardens in India) is a UNESCO project of creating a large park
with the purpose of protecting and preserving the archeological and historical remains of
the birthplace of Buddha, including the Maya Devi Temple, a sacred garden that contains
the pillar of Ashoka, a large Bodhi tree (which was mentioned in the text, here), etc.
There is an India/Nepal border crossing point that is generally referred to as "Sunuali," but
technically Sunuali is the Indian side and Belahiya is the Nepalese side. To be honest, I'm
not 100% sure if "Belahiya" is the correct translation. The original text is 白哇啦. I found
only a brief mention of this name on a Chinese site that mentioned it as "the closest border
crossing to Lumbini," which should be Sunauli. There appears to be no official Chinese
transliteration of "Belahiya." Hence, I believe that is what the text is referring to. I am
definitely open to being corrected.
Additional Comments:
I know most of you aren’t fond of Wang Wenhao. I share the same sentiments. I LOL every
time I get to this part:
Before the outline of their figures disappeared from view, Wang Wenhao caught a glimpse
of Meng Liangchuan's backside in his peripheral vision. Meng Lianchuan was also looking
at him and quickly flipped a middle finger at him before springing up to the second floor.
Hahahahaha.
Also wanted to make a mention about Cheng Muyun. Yes, Cheng Muyun definitely has a
physical attraction to Wen Han. That’s undeniable. However, he’s not just trying to satisfy
his carnal desires with her. First, we learned from chapter 2.3 that his initial “move” on her
was out of suspicion because she, too, was coincidentally in Kathmandu. He was actually
trying to determine whether she had ulterior motives.
"I have touched every inch of skin on her and the frame of her entire body. I know her body
better than she knows it herself. That body is very straightforward and pure." There were
absolutely no traces of having been put through any training.
But look at this line from this chapter.
At least, here in this place, her safety factor would be the highest.
What he said to her, that their time could only be this brief period before she returned to
Moscow, may be the truth, that whatever relationship they may have, it can only be
temporary. However, he is not completely unconcerned about her. He risked his life to save
her, thrusting her away from the crocodile jaws first before he fell into the water. He took
Wang Wenhao’s goods and left a note telling Wang Wenhao to come to Lumbini, knowing
that Wen Han would come along. She may not be the only consideration for choosing
Lumbini to be the location of executing his plan, but it does cross his mind that “her safety
factor would be the highest” there.
And look also at what he says to her:
"How about this? From here to India, you only need a single car ride… I will take you to
Sunauli. You can return to Moscow from there if you so choose."
Why do you think he is offering to send her away, to Sunauli and then back to Moscow, to
be home and safe? Think he’s offering her a way to get away, so she can be away from the
danger? Not saying it’s true love (I don’t think it’s love between them yet… it will happen,
though!), but neither is it, well, just to get into her pants. (And as per this chapter, he
actually hasn’t even “gotten into her pants.”)
 Chapter 5 – The Wrath of Gods and Buddhas

The door behind her closed.

She could not help turning around for a look. It was as if they had finished their lovers'
rendezvous, and now they were immediately going their separate ways. There were times
when he simply gave a feeling of distance and cold detachment.
His words floated in Wen Han's mind and left her unsettled. Knocking on Agnesa's door,
she asked whether Agnesa wanted to go find something to eat. Agnesa had just had a nap
and caught up on some sleep. Now that she was awake, she was hungry as well, so she
gladly slipped her arm through Wen Han's and headed downstairs with her.
However, the lobby before their eyes had unexpectedly become a whole other world.
Everywhere, there were people.
Wang Wenhao, surprisingly, was standing by the door, wedged in amongst the throng.
The ethnic-Chinese owner of the inn was so busy perspiration dripped from his forehead.
One moment he was speaking the local language, the next moment English, then Japanese,
Korean, etc., etc. All types of languages were rotated through, one after the other, as he
continuously explained to everyone, "We really have no rooms left."
The owner was kept busy for a long while until he finally was able to send away a batch of
people.
When he heard Wen Han say that they wanted to have dinner, he cried a tearless cry. "Sir
and madams, the people of Nepal are all already meditating in their dreams, yet all of you
are just now wanting to have dinner. Ah, there's nothing left, nothing left." He pointed at
the empty cupboard behind him. "I've got absolutely nothing."
Wen Han's stomach was growling hungrily. She wanted to go outside to see but was
stopped by the inn owner. "The general strike is not a joke. Don't go wandering about."
Remembering that Cheng Muyun had said the same, she, too, felt that it was dangerous
outside. "Forget it. There are crackers in our rooms anyway. We'll just make do tonight."
"But I want to eat something hot." Agnesa shot a pleading look for help at Wang Wenhao.
Wang Wenhao seemed somewhat preoccupied. Glancing at his watch, he told Agnesa, "I'm
going out for a look. If there is food, I'll bring it back for you guys."
Agnesa pulled Wen Han along with her and chased after him. "Let's go together. The
atmosphere here is too suffocating."
Wang Wenhao frowned, wanting to turn her down.
The light bulb in the lobby went out with a pop. There had been no warning at all.
"God!" someone shouted. "The power's gone out in this damn hellhole again."
"It's such a hellhole here! What decade are we living in, still having general strikes?"
"Yeah! If I had known, I would have just stayed in India!"
"I just came from India. Indian hotels are so shabby and rundown! But I never would have
thought it's even more annoying here! There aren't even any rooms."
All complaints.
"Let's go. Don't stay here. There's going to be a fight." In the darkness, Agnesa towed Wen
Han with her and squeezed their way out of crowd. Jogging until they were out in the alley,
she exhaled a deep breath. "I swear, we absolutely have to go back to Kathmandu
tomorrow. Let's go find something to eat first."
When they stepped out of that alley, though, the scenes they beheld around them were
even worse than the one in the inn.
Now, they both finally fathomed what the general strike the inn owner had been speaking
about actually looked like. The moonlight was very dim. Everywhere on the crude street
were the roadblocks that demonstrators had put up, built of stone as well as wood and
cloth sacks filled with dirt, obstructing all the ways out.
Very beat-up cars blocked both sides of the road, and countless dark-skinned locals sat
both inside and outside of them.
Not far away, police held water cannons and loaded rifles, completely combat-ready.
There were no lights, no street lamps. Any person a dozen or so paces away would look
indistinct.
She suddenly thought of those Western horror movies, where usually, at a time like this,
nothing good would happen.
……
A dark arm reached over and grabbed ahold of Wen Han. In fright, she broke away from it,
slamming into a car behind her.
An angry shout sounded out, telling the two of them off.
Bowing incessantly, Wen Han continuously said sorry, so scared her face had drained of
color. She clutched Agnesa's hand tightly and dragged her back in the direction they had
come from. But before they had taken even two steps, pandemonium broke out in the mob.
Sudden chaos swamped around them, knocking them around.
The two were bumped and driven into a corner of a wall. Panicked, they looked at one
another and gripped the other person's hand tightly. Before the mob made their next
charge, Wen Han eyed out the entrance to the alley and, pulling Agnesa, rushed straight for
it.
Good thing.
Good thing.
They had not gone far, so they could still get back here.
After the terror subsided, she looked back. The mob behind her and the police who had
been stationed there to keep order were already clashed together.
Daring not to delay, she began moving forward with quick strides.
She had thought they would be able to get back and take refuge in the inn, but contrary to
her expectations, its front door was tightly shut, evidently locked by the owner. Looking
around at a loss, she asked, "Do you know where the back door is?"
"Back door? Since when was there a back door?" Agnesa was frightened as well and wanted
to slap her hand against the door.
"Where did you two go?" In the darkness, someone asked this question.
Wen Han paused blankly. Turning, she saw it was Wang Wenhao.
"To find food!" Agnesa was breathing in ragged gasps. "Why is the door locked? How are we
going to get back in?"
Wang Wenhao glanced them over, then pulled off his glasses.
He was deliberating, how would he be able to first get the two of them back to the inn and
then take those once-lost, now-recovered goods, as well as—
From the blackness behind him, a dagger extended out and pressed against his neck.
At the same time, two other arms reached around Wen Han and Agnesa's necks and
gripped their throats.
"Do not move," someone stated with a low voice in stiff English.
For a moment, all dialogue disappeared. In that alley, nobody dared move as they stared at
one another in dread.
On the street, the hordes of people were shouting fiercely, clashing into one another.
No one would notice this spot that they were in.
Fear had caused Wen Han's face to turn ashen. The person behind her was pressing
viciously against the wound on her shoulder, and her entire body quivered from pain.
"We're tourists…"
"Shut up," the person behind her snapped.
She looked in terror at the ones who had overpowered Wang Wenhao and Agnesa and
recognized them as two of the people who had been speaking Kyrgyz in the hallway.
She breathed rapidly, jaggedly; her mind filled only with one person's shadow.
Only him. As if she was drowning and had grasped that one last, life-saving straw, when she
thought of him, she drew in a deep breath and tried to calm herself. He said—he promised!
—that he would come back, that he would escort her safely out of here… out of Lumbini.
As a result of this thought, her heart began racing at a rate that slightly exceeded
physiological limits.
She even began to feel short of breath, like she was suffocating.
All of a sudden, two heavy objects were thrown off of a balcony.
The small stones and gravel that flew up from the impact splattered against Wen Han's and
Agnesa's faces, and the two women once more screamed in horror.
Those two objects that had tumbled down were Cheng Muyun and Meng Liangchuan,
whose bodies were both almost half-soaked by blood. With their upper bodies tied up in
rope and their eyes bound, they had been thrown to the ground, and they appeared to be
seriously injured.
It was just that, when they were tossed down, Meng Liangchuan had let out a muffled
groan, while Cheng Muyun had seemed like someone who was already dead, not making
even a sound.
Wen Han seemed as if she had been struck by lightning. Her entire gaze was entwined on
the blood-covered Cheng Muyun.
His words were still spiraling in her head.
A little bit of trouble. He had said he had gotten into a little bit of trouble. This was that so-
called "little bit of trouble"?!
A sudden feeling of panic coursed madly out from her blood and spread, seeping into the
very depths of her insides. In that instant, she felt only that the sky and ground seemed to
be spinning. The taste of blood surged upward into her throat. Her heart could not bear the
strain, and it sank.
Sank to the bottommost depths.
She nearly blacked out.
"What are you looking at?!" The man behind her gave a fierce kick to the back of her knee.
A cry slipped from Wen Han's lips. With a thud, she collapsed onto her knees. Wang
Wenhao immediately began to struggle, and he snarled in a low voice, "Don't go picking on
a woman. If you want money, just say it!" That man was taken aback for a moment but then
quickly wielded the handle of his dagger, slamming it viciously into Wang Wenhao's temple
and knocking him violently to the ground. Wang Wenhao pressed his hand over his head.
Blood streamed out from between his fingers, but he only glared ferociously at that man.
Another person spat, "No. We have angered police. We need foreigners with us so we can
leave Lumbini. Don't try any funny business. We will let you come back."
After he said this, two shadowy figures immediately stepped forward and tied Wang
Wenhao up in the same way. Right as they were about to gag him, Wen Han all of a sudden
stood. "Take me… Let him go."
Her hands were balled her hands tightly into fists, but still she could not control the
trembling that came over her.
This action had come about on impulse, and she did not know at all why she did it.
To exchange for Wang Wenhao and bring him back to safety?
No.
It was for him, that man whom she did not even know how badly hurt he was.
What good would it do for her to be taken away together with him? She had no idea.
There was simply a tremendous strength within her heart sustaining her and helping her
rise to her feet. She had heard them and comprehended: they wanted to take a few
foreigners hostage to ensure they could leave Lumbini. Once they left this place, they would
release her.
But, why did they need to abduct Cheng Muyun? Why?
Wen Han, just don't think. Don't keep thinking about it. The situation is very simple. They
just want hostages to guarantee that when they run into police, they'll be able to escape
smoothly—
Her entire body was shaking. She was unable to believe she would actually do this. But she
truly had done it.
"Wen Han!" Wang Wenhao shouted in Russian, "Just leave me. Don't worry about me!"
Someone gave him a vicious kick, then pulled out a towel, stuffed it into his mouth, and
completely sealed his lips with black tape. Wang Wenhao's eyes instantly grew wide, and
he fixed them on Wen Han, shaking his head fiercely.
Before Wen Han could see his action, though, she was already ruthlessly shoved into the
wall, and her hands and feet were bound.
From the instant Wen Han was thrown over someone's shoulder, they were in a constant
state of pressing forward.
The entire journey was dark and bumpy. All she could sense was the pain in her abdomen
from the pressure, and before her eyes, there was only endless blackness.
Those several men never exchanged any words the whole time.
Along the way, there were the sounds of water, the wailing of wild beasts, as well as all
different sorts of strange noises. She had listened carefully in the beginning. Later, though,
she felt a cold, moist feeling on her shoulder. Her wound had started to bleed, the blood
dripping downward, and gradually she began to lose her ability to form proper judgments.
When afternoon came, those people finally arrived at a crude little village.
Everyone was thrown into a rundown shack, and someone was left guarding all of them.
The exception was Wang Wenhao, who was taken away.
After Wang Wenhao was brought into a presentable house, a middle-aged man stepped up
to him and loosened his bonds. Laughing heartily, the man said to him in fluent Kyrgyz, "My
friend, your woman is so very beautiful. Were she not your woman, I would keep her by my
side."
Wang Wenhao took the glasses that someone handed to him. Wiping them clean, he slipped
them on. "How do you know she is my woman?"
"A woman who chose to step into the fore of peril when you were about to be abducted
away should not have no relationship with you." This leader of the group understood the
situation and grinned so widely his teeth were showing. His manner of showing a
mirthless, insincere smile caused people to feel a chill that came from the bottom of the
heart.
"Our deal was that you get my goods back and abduct those two men, not my woman." It
was apparent Wang Wenhao was not in a good mood. "Don't tell me all you wanted was to
get a good look at what my woman looks like."
"No, no, I only wanted to help and oblige this great love between the two of you."
The several men in the room all broke out in loud, brazen laughter.
"Or maybe you suddenly discovered that there is a woman you can use to control me, so
you deliberately brought her here to ensure our deal will go smoothly." Wang Wenhao did
not feel like continuing to beat around the bush with him. "I am a trafficker. I am doing
business right now. I'm not some maniac who's willing to risk his life."
The middle-aged man took a seat and patted a wooden table. "Sit, my friend."
Wang Wenhao was alone here. Even if he was filled with burning fury, he still dared not
truly shed all pretenses of cordiality, so he had no choice but to sit down. The rage in his
heart had already accumulated to the point that it nearly blinded his good sense. He had
originally hired two bodyguards, but had not expected that they would actually steal his
stuff.
In the end, he was here fighting alone and had even dragged Wen Han into the mess.
"The fact that you lost your own goods proves that, while you are in Nepal, you will need to
listen to us in order to successfully complete this business transaction. What do you say? Is
that right, my friend?"
Wang Wenhao could not be bothered to say any more and got down to business. "How long
do you need to finish inspecting my stuff?"
"Twenty hours. The jewels that you brought need at least that amount of time. You do know
that because of the strike, Nepal's roads are paralyzed. My appraiser still has not arrived
yet." Bending his index finger, the leader gave a knock on the table with it. "Let my men
take you to have a look around at the local sights and culture. While we are at it, we will
give you a few of our women. Yours will have to stay with me temporarily. When twenty
hours have passed, I will escort you both away from here.
"Fine." Wang Wenhao agreed to this without hesitation.
"What about those two men? What do you want us to do with them?"
"Do whatever makes you happy. Since they dared to steal my goods, there should be some
punishment for them one way or another."
……
On a dry pile of hay, Wen Han sat with her back against the wall behind her. Not only was
fear gripping her heart, her wound had also been aching with pain this entire time. She
could only incessantly comfort herself, It's okay, it's okay. They said they would release the
hostages.
They just want a few foreign tourists.
Maybe they are just locals who are taking part in the strike—
All of a sudden, someone approached her. Instinctively, she shrunk back. Something cool
was placed against the skin on her shoulder. She wanted to shirk away, but that person was
already holding her body in place.
There was first the sound of scissors cutting clothing open, and then the gauze on her
wound was ripped off.
Someone was helping her to treat her wound.
She did not dare move. She could smell a faint, fragrant scent by the tip of her nose—it
seemed that person was a woman. Nepali women were very conservative, and an
unmarried woman would forbid a man from touching her body. She had not expected that
the kidnappers would be so particular about this as well that they would actually have a
woman come to bandage her wound for her.
"Her skin is so nice." The other party was speaking in Kyrgyz, thinking she did not
understand.
"Women from outside here all have nice skin." A man was chuckling. "But no matter how
nice their skin may be, it's still not as nice as yours."
What followed after were all words of sweet nothings.
After the person had finished dressing Wen Han's wound, she asked the man who was with
her whether they needed to feed Wen Han some food. The man with her answered, no, they
did not need to, because these people would be leaving soon.
Stillness once more fell all around her.
She did not know whether it was day or night, for all she saw before her eyes was darkness.
She only knew that there was no longer anyone moving about nearby.
Fear began to suffuse through her, uncontrollable as it devoured away her pathetic little bit
of levelheadedness.
Just why? Why did they need to bring them here? They had already come into the
mountains to avoid police. Why had they still not released the hostages? …
Right then, a finger caressed her cheek.
The feeling caused a shudder to instantly come over her. However, she soon perceived the
characteristic mannerisms of this particular caress. Too familiar. It felt all too familiar—
It was him… It was him?!
The tape over her lips was cruelly torn off, and the white towel that had been stuffed in her
mouth was tossed aside.
With her mouth suddenly loosened, she wanted to open it to ask whether it was him. But
then, something covered her lips.
This was a deep kiss that absolutely belonged to that man—there was no room for doubt. It
plunged to the depths of her throat, a kiss that seemed as if it wanted to suck out your soul.
This time, he was even somewhat brutal as he took her lips between his teeth and
ferociously sucked and bit down on them. His teeth broke skin, and her blood was sucked
out—a deep, penetrating pain. And the thirsting desire that could be felt in the action—
Under his luring guidance, she began to return his kiss, as if she was giving all the turmoil,
all the fear of this entire day over to him.
It was as if only in this way did she know that she was safe.
She was safe—as long as he was here.
"You have begun to know how to kiss, dearest." He began to lap away the blood on her lips
with his tongue before turning to take her little earlobe lightly into his mouth. "In this
country, they always say that a good woman must often blush with embarrassment and be
ashamed and fearful in order to not be despised by people… But I simply like the way you
are right now. You tell me, how am I to leave you? How can I let go of you? If you stay with
me, there is a very good chance you will die."
Question after question..
They were addressed to her, yet they were also not addressed to her.
She did not know how to answer.
She had too many doubts herself that were on the verge of surfacing, as well as numerous
chaotic and complicated speculations. "You—"
"You should not have gotten to know me. Wen Han, this man in front of you, his eyes hold
no leniency, no mercy. Here, today, you will witness that very soon. I am a devil that lives in
hell. Or perhaps you can say, I… am Hell."
His words were spoken very lightly.
From the day she met this man, he had overturned her views of the world. His appearance
in her life had revealed a whole other world to her… But within her, there was another soul,
one that was holding her back, binding her, trying to dissuade her. Wen Han, what you see
now is only the surface, the tip of the iceberg.
All those things that are still hidden in the back are not things that you would be able to
accept.
Keep far away from him.
Wen Han.
The weight was all of a sudden removed from her eyes. He had pulled down the black cloth
that had been covering them.
Her eyes had been closed for too long, and now that they suddenly saw light, she actually
could not see anything clearly. Her voice scratchy, she softly asked him, "Is it because of
you that they kidnapped us here?"
"Not exactly."
"You are a…" She wanted to put "drug dealer," "arms trafficker," "member of a terrorist
organization," into the question…
Yet she also felt these words were too extreme and did not know whether he would answer
her.
"I am nothing." The wounds on Cheng Muyun's body were not faked. His half-crouching
posture in front of Wen Han looked a little strange due to his leg injury, and there were two
obvious bloody streaks by the corner of his eye. "Here in this place is a most vicious group
of traffickers. I have been searching for them for a long time. The terrain here where they
live is very unusual, and even if with my friend here with me, I still may not come out alive.
I will have Meng Liangchuan escort you out from here first. Regardless of whether I am
dead or alive, if you stay with him, you will have a great chance of survival."
"What about you? You're not going to leave with us?"
Nimbly untying the ropes that bound her, Cheng Muyun moved his hands down her leg,
feeling her bones, until he reached her ankle. After confirming there were no major issues,
he pulled her up from the floor with one hand. "I am here because I have been searching for
where they reside.".
Wen Han's presence here was outside of his expectations.
Last night in that alley, he had heard everything.
He had not thought that she would come forward and put herself into the danger. Though
he had surmised that she had done so to protect her so-called friend, "Wang Wenhao," he
had very soon disregarded this particular piece. Her appearance in this place forced him to
lose one person, to have Meng Liangchuan, who was originally supposed to lead the way for
him, protect her and escort her safely away from here.
He could sacrifice even his own life for his comrades, his brothers.
Let alone this was his woman.
When Cheng Muyun made this sort of decision, there basically would be no hesitation. This
was as it should be. In his blood, he carried the macho, protective spirit of Chinese men that
believed women should be protected. Even if this were only a passing romance, even if this
all-out battle that would be fought at a close distance were too fierce and in the end, she
could not leave here alive, at the very least, she would die after him, behind him.
All along the way when she was brought here, her eyes had been covered, so the entire
time, she had not known what the landscape here looked like. Now that she did get a look,
she saw that this place truly was a crude mountain village situated near steep cliffs and
rock faces. The large expanse of black, dense shadows in the distance was a forest, of which
its end could not be seen, and there were also layers upon layers of mountains.
When Cheng Muyun led Wen Han out of that house, she stared disbelievingly at her
surroundings.
Here in this kind of place, the way out could not even be seen. How could they escape from
here?
In the pitch-blackness of the night, Cheng Muyun trekked forward, but all of a sudden, he
stopped. Wen Han followed suit and also stood still. But before anything even registered in
her mind, he was thrusting her into a thatched shed. Losing her footing, Wen Han tumbled
backward, landing heavily on her bottom.
It was also in this two to three second period…
There began the sounds of rapid machine gun fire and explosions. The mountain village
that only a moment ago had been blanketed in silence suddenly became a battlefield. She
threw her hands over her ears, looking in horror out the shed. She could clearly see several
shadowy outlines clashing together, and after some fierce fighting, it seemed to become
close combats with bladed weapons.
She could not discern who was who. They were all just shadows.
There were continually people toppling over. Far off, muffled rumbles reverberated
unceasingly, as if someone was attempting to detonate a path through this place. Shaken by
the explosions, layers of dust and straw began to fall down from the shed.
The dust obscured her eyes. Tears began to stream down. She swiped viciously at them
several times before they at last ceased.
Suddenly, a shadow darted into the shed. Before she had a chance to cry out in alarm, she
heard that person say in a low voice, "I am Meng Liangchuan. Come with me." She
remembered Cheng Muyun's charge to her, and surprisingly, amidst her immense fear, she
mechanically obeyed Meng Liangchuan's words, following him as they felt their way out
behind the houses.
When they had groped their way to the back of the village, they found traces of a pathway,
but it had been blown up and had collapsed.
Boulders and dirt now covered everything.
"F*ck off! Who the hell blew this up? We need to take the actual main route out now," Meng
Liangchuan cursed under his breath.
Grabbing Wen Han's wrist, he fumblingly searched through the dark for the so-called
"actual main route" that he had spoken about.
Before long, they had felt their way to the start of a cliff face, where she could see a narrow
trail strewn wholly with corpses.
Meng Liangchuan shoved Wen Han in front of himself. "Use the fastest speed you have ever
used in your life, go over these corpses, and get yourself out of here, even if it means you
have to crawl. There are special police troops outside. Climbing out means you live!"
Never in her life had Wen Han seen so many dead people before, and moreover, this was
outside, in the middle of a gun battle.
Meng Liangchuan barked, "Climb out!"
Biting down brutally on her lip, she put her hand against the cliff wall to support herself,
her fingers trembling as she tried desperately to grip onto those parts of the cliff face that
protruded outward. Over and over, she stepped across corpse after corpse. In her mind,
there was only one thought: Just hurry and get over there, hurry and get over there.
It was as if she needed only to get over there and then she would live.
The firing of a gun was heard from behind her. All of a sudden, there was the sound of
splintering rock somewhere not far above her head.
She gave a shudder, pressing herself tightly against the rock face. Tears intermingled with
the dirt and dust that had gotten onto her face and rolled down. Her feet, though, never
stopped. The desire to live caused her to move faster and faster, until in the end, she was
even stepping on corpses and leaping her way across.
When she reached the end of the trail, she at last saw the dense forest suddenly open up.
A red spot fell on her body.
She was unaware and still searching all around with her eyes, trying to find those allies
whom Meng Liangchuan had spoken about. Without warning, Meng Liangchuan pounced
onto her from behind. As she slammed forward into the ground, a bullet sliced across the
night sky and shattered a spot on the cliff wall.
What followed was bullet after bullet.
In a fierce voice, Meng Liangchuan roared out a sentence in the local language.
Nothing stopped. The rock walls surrounding her were struck and penetrated. Covering her
ears, a scream burst from her lips.
"Go back. Tell your men that you will either surrender or all be shot dead." Someone was
yelling back in Kyrgyz.
This was because the people in this village spoke only that language.
"Goddammit! What is he saying?" It was apparent Meng Liangchuan did not understand
what had been said, and he grew even more enflamed.
Struggling to hold back the quiver in her voice, Wen Han forced herself to tell him, "They
are saying we should pull back."
"Sh*t! They've lumped us in with that group of bastards?!" Meng Liangchuan looked
agitatedly at Wen Han, feeling for the first time that Cheng Muyun had quite a
discriminating eye for women. This woman could be useful. "Hurry and tell them that
you're a tourist, a Russian tourist who was abducted here! Hurry and say it!"
Her voice raspy, Wen Han yelled as loud as she could. "We are tourists! We are tourists who
were abducted here!"
Quiet came over the people on the other end.
But there was no reply.
The red dots of the laser sights of guns were still on them.
"Dammit!" he could not refrain from cursing. "What are you aiming at?"
Behind them, there was a loud explosion, as if someone wanted to level the whole village.
Wen Han clutched at the ground's soil and closed her eyes helplessly.
"Put your hands up behind your head and walk over, woman."
At last, there was a response. Those special police officers had chosen still to first ask
questions. After all, this was a foreign traveller.
Wen Han froze.
"Hurry!" Meng Liangchuan gave her a kick.
Starting back to her senses, she crawled flustered to her feet, raised her two hands so that
they were behind her head, and stumblingly walked over.
Her skirt was ripped. Her neckline by her chest had lost several buttons and fallen open,
but she dared not cover it with her hands. She truly was in shock from fear this time. Before
she had a chance to stop and steady herself on her feet, two special police officers with
guns strapped to their backs had already dragged her over and begun interrogating her.
Because this was a mountainous area, they would not be able to obtain her information
regarding her entry into the country and verify Wen Han's identity within a short
timeframe.
When did she enter the country? What places had she stayed at? Also, what companions
was she travelling with? Where was she abducted? Why was she abducted? Etc., etc.
She was asked more than twenty questions before the other party finally asked, who was
that person who was still lying face down on the ground?
"His name is Meng Liangchuan. I only know that he's a local." She truly had no more
information she could provide in her answer.
When one of the special police heard this name, he paused in surprise, then chuckled and
repeated, "Meng Liangchuan?"
He evidently seemed to know Meng Liangchuan, and he yelled something out at that
person not far away.
This time it was in the local language that Wen Han did not understand..
The several officers in the front line set down their guns.
Before long, Meng Liangchuan, who was cursing in a low voice, was brought over.
From their dialogue, Wen Han could guess that Meng Liangchuan knew this special police
officer from before. She could sense this from the look in their eyes and their expressions
when they talked. However, how they knew each other or what type of relationship they
had, she could not tell at all from their words, which she could not understand.
Behind them were increasingly frequent muffled booming sounds.
A bitter battle had obviously broken out inside that mountain village.
These special police trusted Meng Liangchuan's words more, and very soon, after
confirming Wen Han's identity as a foreign traveller, they paid no more attention to them.
After all, up ahead, they were still engaged in fierce fighting with a trafficking organization.
There was only a female police officer who spoke neither Chinese nor English. She simply
handed a coat to Wen Han and gestured to her. Taking the garment from her, Wen Han
wanted to do up its buttons but discovered that her fingers were already so stiff they did
not even know how to tremble anymore. She fixed her eyes on her own hands, not daring to
call to memory the scenario from earlier on of just how she had come out the entire way.
She did not even dare imagine how… she had trampled on the bodies of dead people to get
here.
Walking from death to life.
After talking for a long time with that person whom he knew, Meng Liangchuan came alone
to find her.
Once he had settled her at the back of the camp, beside a cliff wall that blocked out the
wind, he wanted to warn Wen Han that she should pretend she did not know anything,
since, after all, she had come vacationing with a smuggler. However, when he thought about
it, he remembered, this woman truly was not aware of Wang Wenhao's true identity, and
hence he did not say much else.
He gave a cough. "You stay here. Eat something, drink some water, sleep—do whatever you
want. This place is safe. If Cheng Muyun dies, I'll take you back to the embassy in
Kathmandu. If he lives—" He paused, then sighed, "We'll talk about it when he comes out
alive."
His tone carried hints of powerlessness and a sense of rue.
Life and death were things Meng Liangchuan had long since ceased to place importance on.
He merely felt that it was a shame.
If he and Cheng Muyun could have worked together as they had originally planned, it would
have been easier for them to get out. Even in the worst case, it would not be to the extent
that they would lose their lives.
Now, though, that was up in the air.
But who told Cheng Muyun to make the choice to let this woman get out of there first?
A great booming sound soared up and ruptured the sky.
The tremors of this roar rocked the entire valley. Listening to the sound of her heartbeat as
it became slower and slower, she dared not even hazard a guess. Would he be able to come
out alive? What if those people wanted to force a fight to the death, where everyone, both
for and against them, would perish together? …
Slowly, she leaned her back against the rock face and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself.
Tomorrow, or perhaps after the sun came up, she would be walking out of here, walking to
a place beneath the sun, where there were no sounds of gunfire and artillery exploding, and
continuing with her peaceful life.
Peacefulness. Safety. These seemed to be merely wishful thinking.
To her, as she sat here on these rocks, they were far and unreachable words.
Until someone really did walk close to her. She heard the sound of gravel and loose rocks
slipping and moving. Her eyes flew open. She saw an unfamiliar man standing in the
shadows behind her.
He handed a piece of cloth to her.
In passing, he pressed his index finger against his lips.
In the moonlight, that piece of cloth…
… looked very familiar.
Wen Han froze for several seconds, her heart palpitating. She recognized it now—it was a
piece of cloth from her skirt. Dropping her head down frantically, she pulled up the corner
of her skirt to look, searching all over for signs that it had been torn. When had it been
torn? When? Was it him? Her head whipped up again.
That young man was assessing her with an amused gaze. What female creature could
manage to cause Cheng Muyun to be in such a state? A mere girl like this?
After seeing that Wen Han had recognized her own garment and guessed whom it was
from, he beckoned at her. "Come with me."
Wen Han turned and glanced back at those people, then followed that person away from
there. Because of this piece of cloth, she did not even so much as consider whether this
might be a ploy.
The mountain path was rough and uneven.
She could not discern any directions.
Her instinct was that this person was winding their way around the entire mountain, and
he had not even thought about turning around to help her. In the beginning, Wen Han had
still tried to prevent any accidental flashes of too much skin or other things that should not
be flashed, and would smooth and arrange her ripped skirt. Later, however, she gave up. No
one was looking at her in this virgin forest anyway, and the man up ahead evidently did not
view her as female either.
They walked until she was at the point of despair. At last, they saw the edge of this forest.
There was light—moonlight.
It shone upon the underbrush in which there was no path.
After enduring the torment of such a night, the muscles in her legs were long since utterly
aching and sore. Through the waist-high grass, she plodded wearily. She watched as the
man braced his weight on his one hand that he had placed on a boulder and hopped up
onto that huge rock.
Finally, that young man found it in his heart to be kind this once, and turning around, he
stretched out a hand to her.
With a tug, he pulled her up onto the boulder.
The view was surprisingly expansive.
That familiar tall, slender figure was sitting in a spot sheltered from the wind. His upper
body was bare, and a white gauze bandage stretched diagonally across his chest and circled
to his back. A man sitting beside him and conversing quietly with him, and also several
others who were standing not far from him, all simultaneously turned and looked toward
this unfamiliar woman who had arrived.
Here, in the silence, in this moment, it was as if she had been left at the end of pitch-black,
bloody path.
On both sides, people were wordlessly watching her.
Shadow after shadow stretched across the ground and touched the spot by her feet.
……
"Zhou Ke, you sure like to dilly-dally." A bespectacled man grinned and was the first to
break the silence.
The young man who had led Wen Han to this place shrugged. "I needed to listen to her
while she walked. Afraid she would fall, you know."
Everyone laughed, all of them suddenly relaxing.
And then, they all began to disperse..
Only he remained, still sitting and leaning back against the rock face.
For the first time, he had no strength to say much to her. His lips merely turned up into a
faint, weary smile directed to her.
So tired.
He lifted his hand toward Wen Han, indicating that she should come close.
Wen Han did not speak either and was surprisingly compliant, leaning in toward him.
"I am very tired," Cheng Muyun told her in a voice that could not possibly be any lighter. His
hand had already pushed away the coat that had been draped on her shoulders and set it
on the ground.
"Do not struggle," he said to her.
He slid his hand along her shoulder and to her back, unfastening her undergarments.
Wen Han truly did not dare move, worried that she might accidentally bump any of the
wounds, both visible and not visible, that were on him. She tried as best as she could with
her body to accommodate him and laid herself down.
In the stillness, she heard him undo his belt.
It was the sound of metal clinking against his belt buckle. Very light.
"Are you cold?"
This was the first time his body lay pressed on top of her without any barrier of clothing
between them, allowing her icy skin, which was exposed to the air, to clearly feel this man's
warmth and skin.
The way they were fit tightly against one another allowed her to feel that, perhaps because
he had just escaped death, or perhaps because of passion, his body was hotter than hers—
this was so for every part.
Her blood was burning and began to boil. She could not restrain herself and shifted her
hips. "You're hurt. I can help you."
The desire that spilled out from every crevice of each word startled her.
"No one can help me." In a voice that was a near whisper, he told her, "Apart from your
body, nothing can help me."
……
Someone was whistling.
In all directions around them, there were also sounds of footsteps gradually moving further
away.
Those people had obviously not made a sound when they had jumped down, but now, their
movements were very loud and obvious. It was as if they were saying, "This is something
you deserve to have after surviving that great calamity. We have buggered far off already.
Enjoy to your heart's content this gift that Life has given you—"
Soon, not even the sound of walking could be heard in this entire forest.
She was enveloped in shyness that came from being scared that, at any time, the people
with him would hear and see them. She even very softly implored him, "Could you… please
be faster?"
From his throat, there came a husky reply: "As you wish."
His searing hot body swallowed away both her voice and lips.
…….
"Where is he?!" Meng Liangchuan had gone mad, and relentlessly, he tore at his own hair.
He had used three years before he was finally able to see Cheng Muyun. Three years! And
now he had lost him, just like that. He paced in circles on the same spot. After making three
rounds, he paused his steps and grabbed a young police officer who had come over. He
wanted to say something, but then flung the person aside again and carried on raging away.
He finally knew where the problem lay.
Each move, each step that Cheng Muyun had planned clearly showed that he had already
determined Meng Liangchuan's true identity.
From the outset, Cheng Muyun had already known who he was, from where he had come,
and what his mission was. Every one of Cheng Muyun's actions ultimately led to one
purpose, which also coincided with his own mission: to destroy this smuggling base.
Cheng Muyun had even known that he would not have the heart to let an innocent woman
become caught in this fierce battle and would definitely help Cheng Muyun take that
woman away from here.
But the question was…
Meng Liangchuan's instinct that was born from many years of being an undercover agent
told him—
"His purpose here in Nepal absolutely is not simply because he wants to reach across
national borders and aid the local Nepali special police in demolishing this smuggling base."
The person beside him gave an "mm-hmm" while eating a bun. "Just arrest him."
"Arrest my foot!" Meng Liangchuan felt uneasy. "As a foreign traveller, he put himself in
danger to protect a local police officer and provided information that ended up cracking a
huge trafficking case that's been going on for years. What, are we going to arrest him to
give him a medal for outstanding contributions?!"
"Isn't there an undercover agent planted in his ranks whose identity is still hidden?" That
person eating the bun continued nibbling away until, unexpectedly biting his own tongue,
he let out a sharp hiss. "Once he's out of Nepal, he's not in our territory anymore. Just don't
think about it anymore."
Yes, there was still an undercover agent.
One of many years.
Meng Liangchuan crossed his arms in front of his chest. He did not want to admit it, but he
was so testy not because he wanted to find any information or evidence that could be used
against Cheng Muyun. Rather, his instinct was telling him, Cheng Muyun had suddenly
returned to this world of men after disappearing for several years because there must be
something very exciting that he needed to do, and these last few days were simply the
introduction.
This man and all of his past were enough to cause any other man to admire him, to the
extent of wishing to swear friendship to the death with him.
And he, Meng Liangchuan, genuinely, sincerely wanted to play a part in whatever it was.
"That first pathway, he would not have blown that up himself, right?" Meng Liangchuan
suddenly remembered that when they were making their escape from that place, the
original planned route had been blown up. He had had no choice then but to take the main
pathway out of there, thereby exposing his identity.
He sucked in a sharp breath. That man…
So cunning and devious, thinking through every possible scheme..
Faint, white light gradually devoured away the darkness.
As she hazily opened her eyes, she could feel the glow of sunlight.
"It's light already…"
That terrifying night had passed. Being captured was in the past now. What would come
next?
Cheng Muyun lowered his eyes, taking in her dazed, fatigued expression that was a result of
earlier passion. "It's light. I will take you back." He thought, perhaps he should quickly
finish up this matter, because he suddenly was impatient to return to Moscow, where, on
the carpet beside an old-fashioned fireplace, he would make love to this girl or be in love
with her.
As for the vow he had taken…
It had been made to God anyway. He believed in Buddhism.
In the pale glow of the newly risen sun, Cheng Muyun pulled on his pants and also helped
her put on her clothing before standing up from the rock. "Let's go."
Wen Han followed him and looked out around, surprised by the stillness of their
surroundings, as if this entire forest held only the two of them. However, two or three
seconds later, in all corners, those people who had been soundly asleep against the trees or
creeping along silently because they were on night watch now all rose, wobbly and tiredly,
to their feet, seeming as if they had appeared noiselessly, one at a time, from thin air.
The expressions they wore were no different from those of tourists who had just come back
from strolling through a scenic site. She could even see that there was a person with fine,
handsome features and who looked to be no more than a grown boy of university age.
Seeing that Cheng Muyun had recovered and looked as he usually did, the several men who
had appeared on the rocks the previous night all lifted their brows and smirked
suggestively.
A shaft of light passed through a gap between the tree branches and dazzled her eyes.
This… was his world.
Avici Hell—an interminable hell, where one would continue to suffer in it for innumerable
eons, from eon to eon, with no means of escape. .

鱼死网破 "yu si wang po." This idiom literally this means "the fish dies and the net is torn."
A fish in a fisherman's net will fight to the death as it means either being caught and killed
or breaking the night and escaping. The meaning of this idiom is to either fight to the death
or at least perish together.

玉石俱焚 "yu shi ju fen." Literally meaning "both jade and stone would be burned alike and
destroyed." This is an analogy saying that good and bad will be destroyed alike and can
mean that you are willing to destroy both yourself and the enemy.

无间地狱，千万亿劫求出无期。 This line is taken directly from the Chinese translation of

the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva Sutra (Chinese name 《地藏本愿经》), of which an English
translation can be found at (pg. 24) or : "Avici Hell… will continue to suffer from kalpas to
kalpas with no means of escape."
Kalpa is a Sanskrit word that translates as "eon" or an "indescribably long time."
In Buddhism, there are many different hells. Avici Hell, which in Chinese is called 无间地狱
or also 阿鼻地狱, is often called "interminable hell" or "perpetual hell." Though not eternal,
the sufferings in it are constant (i.e. there is no rest between) and lasts the longest out of all
the hells, for innumerable eons or kalpas. After a birth and death for one kalpa has passed,
a being is immediately reborn and begins the next kalpa of suffering, and so this goes on,
from kalpa to kalpa, with no way of escape until the punishment is complete.
Note: I am not the least bit informed regarding Buddhism, so please do not take this as
proper Buddhist doctrine and more as an approximation to help you as an understanding
of context and the "living hell from which there is no escape" life that Cheng Muyun lives.
 Chapter 6 – Fate’s Preface

Wen Han travelled with this group of people, trekking along for a dozen or more hours
until, after being on the move for another night, they at last drew near to Kathmandu. Prior
to entering the city, everyone gradually dispersed, and their group became less than twenty
people, then just a handful of people. Finally, only she and Cheng Muyun remained.
Cheng Muyun and she had changed into clean clothing. In this sort of gloomy weather, the
garments' dark colors allowed them to easily blend in and hide within a crowd.
"Where are we going?" After Zhou Ke and that bespectacled man also left, she softly asked
this question.
"I will take you to the embassy." He instructed, "When you are there, you need to ask for
help. If someone questions you, simply say that that night, after you were rescued, you
became separated from everyone else, and you walked back here."
The meaning of his words was plain.
Do not say that she knew him. What happened on the night those bandits were
exterminated should be kept in her heart.
Her eyes flickered a little.
Brushing a thoughtful glance over her, Cheng Muyun draped his arm casually over her
shoulder, and like he and she were the most ordinary of couples and foreign tourists, he
spoke quietly. "You need to retrieve your luggage and passport."
"And then?" The words blurted from her mouth. "Where are you going?"
From last night to now, he had not spoken about what he would do next or where he would
go. Everything had ended two nights ago, hadn't it? That person who had been with him,
Meng Liangchuan, had already explained that that had been a very difficult-to-locate
trafficking operation. Although only a few words had been said, she conjectured that he
perhaps was an informant for the police.
He smiled, not providing an answer.
"My visa will be expiring soon. I must go back… Will you go to Moscow to find me?"
Remembering that he had once said, in this lifetime, he would never return to Moscow, she
followed up with another quiet question. "Are you able to enter Russian borders?"
Still he did not answer.
She did not know how she could continue this conversation.
The two stood on the shore of the Bagmati River, the Pashupatinath Temple beside them.
This was Nepal's largest open-air cremation site.
Whether the corpses were of the poor or came from nobility, they would all be cremated on
the cremation platforms on both sides of the river. The damp air teemed with the putrid
stench of burning dead bodies. However, those people who stood by the fiery pyres were
all very devout and sincere. Wen Han had witnessed cremations on the banks of India's
Ganges River, but she had watched from across the river.
Now, though, she was standing in the midst of them.
Less than twenty paces away were cremation platform after platform and corpse after
corpse that was ablaze.
The morning breeze, intermingled with rain, blew against her face.
With one hand, he pulled up the hood of his hiking jacket. Then, in an instant, he was biting
down on her lip, like he was sucking hard on a lovely fruit that held an abundance of juice
in it. Using the force of his sucking and the strength of his biting, he forced her tongue to
extend forth so that he could deepen even more this deep kiss that was a public taboo. The
entire process took only less than one minute, but when she was released, she was already
gasping and feeling a little lightheaded.
Slipping his hand deep into her neckline, he touched her soft breast and then, rather
indulgingly, continued to knead it a couple more times. When he felt her push him away, he
finally stopped and brought to an end this one minute and more of dangerous flirtation and
seduction.
To be alive. To continue living. To live until the day he could one day return to Moscow.
It seemed those were very much at risk.
Cheng Muyun pulled her neckline closed for her. "I know of a rather nice place near here
where it should not be difficult to fill your belly."
"Mm." Wen Han thought, they should eat first. They both had not even consumed any
decent food over these last dozen or more hours. While they were waiting for the food to
come, she could unhurriedly ask him again.
When she was seated at one of Kathmandu's small restaurants, a menu in her hand, it felt
as if she had returned to the world of the living. Yes, it was the world of the living.
All those dangers no longer existed.
Though this place was very simple and basic, there were clean tables and a menu that
appeared to be passable.
Before long, a stainless steel plate of rice was set in front of each of them, with curry
potatoes and carrots and also curry chicken.
And a bowl of thick soup.
These were the local dishes she had most detested when she first arrived in Nepal.
But now, she could not wait to eat them.
"Darling, eat more." He was toying with the silver fork in his hand as he remarked in a low
voice, "You know that every man wants his woman to be a bit curvier where suitable." A
blush rose into her face. Dropping her head down, she stabbed a piece of potato with her
fork and put it into her mouth. As she lowered her eyes, she was even thinking whether she
did not look good eating this way.
His finger was already gently caressing the back of her hand that was holding her knife, as
if he was waiting for her to finish eating—very gentlemanly, yet very impatient as well.
Her heart itched and her mind was restless from his action.
Her thoughts drifted back to less than twenty hours ago—
The difficulty of her first time had been more painful than she had imagined.
But it had not been as painful as the wound she had suffered on her shoulder. It had felt
more like someone was tearing at the most tender of places from within her body. He had
not spoken, slowly moving, allowing her to adjust to this most primal of acts between a
man and a woman that entwined them together.
But it had not been wonderful.
……
"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice low, as if he had seen through her thoughts.
"Nothing." There was a self-conscious rosy flush to her cheeks.
"I am going out for a smoke," he said.
Puzzled, she lifted her head. She had never seen him smoke a cigarette before. It was as if,
apart from the hookah he had had that night in the little inn in Kathmandu, he was not
interested in that sort of thing.
"You cannot bear to be apart from me while I am outside?" he teased her.
She shook her head untruthfully.
Unhurriedly, Cheng Muyun set his napkin on the table. Wen Han gazed at his face and also
his eyes—those eyes that were like a pair of whirlpools.
"I will be right back," he stated softly.
Wen Han nodded.
Walking out the door, Cheng Muyun surveyed the surroundings from the corner of his eye
before glancing once more through the glass at the girl inside the restaurant whose head
was bowed as she ate. Then, completely pulling up the hood of his black hiking jacket and
blocking out the muggy raindrops, he turned at an intersection and strode into the quiet
depths of a street.
After approximately a dozen or so minutes, Wen Han began feeling unsettled. When the
time had passed the thirty-minute mark, Wen Han at last realized he was gone.
She stared at the streetscape outside, gripping the tablecloth tightly.
Last time, in the camp, he had at least told her. This time… Should she wait a bit more?
Maybe he had simply gone to buy some cigarettes? She wavered back and forth like this
until two hours had passed.
Only when someone came over and asked her whether she wanted the plates to be taken
away did she turn her head and, with reddened eyes, say softly in English, "I'm sorry. I
didn't bring any money. I can…" What could she give as collateral? From head to toe, she
had only her outer and undergarments.
"The sir already paid the bill ahead of time." The server's use of the language was not very
smooth, but fortunately he was able to express himself.
In passing, the server also handed her a piece of paper.
On it, drawn with charcoal pencil, was a simple sketch of a route. Not a single word was
written.
She walked out the door and stood, helpless and alone, beside the glass window, looking all
about. He was not there. Bowing her head, she looked once more at the paper in her hand.
With steps that were somewhat weak, she began searching for the place he had sketched
out. It was as if, from the moment she saw that piece of paper, she had understood that he
would not be there, so when she saw those staff members of the embassy, she was not
overly surprised.
And so this was until Agnesa dashed out and threw her arms around her. "Wen Han, Wen
Han, you're still alive. Still alive!" Agnesa was weeping with joy, and endlessly she rambled,
"The police said that man is a bad person, that he was the one who brought the danger on
us. Wang Wenhao barely managed to escape and suffered a lot of injuries, and now he's
been kidnapped again by that man. Wen Han, Wen Han, do you know where that man is? …"
Wen Han stared blankly at Agnesa, letting her shake and tug at her arm.
She found that she was unable to say anything at all.
She only knew that that friend of his, Meng Liangchuan, was somehow connected to the
special police, and then she had automatically categorized him as one of the good guys. But
before her now was a middle-aged man dressed in the uniform of the local police, walking
towards her and handing her his badge. "Miss Wen Han, hello. One of our informants, Meng
Liangchuan, was found to be conspiring with a trafficking organization based outside of our
borders, and he has already escaped our control. I think you need to cooperate with us as
we do some investigating."
Wen Han was taken aback. "Other than knowing that his name is Meng Liangchuan… I don't
even know him."
"But that night, he was the one who rescued you."
In a small, Western restaurant that was already temporarily closed for business, Cheng
Muyun stood outside the door of a utility room. Beside him, Meng Lianchuan handed him a
cigarette, but he did not take it. Meng Liangchuan raised his brows.
Cheng Muyun looked down at this short man. "There is still use for him."
Wang Wenhao was only the furthest downline in the operations. He needed to let the ones
above Wang Wenhao, or perhaps even one level higher, know that he—Cheng Muyun—had
taken their goods.
He needed to be "regarded as an enemy" and, from that, get new leads.
"No problem," Meng Liangchuan grinned. "Aside from me and my comrades, nobody knows
that this Wang Wenhao is a trafficker. To everyone's understanding, and even in the eyes of
those friends of his, he's still an ordinary university professor and was merely unlucky
enough to be kidnapped time and again."
With a slight lift of his brow, Cheng Muyun reassessed this man in front of him.
"Why did you give me leads that allowed us to exterminate that smuggling base?" Meng
Liangchuan unexpectedly asked.
"A few years ago, a friend of mine died there." Cheng Muyun did not try to avoid the topic.
"He was like you, a police officer, but he was not a Nepali. He was Chinese."
This was a very good reason, but was outside of expectations.
This was not something Meng Liangchuan had thought of, yet it was the best explanation
that was most in line with Cheng Muyun's personality. In only a few words, a story had
been sketched out.
But the storyteller said no more.
The Italian chef of this Western restaurant walked by the two of them, warmly greeting
them both in English. His hand propped against the side of the door, Cheng Muyun gave a
low chuckle and greeting in return and skillfully exchanged some idle chitchat with the
other party.
That Italian chef soon left them. After all, they were still in the middle of a general strike,
and this place was also in the central area of the city. This restaurant would be closed for
business for at least three or four days. The chef had come back only to retrieve some
items. After a short while, he headed straight out of the restaurant.
Quiet was restored all around them.
Meng Liangchuan pressed down on the door handle, personally opening the door for him.
"Cheng Laoban, have a look."
He stepped into that messy utility room.
Wang Wenhao, his eyes bound with a black cloth, lay hunched in a corner.
Stepping up to him, Cheng Muyun bent down, took Wang Wenhao's chin between two of his
fingers, and forced the man to tilt his head upward. His voice low, he greeted, "My friend, I
did not expect that we would meet again so soon."
In darkness and despair, Wang Wenhao's face twisted together. "Cheng Laoban?! Cheng
Laoban… You-you're Cheng Muyun?!"
With a voice that was practically a whisper, he answered, "It is I."
As if struck by lightning, Wang Wenhao recoiled fiercely, then retreated backwards some
more, knocking over all kinds of odds and ends. Amid the dust and debris that was kicked
up into the air, he suddenly grew hysterical.
Cheng Muyun made a signal with his eyes.
Meng Liangchuan abruptly flattened his hand and slashed it down hard like a knife into
Wang Wenhao's neck. Wang Wenhao crumpled, passing out on the floor. In a quiet tone,
Meng Liangchuan told Cheng Muyun, "I will arrange for him to be rescued by the police and
will also let him return safely to Moscow."
Cheng Muyun ambled a half-circle around Wang Wenhao, pulling out his dagger from his
waist.
Some wounds were still needed.
The dark silver blade slid from Wang Wenhao's cheek and down to his neck. In that instant,
what came to mind was that Wen Han had willingly chosen to be a hostage in order to
protect this man.
This was what they called… jealousy?
Blood oozed down from Wang Wenhao's neck.
"Cheng Muyun!"
Without warning, a familiar voice interrupted his struggle.
A glimmer of surprise flashed across Cheng Muyun's eyes. Tilting his head to the side, he
saw that girl whose entire body was trembling. Slowly, he straightened back up. Zhou Ke
shrugged, expressing his silent apologies to Cheng Muyun. He had not expected that when
he brought her in, she would witness such an exciting scene.
Wen Han toppled over two wine crates as she stumblingly ran inside. Using her own body
to shield Wang Wenhao behind her, she begged him, "Cheng Muyun…"
Chills came over her entire body. He was staring intently at her.
Shortly after the police questioned her, Zhou Ke had appeared in the embassy.
Beside the water dispenser, he had asked her whether she had finished up with everything.
She had started back to awareness. The guilt she felt from not answering the police's
questions had left her disconcerted and questioning herself, then feeling remorse about it.
Wang Wenhao was her friend, and his whereabouts were unknown. Although all she knew
was Cheng Muyun's name, she had not even told that to the police.
Distraughtly, she had come with Zhou Ke to this place, hoping to ask him.
To ask him if he really had abducted Wang Wenhao.
If he had not, she absolutely would personally explain things to the police.
If…
She had not expected that she would not even need to ask, that when Zhou Ke brought her
inside, she would witness this scene with her own eyes—how Meng Lianchuan had
knocked Wang Wenhao out, and also how he had pulled out his dagger.
"After Wang Wenhao escaped that night, he was escorted back to Kathmandu, but this
morning he was abducted again… Meng Liangchuan is a police informant and just
performed a great deed of merit, but it was discovered that there's an even greater
suspicion that he has committed some crimes and is now on the run… Have you seen that
man who was with Meng Liangchuan? What is his name? This is the biggest lead in our
hunt for Meng Liangchuan." The police officer's questioning was roiling in her mind.
……
Wen Han clenched her fists tightly, forcing herself to look him directly in the eyes.
"Could you… let him go?" Wen Han tried as much as possible to make her voice sound
normal, but this was extremely difficult to do. "Cheng Muyun, I'm begging you, let him go,
please."
Cheng Muyun gazed at her.
Here in this entire restaurant, there were only Meng Liangchuan and Zhou Ke, and both
were his friends.
And there was also the unconscious Wang Wenhao.
Would he listen to her?
Would he really kill an innocent person?
Wen Han's heart slowly tightened into a knot.
She was beginning to not even dare gaze at his face that was bereft of any emotion.
He was examining her. Those eyes of his contained a fearsomeness that one dared not look
up into. In these last several dozen hours, he and she had always communicated with each
other in Chinese. This, at times, had made her feel that he deliberately did so because they
were both ethnic Chinese. However, now, in this moment, when he once more opened his
mouth, he spoke in Russian that gave a languid, cold feeling. "Dearest, you seem very
accustomed to stepping forward into danger for him… Your courage has truly astonished
me."
Wen Han was momentarily taken aback.
Flipping around the dagger that he held in his palm, he handed it to her, holding it up
beneath her eyes.
"Come, let me see your courage." Cheng Muyun spoke quietly to her. In this dim, utility
room, in this dirty place where dust swirled in the air, he told her, "You have only one
chance to make a choice. Take the dagger into your hand, point it at me, and prove to me
your determination to protect your friend."
As he spoke this, his hand gently caressed her right cheek, his fingers very cold. "Or, give
me back the knife, walk out this door, and let him die here."
Wen Han could not believe what she just heard.
Or perhaps he had always been like this, but he had merely hidden his inhumane
ruthlessness too deeply away… and caused her to mistakenly think that she could be just
like the heroines in movies and influence his decisions? Behind her was her unconscious,
innocent friend of several years.
Agnesa's words, the several hundred questions from the police officer in the embassy, and
also everything that she was seeing now in front of her all forced her to stop running away
from reality. This man had no regard for human life at all.
Her heart pounded against her chest. She was terrified, genuinely terrified. She was
terrified of this man before her who had suddenly turned hostile.
But she could not simply watch him kill her innocent friend.
Wen Han clenched her teeth tightly together. Trembling slightly, she took the dagger from
his hand.
Gripping it with both hands, she pointed it at him.
She must not have known what she had actually chosen.
Cheng Muyun.
This name had once embodied a man whose methods and means of doing things was so
direct it caused people to shiver in fear, who had no feelings to speak about, was radical,
and would cruelly show no regard for others.
It had struck terror into those who heard it.
It was as he had said: there was no mercy or leniency in his world. To those who betrayed
him, he would return the act tenfold. To those who were wicked, he would use a
hundredfold factor to tell the other party just what was meant by "evil will be rewarded
with evil."
In that instant, when the tip of the blade pointed at Cheng Muyun…
He was already suddenly snatching it away again and pressing it directly against her
collarbone.
Wen Han did not have time to react.
In her vision, there was only his hand that held the dagger, as well as, behind that hand,
that pair of eyes. He was already on the brink of rage, and he gazed at her with eyes that
were unfocused. "Do you still want to save him?"
She breathed deeply, suppressing the pain in her chest as she grit her teeth and spoke. "You
—"
"Do you still want to save him?"
This man's presence and bearing were too terrifying, so terrifying she could not utter a
word.
She was quivering, and somewhat dizzily, she drew in a deep breath. Summoning all of her
strength, she finally heard herself speaking to him. "I cannot watch you kill him."
"Damn—"
The blade suddenly shifted direction and stabbed fiercely into a shelf on the right.
A huge sound resonated through the entire utility room.
With one hand, he wrung both her arms together and confined her entire body within the
curve of his arm. Wen Han was no longer able to move, forced to tilt her head back and look
up at him.
Almost instantaneously, she began to cry, her tears streaming unrelentingly down her face.
"What are you crying about?" Cheng Muyun sneered coldly, his eyes narrowing into thin,
dangerous-looking curves. "How do feel about dying with this university professor?
Happy?"
……
A crease formed between Zhou Ke's brows.
This man was genuinely angry.
No joke. If it was his woman pointing a knife at him for some bloody smuggler… Zhou Ke
mused about this probable scenario.
It would seem, staying calm would not be very likely.
Wen Han ground her teeth into her lip.
It was as if the rebelliousness that had been buried at the bottom of her heart over these
last twenty years was all gushing out now.
She glared fiercely at him, not making a sound.
Only a few hours ago, she had still been sitting at a table, holding a fork and thinking back
on her first time that she had shared with him. She had even worried over whether he
would be able to get a visa to return to Moscow… As she thought about this, a dull ache
flooded her heart, and shamefully, tears began to fall.
What are you crying about? Don't cry, Wen Han—
Don't cry!
Her teeth cut deep into her lip. Blood seeped out.
That pair of eyes in front of her was a dreadful black color.
No light could be seen within.
Yes, it was true. Absolutely no light could be seen.
……
Cheng Muyun unexpectedly released his grip, and Wen Han, as if her entire body had been
smashed to pieces, sank into an utter blackness. Meng Liangchuan, who was standing in the
shadows, clearly saw how he did it. Unconsciously, he rubbed the back of his own neck.
Ouch. He sure was ruthless enough.
When Cheng Muyun left, Zhou Ke stood with his arms crossed and blocked the doorway of
that utility room, obstructing Meng Liangchuan's way. "I quite look down on you."
Grinning, Meng Liangchuan responded, "Aw, don't be like that, kid. I put in a lot of work to
find you guys."
"And especially your petty bit of cleverness that you're so smug about."
Meng Liangchuan nearly broke with that statement. Sure enough, the people who hung out
around that man were not easy pickings either.
"That night in the jungle, I saved you, did you know that?"
Meng Liangchuan paused in surprise. He did not feel that his life had ever been in peril.
Zhou Ke was rather amused by the abundance of expressions that came onto this short
man's face and for once actually had the patience to continue telling him, "Of course, I don't
need you to thank me for saving your life. For the fact that your neck was not snapped in
two by a Tibetan mastiff’s jaws that night, you should be bathing and changing into clean
clothing to sincerely go to the temple and recite scriptures for half a month, not creating
little hindrances and obstacles to interfere with us."
Upon saying this, even Zhou Ke felt irritable.
One of that bespectacled man's favourite sayings all of a sudden came into Zhou Ke's mind:
"Rhythm. When you do things, it's got to have rhythm." A light suddenly glinted in his eye.
Taking advantage of this moment when Meng Liangchuan was still grinning merrily, he
sent a foot out and kicked him back into the room.
Then, he slammed the door shut—and locked it.
Consciousness came back to her.
There was the sound of hoofbeats by her ear, faint and regular.
Her abdomen felt as if a heavy hammer was over and over pounding her starving stomach
as wave after wave of a sour, acidic feeling rose up from it. Her entire body was aching. She
writhed about, trying to stretch her limbs, but to no avail.
Her eyelids felt heavy.
Still, she forced them open.
When her vision transitioned from being blurry to clear, she at last somewhat dazedly
realized that she had been tossed, like she was some sort of goods, onto the back of a horse,
and she could not move at all. From her hands to her feet, she had been tied up.
Before her eyes was a familiar pair of black military boots walking beside the horse. She
tried hard to lift her head.
Such a small action was already enough for Cheng Muyun, who was leading the horse and
walking alone through the dense forest, to detect it. Turning his head, he cast a glance at
her, his eyes entirely icy and black.
"What are you going to do? …" She opened her mouth and feebly asked this.
It seemed Cheng Muyun did not really want to talk to her. From somewhere in the distant
night sky, a piercing howl resounded.
In that vast nighttime sky, the sound echoed and spread.
And so they continued in this way, walking ceaselessly. She knew not where they were,
where they were going, or what time or day it was. He brought her from one darkness into
another even deeper darkness. She felt her whole body getting colder and colder. Her teeth
were chattering, and she was shivering incessantly, on the brink of breaking down.
"Where are you bringing me?"
"Liar. Murderer…"
"Why did I even have to meet you? …"
From her initial questioning and demand for answers to, in the end, her murmured
babbles, she used almost all the words and language she could possibly think of to vent her
fear and feeling of helplessness. Eventually, her voice gradually grew fainter. In this
mountainous area where there was snow, she was wearing only a thin coat. She had
exhausted all her strength and body heat.
Where was this place?
Were they near the snow-capped mountains?
Why was it so cold?
Her eyes were tightly shut, and she was in a daze. Gradually, her body no longer felt like it
belonged to her. It felt as if she was standing on the snowy ground, staring at a fire in the
distance. In her hallucination, she was continuously tripping and falling, trying with all her
might to run forward…
The entire time, Cheng Muyun did not give her any response, and only when the sky was
about to lighten did he pull her off the horse and throw her into a pile of grass that was as
tall as a person. She had already lost consciousness from the cold.
Squatting down, he undid the ropes around her wrists and ankles and massaged away any
soreness and numbness for her.
"Just like a little animal that was born and raised in the tropics." A chuckle rose from his
throat. "You are that afraid of the cold?"
He could feel that she would freeze to death if her body temperature did not recover now.
Hence, he unfastened all of his own clothing, then also undid the zipper of her coat, the
buttons of her blouse inside, and the clasp of her bra, allowing her soft bosom, her entire
upper body, and her most precious and vital heart area to press up directly against his skin.
Finally, with his own jacket, he wrapped her up like a little child and held her on his body.
"I have a younger brother who is a hard drinker. He always carries a flask of Russia's
strongest liquor on him. That would be very suitable for you right now." His voice light, he
said to Wen Han, who was already in a stupor and had temporarily fallen into slumber,
"Alas, I very much adhere to the precepts of abstinence, so I do not drink such things."
Wen Han sank entirely into unconsciousness.
When a certain state of hypothermia is reached, a person will feel as if her entire body is
ablaze, like she is walking in a sea of flames.
Wen Han did not know where she had read this, but in her dream, she time and again was
unable to walk out of this inferno. Parched, she wanted to drink water. She was at a point
where she did not even feel hot or cold and, rather, felt that she had already stepped into a
paradise where it was spring all year round.
……
She woke again to the dazzling glare of the sun.
A pair of rough, warm palms could be felt on her waist, continuously stroking and caressing
her body, wandering again and again over her skin. After a stunned moment, she suddenly
started to awareness. It was him.
Her muscles tightened immediately, and she wanted to shove him away.
"Do you regret not listening to me?"
She narrowed her eyes, wanting to speak, but was so weak she could not produce any
sound. After this one day and night of emotional and physical stress and trauma, this body
of hers that had been raised in an ordinary society was already on the verge of collapse…
She heard him carry on to say, "The henna tattoo on your body has already begun to fade. I
will bring you to get a complete design tattooed on."
Her brows drew together. "No…"
He chuckled, plunging hard into her deepest reaches.
She could not hold back a moan of "mm," the feeble, nasal tone it carried actually inciting
such exhilaration that it could set a person's blood afire.
In the end, when he could feel she was nearly about to pass out from exhaustion, he finally
pushed her over into a climax, then swiftly pulled out from her.
The man, who was now standing, looked down at that slender, frail frame that lay curled up
in the grass. As he gazed at her black tresses that were entwined around her arm,
dampened possibly by sweat or perhaps by dew, he had to actually restrain his desire to
release himself inside her.
Sweat beaded on her bosom and glistened slightly in the daylight.
Grabbing down the travel bag that was on the horse's back, Cheng Muyun pulled out some
clean clothing and put it on before also dressing her in a pair of workout pants and a top.
He was very patient when he dressed her, setting her on his lap and pulling the garments
on for her a little at a time. After she was completely garbed, he laid her down on the grass.
Finally, from his bag, he pulled out a sealed glass vial and syringe. Swiftly changing the
needle, he stuck it into her arm.
Wen Han tried hard to struggle against him. Through her hazy vision, she peered at him.
"What… what did you inject me with? …"
With a light laugh, he answered in Chinese, "[Illegal] Drugs. Or maybe a nutrient solution.
Which do you prefer?"
This man's words were always outside of what one would expect.
She had no strength left to speculate which of his words were true and which were not.
Then one day, he left her there in the dense forest, where the surroundings were
completely empty of anything, and went away alone.
When he returned again, it was already midday of the following day. Except for feeling
hungry, she did not feel unwell in the slightest, and only then did she vaguely deduce that
the solution he injected her with every few days was a nutrient one.
This journey had begun so suddenly and bafflingly, but it grinded away at her will. That day
when she was unconscious, Cheng Muyun had used an intense, sating act of sexual
intercourse to drive away the chill of her body and then, after she had recovered a little bit
of her strength, taken her along and set out on this journey. In the beginning, she had still
tried to resist, but later, she gradually grew numb.
It was to the point that, when they encountered a water source and he stripped her bare to
wash her body, she would not even know to struggle.
"Do not even think about trying to escape." He had told her this on the third night. "Nepal is
the number one country for missing persons. This is a mountain region, where villagers are
frequently killed by attacks from wild animals."
At the time, she had been holding his dagger and pointing it at his heart, hoping to threaten
him into letting her go.
He, though, had not even shown any of the anger he had had in Kathmandu and, in fact,
appeared rather indifferent. "You do not know how to speak the language here and do not
have any capacity to protect yourself. You cannot even differentiate between north, south,
east, and west. It would seem that killing me… has no advantage whatsoever."
As she gripped that dagger with both her hands, Wen Han's heart had hammered away, and
her face had flushed deep red from humiliation.
Cheng Muyun had leaned against a tree trunk and lifted his eyes to admire her chest, which
was heaving with fury.
"What is it you want to do?" Wen Han slowly brought down the dagger, unable to suppress
her heavy breathing, for she had no choice but to submit to the reality of his words. "Why
did you bring me here?" The despair she felt from longing to escape but being unable to,
and wanting to threaten him but not able to even accomplish that, caused her heart to
clench and ache unbearably.
But all these questions did not bring about even a single answer from him.
 "Brother" in the sense that they cousin-brothers. Their fathers are brothers. In Chinese
culture, cousins who share the same surname (i.e. their fathers are brothers) are closer in
blood than others. These types of cousins in Chinese culture are actually considered a type
of sibling and are called 堂 "tang" siblings. They address each other not as "cousin" but as
brother or sister.
Cheng Muyun is referring to the precept in Buddhism to abstain from strong drink.
Additional Comments:
If it’s not clear, the “moment” was because Cheng Muyun was trying to prevent Wen Han
from dying of hypothermia, not because of any sudden desire.
Fast fact: The brother that Cheng Muyun mentions is the male lead in Mo Bao Fei Bao’s
book, One Life, One Incarnation, and also the first book of the series of the same name.
Black and White Film belongs to that series, as does One Life, One Incarnation: Beautiful
Bones.
 Chapter 7 – A Dense, Impervious Light

On the seventh day, after she was bitten by an unknown bug, she began running a low-
grade fever.
There was nothing even Cheng Muyun could do. In regards to this fragile physique of hers
that was suitable only for living in a city, there were times when even he was powerless to
do anything.
That night, he once again left her alone in this forest where wild beasts could appear at any
moment. “Hide here. Do not move at all. Even if you feel worse and unbearably
uncomfortable, you still must not go anywhere.”
These were the words he spoke before he left.
In the murky night, this forest was even more impervious to light.
Wen Han clutched a sharp, pointed stone, continually scratching marks into the boulder
beneath her with it. Her breathing was heavy, and even when she coughed, it was done
quietly and cautiously.
All around, there were noises, sometimes soft, sometimes piercing to the ear.
They came from all different types of animals.
Curling herself into a ball, she shrunk into a corner on that boulder, where vines cascaded
down. In comparison to the dangerous animals that roamed in the dark, those unknown
insects that dwelled in the vines were too trivial.
The mentality of hatred from being used that had existed in her less than twenty days ago
was now so superficial she could not even remember it. When weighed against the
hopeless forward trudging, the unimaginable perils of this dense forest, and also the fear of
not knowing what the future would hold, all feelings became especially insignificant and
were not even worth mentioning.
Every time he left her, the thing she actually most hoped for was his swift return.
Every place here was just too frightening.
Gradually, footsteps could be heard.
Wen Han opened her eyes wide, searching for the source of that sound, her breathing
growing heavier and heavier.
Cheng Muyun saw a small, grimy figure crawl out from the darkness. Wiping his blood-
covered hands clean on his pants, he extended an arm and lifted her up into his embrace.
“Feeling unwell?”
She shrunk against him; her mind disoriented.
Time seemed to have been swallowed into hell.
In this endless night, she awakened several times, and each time, she could feel that she
was in his arms as they trudged through this forest for which there was no end in sight.
Yes, he was on foot.
She could not endure any more violent rocking and jolting. He had no choice but to
abandon that horse and use the safest method—walking their way out of this deep forest
while he carried her.
The original plan had been to leave Nepal tomorrow, but now he had to change his plan and
make the choice to remain within Nepali borders. With Wen Han’s current condition, they
needed to first find a safe place.
His shadow was stretched into a long, black outline as he passed amongst the trees.
Encountering a gigantic tree root, he tightened his hold slightly on the woman in his arms,
sprung up onto the root in only a few steps, and then once more melted into an even deeper
blackness…
She awoke twice in the early morning hours. In his arms, she watched as he conversed with
a local who was propelling a boat with a pole along the river’s edge. She squirmed, trying to
get down to walk herself. Cheng Muyun pointed at the corner of the boat for her to see.
There lay a corpse covered with a white cloth.
“There are crocodiles in this river. That young person is a local. His body was just salvaged
from the water.” In a low voice, Cheng Muyun told her in Russian, the language that only he
and she could understand, “A few days ago, there were also some local people who went
into the mountains to collect grass for hay, and they were attacked by a wild tiger. Two
men and one woman died. For the mere fact that I carried you and walked out of that
forest, you should be thanking Buddha for his blessing and protection and not… always
trying to get away from me. At least, here in this place, only I will truly protect you.”
Wen Han moved her lips, feeling somewhat thirsty.
He asked to borrow a canteen of water from the boatman. Without care for whether or not
the canteen was so dirty people would not even want bring their lips to it, he stuffed it into
her mouth, and after pouring a couple of mouthfuls down her throat, he also took a couple
drinks from it himself.
In this early morning, ripples undulated across the water’s surface. So placid and beautiful.
Wen Han lay in his arms. She could tell that Cheng Muyun seemed to be in a very good
mood right now.
After so many days of being around and interacting with him, she even realized that,
though she did not know about his background or past, she was already beginning to grasp
his temperament. For example, when he was in a good mood, like now, he liked to squint
his eyes slightly and let the focus of his gaze fall on something in the distance.
“Just where are you taking me?” Wen Han asked him.
“India.” Cheng Muyun told her in a neutral voice, “We were actually already close to Nepal’s
border, but because your wounds need anti-inflammatory drugs and a few days of rest to
recover, we must find a place to stay for several days.” This was the first time he told her
his plans.
She had originally simply wanted to probe and ask a few questions while he was in a good
mood. She had not expected he would be so open.
Hope came into her eyes. Maybe this man wanted only to punish her for disobeying him,
and when he grew bored of it, he would let her go in India.
Cheng Muyun lowered his head to glance at her. “There is no way I will let you go. If you
want to curse someone, curse the person who has been fanatically trying to woo you. He is
the one who caused you to be caught up in this present situation and to have to live this
type of lifestyle.”
While he spoke, he fed her several sleeping pills. His hand even gently stroked her hair so
that on the outside, they appeared to be a loving, young married couple.
By noon, they finally entered a derelict place. Cheng Muyun knocked on the door of an
ordinary dwelling that had a sign saying, “Lodging available.” The middle-aged woman who
opened the door was terribly shocked when she caught sight of the several scratches on his
face, which had obviously been put there by sharp vegetation, and also his extremely dirty
pants that were wholly saturated with mud.
When the woman saw the person, whose gender was no longer distinguishable, in his arms,
she soon comprehended and welcomed the two in. Cheng Muyun very proficiently
communicated with her in the local language, explaining that they were self-guided
travellers, and they had encountered ferocious animals in the nearby forest…
He spoke concisely, as well as sincerely.
The mistress of this household did not doubt him and very quickly led them inside.
This place was not big. Even the best room did not have any furniture, aside from its stark
layout of a bed and a table, and there were not even any electrical appliances.
“There are only four hours of electricity a day here, and there is no electricity at night. I
imagine you will need a few days to adjust to this. I will go now to heat some water for you
both. Hurry and have a bath—”
The middle-aged woman swiftly made the bed, which had been without any bedding.
Bending forward, Cheng Muyun laid down this girl whom he had carried in his arms for a
dozen or so hours. As he took away the garment that had been used to cover Wen Han, the
middle-aged woman’s voice cut off. She discovered that Wen Han was running a high fever
and also gasping heavily.
“She needs a doctor. Could it be pneumonia? She looks very tired.” The woman frowned.
Now that she finally had a chance to carefully scrutinize Wen Han’s face, she was able to
determine, barely, that this was a young girl. “But we don’t have that kind of doctor here…”
“It is all right. I will be able to handle it. Could I trouble you to ready some hot water for us
for a bath?” In order to prevent this kindly mistress of the place from being too suspicious,
after Cheng Muyun said this, he brought out the first-aid kit that he carried on him.
Seeing those professional-looking needles and anti-inflammatory medications, the woman
believed his words.
Soon, hot water was delivered to their room.
Although this place was an ad hoc little lodging house, its bathroom was very crude, and
the only things available for bathing were a small wooden tub and a ladle to scoop water.
Cheng Muyun removed all of Wen Han’s clothing and then changed into a clean pair of
pants himself that the local people wore. Sitting on the floor, he encircled her in his
embrace and carefully rinsed her body for her.
Warm water flowed along her body and onto the floor, soaking his pants.
Wen Han stirred and slowly woke.
Unconsciously, she writhed her legs slightly.
She was fevering and was unable to clearly discern whether she was in a dream or the cruel
reality. In her ears was the indistinct sound of conversation coming through the plank wall.
It was in a language she did not understand…
“Do not move,” he instructed quietly. Picking up the bottle on the wooden floor that was
half-filled with shampoo, he poured some into her hair and then also scooped a ladle full of
hot water before slowly massaging her long locks with his fingers. “Let me help you wash
your body clean.”
When she heard this voice, she roused entirely from her half-conscious state.
The sleep medication had sapped her of all her strength. With difficulty, she swallowed.
“Where are we? …”
“In the place where we will be staying.” Cheng Muyun’s palms were covered in the white
soapy bubbles that had been produced with his rubbing.
He was in a seldom-seen placid mood, and in fact, it could even be said that he was
intentionally speaking to her in a gentle tone.
Wen Han could feel warm water beginning to slowly rinse out her hair. Then, a towel wiped
her dry, from her hair to her face and, finally, her body. At last, he tossed aside the towel,
rose from the floor, and, in bare feet, carried her over to the bed. No clothing garbed her,
and there were several noticeable bruises on her body.
He tucked the blanket tight around her and locked the door and windows. Lowering his
voice, he told her, “Do not attempt to escape. This place is very remote, and they do not
understand English. There is no way you will be able to communicate with anyone. And
plus, you have tried many times to escape, but none were successful, yes?”
She could sense that his words were not lies. As he turned away, she reached out her hand
without thinking and grasped his clothing. “Where are you going? When will you come
back?”
She received no answer. He left without any reluctance at all.
And he had not even left her any garments to cover her body.
That night, the mistress of this place brought an oil lamp over, causing the whole room to
be infused with a thick, greasy smell. Wen Han made attempts to communicate in English
but found that, sure enough, no one understood her.
She did not even know what Cheng Muyun had instructed before he left, but the mistress
appeared to be avoiding her somewhat and left only a cup of water for her to take her
medicine.
In that instant when Wen Han heard the door’s lock slide in place once more,
disappointment and fear enveloped her heart again. With a sweep of her arm, she threw
the medicine bottle that had been on the table to the floor, and then, flinging herself
facedown onto the bed, she was unable to restrain herself and began sobbing.
There was clearly no soundproofing whatsoever here, but no matter how hysterical her
sobs were, the owners of this place showed no reaction to her at all.
When she had exhausted herself from crying, she began to feel unwell again. She had no
choice, therefore, but to crawl down from the bed and, in a posture similar to a little animal,
search helplessly on the floor for the pills that she had tossed away.
After swallowing the medication with some water, she returned once more to the bed and
lay on her back, staring up at the black stains on the wooden ceiling.
Only twenty-odd days ago, she had still been a tourist.
Now, though, she was like an imprisoned woman, not knowing what the man with her
wanted to do or where he wanted to take her. She was not even clear, either, on when she
would die. Would he be like what was described in those news stories? Or maybe he really
was as he had said in the very beginning in that little inn, that he was trafficker?
Maybe he would sell her like she was a prostitute?
Or maybe it would be for human organ trade?
As the painkillers took effect, these random, wild speculations sent her into a deep slumber.
In the middle of the night, Cheng Muyun brought back a new, different drug with him.
Pushing open the door, he saw the shadow cast on the wall by the small flame of the oil
lamp. It was motionless, just like her on the bed. He walked up to her, leaned over, and took
her pulse. Very steady—she was asleep. Her eyes, though, were swollen—she had cried.
He saw her body that was half-hidden beneath the thin blanket. Bending down even
further, he touched the tip of his nose against her cheek—warm, soft. Right now, her
slightly rough skin from these many days of constantly being on the move actually made it
difficult for him to maintain his self-control.
This poor, delicate woman.
He was actually feeling guilty. The mental activity of such a feeling was so strange and
unfamiliar.
He pulled out a small plastic bag. Swabbing the inside of her arm with alcohol, he injected
the anti-inflammatory drug he had just bought into her body.
Then, noiselessly removing his filthy, tattered jacket, he slipped onto the bed on his side
and pulled her into his arms.
“Do you know what ‘fate’ is?” Sitting on the stone steps inside a dilapidated temple, the
person beside him spoke as though to himself. “It is when ‘one gives a kowtow.’ When you
finally realize you cannot fight it, you naturally will… willingly bow in submission to it and
completely believe in it.”
“Oh? Is that so?” Cheng Muyun’s unique smile danced in his eyes, a smile of disdain.
Actually, that description was not very accurate. It should be described as one where he
always assessed you from the stance of a bystander.
Meng Liangchuan raised his brow and gave a sigh. “I’m just sighing here for my country’s
prime minister.”
Nepal’s king had once more dismissed the cabinet.
This habit of his from these last few years had cropped up yet again.
Kathmandu’s telephone and internet lines had all been cut, let alone smaller locations. The
United Nations, India, the United Kingdom, and the United States had begun once more to
criticize the King of Nepal.
“In any case, our king believes that foreign governments will not put any true pressure on
him.”
“Such a pettish, willful man.” Cheng Muyun did not have much interest in Nepali politics.
“Now it’s going to be even harder if you want to leave Nepal.” Done with his rueful sighs,
Meng Liangchuan tossed to Cheng Muyun a small plastic bag of anti-inflammatory drugs
that he had been carrying on him. “According to the original plan, you should have already
arrived in India one week ago. But now, have you thought about how you’re going to get
there? And especially under the circumstance where you’ll be bringing along someone who
is nothing but a burden to you?”
As Meng Liangchuan thought about the fact that he had given up his opportunity to rejoin
the police force and had once more gone undercover, only to be ordered to go buy
something as ordinary as anti-inflammatory drugs, he felt a little irked. So, when he had the
chance, he of course wanted to enjoy the satisfaction of a squabble.
Cheng Muyun gave a low laugh. “That is not something you should concern yourself with.”
Meng Liangchuan evidently knew that Cheng Muyun would not tell him what was on his
mind and also did not think that he would be able to get any answers from his inquiring
either, so instead, he switched over to ask a question he had always been curious about.
“That day, when I said I had abducted Wang Wenhao, why did you send Zhou Ke to the
embassy to bring the girl away again?”
“That night outside the smuggling base in the mountains, no one knew she was with me.
That is why I sent her to the embassy. But then you arranged for someone to go to the
embassy to interrogate her. From that moment, she was already exposed. Wang Wenhao is
not that stupid. He would surely hand her over. When faced with staying alive or not, I do
not really trust that man to still hold on to his fanatical love,” he stated, rather calmly
explaining this matter. “Even though she does not actually know any useful information.”
Other than knowing that his name was Cheng Muyun and that there was a young man with
him named Zhou Ke.
He frowned. That night, those few had let down their guard too much that they would
actually call out Zhou Ke’s name.
Meng Liangchuan understood now. “If I were you, I’d rather give her to one of my comrades
to protect her, or confine her, or any other method. Any of those would save effort and time
when compared with bringing her along with you.”
He did not reply.
Aside from having one-hundred-percent trust in a man named Cheng Muyun, everyone in
that group was suspicious of each other and keeping a close watch and monitoring one
another. This included Cheng Muyun himself, who had his own suspicions. Several years
ago, his good friend, because of a mission, had died in that smuggling base in Nepal. Had it
truly been only an unintended mishap?
All of a sudden, a gold light flashed in front of his eyes.
He and Meng Liangchuan cut off their discussion. This position where they were sitting was
the safest corner in this temple.
The light had come from a few Westerner tourists. They were in the midst of enthusiastic
dialogue and were running their hands over the prayer wheels, seemingly immersed in the
atmosphere of this rundown temple and utterly unaware of the two men in the corner who
were staring at them.
As he watched them, Cheng Muyun suddenly felt that this moment seemed very familiar.
Soon, he found the source of the memory—Wen Han.
It was like the reason Buddha had attained enlightenment beneath the Bodhi Tree and not
any other tree. It could only be explained as something that was fated.
And so, Wen Han’s encounter with him could only be explained in this way as well.
Had it not been for that brief moment on the Tibetan Plateau, when she had pressed her
palms together reverently in greeting to him, he would not have recognized her later in
Nepal.
And then, he had been suspicious of her, probed and tested her, gotten close to her, and
even, in the end, had no choice but to take her away with him.
“The goods have already crossed the border. I hope that ten days from now, you and your
woman will also be there.”
With a laugh, Meng Liangchuan tossed out this final sentence.
Cheng Muyun offhandedly slipped that bag of medicine into his pocket. Pulling on the hood
of his hiking jacket, as if he wanted to shield out the sun, he left this place. And behind him,
there was no longer anyone.
The sun’s rays passed through the dust that floated in the air and shone on the side of her
face.
Her face, which had been soaked with tears for an entire night, was a little sore. Waking,
she moved her fingers, then saw the already-cool breakfast that was set on the floor by the
door, just as it had been every day for these past six days.
How long would they need to keep staying in this place?
Only this one question remained in Wen Han’s mind.
He had given her only simple undergarments to wear. Each day, he would personally bring
her her three meals, or, when he was away, the mistress of the home would bring them to
the door. It was to the point where she even felt she was his personal property that could
only wait until he grew bored of her and returned her freedom to her.
“Shit!”
From somewhere on the other side of the door, this curse rang out.
Wen Han’s shoulders gave a quiver, and incredulously, forcing her mind to clear, she
pricked up her ears and continued listening.
It was English.
She got off the bed. There was still a dull ache in her chest. Treading over to the doorway,
she pressed her ear against the door and listened carefully. Yes, it was indeed English. It
was a conversation between several men and women. Their speech was extremely fast and
she could not understand all of it, but it really was a language she could communicate in!
In that instant, countless thoughts crossed her mind.
This opportunity that had arisen so suddenly caused her to tremble slightly with
excitement.
If she could seek help from these travellers and escape from this place in those few hours
every day when he was away from the room, then as long as she could return to
Kathmandu and get to the Russian embassy, she would be saved.
As she thought about this, she closed her eyes and tried to make herself find some of the
courage needed to escape.
Wearing only undergarments, the only clothing she possessed, she shifted herself over
beside the window and gave it a little push. It was not locked!
With the opening of the window, the morning breeze assailed her face.
She squinted her eyes, somewhat unable to bear this sudden rush of light. After remaining
frozen in a long moment of panic, she hugged her arms against herself, leaned her body out
the window, and cried out in English at the window of the adjacent room, “Help!”
There was no response.
She was absolutely terrified that Cheng Muyun would suddenly return.
Therefore, she could only steel herself and shout again with all her strength, “Help!
Anybody here?! Help!”
Fortunately, the people next door very quickly heard her cries. A brown-haired woman
pushed open the window, looking all about, and when she saw Wen Han, she was slightly
taken aback.
After all, this appearance of hers of being garbed only in undergarments was simply too
audacious in this religious country.
Wen Han restrained the wild joy that was surging up from the bottom of her heart. In
English that was not too fluent, she told the woman she was locked in the room and her
companion was not here at the moment, so she was hoping the woman could go to the
mistress to explain the situation and get the key.
She was uncertain whether that man had any accomplices nearby, so she dared not boldly
announce her predicament and could only make up a shoddy excuse in an attempt to get
help.
The brown-haired did not suspect anything at all and, after telling her to wait, shut the
window of the adjacent room.
Very shortly, footsteps outside the door could be heard. Wen Han also hurriedly shut her
window. In a sudden fluster, she yanked the sheet off the bed and hastily wrapped it
around her body. Her heart hammered so violently it was as if it wanted to burst through
her chest.
Could that mistress be one of his accomplices as well?
Otherwise, why would she allow him to treat her like this?
She was terribly frightened now, after she had already acted, but still she held on to a
thread of hope, hoping that none of the people were connected to that man in any way,
hoping that Buddha would watch over her and bless her with a kindhearted person who
would lend her some clothing to allow her to leave this horrible place. As long as she could
find a telephone and contact her family, she would be able to then hide away in a safe place
and wait for the staff at the consulate to rescue her…
Desperately, she tried to remain optimistic, to force herself to think according to the best-
case scenario.
The wait seemed especially long.
Standing in front of that locked wooden door, she listened intently to every shift, every
movement outside, until she heard footsteps. Furthermore, they were the footsteps of more
than one person. At last, her eyes lit up.
More than one person—the mistress of the home must have come.
Soon, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock. The door was opened.
“I am terribly sorry to have disturbed all of you.”
Wen Han nearly leaped away from the door, trying to flee, but the person who spoke
grabbed her by the wrist.
Holding a blue bag in his other hand, Cheng Muyun was expressing his thanks to the
woman outside the door, even telling her with a very pained look that his “wife’s” mind was
disordered after being attacked by a wild animal last week. That was the reason he had no
choice but to lock her inside this room, to prevent her from disturbing the homeowners
and the other temporary residents.
“Oh my God, it really is so dangerous here,” the brown-haired woman agreed with him in a
lowered voice. “I’ve heard that every family here will experience injuries, and even death,
because of wild animals and crocodiles.”
“Really? I thought we were just a special case.” Cheng Muyun raised his brows slightly.
“Oh, yes! I was thinking, if your wife needs someone to counsel her or keep her company, I
could help.” The woman carried on ardently offering suggestions.
He was taken aback and even expressed his happy surprise at her offer. “Maybe that is a
pretty good idea. Let me first go spend some time with her and help her to calm down.”
He waited until that overly loquacious woman had left.
Then, he finally stepped slowly into the room. The force of his hand on her, though, was as
if he wanted to crush her bones.
“Did you think you would be safe once you escaped from here?” The door was locked from
the inside. He said, “Are you being too naive?”
She could feel the pulse on his wrist and even distinctly smell on him the rich scent of
incense burned in temples. And she could sense his anger, which sent shudders through a
person.
Fear rising from the disquiet in her caused her to babble somewhat disjointedly. “Let me
go. I swear, I absolutely will not tell your whereabouts to anyone, nor will I tell them what
people you have with you. I—”
“Shhh. Do not be afraid.” He lifted up that wrist of hers. “Let me guess. You would like to go
to Kathmandu? To seek help from the Russian consulate? Have them send you back to your
home country? And guarantee your safety?”
She was struck speechless by his questioning.
Everything she could think of; he had already anticipated.
The light in her eyes gradually dimmed. There was no hope, no pleading in those eyes. They
were only growing increasingly red.
Tears slowly blurred her vision.
Apart from crying, it seemed there was nothing she could do.
Cheng Muyun stared down at her with a towering posture. The fury he had felt earlier as he
came upstairs was slowly being extinguished by her tears. Heaven knew just how much he
had wanted to teach her a lesson when he heard the dialogue between that woman and this
place’s mistress. Danger was lurking everywhere. The fact that so many Westerners had
shown up here in just one day was already sufficient proof that they were about to be
exposed, or perhaps, their whereabouts were already exposed.
And yet, she actually was ignorant enough to go seek help from a stranger.
To escape from him and flee to the Russian consulate?
She actually wanted to escape from him? And here he did not even dare trust any one of his
own people, including core members of his team who had followed him for many years, and
was not afraid she would be a burden on him, wanting to personally escort her to the safest
place of refuge.
Cheng Muyun gazed at her.
In all these years, he had never faced such a bothersome and weak woman.
And what was unfortunate was, this was his woman.
The person who had once been with him, with absolutely nothing separating them, as they
each used their own bodies to sense the other person.
“Do not look at me like that.” His voice grew softer. In Russian, he told her a cruel truth.
“Other than saying that we will be going to India, I cannot tell you anything. If you should
even learn of any trivial information—the name of a person, place, or even food—there is a
possibility that that could implicate some people who are connected to this. If you and I
were to be caught, I am able to hold my silence, even to the death, but you will not be able
to. That is why, except for knowing my name, you will not get any answer for anything you
ask.”
Each word he spoke seemed to slam into her ear.
“And because that person who woos you is also searching for you, you cannot go back
either. If you go back to Moscow, they will not even consider whether you are innocent and
were forced. Because you are associated with me, you are the lead that they will use to find
me.”
She tried hard to digest these words. Her chest was mimicking the emotional ups and
downs she was feeling and was also rising and falling heavily.
“Put on these clothes.” Cheng Muyun threw the blue bag onto the bed and yanked off the
bed sheet she had been using to cover her body. As she unconsciously gave a shiver, Wen
Han heard him say beside her ear, “Let us put on a nice show.”
If she could just summon up a bit more courage and scream loudly for help, those tourists
and the mistress of this house just might call the police and rescue her.
But if what he said was the truth…
Wearing only the undergarments that he had asked the mistress to buy for her when they
first arrived at this ad hoc lodging, she stood dazedly in front of him. The simple, loose-
fitting cotton tank top that showed her navel and the cotton shorts completely revealed her
figure, which had lost weight due to the constant state of being on the move and the fear
and anguish of these last twenty days and more.
On her shoulders and legs, there were also bruises.
These did not hinder her beauty. As Cheng Muyun lowered his eyes, he caught sight of that
little nub of pink inside the loose undershirt. Stretching out an arm, he stroked her hair.
“Tell me, what are you thinking?”
“Why should I believe you?” Her earlier weeping had now left her voice even more hoarse
and feeble.
“Dearest, your suspicions are very logical and reasonable.” His voice grew all the lighter,
and his hand was already slipping the strap of her tank-style undershirt off her shoulder.
He could sense her body resisting its master’s conscious control by obliging his action. “I
may be lying to you, making you act the fool by believing the person who abducted you.”
His head was bowed to look at her. His fingers slid over until they held each side of her
throat, and he applied a slight force.
Very shortly, red marks appeared on her creamy neck. Still, he continuously increased the
pressure of his fingers, and his lips also pressed against her dry ones.
“Kiss me.” Against her lips, he spoke these words.
Forced to tilt her face upward, she began to feel that she was suffocating, and the air she
took in became less and less.
She could only obey his command and extend her tongue, softly, strengthless entwining it
with his, offering up that last bit of air that she could inhale over to him instead. Very
quickly, she could feel his muscles hardening—this was the heat and physical change that
both of them were familiar with.
The wind seemed to be blowing particularly vehemently today.
Nepal was such an impoverished country that even Kathmandu appeared to be especially
decrepit and dusty. However, those earnest believers and people from all over the world
who travelled here because of its repute all called it “holy dust.”
And it was amid this morning wind that left people feeling a little chilled and soiled that he,
with a tormenting kiss, was already causing both of their bodies to gradually grow restless.
“Do not underestimate your own judgment. You are much smarter than even you yourself
imagine. You have never feared me. If you had been afraid, long ago, on that night after we
escaped from the smuggling base, you would have completely distanced yourself from me.
But it is because you know that I have never truly hurt you.”
The tone and expression as he spoke now had returned to what it had been like in
Kathmandu.
“If you choose not to believe me now, perhaps you really will be rescued. But there is also a
chance you may be taken away by other people. Trust me, those people absolutely will not
be as gentle as I am.”
Eyes that seemed like pits of fog were gazing directly into her eyes.
“Look. I possess an instinctive desire for your body. I would not be able to bear it at all if it
became cold and stiff and lifeless.”
He all of a sudden let go of his hold on her.
He had no time. He had to make a gamble. With his life as the stake, he was gambling that
the act he was going to have her put on next would allow her to leave here safely. Earlier on
in the temple, when he and Meng Liangchuan were blinded by the light reflecting off those
prayer wheels, he had already perceived that there was something not right with those
Westerner tourists.
But first, he needed her to believe him.
Wen Han’s mind was still waging an internal struggle, but her body nevertheless grew
heated and on edge because of him.
From their first meeting half a year ago on the Tibetan Plateau, there was not a moment
where he had not been deceiving her: when she believed he was a lama, he had already
transformed into that vagabond man who wasted his days away in a little inn in
Kathmandu; after she and he had had a tryst right under the nose of everyone, he was
abducted and became a hapless hostage, causing her to impetuously step forward to
protect him… But when there was only hopelessness, he, in that long, long night, joined
forces with the special police and destroyed an entire organized group of criminals.
Now, he was saying he could not explain anything but she should believe that he was right.
Where had he come from?
Where was he going?
These were things that, to this moment, he still had not told her.
The most hateful thing was, every time, he needed only to give her a little statement that
sounded even slightly sincere and then she would feel that sense of security that she so
urgently yearned for, as if she only needed to believe and then it would be true.
But… he was right—he had never directly harmed her.
Wen Han was silent.
Stepping over to the bed, she pulled out a short, blue skirt and a white, short-sleeved top
from the plastic bag. Under his burning gaze, she slipped on the clothing. She felt that she
must be mad. This man had abducted her and was even telling her to cooperate with him to
escape from here.
“What do you want me to do?” Her gaze was cast downward, avoiding contact with his eyes.
Before her words had finished, he dragged her over to him. The material at her chest was
yanked open, and the front of the shirt, which had already been revealing to begin with,
now had a tear in it. Without waiting for a reaction from her, Cheng Muyun then ran his
hand roughly over her head and disheveled her hair, which she had just combed tidy when
she got dressed. “Remember how much you detested me that first time when I kissed you
against your will?”
His hand travelled along her thigh and then also tore her blue skirt in a couple of places.
Forcing her against her will was absolutely something he knew well how to do and did so
without difficulty.
Before long, she was in as wretched a state as a woman who had been forced against her
will.
Wen Han’s mind felt like a tangled mess and her eyes flickered, not understanding what he
meant by this.
“In a moment, I am going to open this door. You need to straightaway run out of this room,
crying, and no matter who tries to stop you, you do not pay them any heed. I need them to
have at least one minute of hesitation where they do not chase after you, so you must try as
much as possible to act hysterical and make people think that you are basically a
madwoman who has been provoked.” From the back of his waist, Cheng Muyun pulled out a
dagger and also removed its sheath from on him. With a short cord, he tied them around
her thigh. “Run out this door, head left, follow the road, and run out of here. After half an
hour, you will see a temple that is currently under renovations. There, you will find an old
lama. I bought something from him. Help me get it from him, and then wait quietly there for
me.”
The cord abruptly pulled tight around her thigh.
As if sleepwalking, Wen Han touched the hilt of that knife, trying to pull it out but then
hastily shoving it back in again.
“If you stay here, you will be a burden to me. That is why, for me and for yourself, you must
succeed in running out of this place.”
He spoke all of this in a relaxed and ordinary tone, as if everything that was to follow was
merely a formality, a procedure that needed to be done to leave this place. Stooping over,
he helped her put on a pair of sneakers and, when he was tying the shoelaces, double-
knotted each shoe with nonslip knots.
From when he took out the dagger that he always kept on himself and gave it to her, Wen
Han had started to feel that perils were lurking everywhere.
In that instant when he was about to open the door, she even, for the first time, grabbed his
hand of her own accord. “Wait.”
“What’s the matter? You would like a goodbye kiss?”
“If you don’t come, what should I do?” She was suddenly afraid. If she was without him and
everything he had said was true, what was she to do? In this border area where she did not
even understand the language, it turned out that this man was the only person on whom
she could depend.
“If I do not come…” Cheng Muyun was pondering over this possibility.
After seeing those Westerners in the temple, he and Meng Liangchuan had quickly
separated, but he did not know how much time Meng Liangchuan would need to bring the
local police here.
How many people there were, he was not certain; how dangerous it would be, he was not
sure, either.
Moreover, it was best if the people with him were not exposed. One more exposed meant
one more would be watched. So, he truly was unable to say for certain—
“I will come.” He stated this in the end, then unlocked the door.
With the creak of the hinges, the space behind them opened to her. Wen Han turned
around. A force was felt on her back, pushing her out the door.
In that second when she stepped outside, she at last felt true fear.
He had shoved a small bottle into her palm.
She was so nervous she did not even have a chance to look at what it was. There were
already other guests walking by her and staring in surprise at the frantic look in her eyes
and her disheveled garments.
Wen Han tightly gripped the front of her shirt. She could feel the knife sheath on the inside
of her thigh rubbing against her skin—a little cold and also painful.
Sucking in a deep breath, she bit down fiercely on her tongue.
The sharp, stabbing pain caused her eyes to swiftly fill with tears. Immediately, she did as
Cheng Muyun had instructed, stumblingly racing downstairs. The unsteadiness and
weakness she showed when she ran, however, were not an act.
Amid the thudding of footsteps tearing downstairs, the mistress and her two children, as
well as the seven or eight Westerner tourists who had arrived today, were given a shock.
A young girl, her expression panicked, her clothing ripped, appeared in their sight. The side
of her left leg was exposed bare to the air, and it had all sorts of bruises and marks on it.
The mistress was first stunned, but then right away, she strode forward and, in a language
Wen Han did not understand, shouted loudly for her man while also trying to grab ahold of
Wen Han’s arm.
Wen Han’s heart pounded painfully in her chest. She was so anxious that even the roots of
her teeth were oozing blood from clenching her teeth so hard.
As if she had gone mad, she threw off all the people surrounding her and shrieked, “Let go
of me, let go of me!” With a violent shove at the mistress, who had been trying to constrain
her by the waist, she charged towards the front door.
In the same second that her hand contacted the door, the door suddenly opened.
There was no time for her to halt her steps, and so she crashed into the local teenage boy
who had pushed the door open to come in, knocking him back outside and slamming him
onto the street. The boy was so scared he was still sitting on his bottom as he retreated
backwards.
Before everybody’s eyes, she flew once more into madness, lurching as she crawled back to
her feet and sobbingly fled from there.
Everyone was stunned.
Everyone except those several Europeans and Americans, who were sitting in wooden
chairs, having their meal.
The brown-haired woman amongst them who had talked to Wen Han frowned, seemingly
trying to make a judgment call on whether or not to chase after the girl. After all, the person
upstairs was the true important capture; the girl was merely a lead that they could follow.
Besides, according to the information, this girl really was being held hostage.
Maybe the two of them truly had had some sort of argument earlier on, and it had caused
the girl to become hysterical? These were things she needed not concern herself with… But,
she still felt that this whole situation was very strange and fishy. Acting on intuition, she
signaled with her eyes at one of the men who were with her.
According to their information, this girl name Wen Han was only twenty years old and was
an ordinary person, so only one man was needed.
As that man rose and was ready to step outside, at the top of the staircase, their primary
target—and only target—for this time had already made an appearance.
Cheng Muyun came down the stairs. The garments he was clothed in were the casual attire
that the local people often wore, which were not finely made and, in fact, even seemed
coarse and tasteless. Every person present here had seen, in the records of him from ten
years ago in Moscow, the very valuable photograph of him left behind from that most
radical period of his—and it was completely different from the present him.
Back then, his eyes had been so incisive they seemed as if they could see through the
photograph and straight into the depths of your soul with a single glance.
But the person who stepped down the stairs now had changed a lot.
He had become… surprisingly calm and peaceful.
The brown-haired woman reached her arm out and pressed the man who had risen to his
feet back down into his seat.
She had changed her mind. She even felt that there was no certainty that the seven, eight
people here would be able to overpower Cheng Muyun.
“Hi. Your wife… seems to be in a state of hysteria again,” she greeted him familiarly in
English. “Do you need me and my friends to help you look for her?”
Chapter 8 – When Buddha’s Warrior Attendant Glares in
Terrible Rage

“There is absolutely no need for that,” he replied to the brown-haired woman. “She likes
using running away as a way to enhance our relationship. This is merely our little way of
having some romantic fun as a couple.” After he finished saying this, Cheng Muyun
exchanged a quick smile with the woman.
In that same instant, someone pushed open the door and walked in.
That person set two bills of money on the counter. “May I trouble you? I need a room.” The
person lifted his head. It was a man with a fair complexion and a slightly effeminate
appearance. Following in behind him was an adolescent-age youth wearing headphones
and listening to music.
At the same time, as well, the person dozing in the corner—Zhou Ke—switched the arm
that he was using as a pillow and carried on sleeping. A man wearing blue, metal-framed
glasses spit out a grape seed and brushed past Cheng Muyun…
Frantically, she ran, her mind filled only with that place he had described.
There were less and less houses. The dirt road was very filthy. She almost tripped and fell.
Luckily, she caught herself and managed to stay upright. Eventually, her chest began
burning painfully… Panting, she looked dazedly around her. Temple. Yes, a temple. There
really was a temple there, looking just like all the countless temples she had seen in
Kathmandu, small and exquisite.
In the distance, local workers could be seen taking a rest.
Her steps slowed. Accompanied by the sound of her heartbeat, she straightened her torn-
open clothing and dragged her aching legs behind her, her eyes lowered.
Step by step, she drew closer to it.
An old lama wearing a turmeric-yellow, cotton top ambled by her, his walking cane
stabbing at the ground. She was gasping for breath from running so vigorously. Coughing,
and with hands that were trembling slightly, she suddenly grasped the old lama’s arm
tightly. “Excuse me, may I ask, did a man ask to buy something from you?”
The old lama’s eyes squinted, and he looked her over.
Don’t tell me he doesn’t understand Chinese. Wen Han nervously returned his gaze.
The old lama narrowed his eyes even more. She even began to feel that she wanted to
retreat—
“No.” The old lama smiled, his wrinkles brimming with benevolence. “Go to the back and
have a look.”
The old lama pointed to the back of the temple.
Exhaling in relief, Wen Han walked in the direction he had pointed.
Oh my.
This place was practically a little marketplace.
Beneath the sweltering sun, more than twenty lamas stood before stall after stall. Covering
every stall were all different types of small prayer wheels, as well as butter lamps, etc., all
spread out in front of the lamas. Behind the lamas, there were many sun hat-wearing locals
or people along the lines of travellers and tourists, sitting and resting.
She walked over, not knowing whom she should ask, and not knowing, either, what she
should ask.
She even felt afraid. It was as if, since Cheng Muyun said those things to her, implying that
there were many people tracking them down, she was beginning to suspect every person
she saw…
Now—
Should she just turn around and leave? Or… As she vacillated, Wen Han discovered that the
balance scale of her heart was tipping toward him. Although he had said nothing, that aside
from his name, he was willing to tell her nothing, she actually—
Wen Han finally became aware, after the fact, that the entire time, she had been clutching
that small bottle. She opened her palm. This bottle of medicine was one she recognized. It
was the pills that she had been taking this last while. The very last thing he had stuffed to
her before she left was anti-inflammatory medication.
A buzz seemed to ring across her mind. That cord in her heart that, from the very
beginning, had been wound taut now, in this moment, snapped.
That man–
Clenching the bottle tightly, she closed her eyes. When she was twelve years old, a woman
had committed suicide in her family’s little inn. Her adoptive parents had not been around
at the time of the incident. She had been the one to come upon the scene when she went to
deliver some hot water to the guest. At the time, she had been stunned with fear. What she
had felt when she ran down the stairs to call the police was the same as what she was
feeling at this very moment.
Turmoil. She knew only that there was one thing that had to be done.
Back at that time, it was to call the police; now, it was to do as he had instructed and find
that item.
She stepped up to that long series of stalls that was formed by white cloth paving the
ground. Squatting down, she arbitrarily picked up a small prayer wheel and, acting as if she
wanted to buy it, slowly contemplated on how she could find the person Cheng Muyun had
spoken about.
All of a sudden, someone tossed over a black cloth bag to her. Startled, she lifted her head. A
lama, who had eyes that showed they had seen the many vicissitudes of life, smiled at her.
“A man bought this. He said his wife would come get it. That is you? His wife?”
Wen Han paused in surprise.
There, in the sun’s brilliance, those lamas were beginning to look with admiring gazes at
the back of her hand. She tilted her head down to look as well. At last, she realized that the
near-faded henna designs on her were the key to her being recognized.
Pressing her palms together, she said thank you, then picked up that bag, which had an
intricate design on it. Mimicking those locals who were not far from her, she slowly sat
down on the steps in front of the temple. Several plump pigeons leisurely toddled past in
front of her with not a care in the world.
From when the sun blazed in the sky until night began to fall, the people, one by one,
departed from this place.
Finally, even the workers who were doing the temple renovations had left, and only she
remained, sitting there. That early morning in the campsite, that late night in the mountain
lair of the smugglers, that afternoon in the restaurant, and now today—four times. Since
encountering him again in the small little inn, they had over and over again bid “farewell.”
Leaning forward against her own knees, she wrapped her arms around herself to keep
warm.
And moreover, each time, the farewell was for forever.
……
If he did not come, what should she do?
Wen Han closed her eyes, restraining all the notions going through her head and trying as
best as she could to allow her mind to go blank.
She was not certain how much time had passed when, in front of her, a figure step by step
walked up the temple steps, picked up that black cloth bag, and also pulled her up onto her
feet.
Her heart gave a lurch, and she was so flustered she nearly collided into him. But his arms
steadied her and blocked her forward motion, keeping her at a safe distance.
His eyes had once again lost their light and were now frightfully black.
This type of look in his eyes caused fear to instinctively rise in her. “The thing that you
bought is in your hands. That lama—”
He shook his head, signalling she should say no more.
She stopped.
Cheng Muyun was silent, the breath that he exhaled blowing against her forehead. After
remaining there for a long while, he asked, “Do you know how to shave someone’s head?”
She had not expected at all that Cheng Muyun would ask this question. Even later, when he
had led her to a small room in the rear courtyard of the temple and she had taken the
straight razor from him, she still had not pulled her mind back.
This place was in the midst of renovations. The workers had left, but there were still
unfinished rooms.
He had found some butter lamps, several of them, from somewhere and set them beside the
both of them, but it still was not very bright. This was Wen Han’s first time holding a razor,
and her hands were shaking slightly. She unfolded the blade several times but still did not
dare bring it to his head.
Cheng Muyun sensed her hesitation. Taking her wrist in his hand, he guided her over to sit
in front of himself.
“I will tell you a little bit about that friend of yours.” He told her in a low tone, “He is a
trafficker of contraband goods, but he is not considered high in the hierarchy. Half a year
ago, when I received his profile and information, there was no mention of you inside it, so it
should be that the two of you have never been together and, in fact, you are not even
someone who is important to him.”
When Wen Han heard the word “trafficker,” she was already stunned.
The little pieces in her memory of all that had happened from when they left Moscow to
now all swiftly came together in her mind, little traces and clues, especially everything that
had occurred since they met this man who was before her now. Her body alternated
between cold and hot. Her emotions were swinging wildly. Wave after wave of turbulence
flooded her eyes.
He took this all in with his eyes, as if it was a slow-motion picture.
She did not know that every expression in her face, every look in her eyes right now, and
even the corners of her lips that were pressed together had all fallen into his gaze.
And the emotions of this man, Cheng Muyun, who was before her right now, were also in
turmoil.
He needed to do something to make himself forget what had happened just earlier. The girl
in front of him did not know that before he came here, he had stolen some water from the
yard of an ordinary family and washed his hands. On them had been the blood of his
brother and comrade, Zhou Ke.
……
“So… you’re trying to catch Wang Wenhao? You are…?” There was a unique seductiveness
to Wen Han’s voice, but she was utterly unaware of it.
Still, there was only quiet. He would not answer.
His silence tonight was very different, as if she had all along been his target but now had
become someone whom he was scrutinizing from the stance of a bystander.
Wen Han could not really describe it. The entire time since he came back, she had even felt
fearful.
This type of fear was not a deep one, but it constantly shadowed her.
“I have many friends who are entangled in this matter.” He lowered his voice. “Wen Han, I
have more than just you by my side. Every person’s life is equally important. Do not ask me
anymore these questions that I cannot answer.”
“Can I make a phone call home, to let them know I am safe?” She was beginning to be
unable to take this type of conversation anymore, where she had no right to know anything
but needed to trust him unconditionally.
“When we reach the border,” he stated.
……
The wind outside was growing more and more fierce.
Nighttime temperatures here were only in the teens, and her hands and feet were
becoming increasingly cold.
“What do you study normally? Say some terms I have not heard before.” Cheng Muyun
stiffly changed the topic while, in passing, gesturing to her. “Let’s start.”
Wen Han nodded. Standing, she folded out the icy blade of that straight razor.
One of the advantages that came out of those days and nights she had spent with him
trekking through the forest was that, by instinct, she had already learned how to be close to
him. Or perhaps it could be said, in some aspects, they were beginning to have a certain
degree of rapport and harmony. For instance, he had suddenly put forth this inconceivably
bizarre request of shaving his head and she was able to go along and comply with it.
Or like how, in the forest, he had told her to hide and not move, and she truly had shrunk
herself into the vines and not moved for hours and hours.
“Functions of a real variable, complex functions, ordinary differential equations, differential
geometry, geometric topology… You’ve probably never heard any of these, right?” she
asked tentatively.
“Mm.”
“I actually don’t really like math, but my adoptive mother used to be a math teacher.”
“Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” She was out of words again.

During this entire process that was like a monk’s tonsure, her mind was somewhat seized
in a dazed state. There was still another possibility in this entire thing: he was simply a
downright liar and con artist, because everything was what he said and his version of the
story. But, what good was there for him to lie to her? After experiencing this day and then
thinking back on the time in the forest, as well as on that river where crocodiles had swum
under the boat, she mulled, if he truly simply wanted to hurt her, he would not have needed
to wait until today to do it…
“Three months. Next year’s spring, you will be back in Moscow,” he suddenly spoke.
Her eyes lit up for a moment.
From the shadows, he gazed at her.
If three months from now, things were not resolved, then this operation would be
considered a failure. And he, irrespective of success or failure, within three months of time,
absolutely had to find a way to allow this innocent girl to be free of any impact or influence
that this whole matter might cause, to be able stand once again beneath the broad daylight
and to return to the original trajectory that her life had been taking.
“If you had not known Wang Wenhao, would you have even started this trip?” he, once
more out of the blue, asked.
She pondered on this before giving him an answer that would allow him to feel a little
better. “No. If it hadn’t been for him, I would not have come to Nepal this year.”
He was asking this… because he was feeling guilty?
Cheng Muyun smiled, as if he had seen through her thoughts. “You very much know how to
analyze a person’s psychological processes. This answer does indeed allow my guilt to be
lowered to a minimum. I trust that your future husband will be envied because he has your
company.”
Wen Han paused blankly.
Her hand halted briefly, then once more began to slowly finish off the last part.
Moscow was very open regarding sexual matters. Agnesa’s views were the most common
over there, where before marriage, every girl should enjoy to her heart’s content the joys
that sex brings. She had almost forgotten that this man had once said that he was from
Moscow, and she, too, had grown up in Moscow. So, the meaning of his words should be
that three months from now, the two of them would not have anything more to do with one
another?
“It’s good now,” she said softly.
Cheng Muyun’s right hand ran over those parts that had been shaved bald, seeming to not
feel those several wounds, some shallow, some deep, that had been left behind. “Not bad.”
With the cloth bag in his hand, he walked outside, changing his clothing out in the open-air
area that was empty of people, and actually left her behind in that half-open, drafty room,
as if he was purposely avoiding a situation that might imply anything unchaste. He
returned very soon. The light from the butter lamps shone on his face and eyes and also the
attire of lamas that garbed him now. “This place is inclusive to all different religions.
Everywhere, there are pilgrims. It will be easier to leave this way.”
Through the window, she could see the prayer flags on top of the temple dancing against
the sky, giving off fluttering sounds in the night wind.
It was as if she had been transported back to the Tibetan Plateau and she was seeing the
him of that very first meeting.
In a narrow downstairs corridor, Meng Liangchuan squatted down and took three puffs
from his cigarette, each time inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs. The man beside him,
who happened also to be the police officer who had once questioned Wen Han in that small
room of the embassy, set his police hat on the windowsill. "Such a pity."
Meng Liangchuan closed his eyes.
It was the second time this kid had saved his life, but this time, it was a life given in
exchange for a life. He still clearly remembered how, in the utility room of that Western
restaurant, the kid had blocked the way past the metal door and glanced him over up and
down: "I quite look down on you." And also how he had shamelessly boasted to him that he
had saved his life on the night the Tibetan mastiffs attacked.
At this same moment, that other police officer's thoughts were on that man.
Before leaving, Cheng Muyun had dropped into a half-crouch on the floor and, in front of
him and Meng Liangchuan, said his final farewells to the body of this grown boy. Playing
repeatedly through the officer's mind was the image of Cheng Muyun as he licked the blood
of his brother and comrade from the back of his hand, then straightened back up and left.
The police officer thought, he needed to go to the temple before he would be able to calm
his heart.
"How did you know about him?"
"Ten years ago, I worked with someone on a case." Meng Liangchuan spoke quietly. "That
person had had dealings with him before." Back then, when that man was operating in
Moscow, he had had a following of people who worked under him, all of whom had
concealed their identities and willingly lived a lonesome life. Many of the people amongst
this group had known each other for several years but did not even know the names of the
other persons. Later, something happened. Many people died. And then that man had
vanished off the face of the earth. Hence, Meng Liangchuan had always speculated that his
return this time was somehow related to that incident in the past.
That night, when Meng Liangchuan at last laid eyes on that man, he had almost had the
impression that this identity he had used all these years in order to infiltrate and root out
the smuggling base was, in the end, actually for the purpose of waiting for this man to
appear in Nepal.
"What should we do with the body?" That middle-aged man with him gave Meng
Liangchuan a pensive look.
"Doesn't fall under our charge. We are unable to deal with this. Cremate the body first, keep
the ashes, and wait for him to come get them."
"Once you are at customs clearance, you will need to deal with everything yourself. Follow
the route that I told you and go to that place. Do not show in front of anyone that you know
me, unless I tell you to do so." These were the last words he had spoken to her before he
left the temple first.
Gripping the passport that was in her hand, Wen Han pretended to inadvertently glance at
the man who, a dozen or so paces away, was waiting with a group of Chinese monks at the
doorway of the border control office.
The tour group up ahead had finally finished clearing customs for departure.
Wen Han handed over a passport. Cheng Muyun had given it to her. Once she passed it
over, she even rapidly came up with countless excuses she could give when she was found
out. But everything went very smoothly. After swiftly completing the procedures, she
walked out of the office.
Cheng Muyun was still leaning against a column, resting at the bottom of it and waiting to
complete the customs procedure for departure.
Clenching a small-denomination American bill of money in her hand, she headed in the
direction he had described and found the place where she could make a telephone call. She
dialed the number. Very quickly, the telephone was answered, and the weary-sounding
voice of a middle-aged woman was heard. "Hello?"
She clutched the phone. "Mom."
The voice on the other end was very cheerful. "Where are you now in your long pilgrimage?
Is our dear little girl having a good time?"
Wen Han's nose tingled. She dared not say much and merely followed Cheng Muyun's
instructions, giving only a couple of sentences of explanation: she would be staying in
Nepal for a long time; she would be fine and very well; they did not need to worry—no
matter what, they did not need to worry.
The call was hung up. The local gave her back some change.
Turning around, she stepped out onto the street.
Right now, she was standing in the street between Nepal and India. To her left was Nepal;
to her right was India's border gate. People were coming and going, and there were many
border guards dressed in camouflage clothing.
He had not lied to her.
He had said, "When you make your telephone call, you will discover that your adoptive
parents know nothing. As far as their knowledge goes, you and your friends are still
continuing your pilgrimage, and furthermore, this trip will last for three months."
He had said, "The movements of Wang Wenhao and your friends are all temporarily being
restricted, so no one knows that, of the four of you, you are actually missing."
He had said, "After the phone call ends, you must start learning to trust me."
Lifting up the brim of her sun hat, she saw that those monks had begun to head toward
India's border gate. She also began walking in that direction. In her peripheral vision, he
was there.
The two of them seemed to be walking parallel to one another but in two different worlds.
A female traveler exploring a foreign country. A monk alone on a pilgrimage.
One after the other, they passed through the large gate and crossed over India's border.
Following the route he had planned out, she traveled about for an entire day until she
arrived alone at the railway station. It was different from when she was here in India one
month ago. One month ago, she had been vacationing.
But now, when she saw in the station's plaza those women and children warming
themselves beside the fire with only ragged old blankets around them, or when many
people rushed up to her, grabbing her hand and firing questions at her in English that had a
strong Indian accent, her nerves were taut the entire time.
Here, there were people, and there were also cows, dogs, some dirty, unknown types of
birds, and mice.
Even without all that she had experienced in Nepal, India was still a very unsafe country to
her.
Train tickets were not being checked. While she was being bumped and crammed onto the
railcar by the masses of people, she brushed shoulders with a cow…
Someone caught sight of her foreigner's face and, assuming she must have bought a ticket
in the upper-class AC cars, nudged her. "Air-conditioned cars with beds are up front."
However, the ticket she clutched was for middle-tier sleeper class.
"S." Sleeper. That shouldn't be too bad, right?
"You should have bought a ticket in a better-class car." When she found her spot, a local,
who was securing his luggage to the sleeper berth with a chain, said this to her in English
that she could not really understand.
She smiled and then tilted her head up to look at her own bed.
The space below it was filled already with sitting people. Those were seats in that space.
Above was the sleeping berth. Noisy. Raucous. Filthy. Messy. While she was still in a daze, a
boy darted over and climbed up onto her bed. After he had straightened it for her, he
immediately hopped back down, stretched a hand out at her, and said something.
She stared blankly.
"He said he wants a tip," someone behind her stated in a quiet voice.
Her back stiffened. Carefully, she controlled herself so that her face did not show the elation
that was in her heart. It had been a full day already. From early this morning, to when they
reached the border gate, to now, many hours had passed.
"Oh, really?" She pulled out her smallest-denomination bill and stuffed it into the
youngster's hand.
Then, she turned around to let her gaze meet those deep, black eyes. Her mind now feeling
keener by this good turn of events, she pressed her palms together and stated those same
words from half a year ago: "Good day, lama."
A glimmer of light seemed to flicker across his eyes as he returned her greeting by pressing
his own palms together as well.
A large group of people flooded into this sleeper car. The train began to move. He sat amid
two locals as his ticket was not for a sleeper berth. There were people everywhere here.
Even the single seat beside the window was occupied by two adult men squeezing together
on it. She had no place that she could settle into down here so she had no choice but to
climb up onto her bunk.
The bed had a strange odour.
Using her bag as a pillow, she was able to, just barely, block out that complex, mouldy
stench. From this angle, she could see Cheng Muyun sitting there quietly, seeming truly like
someone who was here in India on a pilgrimage.
Night's curtain fell. Sounds of singing, casual conversation, and loud laughter began to echo
around. There were the voices of children, local people, tourists, and many others.
Down below, more than ten people were packed onto the seats that should seat eight.
There was no one checking train tickets here. A seat belonged to whoever was able to snag
it. Fortunately, five young Chinese people were able to get a seat each and occupied an
entire row.
"Hey, monk." Two Chinese girls who were being crammed until they were practically
rolling their eyes saw that he was the only person sitting across from them who had a
Chinese face, so they began trying to strike up a conversation with him. "Where are you
from?"
"Many places," he replied.
One of the girls, the one with short hair, giggled and glanced Cheng Muyun over an extra
time. Such a handsome monk. So pleasant on the eyes.
Noticing that Wen Han was not sleeping either, the other girl, who had long hair, looked up
at her. "Hey, are you bored sleeping up there? Are you travelling by yourself? It's not safe
for a girl to be alone in India."
"I am here on a pilgrimage," Wen Han answered her. "I have friends waiting for me at the
next stop."
"Oh." The long-haired girl thought for a moment, then cautioned her, "Remember, if anyone
gives you any food or drinks, don't have it. Don't reserve any of the hotels near the train
station, and don't just randomly go out at night. And when you're at tourist attractions,
don't trust those Indians who beam at you." In Chinese, she told Wen Han just how
dangerous it was here. And the Indian men across from her were also merrily eyeing over
this girl who had been talking nonstop the whole time.
Wen Han gave an "mm-hmm" and said thank you to her. This scene was so ordinary it even
gave her the feeling that she truly was here on a pilgrimage, and not on the run in a foreign
country, heading toward some unknown place, just so she could stay alive.
"Monk, this your first time in India?" The short-haired girl could not refrain from
attempting to continue talking to Cheng Muyun. This monk was so good-looking; even his
fingers that were flipping the pages of his book were gorgeous. She was thinking, if their
conversation went well, would they be able to take a photograph with him when they got
off the train?
"No, it is not."
"So then… what must-eat foods are there in India?" It was apparent she was arbitrarily
finding things to talk about. This was something that could be found even in online travel
guides. The boy beside her was a little displeased. It was just a monk; what was the point of
chatting it up with him?
"You could try some amla." He turned the page of his book.
"Amla?"
Amla. It's a type of fruit that is frequently mentioned in Buddhist texts and is produced in
India. Wen Han thought this.
Amla, also known as Indian gooseberry.
Her eyes tingled somewhat. Her heart, which had been in her throat the entire day, had
finally, with his appearance, settled back down. However, she still felt a little uneasy. He
was sitting amongst the throng, but she could only lie in a place that was diagonally above
him, unable to speak and unable to communicate with him. Even letting her eyes meet his
was not allowed.
"This fruit is often mentioned in Buddhist texts," he quietly stated. "It is not often that you
are here in India, so you should try it."
"Buddhist texts?" Someone asked, "Monk, have you really been able to memorize so many
of them?"
"Aniruddha beholds the entirety of Jambudvipa like an amla fruit in his palm," he
offhandedly responded.
"Uh, what does that mean?"
Aniruddha was one of the ten principles disciples of the Buddha. Jambudvipa has a variety
of meanings, but it most often refers to the human world. To view the human world like
one might an amla fruit in one's palm—a metaphor for being able to see with clarity. Wen
Han thought this.
"It is very complicated." With a smile, he used these four words to dismiss those curious
people.
Finding this fun, the short-haired girl asked for a few more textual references to the amla
fruit. The long-haired girl beside her was not very interested in Buddhism, and jokingly she
remarked, "There's nothing useful about studying all those Buddhist texts anyway. It's
better not to ask. You'll just give yourself a headache." She lifted her eyes to look at Wen
Han, who appeared to have been lonesome listening to their group's chitchat the whole
time. "Isn't that right? Are you finding it really boring, too, listening to this?"
Wen Han could not hold back a laugh. "I am a believer of Buddhism."
The long-haired girl also smiled. "Really? Well, then, would you be able to tell me a classic
parable or quotation that I can actually understand? You know, to help me get a little bit
more interested?"
Wen Han contemplated for a moment. "Just now, what this lama—" Her conscience
inexplicably felt a little guilty, and she stole a glimpse at him from the corner of her eye.
Cheng Muyun, though, showed absolutely no reaction and continued leafing through his
book. "… said was a little complicated. Let me give you an example. Have you ever heard of
the saying, 'to become entrapped in a cocoon of one's own spinning'?"
Cheng Muyun's hand, which had been flipping the pages of his book, slowly came to a stop.
The long-haired girl laughed. "I've known how to recite that since primary school."
"This saying actually originated from Buddhist sutra." Wen Han selected a few sentences
and recited them for her. "And as karma accumulates, they become enveloped in their own
projections, like silkworms in cocoons, or submerged in boundless states of existence in the
sea of birth and death."
"Enveloped in their own projections, like silkworms in cocoons, or submerged in the
boundless states of existence in the sea of birth and death." The people travelling with
those two girls also began to grow interested, and they asked, "How do you interpret that?"
"It means…" Although Wen Han's Chinese had already improved a fair amount, if she were
to explain Buddhist scripture, she still needed to first carefully organize her thoughts to
form them into words. "When your bad deeds accumulate and become more and more, you
will have many false imaginations, and so like a silkworm that has trapped itself in the
cocoon it made, you will be trapped in the sea of birth and death. There are a couple more
lines that follow but they are a little complicated, so I won't tell them to you guys. You can
go flip through the Lankavatara Sutra. It's quite fun."
Cheng Muyun closed his book. From his cloth bag that he wore diagonally across his body,
he pulled out a bottle of water. Twisting open the cap, he took a sip. In that moment when
he tilted his head back, his eyes, calm, yet scorching, landed on that diminutive figure on
the upper bunk.
Their gazes came together fleetingly before separating again.
This was the first time since the train left the station that their eyes met, and the duration
was even shorter than the previous time earlier on, with just a brief intersection of their
gazes before immediately pulling apart again.
The train pulled to a stop.
No one tried to squeeze off the train, and in fact, once more, quite a few people surged in.
An adolescent-age youth wearing headphones rather roughly shoved his way through the
mass of people with his shoulder while continually searching for a seat. At last, when he
looked up and saw Wen Han, a grin broke across his face. "Pretty big sister, you're so slim
anyway. How about lending me half a bed to sleep on?"
In that instant when Wen Han was still frozen in blank surprise, he had already grabbed the
edge of the sleeper berth and, stepping on the foot rung, pulled himself up.
While the people down below, were still watching the excitement with heads tilted
upwards, that person who had hopped up onto the bunk was already kicked back down…
Wen Han swiftly sat up, hugging her bag tightly as she stared anxiously at that adolescent
boy.
The people on the ground level all broke into guffaws.
The youth gave a roll on the floor, then crawled back up onto his feet. Patting away the dust
on his body, he let out a "hee hee" and commented, "A big sister who's got thorns. We'll just
let it be. If you don't want me to sleep there, then I won't. Hey, monk, give some space.
Monastics are kind and benevolent. Amituofo." Pressing his palms together, he very
devoutly pleaded for a seat.
Cheng Muyun did not even so much as lift his eyelids.
The long-haired girl was chortling gleefully, and squeezing up against her companion, she
opened up a small sliver of space on the side. "Hey, handsome lad, come sit by your big
sister here."
The boy did not pretend to be shy, and scuttling over, he took a seat.
Was he truly just a traveller who got on the train halfway through?
Wen Han unconsciously cast a glance at Cheng Muyun, trying to see if she could catch any
hints from him. But there was nothing. It was as if no persons, no matters had anything to
do with him; he was purely someone who, alone, was enjoying his journey.
And so, from when this teenage boy appeared, things below began to grow lively. This
handsome lad could not seem to settle down for even a moment, talking from one thing to
another and from this thing to that, starting first with how he had come to India because he
wanted to see the floating corpses on the Ganges River but had ended up seeing nothing,
and then telling them about how he had narrowly escaped being bedded by a male priest…
The long-haired girl let out a yawn. "So sleepy. How come we weren't able to buy sleeper
bed tickets." She lifted her face to look at Wen Han. "Did you reserve your ticket in
advance?"
Thinking briefly, Wen Han answered, "More than a month ago. Booked it online." She
remembered, before they came, Roman, who had been in charge of the India part of their
itinerary, had complained that India's train tickets were difficult to book.
The long-haired girl nodded, then said rather glumly, "If I had known, I would have booked
ahead of time, too."
She muttered for a while like this, griping about how her three male companions were not
reliable at all and that none of the preparation work had been done thoroughly enough.
Eventually, the girl exhaustedly looked up at Wen Han again. "Would I be able to squeeze in
up there with you for an hour? I'll be getting off the train in an hour."
Wen Han hesitated for a moment.
"Big sister, I'm really sleepy, too, and I'm also getting off in an hour." The boy looked even
more pitiable as he tilted his head up at Wen Han as well.
After chatting for so long, they were all half-acquainted, and Wen Han did not feel right
turning them down anymore. She had been lying there for so long and had been unable to
fall asleep anyway, and she would soon be getting off the train, too.
"You two go ahead and squish together for a bit, then. I'll go down." She thought, compared
to sleeping jam-packed in one space with a stranger, it might actually be a little safer down
below.
At least down below, there was Cheng Muyun.
She soon climbed down from the sleeper berth.
"I'll lift you up onto there." Once the youth said this, he had already nimbly caught the other
girl by the waist and lifted her up into the narrow space on that bunk above.
"I don't want to be crammed up here together with you. Men and women should maintain a
proper distance from one another." The girl was not very happy about this arrangement.
The adolescent, however, had already slipped up there and, in a rascally manner, flopped
onto his back. "You should be happy you even get to sleep, and here you are still being
picky about this and that. It's not like I'm going to take advantage of you." Grumbling a
sentence under her breath, the girl turned over to face the inside and made do with the
situation.
There had already been more people than seats over where the girl had been sitting. Now
that two people had left, two older Indian men immediately squeezed into the spots that
had been vacated. And so, in just the space of one minute, Wen Han was left with no place
to sit.
As she rubbed her arms, Wen Han thought, she would just let things be and stand like this
all the way to the next station.
"Monk." Noticing her predicament, the short-haired girl smilingly said to Cheng Muyun,
"Why don't you squeeze over a bit and let her sit by the window for a little while?"
Cheng Muyun lifted his eyes to first glance at the short-haired girl, then at Wen Han.
Without uttering a word, he shifted slightly toward the outside of the seat, creating a
narrow space between himself and the window.
"Go sit down. You can hardly stay standing on your feet here." The short-haired girl gave
Wen Han an amicable nudge.
"Mm." Since Cheng Muyun had already made room for her, Wen Han had no reason to
refuse. With her head bowed, she stepped over and sat down close beside him, her bare
knee brushing against his leg. "Thank you." Her tone was polite and respectful.
Cheng Muyun gave a slight nod as his response.
Her seat was small and also very cramped, and their legs were touching. She did not dare
move.
Propping her hand on the small table beside the window, she let her gaze fall outside the
window.
On the glass, she could see the side profile of his face. A rather hazy image. However, she
could envision his deep black eyes beneath those thick, downcast lashes. When she was a
child, she had heard a Chinese doctor in the hospital say that ethnic Chinese babies were
born with black eyes that were very clean and pure, but with the grinding of life, those eyes
would lose that initial unsullied blackness. This was the price paid for maturing and
learning the ways of the world.
But he seemed to violate this law.
As Cheng Muyun turned over a page, his elbow bumped against her.
Instinctively, Wen Han straightened in her seat.
His eyebrows lifting slightly, he carried on reading.
Only then did she realize that her action had been too big. Somewhat embarrassedly, she
offhandedly tucked behind her ear the strands of hair that were by her face, trying to
conceal the awkwardness that was secretly roiling in the undercurrents.
……
"Look. This is the peepal fig tree the handsome lad and I were talking about." The short-
haired girl held up her camera to Wen Han to let her look at the scenery that their group
had encountered along their journey. "It's already more than 2,500 years old."
Out of politeness, Wen Han leaned closer for a look and asked, "This is the site where the
eight countries divided Buddha's body relics? I remember that should be the case."
The other party smiled. "You've been there, too?"
Wen Han nodded and returned a friendly smile.
The girl became increasingly invigorated and began showing her photograph after
photograph that she had taken. Since she was so excited, Wen Han had no choice but to
move a little closer and show her polite appreciation. As her body leaned forward, the ends
of her hairs naturally brushed against the back of Cheng Muyun's hand.
The train vibrated rhythmically as it rolled down the tracks, and the tips of her hairs also
swayed gently with it.
This touch called up in Cheng Muyun's mind the memories of when he abducted her into
the virgin forest, how she had been so dirty she was like a little savage; the fragility she had
displayed when she was fevering and wished with all her might that her bones could just
be broken all at once; how she had not even had the strength to cry… His middle finger
bent, passing between the soft strands of her hair. In this moment, what he was thinking
about was that image of her, a thin layer of perspiration on her back, her head arched
backward, her waist pressed into a deep curve.
Nothing had happened, no interaction through movement or eye contact.
But Wen Han suddenly felt perturbed. Only a moment ago, her attention had been on the
photographs, but now she could clearly sense the presence of the man beside her.
She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to continue her guise and not display any
outward emotion.
Cheng Muyun, though, had already set his book onto that small table first. Pressing his
palms together in a humble manner, he rose and then disappeared into the crowd. She did
not know where he had gone.
Five minutes later, when the train began announcing its arrival at the next station, Wen
Han finally clued in—he was getting off the train.
Wen Han remembered this station. She needed to get off here as well.
Almost at the exact same time, someone tossed her bag down from above.
"We've arrived at the station already? I almost slept past it!" The youth leapt down, looking
innocently like he had just noticed that she had stood. "Pretty big sister, you're getting off
the train, too?"
Wen Han nodded.
Without saying any unnecessary words, the boy motioned with his hand for Wen Han to
follow him.
There was no door on the train car. Before the train had come to a complete stop,
passengers who were getting on had already jumped up onto the car, cramming together
with the travellers who were trying to get off and forming a confused mess. Within this
chaos, the boy grabbed Wen Han's hand and tried to rush off the train. At the same time, a
shriek rang out behind them. "Where's my passport?! Where is he? Where is that boy?"
Amid these screams, the girl's three male companions immediately charged up and pressed
the boy onto the filthy floor.
Wen Han sat in a corner. A badly worn chain encircled the hands of the youth beside her
and shackled him to a bench.
"Big sister"—the boy shifted his bottom—"do me a favour."
Wen Han instantly sat up straight and listened attentively, waiting for him to tell her what
should be done next.
"I have a packet of tissues in my pocket. Could I trouble you? I've got a runny nose…" With
some embarrassment, the boy asked for help.
Wen Han paused in surprise. Fishing out that package of tissues from the boy's pants
pocket, she pulled out one and stuffed it into his hand. Grinning, the boy brought his face up
beside his own hands and began not the least bit self-consciously to wipe his nose.
Was he not worried?
He had been accused for no reason of stealing someone's passport?
Wen Han's nerves were still strung tight. She neither knew nor was able to guess what was
going to happen next. She had already been acting according to the plan and about to get off
the train, and then all of a sudden, she was being wrongly accused of being the youth's
accomplice in thievery and was brought here—the police patrol office in a corner of the
station's waiting hall.
And those five tourists were in a spot five steps away, describing to the Indian police officer
stationed at the railway platform how their belongings had been "stolen."
"My passport and wallet are both gone. My cash is still here." The short-haired girl said,
"You must interrogate them both. They know each other for sure." The girl pointed at Wen
Han and the youth.
The Indian police officer's head was aching from the ruckus, and with a frown, he nodded.
Things getting snatched or stolen was simply too commonplace in India. This was already
the sixteenth statement this station police officer had taken today.
"Last night, there were a lot of monks and one lama in that train car. They're all monastics,
so they didn't have much for luggage. It must have been for that reason that this thief
decided to make us his target."
"All right, I got it. I have written it all down already," the Indian police officer griped in
English that had a thick accent, waving the sheets of paper that were in his hand. "Look.
The statement is right here. If you are all done, let me ask those two people."
The Indian police officer pointed at where Wen Han was.
……
Closing her eyes, Wen Han comforted herself, It's okay, it's okay, Wen Han. At least you're
in a police station right now. It should be a little safer here.
Good thing he left first, she thought.
He's the real target these people are after.
Right when she was breathing out a light sigh of relief, someone pushed open the door from
the outside. "There's a lama here who heard about this theft incident. He says that he was
on the train at the time and is willing to testify for all of you."
Wen Han's eyes flew open.
A tall, slender man, garbed in a red dhonka and a maroon zhen wrapped over it, calmly
walked in. Her breath caught and her eyes widened—who was this?
"Who is this? I've never seen him before!" Shock covered the short-haired girl's face as well.
"This is the lama who rode in the same train car the entire way with you." A train ticket was
tossed onto the table. "Here is his ticket. The time, his carriage number, and his seat all
match yours."
As if to oblige what this railway staff was saying, the lama held his palms together and, with
a slight smile, addressed them, "Everyone, we meet again. I am here to bear witness for
these two young people."
……
The five tourists looked at one another.
"He's not, he's not! Please believe what I'm saying! We've never seen this lama before," the
girl stammering tried to explain. "He's an imposter."
The Indian police officer massaged his temples. "You just said in your statement that last
night, there was a lama. Now that person has even brought his train ticket here with him,
but you are saying you don't know him?"
The girl still wanted to argue.
"Enough!" The Indian police officer was livid. "Just to steal your one passport, a fake lama
has appeared out of thin air? You're really not here just to make trouble?"
In this country, everyone in the entire population practiced some sort of religion. Although
lamas did not practice Hinduism, they were still respected.
Saying this venerable lama was an imposter was simply too blasphemous.
An elderly Indian police officer in the room next door, who had had to put up with this din
for the entire morning, could stand it no more as well. "In my opinion, those two young
people there seem like they have been falsely accused. Do you think these people here took
a fancy to the young lady but weren't able to get her, so they decided to frame her for
stealing a passport?"
The ability of speech had wholly left those five tourists. They did not even know what to
say in defence of themselves.
That lama clearly was a fake; he clearly was using another person's items so that people
would misconstrue his identity…
But all of them, all five mouths, were unable to clearly explain this one fact.
The youth continued wiping his nose and could not even be bothered to lift his head.
Casting her eyes downward, Wen Han fixed them on the toes of her shoes and carried on
pretending she did not really understand English.
She did not know him. That lama was truly a stranger to her.
In India, railway fare classes that are denoted as "AC" (air-conditioned) are generally
higher-class fares.

作茧自缚 "zuo jian zi fu." This is a saying that has become very commonplace in Chinese
speech. The four characters literally describe a situation where you have spun a cocoon
around yourself and end up trapping yourself in it, and it is used when you have created
something yourself that puts you in a difficult situation, i.e. caught in your own trap.

积集已, 妄想自缠，如蚕作茧，堕生死海. This is taken from the Lankavatara Sutra. There

are several translations that can be found online. I chose this one because it was the most
literal translation to the text, so we can more clearly see the reference from which the
saying 作茧自缚 "to become entrapped in a cocoon of one's own spinning" came from.

阿弥陀佛. This is actually a chanting of the name of the Amitabha Buddha, the Buddha of
Infinite Radiance, who is an embodiment of love and compassion. In Buddhist teaching, this
name is holy and is chanted with reverence as a way to meditate and have incorrect
thoughts replaced by the perfect love and compassion of Amitabha Buddha. The Chinese
pronunciation of this name is "Amituofo." This "chanting" that the boy is doing is done
more tongue in cheek, after reminding Cheng Muyun to be kind and benevolent as monks
who strive to be as Buddha should. (Note: I am unlearned in Buddhism, so please do not
take this as proper Buddhist doctrine. This footnote is merely to facilitate understanding of
the story and context.)

男女授受不亲. This is a common saying that expresses the conservative view where it is
improper for men and women to have physical contact if they are not married.
Referring to the tree at Kushinagar. Body relics, also called sarira, are referring to
crystalline pieces as well as bone, teeth, etc. that are left behind after the cremation of a
Buddhist spiritual master. After Buddha's death, he was cremated. The eight countries that
made up ancient India all wanted to claim his body relics, and to avoid the conflict that had
been foretold by Buddha, it was suggested that the body relics be divided equally between
the countries. Kushinagar (also known as Kusinagar or Kusinara) is the site of Buddha's
passing, and the tree in Kushinagar is supposed to be the site of the dividing of the relics.
 Chapter 9 – On Whom Should I Place My Heart's Pining?

Wen Han tried to remain uninvolved in any of this.

That lama, though, took it upon himself to walk right up to her. "Before I got off, I left a
book on the train. Would you happen to have seen it?"
Lifting her head, Wen Han's gaze met that unfamiliar pair of eyes.
The instant their gazes collided; she subconsciously began deducing things out in her mind.
This unfamiliar man was holding Cheng Muyun's train ticket and wearing his clothes. The
carriage number and time on the ticket and also this question he had just asked her were
all flawlessly trying to prove one thing: he was the "Cheng Muyun" on the train.
Of course, this was a huge lie.
But the train had long left already, and the only ones remaining who had been on it were
herself, the youth, and those five tourists. Judging from the current situation, the police
were already starting to not believe the words of those five tourists. As long as she and the
youth maintained that this stranger was the lama on the train, the police undoubtedly
would believe them.
Besides, in the statement those people gave earlier, there was indeed a lama mentioned, so
that, too, was a piece of evidence.
Therefore, she only needed to be willing to corroborate this man's words.
Then, this strange lama could in turn prove that she and the youth were innocent and help
extricate them from this situation.
"It should… still be on the train." Wen Han heard herself softly answer him. "I thought that,
Venerable Lama, you would be returning, so I did not put away the book. I am very sorry."
There was a smile in the lama's eyes as he nodded ruefully. "That is a pity. I had not
finished reading the book yet." Turning around, he addressed the police officers, "After I
stepped off the train, I saw you arrest these two young people, so I purposely hurried over
to see if I could bear witness for them. After all, they are two good children who are
believers of Buddha. I do not want them to be wrongly accused over a misunderstanding."
The police officers of this railway station were already out of patience because of these five
raucous tourists, so now, they naturally chose to completely believe the lama's words. An
imposter lama? Were they joking?
The Indian officer pointed politely at a chair. "Venerable Lama, please take a seat. As a
formality, we need to ask you some questions."
The lama unperturbedly sat down. "All right."
Ten minutes later.
When Wen Han stepped out of the police patrol office and into the train station's waiting
hall, which was milling with throngs of people, the five tourists were still being detained on
the other side of the glass door behind her. Reportedly, they would not be released until
after dark.
This could be considered their punishment for disrupting public services.
"Thank you." Wen Han fixed her eyes on this effeminate-looking man with the shaved head.
The man smiled. "You are welcome, Miss Wen Han."
On that early morning, in that small Nepalese town, this man and the youth had watched
with their own eyes as Wen Han, her face streaked with tears, screamed and ran out of that
small lodging house before they had stepped inside and, like ordinary travellers, set an
American bill of money on the counter.
That was actually the scene of the first time he saw Wen Han, though Wen Han did not
know this.
At the time, he could not see what was so special about this woman, other than being
pretty. Now… at least she could be considered an intelligent, cool-headed woman.
While Cheng Muyun was taking care of affairs in Nepal, this man had been in India, making
the arrangements for the next part of the journey. Hence, he had not known that Wen Han
was Cheng Muyun's woman, one whom Cheng Muyun had had a romantic encounter with
in Nepal. He had thought she was simply another member of one of the many teams
working under Cheng Muyun, who had been hiding in the shadows.
It was only later that he learned about the little interlude: this Miss Wen Han was actually
not a part of the original plan.
The man signaled with his eyes, then left first to disappear into the crowds of people.
The youth, who was standing beside Wen Han, tossed the tissue he had been holding onto a
heap of garbage in the corner. "Don't be scared. We're all here," the youth told her quietly.
From his backpack, he pulled out a bottle of water, stuffed it into Wen Han's hand, and then
left.
There had not even been a word of goodbye.
All around her was the chaos and din of the railway station.
And now, once again, only she remained to continue the rest of the journey alone.
Wen Han looked down. The packaging on the bottle of mineral water in her hand was the
type used in Nepal. Could it be, these two people… had followed behind them all the way
from Nepal?
She remembered that early morning when she awoke in that valley, and also those friends
of Cheng Muyun who had one by one appeared from the forest's bushes. At that time, she
had not carefully counted, but now that she thought about it, there should have been more
than twenty of them. Their dress had been ordinary, and most of their faces were not the
types that stood out. What they ate and where they stayed could not even compare to the
average backpacker, and they had to constantly deal with all different types of situations
that would suddenly arise.
Since last night, everything that had occurred had been a sudden, unexpected situation:
being falsely accused of stealing a passport, being taken to the railway station's police
patrol office, being detained. And this had been so until that stranger had exchanged
clothing and train tickets with Cheng Muyun and come to rescue them from the
predicament. She believed that this was a last-minute plan they had created to counter the
situation.
What exactly were these people and Cheng Muyun doing?
It was a like a math problem. She was following the formula that Cheng Muyun taught her
and then was deriving and calculating the final answer by herself.
She really was not that fond of mathematics.
But now, she actually… was starting to look forward to what would happen next.
Silently, she recited one time to herself everything that Cheng Muyun had instructed.
The next thing she needed to do was to find a specific place.
Before the sky was dark, she stood at the mouth of a narrow alley.
Lining both sides of the alley were small, open-air eateries. A dog was stalking around Wen
Han, sniffing here and there. Her sudden appearance here caused several young men who
were having dinner to turn and eye her over. Acting as if she had not noticed, she hurriedly
strode into the alley. On both sides, there were little souvenir shops.
She lifted her head, searching for the place that she needed to go to.
She did not have a house or building number, only the description Cheng Muyun had given.
A portly, uncle-looking Indian man garbed in white stood in front of his own store,
beamingly staring at Wen Han. She returned a sheepish smile. "Sorry, uncle. I don't have
time to buy your souvenirs…"
After making a right turn, several rusty metal staircases appeared in her sight.
One, two, three, four. It was the fourth staircase. She did not trust herself and counted one
more time. Finally, after inhaling lightly, she followed that set of stairsteps up to the landing
on the second floor. The door was shut. She stepped over to it. Inside, there was even the
sound of a television, and she could also smell a strong aroma of food.
What happened on the train had left her with lingering trepidation.
Any person she saw along the way had caused her to feel unsafe. Consequently, during the
entire journey here, she had not dared to eat anything and had relied only on that bottle of
water to get her to this place. She was famished already.
"When you get there, you will be safe." This was what Cheng Muyun had told her.
And so, right now, at this moment, she inexplicably felt as if she had once more returned to
the normal world.
Wen Han raised her hand and knocked on the door.
Someone inside was speaking in English and, with a laugh, asked, "Who's got a free hand to
open the door?" A girl said she would open it. There was still the sound of laughter. And
then, the door was opened.
Her eyes took in the scene of a very harmonious gathering.
Clustered together were several men dressed in either grey or white cotton pants and who
appeared to be conversing casually. They were all young Indian men. And the person who
opened the door for her was a young girl…
Wen Han looked at her in great surprise. This was the third time they had seen each other.
In the little inn in Kathmandu, at the campsite when the girl had been a doctor, and now
here—what was she now? Wen Han's heart, which had only just settled down in relief,
actually tingled slightly with jealousy. Her mind could rationally deduce that this girl must
be like Zhou Ke, that youth, and the fake lama and belong to Cheng Muyun's group of
"friends." Her heart, though… This girl was too special, so special she made Wen Han feel
extremely uncomfortable.
This type of discomfort was very difficult to explain. She wanted only to see him
immediately, to wholly get to the bottom of this and ask, who was this girl? Did she really
not have that type of relationship with him?
The girl, on the other hand, smiled and announced into the kitchen, "Your little sister is
here."
Little sister? Wen Han was taken aback slightly.
That tall, slender figure that had disappeared last night on the train walked out from the
kitchen carrying a large stainless-steel tray, which had on it a stack of flatbread and also
several stainless-steel bowls containing a paste-like Indian dish. He set the items on the
low-profile table. "You arrived just in time. We're ready to eat."
Smiling, everybody welcomed Wen Han in.
With ardent friendliness, they all sat down on the floor and surrounded the low table. That
girl took a seat close beside Cheng Muyun. From the look in her eyes to her body
movements, she appeared to be his girlfriend. And Wen Han, from the moment she stepped
through the door, had been introduced as his younger sister.
"My friend, please tell me, does your beautiful younger sister need an Indian boyfriend?"
someone asked in a half-joking tone.
Cheng Muyun had laid his arm on the cushion behind him and was resting in the most
comfortable position. "We Chinese are unlike your country, where an older brother can
decide the fate of his younger sister. I have no right to intrude on whom she befriends." He
knew that coming here had left her terribly hungry, so he had already taken all of the best
ingredients here that could be used and made a dinner for her that had the most local flair.
Alas, from her complexion, she seemed rather unwell. As for the reason why, she felt so
unwell…
He knew very clearly what it was.
The dinner was very pleasant, and everyone was very friendly.
Wen Han even felt as if she had returned to the days of those small gatherings with
university classmates in one another's homes. However, the entire time, her thoughts
would wander. Since that night in the temple, when she had shaved his head for him, she
had sensed more and more that there was an unexplainable distance being maintained
between the two of them. As for why there was this sense of distance…
She did not know.
It was only during the casual conversation after dinner that Wen Han learned through the
dialogue that all the Indians in this house were young people of the Brahmin caste. Because
ancient texts and records would frequently refer to the names of the Indian castes, she
naturally had some understanding of them. In India, this caste occupied the highest social
ranking.
"Of course, present-day law holds that the caste system is unreasonable," the boy who was
being very attentive to Wen Han explained smilingly, "but this does not interfere with us
getting the respect that we are due."
These people had priestly duties to attend to and departed temporarily at nightfall.
The girl also noiselessly left the room, leaving only Wen Han and him. Pushing himself up
from the floor, Cheng Muyun rose to his feet and motioned to her that she should follow
him upstairs. There were no superfluous words.
The two arrived at the room on the third level.
It was very small. When the door was pushed open, she saw that there was only a large bed
with tangerine-colored sheets spread on it, as well as a balcony entirely enclosed in glass.
The entire way here, he was the person she had most hoped to see.
However, from the moment she stepped into this tiny room that was already completely
furnished by only a single bed and, apart from the bathroom, had only a balcony, she felt
rather…
"You don't dare to come in?" With his back to her, Cheng Muyun passed through the arched
doorway of the balcony and stood in that tiny glass space, gazing beyond the window at
what could not be considered a beautiful scene of the River Nile lying beneath the
moonlight.
"When did you get here?"
"One hour and thirty-four minutes before you," he answered.
In that instant when she stepped past the door into the room, she was still wondering
whether this tranquillity was real.
Since meeting him, every day had been filled with unexpected twists and turns and
difficulties. She would even impractically wonder, in the next instant, would some sort of
danger occur here, such as those young Brahmins suddenly turning against them, or such
as…?
But he had said, once she arrived here, she would be safe.
Trust—at some time unknown, it had taken root in her soul, and she no longer doubted his
words.
The balcony window was half open.
There was the scent of night.
There, below the window, at the end of a little alley was a small gathering site for
cremation beside the river.
She heard him say, "In Hinduism, life does not begin with birth and end with death. This is
merely one part in an endless cycle of countless life journeys. So, you see, those Indian
people there who are waiting for their loved one's body to finish burning are not
sorrowful."
"Mm-hmm." Since yesterday night on the train, she loved listening to him talk about such
things.
"Nor are they afraid of the two-sidedness of man." Cheng Muyun turned around. "The
paradoxical merger of good and evil, sorrow and joy, love and hate, lowliness and nobility,
selfishness and altruism—that is what makes a complete person."
In that moment as he lifted his hand, a slight heat came into Wen Han's cheeks.
But he simply stroked her long locks lightly. "Want to go take a shower?"
He easily caught the shifts and stirrings that flitted across her eyes. This beautiful girl
before him who had such a beautiful body, her first time belonged to him. Hence, he was
familiar with all her sensual little gestures, including her breathing that she was trying hard
to maintain at a calm and reserved rate. He knew them all, and he also never tried to hide
the fact that he was constantly attracted to her.
"Will we be staying in India the whole time?" She was burning beneath his gaze and felt
somewhat in a stupor.
"Yes," he replied; his voice low. "Within the boundaries that I tell you, you may read,
befriend people, or stroll through a coffee plantation. This is the earliest country in Asia to
grow coffee, and its colonial history is very interesting." His voice grew even lower, but his
hand had left her long strands of hair. "Dearest, I am deeply apologetic about those hard
days in Nepal of being homeless and on the run that I put you through. Here, it is very safe."
Bending at the waist, he leaned in close to her and looked her in the eyes. "Hurry now. Go
take a shower."
This sort of urging was simply too direct and explicit.
She could stay here no longer. Hurriedly grabbing some clean clothing from the bed, she
went and took a shower. When she came out again, the room was empty. He was gone.
The balcony window was not closed, and feeling a little chilly, she walked over to it. When
she stretched out an arm to shut the window, she saw that he was sitting on the second-
floor terrace.
Should she go down or not?
Wen Han wavered back and forth on this question for a full three minutes. At last, she
thought, she had already walked so many roads and experienced so many perils before
coming to this little Indian alley. Why, then, did she still need to be indecisive about a
question like this? Picking up her long skirt, she walked downstairs from the third level and
pushed open the door.
He had originally been gazing down at the river that was blanketed in moonlight. Hearing
some noise, he narrowed his eyes slightly and cast a sideways glance at her.
This girl, she must not have known just how many chances since they met that Cheng
Muyun had given her to get away from him and maintain a distance between them. This
included just now. She absolutely could have finished her shower, wrapped herself in her
quilt, and gotten a good sleep, and then the next day, she could go with those young priests
back to the coffee plantation.
In that moment, when Wen Han stepped up before him in the moon's glow, what came into
his mind were the words, "the ignorant are fearless."
She did not understand at all. Between love and being alive, one should of course choose
the latter.
Cheng Muyun extended his hand to her.
She placed her own hand in it. With a slight tug, he pulled her up onto the small cement
platform that he was sitting on. A little yellow-haired dog came over and rubbed up against
her. Wen Han stretched out a hand and stroked its head.
"The dogs here drink the water of the River Nile, where countless people's ashes are
scattered every day. Many of them grow up eating corpses," he stated quietly.
Her hand awkwardly ceased its action. That was just too spine-chilling. Somewhat thrown
off and at a loss for what to do, she wondered, should she go wash her hands? Right as this
thought flashed across her mind, Cheng Muyun caught her hand in his, brought it below his
lips, and kissed it. That was nothing to him.
In that instant, as his lips contacted the tips of her fingers, it was as if the disquiet she had
felt since that night in the temple had now all come crashing down. Wen Han even had a
feeling of being hurt and treated unfairly. She could not put into words what exactly that
feeling was. From when she stepped into this home of strangers, she had felt
uncomfortable, and even now, that emotion was still there. But she did not know how to
even open her mouth to ask. Who am I to you? And just who is that girl?
Without saying a word, his hands pushed open her shirt at the neckline, and his deft fingers
caressed the delicate skin of her back. Tilting his head down, he stared intently at her
bosom that was exposed to the air…
This was a form of interaction that both of them were familiar with.
Only when there was the sound of footsteps did he pull her shirt closed and then hold her
in the circle of his arms. She sat on his lap, half leaning herself on him, still immersed in
those dazed feelings of passion. The two looked as if they were simply sitting on the small,
raised platform and looking at the night view, caring not at all who walked by in that small
alley.
"Do you still want more?" His fingers tilted her head up, turning that enchanting, yet
headstrong face to look at him. "You experienced it already in Nepal. Use your calm mind to
think it through. I am interested in you, I like you—these are all true. But, dearest, you must
know, I am not one of those ordinary men dressed in expensive shirts who flatter and woo
you in front of a pub on a random street in Moscow."
She gazed at his eyes, not expecting that he would first bring up this topic.
"You have managed to live until you are twenty years old. For only a man whose body is
well-matched to yours, you will have no ring, no wedding. Let's not even talk about a home
and a fixed job. You may not even know your husband's name. You might one minute still
be staying temporarily in some private home, toasting some bread and wondering when I
will be coming back, and then the next moment, your hands and feet are bound and you are
tossed into the forest where you die of a high fever. Or perhaps, you are actually getting to
have a train ride in a foreign country, but then you are seized to the police station, where
you wait for a bunch of strangers to take you away, not knowing whether you will live or
die or even where you will go."
Moreover, he was very adept at summarizing everything: "If you were asked to die for a
man, would you be willing?"
He was not joking.
There, in the night wind, Cheng Muyun continued to tenderly hold her in his arms. His gaze
settled far away, landing at the end of the alley on the riverbank that was littered with
filthy junk. It was as if those words he had spoken earlier had not even existed. Wen Han's
mind felt like a tangled mess of chaos. What he said were not lies. If this were still the
laundry room in that small inn in Nepal's capital, Kathmandu, she would certainly think he
was exaggerating things to scare her. But he had personally taken her along and
experienced those things with him.
Wen Han felt cold. As she bowed her head and fastened up two of her buttons, she caught
sight of the dark red wound on his neck. She could tell in a single glance that it was a new
injury. She touched it.
Pulling back his gaze, he looked down at her.
"In the temple, you said that after three months, you will let me go back to Moscow?" she
asked in a soft voice.
"Of course."
"Then, will we see each other again?"
"No." He was very certain.
On that morning in the laundry room, he had not lied to her. He had told her that this could
only be a passing relationship, one that would vanish as quickly as morning dew. This was a
reality, not some pretense that a seducer was using to deceive a naive girl. Wen Han's hand
that had been caressing his wound slid upward, and then she also sat herself up straight.
Looking directly at him, she brought her lips against his upper lip.
Cheng Muyun did not move.
Until he heard her say softly in Russian, "I don't care about the future… In these next three
months, you must be with me."
There was an endless silence.
Cheng Muyun tilted his head down slightly and began to allow her to get close to him, to be
intimate. This reminded him of what that man had said when he came back from the
railway station: one who was able to withstand the fear of the unknown was already not a
simple, ordinary person. That brother of his had laughingly asked, had he truly violated the
precept of celibacy?
So what if he had?
In this rather muggy night, Cheng Muyun exchanged kisses with her on this platform. In the
beginning, they very slowly, intermittently nibbled one another's lips. Even this simple,
little bit of intimacy caused her head to feel faint, and she could sense that, amid his restless
discontentment, his body was also growing hot. She was not the only one who wanted them
to be together.
He, of course, did not need her to answer, "I am willing to die for you." If she had given this
type of unrealistic, impractical answer, he would have found it laughable.
He preferred this answer he was receiving now.
Right now, right this moment, after escaping from Nepal, she still desired him and was
expressing her feelings of fondness toward him.
Must.
Since she had had the courage to put out this type of request, so long as he was a man, he
would not refuse her anymore.
He swept her up into his arms and, leaping down from that cement platform, walked
through the door and up to the third floor.
When they stepped into this room earlier and he saw that bed, he had already wanted to
throw her onto it. Now, since she had already given such a request, how could he not carry
through on that thought?
This type of Indian cotton, in his hands, was practically like paper, and with only a little bit
of force, it was torn open. Unable to hold up under his strength, Wen Han sunk her teeth
into his shoulder, mercilessly returning to him those two entire days of dejection that he
had given her.
He gave a low chuckle, whispering by her ear in Russian, "Harder, darling."
……
There are some people whose bodies grow cold after being born only a few hours; there
are some who live beyond one hundred and in the end, their only desire is to, without any
sickness, painlessly and naturally slip into death. There are some people who, the night
before their wedding, carry the dream of a blissful marriage and love that lasts forever but
then meet with an unfortunate accident; there are people who have seen and experienced
all that life brings and the one they love has already become ashes, but yet they still
remain…
A person's birth into the world is like the blossoming of an udumbara flower, its
appearance very fleeting.
To be able to clearly discern, clearly identify, in this day, this hour, this moment, what one
desires—that is already enough.
Late at night, those several priests returned.
Wen Han, her face flushed, sat in front of the television, her hands cupping a glass of water
as she watched an English program. Cheng Muyun sliced up some fruit onto a plate, carried
the plate out, and set it on the low-profile table. That girl who was with Cheng Muyun was
rather careful about avoiding improprieties and had left to go stay in a hotel. Wen Han was
staying the night here with him.
At first, Wen Han was not very accustomed to the excessive attention from those three
young Indian men.
"In India, there are Dry Days, where alcohol is not allowed," a young man told her with
great friendliness. "Alcohol-free days, and then there are also alcohol-free states."
"Really? Such a law would definitely not work in Moscow. That's a city that would never be
happy without alcohol," she replied.
The young man immediately smiled. "But you must believe me, I am not that rigid in my
thinking."
Wen Han was feeling very awkward from this young man's overenthusiastic friendliness. "I
believe you…" She threw a glance at Cheng Muyun, who was beside her. She recalled how
he had told her to play along with him, acting as brother and sister, because if she was
Cheng Muyun's family member, she would receive even more protection, which was also
more advantageous. After all, in this country that India was, the degree of importance
placed on a man's girlfriend or wife was not something to sing praises about.
Fortunately, this was merely an enthusiastic and polite manner of expressing favourable
feelings. These men were all Brahmins, and rarely would they even marry outside of their
caste, much less a foreigner. After sensing that Wen Han really had no interest, and also
with her "elder brother" by her side, it was not proper to be overly zealous in trying to win
her favour, and hence the topic very quickly switched to another.
However, they had no idea that the sentences spoken in Russian that now and then would
come from Cheng Muyun's lips were much more direct and shameless than theirs.
For example, right this moment, the following dialogue was occurring:
"Congratulations." Cheng Muyun's arm was resting on the cushion as he said in a low voice,
"You are starting to enthrall the mind and soul of men once again. I am even beginning to
suspect that this entire time, I have actually been under your spell."
Wen Han was sitting by his side but maintaining the "safe" distance that should exist
between an older brother and younger sister who were already in adulthood. In Russian, as
well, she quietly countered, "But that first time, you clearly were the one who mistook me
for someone else…"
"You really believe that?" He took a drink of mineral water.
"Was it not?"
"No."
"……"
"On the Tibetan Plateau, I was already enthralled by you, and when I saw you again in
Nepal, I could no longer control the lower half of my body, so I simply found any arbitrary
excuse to pull you into my room and take advantage of you." He let out a low chuckle.
"What do you think, dearest? Is that a satisfactory answer?"
Gnawing on her lower lip, she began trying to learn how to engage in back and forth
communication with him. "Hmm, pretty good."
She obviously knew that these words were not true, but why should she fuss about
whether they were true or not? It seemed, after spending those two-plus hours of time
alone together in the room earlier, something between them had been torn down.
"It would seem, not only did I rip off your clothing, I have also ripped off the less-lovable
side of you." He raised the glass that he held, and then, in a little gesture, touched through
his shirt that spot where he had been bitten. Her face grew hot, and she could not help
giving him a kick.
"You and your younger sister are so close." One of the people near them, in English,
expressed admiration.
"It has always been so. She enjoys bickering with me occasionally, trying to challenge my
authority as her elder brother. But I prefer to gently let her have her way and play around
as she pleases." He also answered in English, playing the role of a perfect brother, not
minding at all that these men were wooing her.
But only fifteen minutes ago, in that room, he had lowered his face that had been slick with
perspiration and kissed the round of her shoulder.
How long had it been since she had last had a good sleep?
Since that little temple in Nepal, she had not truly gotten a good sleep. On the train, she had
easily stayed up through the entire night, and then she had come here.
Wen Han's slumber this night was especially deep. In her dreams, she even time and again
pushed open the little wooden door of her home in Moscow, and inside she saw a man's
backside facing her. Softly, she would call his name in Russian, but he would remain
motionless, never turning around.
She felt a moist touch on the back of her ear. It pulled her out from the nightmare.
While she was in a half-awake, half-asleep state and still immersed in that forlorn feeling
from him being unwilling to take any notice of her, the weight of a man was already
pressing down on her. "Good morning."
"Mm…" She was groggy.
She gave another "mm."
"Have you ever thought about, if I am actually a bad person through and through, how are
you going to escape?"
She kept her voice in her throat, its sound faint. "Go rob a bunch of Indian people. Then
when I'm taken to the police station, there will bound to be chances to escape."
On the other side of the door, someone was walking around.
"Good plan." Cheng Muyun quietly gave his evaluation, then asked, "Do you know what they
are going to do?" He was referring to the sound of footsteps outside the door. "In another
half an hour, the sun will move up from the horizon. Many people will gather on the
riverside and, in passing, will also wash away their karmic consequences with river water."
His voice was truly so very soft. Invisibly, it would bind your awareness.
She wondered, when a snake swallowed a creature alive, was it also so quiet? Did it also
use such a fatal entwinement, one that seemed to seep deep into the marrow, that looked
tender and gentle but, in reality, could cause you to suffocate?
His actions were not as gentle as his words.
There were a few moments where she even felt that for the rest of her life, he would
confine her in this room and she would die on this bed.
In that valley, during their first time, he had been very tender and gentle. It had been to
accommodate her, to attend to her feelings and sensations. Then, that time later, in the
forest, it had merely been to warm her, to drive away the chill in her body, and had not
involved any personal feelings. Last night, she had taken the lead. Only this time, in this
early morning hour when blackness painted the scene outside the window, was it the real
him.
Radical. Direct. In everything he did, he left no room for maneuver, no ground for retreat.
Including this deed.
When Wen Han set the oil lamp made of leaves that she was holding onto the water's
surface and watched it merge in with that mass of several hundred other prayer lamps to
slowly float away into the distance, she was still thinking, who would have thought that her
first time falling for someone would be such an experience? That it would be with a man
whom, apart from knowing his name, she understood nothing about, but yet they were so
intimate.
So inconceivable.
At this moment, day was dawning.
Facing the orange-yellow river surface and horizon, everyone began praying reverently. All
the people, whether they were those sitting on the stone steps, the ones standing naked in
the river, or even the non-locals releasing oil lamps and praying, had fallen quiet.
She stole a glimpse at the man standing beside her. Detecting her eyes on him, Cheng
Muyun turned and caught her in her little action of peeking at him. Wen Han was a little
embarrassed and could not hold back a gripe. "Are you just able to sense at any time when
other people are observing you?"
"That is something I do by instinct."
"Do you know what I was thinking just now?" Wen Han softly began, "I was thinking…" If he
truly were a dangerous smuggler, what would his and her story head to?
Cheng Muyun seemed to be someone who had absolutely no curiosity.
He did not even press about this question that she had posed and then began to answer for
herself but had only gotten halfway through before cutting off. He merely, after glancing at
her another time, continued gazing out upon the surface of the river.
The river was filled with local women in the middle of it, some old, some young. All of them
were bizarrely plunging themselves over and over into the water, and only when they were
entirely drenched would they happily return back to the shore.
Staring at the side profile of his face, she pondered, what if, at the very beginning, he had
only been a man who conned women into having sex with him?
A monk who had left the monastic life and was spending all his days in Nepal, taking
advantage of his good looks and physique to deceive those young women who travelled
there on pilgrimage? She began to outline another story in her mind.
As the two strolled alongside the river, they saw many dying beggars reaching out their
hands to the passing people.
"They are saving up money to buy the wood used to cremate bodies." The Cheng Muyun in
this moment was like a dutiful man accompanying his girlfriend as they went sightseeing
through a foreign country. "It is several hundred rupees for one piece."
Wen Han extended a hand toward him.
"What are you doing?" he smiled.
"Laoban, give me some spending money, please?" Her eyes curved into smiles. "Let me
accumulate some virtue." He had been the one who to buy in advance all her train tickets
for the entire journey here, and the only rupees she had had were already spent. She had no
passport, no luggage. She was like a woman who had gone astray in life and then been
abducted by him.
Cheng Muyun was amused by her words.
In his eyes, this girl was gradually showing more animated and vivid expressions.
Were it not for their two encounters, once on the Tibetan Plateau and once in Nepal, and
were it not for the fact that she had been with Wang Wenhao, which had caused him to
suspect her and who she was, their lives would not have had any further intersection. From
the physical interaction through their bodies that had occurred later on to the true,
ordinary interactions of day-to-day life that had begun to occur right now in this moment,
he all along had received pleasant surprises. And he wanted to know and understand more.
But alas, there was no time.
On that early morning in the valley, he truly had thought that returning to Moscow, being
just an ordinary person, and having a true relationship with her would be quite nice.
But then, Zhou Ke died. Everything began to break from the original, planned trajectory.
He had once thought that everything was within his control. Ten years ago, the deaths of
many of his friends were his first blow. Today, ten years later, the enemy still yet again
used the death of a brother and comrade to tell him this: "So long as you are still Cheng
Muyun, you will not be able to live an ordinary life."
He bore on his shoulders the duty of seeking payment for the blood-debt of too many
brothers' deaths. There would never be a day when he could turn back from this path.
From his pants pocket, he pulled out a small-denomination American bill and gave it to her.
Wen Han surveyed these beggars who were near and far around them and, after selecting
one who appeared most likely to die first, walked over and set the bill of money in front of
the elderly man. Lying on a ragged blanket, the dying old man did not have even the
strength to pull himself up, but still, struggling, he expressed his gratitude.
The old man's grimy palm touched her forehead.
Wen Han did not mind at all. She closed her eyes lightly. O Buddha on high, please bless and
protect me. Allow him to fall in love with me, so that he cannot be without me anymore.
Wen Han opened her eyes and rose rather happily to her feet. Right as she was about to say
something to him, she saw a familiar figure appear from the crowd of people in the distance.

Pulling off his sunglasses, Meng Liangchuan grinned at them. "I've come."
Wen Han unconsciously pulled her brows together.
Meng Liangchuan felt terribly glum with that. "Miss Wen Han, why are you not happy to see
an old acquaintance? Don't forget, those several times when you narrowly escaped death,
Cheng Muyun was not the only one who helped you; I put in a lot of effort, too, eh." Saying
this, he even did not forget to shake his head. "Sure enough, to women, good looks are more
important than anything else."
Wen Han murmured lightly, "Regardless, any time I see you, nothing good ever happens."
"… Miss, you need to get it straight. The one bringing you all the misfortune is the man
behind you, not me." As he said this, Meng Liangchuan pulled out a small bag from a pocket
in front of him and handed it to Cheng Muyun.
Taking it from him, Cheng Muyun walked down the stone steps, and half squatting down,
he opened that small bag and poured its contents into the river.
"What is that?" Wen Han asked with a soft voice, a bad feeling forming in her.
"Zhou Ke's ashes."
"Zhou Ke?" The words blurted from Wen Han's lips, and wide-eyed, she stared at Meng
Liangchuan.
Meng Liangchuan confirmed, "Yes, the ashes of that young, rather handsome-looking man
who brought you from the Russian embassy back to Cheng Muyun's side. I had originally
intended on leaving them in Nepal and having Cheng Muyun bring them back to Moscow
for burial. I didn't expect that he would have me bring them here and that he would scatter
them in this place."
This will certainly be yet another awesome story, Meng Liangchuan surmised.
He was even beginning to enthusiastically theorize, since he was always fraternizing with
Cheng Muyun, what would his own death be like? Where would he die? He must be mad.
This was so darn exciting!
Too sudden.
Wen Han's mind was in a whirl of confusion. That night in the temple, when she helped him
carry out that tonsure-like process and shaved his head, could it be that Zhou Ke was
already… She recalled the expression he had worn in the glow of the butter lamps, his eyes
downcast as he remained quiet in his own thoughts. He had been using the tonsure process
as a ceremony to release his friend's soul from suffering?
Cheng Muyun threw the bag that had contained the ashes into the water as well, then
walked back up the steps.
"There are just too many ashes in this river. And here they say it will let a soul rest in peace.
If you ask me, they're all crammed to death in there." Meng Liangchuan was not a Buddhist,
and so he did not bother to filter his words.
"Zhou Ke was not a believer in Buddhism," Cheng Muyun replied, with little expression on
his face.
But the lad had once very seriously said, "Laoban, whatever you believe, I will believe."
She had many questions she wanted to ask him, but remembering he had said that he
would not answer anything, she could only allow these queries to amass in her heart—and
heavier and heavier they became.
These jumbled emotions carried on until the sun sank into the west.
Noticing her low mood, those several young priests asked her, since she had seen the
sunrise this morning, would she like to also go see the ritual worship that occurred daily on
the Ganges River? Yesterday, she had only just arrived so these men had been too shy to
invite her, but now they felt she could go have a look.
Varanasi.
More than one month ago, she had been here in this city.
At that time, when she saw these evening rituals, it had merely been a quick, passing look.
There were too many tourists and young artists gathered on this river shore—that had
been her impression from last time. Back then, as she watched those priests, she had not
thought that, less than two months later, she would be revisiting this place, and this time,
she was sitting amongst the local people rather than observing everything from afar as a
tourist.
She was watching the ritual that was taking place
And that girl was softly conversing with Cheng Muyun about something. Wen Han could not
refrain from stealing a few more glances at them, such that she did not hear much of the
joke that Meng Liangchuan was telling.
That girl stood with her back to the bustling crowd. Her eyes were red, and with the back of
her hand, she swiped at them. "I heard that a person whose ashes are scattered in this river
will be able to rest in peace. But really, it makes no difference where he is buried since I
can't go pay my respects to him anyway."
Cheng Muyun lowered his eyes, not saying anything.
The girl spun the ring on her finger. A minute later, she decisively removed it. "In a little bit,
I'll throw it into the river, too. I'm only twenty-five and already a widow. That's just… That
punk just left me with the short straw. Back then, when I said he was three years younger
than me, he just had to argue and say how great it was that the girl was three years older.
What's so great about it?" the girl rambled. After some time, she asked him, "Can you make
an exception and tell me how he died?"
Cheng Muyun was quiet for a moment. "Someone leaked his identity out."
On that morning, in that little hall on the first floor, everyone had thought those people
would attack Cheng Muyun first. No one had expected that they actually knew Zhou Ke's
identity. Zhou Ke had not even had the chance to dodge and was seriously injured. When he
managed, barely, to run outside, Meng Liangchuan happened at that moment to be arriving
with the local police. That lad… had then taken yet another fatal blow for Meng Liangchuan.
Although Zhou Ke's lips had said that he looked down on Meng Liangchuan, and perhaps in
his heart he truly did look down on him, still, what could he do? They had both been
acknowledged and accepted by Cheng Muyun. That meant he was his brother.
"Those who are my brothers must all die after me."
This was the simplest of beliefs held by those who followed Cheng Muyun.
The two stood in silence. After a while, the girl suddenly smiled. "She has been watching us
the whole time. Women are like that. As long as she likes you, then any woman who goes
near you is her love rival. No matter how unselfish and bighearted a front she puts up, it's
no use, because here"—the girl touched a hand against her own heart—"will feel
uncomfortable."
Cheng Muyun answered, "If we cannot even fool a twenty-year-old girl, do you think we
would be able to fool other people who have received special training?"
Wen Han could not know, of this group, which person had what identity, or who had what
sort of relationship with another person. It was essential that she be kept in a fog, such that,
in the end, she would not even be aware when she was extricated from everything. This
would be the best for her and also the safest for all the people who followed Cheng Muyun.
The ritual had reached a climax, and all the tourists began to applaud.
Cheng Muyun walked back to her side, with the girl following behind him. Wen Han, who
was sitting on a blanket, shifted over to make room for them. In front of everyone, she was
still his younger sister. She straightened herself where she was sitting, trying as best as she
could to overlook the girl who was sitting on his other side.
For the entire night, Cheng Muyun did not speak even one whole sentence to her.
But from time to time, he would converse quietly with the girl, a smile on his face.
All the while, she had wanted to say something to him, but the pride in her heart did not
allow her anymore to do so. Yesterday was already the extreme of what she could do, to
request that he "must" be with her and to lay for an entire night on one bed with him.
But it seemed, as long as this girl appeared, all of her efforts would become nothing.
Here, the lively ritual worship was going on. Far away, though the sky was dark, people
were still burning corpses. This place had a culture she had not seen before. A foreign
country will cause a person's heart to be unable to settle. Bowing her head, she stared at
the corner of her skirt. It seemed Buddha still felt her wish was too small. It was only this
morning that she had offered up her prayer, but now a real, concrete answer had already
been given.
Cheng Muyun could perceive that Wen Han's mood had fallen to a drastic low. After a brief
silence, he continued chatting in a low voice with the girl to his right. As for the content of
their conversation, no one could hear it.
This place was the grounds of a family manor estate.
When she first heard "coffee plantation," she had thought Cheng Muyun would be bringing
her to somewhere out in the countryside. Now, she discovered her guess had been entirely
off the mark.
Those young priests she had met in Varanasi were university students and also a part of
this particular family. And according to the young Indian girl in front of Wen Han right
now: "You did not know? You have never heard your older brother mention it before? Oh
my god, he is such a low-key person. He is my eldest brother's classmate, his university
classmate. He once rescued my eldest brother when my brother was kidnapped. Our family
is indebted to him." The young girl's eyes showed hints of admiring enamorment.
Of course, she kept it deeply hidden.
She would even hope that she could win this man's heart and he would take her away from
this country. Though she had a rich dowry and three very powerful older brothers, she still
did not like this patriarchal society in which the husband is placed in the absolute highest
position.
Wen Han had not thought that he would have studied in university before.
Prior to experiencing all that had happened in Nepal, she had thought he was someone who
had associated with some "improper" groups of society, and then later, unable to subsist
there, or, perhaps, after suffering some sort of setback or blow, he had become a monk?
And then, after she had experienced all those things, she still had thought he was involved
with those improper groups of society…
He should be someone who appeared in any sort of dangerous place.
Drifting from place to place, with nowhere to call home. Not having enough food to eat or
clothing to stay warm. In dilapidated temples. On the Tibetan Plateau. In any case, he did
not seem like someone who could appear in normal places.
The young Indian girl was prohibited from being alone with strange, unfamiliar men, so
after her chitchat with Wen Han, she instructed one of the manor's servants to bring Wen
Han to the coffee field.
This was Wen Han's first time seeing a vast stretch of coffee trees at a close distance.
The workers, right then, were picking the fruit, the coffee cherries.
Sitting cross-legged beneath a tree, Cheng Muyun scooped up a handful of coffee beans.
"The time required for a coffee cherry to develop is very long. This smaller type here takes
eight to twelve months and then can be picked that same year. Some medium or large-sized
ones will need to wait until the following year. It requires patience."
Beside him, the girl gave an "oh" and muttered, "You need to plant them a year ahead and
then harvest the next year? Then I am definitely not suited for growing coffee. Zhou Ke
always said that what I lack most is patience."
The corner of Cheng Muyun's lips turned upward ever so slightly.
Only now, as the girl tilted her head back, did she notice Wen Han, and smilingly, she
greeted, "I always have this feeling that we've seen each other many times. It is really
inconvenient that you don't know my name."
Wen Han shook her head. Staring at the coffee beans inside the basket, she replied softly,
"Don't tell me. He has said before that I can't know anything."
The girl continued smiling at her. "It's not that serious. You can call me Zhou Zhou."
Another person with the surname, Zhou? Wen Han nodded.
After saying this, Zhou Zhou pointed at the three men who were walking toward them from
afar. "You've seen them before, right?"
Just now, when she was walking over, Wen Han's eyes had immediately landed on the two
of them sitting here side by side. Only now did she notice that there were other people far
off amongst the coffee trees. That man with the fair complexion and slightly effeminate
appearance who was wearing a hat, wasn't he the fake lama at the train station? The youth
beside him she, of course, knew as well. And the man wearing the blue, metal-framed
glasses, Wen Han remembered he was the one who had called out Zhou Ke's name that
night in the mountain valley.
With a smile, Zhou Zhou looked at the three men. "Hello, my name is Zhou Zhou."
"Fu Ming," the fake lama stated.
"Xiao Zhuang [Little Zhuang]," the youth said.
"Chen Yuan," the bespectacled man said.
"Those all sound so awful. You know just from hearing them that they must be aliases."
Zhou Zhou laughed. Then she carried on asking Cheng Muyun curiously, "You said just now
that each coffee cherry has two coffee beans inside of it?"
"Yes." Cheng Muyun split open a coffee cherry. "See? Each fruit has two coffee beans facing
each other inside.
Without at all trying to avoid others reading more into their relationship, Zhou Zhou took it
from between Cheng Muyun's fingers and laughed lightly. "So every coffee bean is actually
part of a pair of sweetheart beans."
Wen Han stood awkwardly, feeling as if her presence here was redundant. "It's a little
sunny here. Would you be able to bring me back to rest?" she quietly requested the servant.
The servant immediately bowed and led her away.
That man and woman beneath the tree carried on as if in their own little world, discussing
whether it was coffee beans or "sweetheart beans."
Chen Yuan could not help glancing Zhou Zhou over another time.
In fact, Chen Yuan had seen Zhou Zhou twice before: once in the little inn in Kathmandu
and once at the campsite when Zhou Zhou gave all the vacationers the rabies vaccination. It
was just that, during those two encounters, he and Zhou Ke had been hiding in the
shadows, protecting everyone, so they had not truly met. However, Chen Yuan
remembered, the look in Zhou Ke's eyes when he stared at this Zhou Zhou had been very
out of the ordinary. He had even thought that Zhou Ke secretly liked her.
But now, from the look of things, it would seem he had been wrong. It was evident this
Zhou Zhou had a thing with Cheng Muyun. Why had Cheng Muyun chosen to be with one of
his own people?
At the same time, Xiao Zhuang also furtively threw a suggestive look at Fu Ming:
Holy crap! You mean, once the monk decided to violate his precepts, he found himself TWO
women? And one of them is even one of his own people?
 如优昙钵花，时一现耳。优昙钵花 (also called 优昙婆罗) The udumbara flower is a
legendary flower referred to several times in Buddhist sutras, including the Lotus Sutra.
According to Buddhist scripture, it flowers briefly only once every three thousand years,
and this event is said to be an auspicious sign. This particular line is actually quoted
directly from 《法华经》 the Lotus Sutra.

Note: In India, Dry Days are days in which the sale of alcohol is prohibited and alcohol
consumption in public eateries is banned (consumption in the privacy of one's home is not
explicitly forbidden).

积德 "ji de." This is the Chinese term for the concept of accumulating virtue or merit. In
Buddhist belief, where karma plays such an important role, good deeds and thoughts shall
eventually bring good upon the person who does this (positive karmic rewards), if not now,
in future lives, while evil deeds and thoughts will do the opposite. "Virtue" or "merit" is
simply benevolent deeds and thoughts, and accumulating virtue is the idea of storing up
good karma from the good deeds you do.
Additional Comments:
The novel later mentions that this home they are currently in is in the city of Varanasi.
Therefore, this ceremony on the river should be describing Ganga aarti, a ritual of prayer
that is held twice daily, once at dawn and the other in the evening. The one at dawn takes
place at the Assi Ghat (ghat meaning a stepped embankment), although in real life it is on
the Ganges River, not the “Nile.” LOL. If you are interested and, like me, do not know
anything about this ceremony, have a google. The ceremony seems to be quite amazing to
behold.
Prior to this chapter, you could still view Zhou Ke as “just another” one of Cheng Muyun’s
brothers, an unfortunate loss in this battle that is taking place behind the scenes. But this
chapter always makes my heart twinge for him.
In the utility room, when he told Meng Liangchuan, “I quite look down on you,” you can
envision a confident young man, even a little cocky. But here, when you see that he died
because of his belief that "Those who are my brothers must all die after me," you realize
that behind that young, cocky heart was a man of loyalty, principles and strong beliefs.
Then, when Zhou Zhou describes what he once said, that “he had to argue and say how
great it was that the girl was three years older,” you can imagine a boy, full of life and
grinning confidently as he declares to the girl he loves that he doesn’t care about the age
difference, he just loves her. But now he is gone, ashes to ashes, and never again will they
get to hear his cocky declarations.
 Chapter 10 – To Gaze Down with Compassion Like
Bodhisattva

Meng Liangchuan sat in the corner of a coffee shop by the river. Across from him was the
police officer who had collaborated with him during the uprooting of the mountain valley
smuggling base and also that time when Zhou Ke died. The police officer handed him an
envelope.
Meng Liangchuan pulled out the contents. There were only two thin sheets of paper.
The first one was a black and white copy of a photograph—a close-up shot of Cheng Muyun.
The second sheet contained a short description:
Ten years ago, Cheng Muyun, after going undercover for three years, completely destroyed
the Mongolia-Russia smuggling line of an international trafficking organization, recovering
thousands of Buddhist treasures, including Buddha statues, body relics, etc. His
subordinates numbered 79, of which 13 died in the line of duty (no details available).
After the conclusion of this case, Cheng Muyun officially stepped down and then
disappeared without a trace.
His successor is Fu Yiming (Fu Ming), but Fu did not completely take over control of Cheng
Muyun's entire operations team.
Meng Liangchuan held those papers flat on his palm. "Let me sort out my train of thought."
He deliberated for several minutes, then took a sip of Masala chai. "Half a year ago, the
trafficker Wang Wenhao received the assignment to come to Nepal and do a transaction for
some goods. Cheng Muyun also got ahold of this information and arrived in Nepal one step
ahead to lie in waiting. Half a year later, which is one month ago, Wang Wenhao entered
Nepal via India with a few ordinary friends, encountered Cheng Muyun and myself, and in
the end, was robbed of his goods."
"Didn't you bring the goods to the coffee plantation for him? You didn't look to see what
they were?"
"I didn't," Meng Liangchuan answered as he carried on slowly sipping his Masala chai,
"because I feel that Cheng Muyun's focus is actually not the goods. He stole them away
because he wanted Wang Wenhao to convey to his higher-ups in the trafficking operation
that the goods were gone and that Cheng Muyun was the one who took them."
And that was why it was only after it had been confirmed that Wang Wenhao had indeed
successfully spread this news that Meng Liangchuan acted as per Cheng Muyun's plan and
detained Wang Wenhao and the rest of the group in Kathmandu.
"And what would he do after the news spread?" the police officer asked in reply.
"Wait for people to come after him to kill him," Meng Liangchuan affirmed. "Cheng Muyun
wiped out an entire smuggling line of that organization. They undoubtedly want to drink
his blood and eat his flesh. There are both the enmity of ten years ago and the hatred from
this time. With new hatreds piled on top of the old grudges, they definitely want to kill him
off and take back this time’s goods."
"But what is he trying to do by drawing all the fire onto himself? He wants to come back
from retirement and continue the fight against that trafficking organization?"
"No. Based on his personality, since he already withdrew from all of this, he won't come
back again." Meng Liangchuan finished the rest of his Masala chai in one gulp. "He wants to
clean house and close that incident from ten years ago."
"Clean house? Clean what house? There's a traitor in his ranks?" The police officer was
astounded.
Meng Liangchuan explained, "Yesterday, after I gave him the ashes, he told me his return
this time is a memorial and sacrificial ceremony for the spirits of his brothers from ten
years ago. He also said, if he should die, I should not trust anyone around him, other than
Wen Han. That obviously is saying that there is a mole amongst those with him."
The police officer's brows knitted together. "Suppose there really is a spy in his midst. That
person must have already gotten his mission from his higher-ups already: kill Cheng
Muyun and take back the goods that were lost in Nepal."
"Yes."
It all fit now.
That's right, it all fit.
The more Meng Liangchuan analyzed everything, the clearer his head became. He pulled
out a color photograph. Captured on it was the daytime scene today beneath the coffee tree.
"Come look. These are the people who went to the plantation today."
Moving in closer, the police officer took in the happy and harmonious scene: Cheng Muyun,
holding a handful of coffee beans, was smiling at the girl beside him, and around them
stood a youth and two men.
Meng Liangchuan tapped his finger against each face, telling the other person, "Zhou Zhou,
Fu Ming, Xiao Zhuang, Chen Yuan. One of these four must be a mole. And also, another one
is someone sent undercover by the high-level authorities to monitor him."
"Just amongst these four? How do you know?" The police officer did not understand the
logic.
"Look at the info written on this paper." Meng Liangchuan picked up the sheet of paper
from earlier. "He had seventy-nine people working for him. For those thirteen people who
died in the line of duty, even at their death, there were still no details available about them.
This is a rule in his team. Except for Cheng Muyun himself, everyone is invisible. But these
four people were actually exposed together, on the same day. This can only mean one thing:
these four are the ones Cheng Muyun most suspects. By exposing them to the light, even if
he himself is to die, there will be other brothers who will continue investigating to dig the
person out."
The police officer uttered "oh, oh" a couple of times. But then, he all of a sudden slapped the
table. "Wait, there's something wrong, Meng Liangchuan. We were able to guess all this.
Then, what if the mole perceives danger and bolts? What to do then?"
"It's too late to bolt. The moment they all appeared in the coffee plantation, there was no
chance anymore for anyone to run." The look in Meng Liangchuan's eyes was deep.
"Besides the thirteen souls who died a wrongful death and the departed Zhou Ke, there are
still another sixty-one people in the shadows, watching each one of them. No one can run.
"From when the mole got Cheng Muyun's message telling him to go to the coffee plantation,
even if he guessed that this was a trap, he still had to go. Otherwise, it would be equivalent
to straight-up admitting to his identity."
Cheng Muyun.
This man's world was, as he said himself, without mercy and leniency. To those who
betrayed him, he would return the act tenfold. To those who were wicked, he would use a
hundredfold factor to tell the other party just what was meant by "evil shall reap evil." His
one friend, the Chinese police officer, died in the smuggling base in Nepal, so he completely
exposed that base to the police, annihilating that mountain stronghold and totally pulling it
up from the very roots.
Indeed, he was harsher on the wicked than even the Eighteen Hells.
The thirteen lives of ten years ago and also Zhou Ke—fourteen brothers in total. How could
he let that mole go free?
This was the "law" of his "clan" and the punishment for violating it.
An image floated up in front of Meng Liangchuan's eyes.
In a great temple hall filled with lamps of oil, the Buddha attendants and arhats lining each
side silently gazed down from on high at the four people who were there: Zhou Zhou, Fu
Ming, Xiao Zhuang, and Chen Yuan.
After dinner, someone set up a white canopy in the coffee field.
Cheng Muyun had once rescued the eldest son of this place from the hands of kidnappers,
so naturally he was an honoured guest and was given such treatment. With servants
surrounding them, he played cards with old friends whom he had not been able to have a
good, real conversation with for many years.
From afar, Wen Han threw a glance at the excitement under the white canopy beneath the
trees, then made the decision to stroll around. Circling around the plantation's water
drainage channel, she walked north. Soon, she heard lively music.
She was drawn to it. Stepping a little closer, she stood amongst the coffee trees, and from
there, she saw a resplendent frame of flowers built in front of the workers' quarters.
"It is a wedding." In the darkness, an arm behind her slipped onto her shoulder.
She stiffened and her heart leapt erratically, but still, she did not turn around. His hand
glided down her back before slipping from the side of her waist to the front of her body, his
palm coming to a standstill against her abdomen.
His searing palm reminded her; he was her man.
"Did you not request that I must be with you?" His voice was low and husky. "What? You
are going back on your word again?"
In the spill of lights, a thirty or forty-year old Indian groom with dark, rough-looking skin
was leading a teenage girl dressed in a bridal gown by the hand. There was no smile on the
girl's face at all as she walked forward amid the lively music. Wen Han had heard before
that, because of the low status of Indian women, India's impoverished people will often
marry off their girls early.
In Moscow, women also outnumber men, and their marriages are often not as they would
desire.
"Yes, I'm going back on what I said," she quietly answered. "Is that okay?"
This sort of torture that came from watching him, day and night, flirt with another woman
was something that, perhaps, he did not understand at all.
"There is absolutely no problem with that. I told you long ago,"—the man behind her
loosened his embrace around her—"this is something that should make us both happy. If
you feel you are unhappy, I will not force you." Upon saying this, he took a few backwards
steps and then strode back into the grove of coffee trees.
Wen Han bit down on her lip, forcing herself to stay firm and not turn her head to take even
a glance.
The evening breeze was a little chilly. It was almost November, after all. A little Indian boy
ran past beside her feet. Stretching up his arm, he stealthily picked a few coffee cherries
and stuffed them into her palm, saying softly, "Eat one. Will make you happy." Could it be
that even such a young child could see her unhappiness? So, did that mean Cheng Muyun
did not care at all, or was he intentionally choosing to ignore it—
Behind her, there was once again the sound of footsteps. Very faint.
He came back?
"Hello, Miss Wen Han."
It was not him.
Wen Han turned her head in surprise. It was Fu Ming. Her eyes, which were originally
stirred up with emotions, gradually quieted and concealed her disappointment.
"I would love to chat with you. It is very rare to see a woman who is involved with Cheng
Muyun." Apparently, this was someone who spoke bluntly as well. "To thank you for
satisfying my curiosity, I can answer any of your questions regarding him."
Wen Han pressed her lips together, feeling somewhat apprehensive. However,
remembering that she truly did not know anything at all, she relaxed again. "I do not know
what you are curious about, and the fact is, I do not know anything."
It'll be fine. You just need to be a bit more careful when you answer him.
She silently warned herself.
"Really? He's unwilling to tell you anything?" Fu Ming threw back this question to her in,
surprisingly, fluent Russian.
"Yes, it's true," she answered, her voice quiet.
This was the first time since he abducted her away that she was speaking to someone other
than him in the language she was most familiar with.
Fu Ming remained wordless for a period.
"Before, has he ever had other… girlfriends?" She was first to ask a question.
"You could say he has; I suppose? But not exactly. The classification is very vague. But she is
dead already."
Wen Han was taken aback.
"He caused her death," Fu Ming flatly added. "Miss Wen Han, you don't need to be scared.
He likely won't do that to you. That woman was later, after her death, charged with more
than a hundred murders. You and she are not the same type of person."
More than a hundred murders? Usually only very big drug lords or people who were part of
mafias or triad-like criminal organizations would have such a shockingly large number of
prosecutions against them.
She often watched the news and was not entirely ignorant of things.
"You should know that, given the type of people that we are, we have no command, no
choice in the things we do, and we experience all kinds of strange things. But, he still has
my respect and admiration." A slight furrow appeared between Fu Ming's brows. "I tend to
value relationships, so I cannot be like him and watch without even blinking while a
person's death penalty is carried out. If it were me, I would certainly feel uncomfortable
inside me."
… So, that was his past?
Spoken about so lightly by Fu Ming.
Fu Ming looked puzzledly at her. "You have no other questions?"
"You already gave me so much information with one question. I suddenly don't know what
I should ask," Wen Han murmured.
"Later, he went and became a monk for ten years." Fu Ming grinned at her. "In your
opinion, was it because he could not forget that woman, or was it for other reasons, hmm?
Miss Wen Han?"
"I don't know… I don't really know him or understand him."
"Miss Wen Han, how many men have you had?" He was actually the one directing questions
at her now.
"… May I not answer that question?"
"Yes, of course." Fu Ming smiled. "Girls in Moscow are often 'affectionate' and amorous.
Those are your little secrets. If you are not willing to share, I won't force you. By the way,
how much Chinese blood do you have in you?"
"I'm quarter Chinese," she answered.
Fu Ming looked her up and down. "We Chinese, our genes are so strong. Only one-quarter
Chinese, but that is enough to allow you to possess such Oriental poise and charm?"
When he finished saying this, he arbitrarily picked a few coffee cherries fr0m a tree.
Dropping his voice, he said to her, "The question I most want to know the answer to
somewhat delves into private matters, but all these years, I honestly have been very
curious: why do so many women keep Cheng Muyun in their hearts? Are his bed skills
really so unforgettable to women?"
"……"
"Oh, my apologies. That was too personal. Well, then, last question. If one day Cheng Muyun
were to leave you, would it pain you so much you would not want to live?"
If he were to leave her one day?
This was a message Cheng Muyun frequently told her through his actions and through his
words, all of them pronouncing that one day, sooner or later, he would wholly and
thoroughly leave her.
Wen Han admitted she was jealous because of that "past" this man spoke about. That
girlfriend who seemed dark and legendary, and also that comment about renouncing the
world and becoming a monk because of love—it was difficult not to mind these things.
However, this did not mean she needed to display the fact that she did mind, that they
bothered her, in front of a man who was obviously trying to provoke her.
It was just like in her schooldays since childhood. The more the people around her derided
her for being an adopted child and for the Chinese blood in her, the more she knew to hide
away her anger. Showing that your emotions are agitated, that is the stupidest thing to do.
This was her instinctive way of protecting herself.
She speculated, Fu Ming must have thought those shocking words would invoke anger and
jealousy in her, and then out of jealousy, she would answer that she did not care at all about
Cheng Muyun's departure. And so, she instead gave a smile and carried on watching the
wedding ceremony, not answering anything.
Slowly, a grin came over Fu Ming's face.
Right this second, he saw the defiance and challenge this girl was directing at him.
Fu Ming's attitude suddenly changed, the cutting sharpness in his stance completely
disappearing and leaving only politeness in its place.
He very courteously suggested that he would escort Wen Han back, since, after all, there
were several buildings in this vicinity that were in the midst of renovations and many
workers were living in them, so it could not be considered very safe here. Wen Han felt his
words were very reasonable. She had wandered too far and was already unable to find her
way back. Hence, she did not refuse his offer.
However, after walking with him for only a short period, she discovered he was not taking
her to the white, two-story building that she was staying in.
The lodging that the master of this manor house arranged for her was neat and very well-
kempt, and both in front and behind the building, there was a neatly-maintained lawn.
This place here was obviously not so elegant.
The building appeared to be just-built and was also two storeys high. There was no lawn,
however. Rather, there were sheds used for rearing peafowls and dairy cows, and further
away, there was a two-metre-high gray, brick wall.
This was some corner on the estate grounds?
"What are you bringing me here for?" Wen Han planted her feet on that bumpy, pothole-
filled ground of yellow soil, refusing to go forward any further.
"To come find him for a drink." Fu Ming pointed at the gray, two-storey building standing in
the darkness.
Him? Wen Han stopped blankly.
He's referring to Cheng Muyun? He's staying here tonight?
"Miss Wen Han, did you not say that you don't know or understand him? I will give you a
chance to get to know him. If you want to understand a man, going through his brothers is
the best shortcut."
She was not certain whether Fu Ming had heard her dialogue earlier with Cheng Muyun,
but it was evident Fu Ming had done this on purpose, bringing her here and leaving her
with no choice but to go inside.
"It's so late already. I won't go in." She took a look at her surroundings. "Are any of the
manor's servants nearby? I can have them bring me back."
"No," Fu Ming answered. "This is the place in the manor with the worst living conditions.
There are no servants, only some simple living facilities. If you want someone to lead you
back, then aside from me, there is only Cheng Muyun."
"……" She was beginning to suspect that this was "revenge" brought against her because of
her instance of defiance and challenge from earlier on. But she did not feel that a man who
looked to be in his thirties could be petty to such a degree. "All right, then. No problem. The
scenery is pretty good here, and it'll be quite nice to look at the peacocks."
"Miss Wen Han, you really don't intend on going inside?" Fu Ming gave an obscure smile.
"There is a good chance I may get drunk and won't come back out until tomorrow morning.
You don't mind waiting for a whole night?"
"Mr. Fu Ming, you really know how to make a joke. I wish you a good time catching up with
him. Do not worry about me. Once dawn comes, I'll be able to walk back myself. You can
sleep all the way until tomorrow evening."
Fu Ming laughed. "Then I shall wish, as well, that you and the peacocks get along happily."
Turning, he waved at Wen Han with his back to her, and then he really did leave.
When this only person who had been with her also disappeared from view, Wen Han at
last, after the fact, felt that this type of bleak, crude place was actually a little creepy and
chilling.
A two-metre-high, gray brick wall would not be able to stop any thieves, right?
If some unknown person really did come… would those two men who were drinking in that
room hear her if she yelled? As Wen Han thought about this, she felt even more vexed.
The people who hung around Cheng Muyun were just as unreasonable as him, and they all
did things that did not follow normal logic. Just a moment ago, she really had believed that
out of kindness Fu Ming would, on the way, escort her back to where she was staying, since,
after all, she was Cheng Muyun's friend. Apparently, though, that other party only wanted
to trick her into coming here and make her feel even more awkward.
Inside the fence, there was only a single peacock strutting around.
Of her own accord, she stepped a little closer. This was the only animal outside that was
awake? Those dairy cows off in the distance clearly were asleep already, snuggling up
motionlessly against each other to keep warm.
Wen Han rubbed her own arms. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a shadow.
It was Cheng Muyun.
"Are you looking for me?" His voice was weary.
"No." Wen Han continued gluing her eyes on the peacock. "Your friend tricked me into
coming here. It's really dark out and I don't know the way back, so I can only wait here for
sunrise." However, that peacock did not give her any face, and lifting its tail, it ran into the
curtain of night with only a few steps.
He walked up to her.
She sidestepped him. He drew near again.
Wen Han had already been feeling cold and angry from being duped by Fu Ming into
coming here. Now, as he forced himself into her space like this, she felt even more stifled
and decided to simply turn around. "Do you think it's really funny to do that?"
In that instant when her head lifted, she finally saw the wound on his face. She halted in
shock.
Cheng Muyun's eyes narrowed. "What? Why is your expression like you just saw an injured
stray cat." This was the first time he had shown such an impatient expression on his face.
Yes, extremely impatient.
As a result of this attitude of his, Wen Han's anger was also incited. Spinning around, she
strode away, not caring whether she needed to wait until sunrise or where she would end
up walking to. But before she had even strode ten steps away, the person behind her had
grabbed her by the arm and picked her up under his own arm. Completely ignoring her
struggles, he tossed her into the nearest haystack.
She was all of a sudden plunged into that pile.
"Where is that fear that is in your very bones?" His voice was low and provoking. "Where is
that pitifulness you showed when you were like a little savage in the forest, waiting for me
to bring you food?"
"Let go of me!" The sharp ends of numerous pieces of hay stabbed painfully into her.
Cheng Muyun twisted her arm behind her, and then with every part of his body, he bore
down against any of her joints that could possibly move. Before him, she not only had no
ability to inflict harm, a casual squeeze of his hand was enough to shatter her wrists or
even all the bones in her entire body.
The most hateful thing was, he was also covering her mouth and nose.
Against the blackness of the night, Wen Han's eyes gave off a deep blue color as they glared
at him. Without the ability to breathe through her mouth and nose, she was getting less and
less oxygen…
"Human beings are such frightening animals." The tone of his voice suddenly grew light, as
if the emotions just a moment ago had not been real. "With just the slightest displeasure,
they will be filled with anger and resentment and forget about all the true, tangible things
they had once received. Dearest, in that moment when you take out your anger on me, can
you not spare some of your attention to think about, in Kathmandu, who spent an entire
night drawing a lotus flower for you? Who wiped down your body for you in the camp?
Who, after narrowly escaping death, still did not forget to make you a complete woman? Of
course, I did everything willingly and should not speak words of complaint."
In pain, she squinted her eyes. Her chest was beginning to ache from lack of air. The hay
beneath her did not seem all that important anymore. Fortunately, Cheng Muyun relaxed
the grip over her mouth and nose.
She gasped frantically, desperate to replenish her oxygen.
"Perhaps I overestimated you. You have a cool headedness that allows you to protect
yourself. Every time there is danger, you have been able to make the judgment on whether
or not you should trust me. Yet at the same time, you have also preserved those little
irrational emotions that women have?"
He spoke no more.
His eyes were on her.
In this still night, she heard only the sound of her own breathing gradually quieting and
becoming even.
Were it not for the fact that she could sense the specialness in the way he treated her, how
could she so recklessly and fearlessly trust the one who had abducted her? It was only
because she firmly believed that he had feelings for her that she would have expectations
and hopes, that she would feel that, at any time, he would never hurt her.
So, she went along with him, staying here in this unfamiliar place.
She trusted him, believing with certainty that in three months she would be safe.
She had even begun to integrate herself into his life and surroundings, forgetting about the
hurt she had experienced and how she had fled for her life, treating this as if it was merely
a "journey." How absurd.
"What you are doing now and what you will be doing in the future, those are both things
you can't tell me anything about." At last her lips moved, her voice soft and low. "What
about your past, then? I want to know about those things that have happened already."
"My past?" Perceiving that she was no longer struggling, Cheng Muyun shifted slightly to
the side, giving her space to move. He seemed quite surprised she would ask this question.
"What would you like to know?"
There were too many faces to this man. She did not even know where to begin to help her
understand him. What did she want to know?
"Why did you enter monkhood?"
"Why…" His eyes took in the side view of her face. In the light of the moon, her eyes showed
hesitation and probing and her eyelashes quivered slightly. His finger started at her lashes
and traveled downward until it reached her collarbone.
Was it her imagination?
She felt as if he had become a wholly different person.
He actually made her feel that asking this question aloud was a very difficult task.
That past had been so very long.
Countless sutras and scriptures. Morning bells and evening drums of the temple. Oil lamps
burning before Buddha's statue.
The first time Wen Han laid eyes on Cheng Muyun had been in the Tibetan region, but
actually, he merely had been there in preparation for entering Nepal. His last ten years had
been spent in a secluded place, one that was not lively or exciting. The monk who had given
him his monk's tonsure was very old but was unwilling to become his teacher, only
bestowing upon him his dharma name.
When he first arrived in that place, his Chinese had not been very good. He and the old
monk would teach one another, one teaching Chinese and the other teaching Russian, so he
had not been bored.
Six months ago, when he left, the old monk had told him, if he could not let go of the hatred
in his heart, it would only create more karmic consequences until he was deeply sunken in
them.
“Buddha's warrior attendant’s eyes are filled with terrible rage to vanquish the Four Maras;
Bodhisattva lowers her eyes to shower compassion on the Six Realms.
“In this world, if there is a Bodhisattva who lowers her eyes in compassion, then there shall
certainly be a warrior attendant whose eyes are filled with terrible rage.”
This was the response he had given to the old monk.
……
"So as to allow the spirits of the departed to go to the Pure Land." After a lengthy silence, he
gave her this answer.
"Whom did you do this for?"
This was the first time in ten years someone had dared, to his face, ask him this question.
How could there be anyone—including even the four who were currently in this manor, or
those who had been around for a long time and were waiting for the bout of punishment to
begin, or those who were new but vaguely knew about that incident from ten years ago—
who would actually dare ask him this?
"For many people."
It was not for a woman.
This was already the result she had desired from her question. But the answer he gave left
her feeling even worse. She did not know whether these feelings she was experiencing
were those that came with being in love with a person. Only a moment ago, she had been
filled with terrible hatred, but now a moment later, a deep pain, a deep sorrow for him
filled her heart from simply imagining how so many people close to him had died, people so
important to him they were worthy to him of entering into monkhood to help release their
souls from suffering.
"Why are you not asking anymore?" Cheng Muyun all of a sudden posed this question.
Wen Han thought for a moment, then softly replied, "I got the answer I wanted."
He was puzzled. What was the answer she wanted? Those things of the past had absolutely
nothing to do with her. However, retaining his curiosity but not exposing anything or
probing with questions was the principle he always followed. "I had thought you would be
more curious about why I left the monastic life."
"Why?" she immediately asked.
"Because of you. Because I wanted to try and see what karmic consequences would result
from violating the precept of celibacy." Giving a chuckle, Cheng Muyun leaned his forehead
against hers. The warmth of life was there—such a wonderful thing.
He could not even count how many times already that his forehead had leaned against an
ice-cold body. The number was far greater than what was written on the information Meng
Liangchuan had received.
Something was bumping and moving against the back of her waist, but it was evident that it
was not his hand. Instantly, a shudder tingled her scalp. “What… is moving?” Letting go of
her, he felt around.
“Rat,” Cheng Muyun informed her in a calm voice.
The look on her face shifted.
“Scared?” he continued to unperturbedly ask.
Gritting her teeth, she tried hard to repress the shivers that were sweeping over all of her
body. She could not let him look down on her. What was the big deal about a rat anyway?
But this time, it was not only one place that was moving… There were lots running back
and forth, scampering here and there. She shoved him away abruptly, rolling out of the
haystack in panic and shrieking in an utterly wretched state. Even after dashing out five or
six steps, her whole body was still trembling. So revolting…
Cheng Muyun straightened back to his feet.
Apparently, she had already forgotten that, in the virgin forest, she had been able to watch
from her place buried in the bushes as innumerable creatures crawled by and still numbly
treat it as if there was nothing. Now that she had returned to civilized society, she had once
again started to be scared of even rats.
“There are many here who view rats as being holy,” he said, admiring her expression of fear
that still had not dispelled, “so there is quite a serious rat infestation in the nearby
surrounding area.”
Turning, he ambled toward the two-storey brick building. The meaning was obvious: if she
did not want her toes bitten off by rats or something along those lines, she should hurry up
and follow him.
Exhaling a light breath, Wen Han chased after him, keeping pace behind him. There were no
lights inside the brick building. There seemed to be no electricity? This reminded her of
those days in Nepal, that country that was so poor many places only had a few hours of
electricity a day, that holy land where it already felt as if it had been last lifetime when she
was there.
“Do not look at those rooms on either side that have no doors.” His silhouette was two
steps in front of her, and quietly in Russian, he warned her, “This place has been provided
by the lord of this manor for sadhus [holy men; Indian ascetic, wandering monks].”
“Sadhus?” Wen Han immediately remembered the parade of naked sadhus she had come
across in India one month ago. It had been an especially difficult sight to look directly at.
They slept on steel beds and used the torment of their physical bodies as a path to
enlightenment. There were even some sadhus who would pass a long blade through those
lower reaches of a man’s body, and then they would parade forward, unclothed, in this
state in front of a crowd of onlookers.
Here in this corridor, as she thought of these things, she suddenly felt that this entire
building had become creepy.
When they arrived at the staircase at the end of the corridor, Wen Han asked in a soft voice,
“Why do you want to stay here? Why aren’t you staying with us?” The lodgings arranged for
her and his several friends were all very nice. She had also heard the servants mention that
the lord of this manor estate was one of the top richest
men in the state.
“In the previous ten years, I became accustomed to living a harder and more basic life, so I
am actually not used to staying in places that are too comfortable,” he stated.
All right, then.
Wen Han thought, she had at least seen him rip open a vicious Tibetan mastiff with his
hands.
This man had already long ago violated the precept of not killing, and had also broken… the
precept of celibacy.
The second floor of the building was a flat, open space. There was no corridor at all. If some
modern fitness equipment were placed in here, you could view it as a gym that occupied an
entire floor. However, apart from a wooden bed in the corner, as well as a long table and a
few chairs, there were no unnecessary items in the room.
When they arrived upstairs, Fu Ming was in the midst of biting down on a white bandage
and finishing off bandaging his arm. By his hand, there was a dagger stabbed into the long
wooden table.
Cheng Muyun pulled over a chair that had been lying beside the table and sat down. “Go sit
on the bed.” This sentence was directed at Wen Han.
Wen Han complied with his instructions, walking over and cautiously taking a seat. She
sniffed out the atmosphere of great danger that radiated in this space.
It was as if these two people were not brothers but… enemies.
There was a candle on the table. With the faint light that it cast, she could see there was
blood on Fu Ming’s white, button-up shirt. Could it be… the wound on Cheng Muyun’s face
had actually been put there just earlier by Fu Ming?
From behind his waist, Fu Ming pulled out a glass bottle of liquor. “Want to drink?”
Cheng Muyun shook his head. “I do not want to violate the precept.”
“Monk,” Fu Ming spoke, staring through the flickering candlelight at the outline of Cheng
Muyun’s face that was in the shadows, “out of the four people here, we should be the ones
who knew each other the earliest.”
“That is correct.”
“Even the eldest son of this manor was rescued by the two of us together.”
“That is correct.”
“Nineteen. I’ve known you since I was nineteen years old.” Tilting his head back, Fu Ming
took a swig of liquor, his eyes somewhat narrowed. That overly soft-looking face was
delineated by androgynous lines, and with the strong liquor and candle flame, there was a
bewitching feel to it. “You were the one who convinced me to trust you, to sell out my older
sister. You said you would save her, but in the end, you caused her to die by the death
penalty. Do you still remember?”
“I remember.”
“You tell me, what happened to your promise of saving her?”
“Being removed from the karmic sea is having one’s soul saved.”
“Then what about yourself? Back when you were in Moscow, when you were a teenager,
you were not any pure, clean person. You should know most clearly that my sister was
forced!”
“And hence I have served time in prison, according to the law. And hence I shaved my head
and entered into monkhood. No one knows more clearly than you that at age fifteen, I
began keeping the precepts.” Each sentence given in reply by this man sitting on the chair
was very direct.
This was a different side of Cheng Muyun.
This was… what Fu Ming had said, that to truly understand a man, the shortcut was to go
through his brothers?
Suddenly falling into silence, Fu Ming carried on drinking his liquor, sip after sip, until the
liquid in that small, rectangular flask was done. Only then did he set down the empty bottle
and rise to his feet. “Ten years ago, you said you were leaving and then you just up and left.
It has not been until this day that you have given me the opportunity to say these words
and lay everything in the clear. All right, come on now. Let’s continue.”
Fu Ming took off his shirt, tossed it onto his chair, and yanked the dagger out of the table.
His entire body arched forward, like the most primitive of beasts poised for attack.
“You are not tired?” Cheng Muyun was actually smiling.
Fu Ming gave a slight tilt of his chin. “Hurry it up.”
With a spread of his hands, Cheng Muyun also began slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
Removing the garment, he stood and, while he was at it, tightened his belt by a notch. “You
know me. I never raise my hand against a brother.”
There was derision in Fu Ming’s sneer. “Brother? Have you gone daft after being a monk for
ten years? You and I have not been brothers for a long time already.”
Fu Ming pounced forward, not uttering a word, each thrust of his knife stabbing straight for
a fatal point on the body. Cheng Muyun’s arm took the blow of several attacks, but Fu Ming
sent a vicious kick into his abdomen. The silver dagger grazed diagonally from Cheng
Muyun’s abdomen to his left shoulder—
“Ah!” Wen Han screamed.
Glinting with the light of the candle, the silver blade made a bloody slice beneath Cheng
Muyun’s collarbone. The two men instantly pulled apart. With a lick of his lip, Cheng Muyun
touched the wound. Blood stained his entire hand.
Fu Ming licked the blade with the tip of his tongue.
Fright had overcome Wen Han.
She could not believe it. Cheng Muyun truly had not tried to fight back, and Fu Ming truly
had attacked him.
She instinctively stood.
“Sit down!” Cheng Muyun’s voice came at her in a gravelly growl.
Before his words finished echoing out, Fu Ming was charging forward again. This time, it
was not a short exchange of blows. In her spot not far away, Wen Han’s heart was chilled as
she watched, as if with each gleam of silver light, the blade would take Cheng Muyun’s life.
He did not strike back and truly was merely deflecting the attacks, the whole time only
trying as much as possible to avoid getting struck in any vital points, until eventually, the
certain result occurred and he was pinned to the ground.
Fu Ming showed no gratitude for his goodwill of only evading and defending himself.
Turning his hand over, he pressed the dagger’s blade against Cheng Muyun’s collarbone.
With one knee on the ground beside Cheng Muyun, Fu Ming leaned forward. His voice came
out, little by little, from between his clenched teeth. “Cheng Muyun, you are not God. If your
judgment turns out to be wrong, that will be one life gone! Have you ever thought, if you
end up being wrong about who the mole is, you will have killed one of your own. If I die,
fine, but what about other people? There’s even a kid in there!” The person he was
referring to was the not-even-twenty-year-old Xiao Zhuang, whom Fu Ming had personally
handpicked into the team a few years ago.
“If I do not do this, even more people will die. I do not want you to be like me ten years ago
and watch countless brothers die right in front of you.” Cheng Muyun’s voice was also very
low.
The person before him was a brother, yet also not a brother.
This was the person Cheng Muyun had known for the longest period of time, and also the
man who had been with him through countless perils for the longest. Even more so, this
was the person he had personally entrusted and passed on all the responsibilities to ten
years ago. But it was also because of him that Fu Ming had lost his older sister.
Each one of those four people in the manor shared a different story with Cheng Muyun. Yes,
it was true; with each one, there had been an opening up of one’s heart and offering up of
one’s life to each other.
“Then let me kill you, how about that?” Fu Ming’s voice dropped even lower, and very
lightly, he said, “I will use my own methods to find that person. The casualties will not be
that many. I don’t want even one person out of the people here to needlessly become a soul
who died a wrongful death. I am not as hardhearted as you.”
Cheng Muyun’s brows drew together. It seemed Fu Ming was genuinely angry.
In that fight just now, Fu Ming’s movements and attacks had been haphazard and chaotic,
and he had completely lost his coolness of mind. Normally, Fu Ming’s fighting abilities were
not that far from his—
“Fu Ming!” a voice screamed.
Reflexively, Fu Ming turned his head. And—smack!—a slap landed on his face.
At this moment, Meng Liangchuan was sitting on a windowsill. Suddenly, he stubbed out his
cigarette butt.
Wait, no. There was something wrong with the information.
He had been having too much fun deducing things out yesterday that he had not even
thought of one problem: age. Be it the now-dead Zhou Ke, the youth on the train who had
acted as a cover for Cheng Muyun, or even the girl who had been Cheng Muyun’s contact in
Kathmandu and also given the rabies vaccinations to all the travellers, the age was not right
—they were all too young.
It was not possible that they had taken part in what happened ten years ago.
If that was the case, the ones Cheng Muyun was trying to purge were not only people from
ten years ago? Due to Zhou Ke’s death, he had discovered that there were problems with
the new recruits within the last ten years?
Meng Liangchuan leaned back against the wall of the little room where he was staying.
Out of those four people, one of them was the person who was now in charge—Fu Yiming,
otherwise known as Fu Ming. Between him and Cheng Muyun, one was the current person
in charge, the other was the former leader. These two people… Would any major issues
arise between them in this whole matter?
But he truly was powerless to help in anything.
He feared that what was happening and what would be happening within those walls were
things that even Cheng Muyun himself could not predict.
Wen Han stood before Fu Ming, her chest heaving violently.
Just a moment ago, she saw, with her own eyes, Fu Ming feeling for the gun at his waist. In
that instant, when her mind was still in a blank state, she had torn over. She had not even
had the time to grab a chair and could only do that one action.
And then what? … She had not even thought about it.
Fu Ming's eyes narrowed, the look in them dangerous as he glared at Wen Han and leapt
abruptly to his feet. Wen Han was so terrified she took a couple of backwards steps. Cheng
Muyun grabbed Fu Ming's arm and twisted it, pinning Fu Ming down fiercely into the floor
with a thud.
In the candle's light, he saw the gun at the back of Fu Ming's waist. Without a word, he
yanked it out and flung it far away.
Thunk. The gun hit the wall.
"It is no use killing me. You should know clearly that even if I were to die here, there are
still others who will continue watching the four of you until the mole is found." He leaned
forward, stating this softly by Fu Ming's ear.
Fu Ming wanted to struggle but was utterly unable to move. "I know. You arranged
everything a long time ago."
"If you know, then keep your silence." There was no warmth at all in his voice.
"I really had not thought that, ten years later, the first thing you would do when you came
back was to place me within the boundary of the ones you are hunting." Fu Ming's face was
pressed against the ice-cold floor. "Cheng Muyun, how many times have I been through life
and death with you?! How many years has Chen Yuan willingly protected you?! Xiao
Zhuang is only nineteen!" As he spoke, he twisted his head around. "I don't know who that
Zhou Zhou is to you, but Zhou Ke, who died in Nepal, was only twenty-two! You suspect us?
You suspect the few of us?!"
Fu Ming's voice had already become scratchy.
"Yes, I suspect the few of you," Cheng Muyun very straightforwardly answered.
Yes, everyone unconditionally trusted Cheng Muyun. And he had personally, from amongst
those brothers who gave him their unconditional trust, pulled out four suspects.
Could this be considered another form of betrayal? He did not know.
He was not a saint.
He knew only that a small minority had to be sacrificed in order to protect the large
majority—even if this small minority was all from his core group, his closest brothers.
From downstairs, there was a flash of firelight.
It was not certain what those sadhus were doing. They had lit a fire and begun chanting
sutras.
This sudden bonfire in the deep hours of the night, as well as those mantras of a foreign
land that she could not understand, caused the atmosphere in this place to feel even more
eerie.
Wen Han was trying with all her might to digest what they had said.
Each sentence had contained important information.
Four people had made their appearances here: Zhou Zhou, the one who had chased after
Cheng Muyun's footsteps from Kathmandu all the way to here, and who very much
bothered her heart; Xiao Zhuang and Fu Ming, the ones who had helped her on the train;
and also Chen Yuan, the one who had exchanged banters with Zhou Ke in the middle of that
night in the valley…
She had thought these four were Cheng Muyun's closest friends.
But now, Fu Ming and Cheng Muyun's dialogue told her, out of these four people, one was a
traitor, someone who had betrayed Cheng Muyun.
Cheng Muyun's purpose for this trip was to find that person?
Cheng Muyun lifted his gaze to look at Wen Han. His eyes took in the turmoil roiling in Wen
Han's eyes.
Perhaps this girl in front of him was feeling that, after learning of some things, she was
suddenly seeing the light, but she did not know that that layer of fog that had once
protected her had now dissipated.
Fu Ming did it intentionally—he had intentionally let Wen Han hear these things.
It was a form of revenge. Fu Ming, the brat, had always been very vindictive.
A lot of his words had not been necessary to say aloud after Wen Han came upstairs. Hence,
with each word he spoke, Cheng Muyun had tried to be brief and direct.
Still, she had heard all the key information.
Cheng Muyun was contemplating over the possibility of whether he could send her away
right now. After all, now that she knew all these things, it would be too difficult for her to
continue behaving like a blank piece of paper and put on an act with those four people.
But it was obvious the probability of this was zero.
Without uttering a word, Cheng Muyun loosened his hold on Fu Ming and, in passing, gave
him a kick. "If you have gotten the answer you wanted, then go back like a good boy and
keep putting on that act for me. Prove to me that you are not the one who betrayed
everyone." Although his tone was relaxed, his eyes were cold.
Fu Ming's anger earlier had not been a pretense.
However, Cheng Muyun's manner was also clearly stating that, as of right now, he did not
believe anyone.
Fu Ming climbed back to his feet and moved his arm about, completely ignoring the chance
that Cheng Muyun was giving him to back down gracefully. "I'm here because I wanted to
advise you to think this all through carefully. Zhou Ke's death is Heaven's warning to you. If
you are so stubborn, in the end, the four of us may all die here just to fulfill your desire."
Throwing a long, meaningful look at Cheng Muyun, Fu Ming did not speak anymore and
strode toward the stairs.
In that instant when he walked by Wen Han, she was struck by the hostile air he was
emitting and stepped back half a pace.
She had many questions she wanted to ask, but she did not know how to even open her
mouth to ask them or from where to even begin inquiring.
When only she and Cheng Muyun remained in this place, Wen Han finally calmed down
slightly. In a small voice, she asked, "Are you okay?"
Straightening back up, Cheng Muyun picked up his shirt and began fastening the buttons
one at a time. "What did you understand from what you heard just now?"
What did she understand?
Wen Han's heartbeat was a little fast as she quietly replied, "You guys have been apart for
ten years. This time when you returned, you had the four of them come here because… you
want to catch the mole. One person amongst those four is a traitor."
"Anything else?"
"Fu Ming and you know each other from very far back, and the two of you had a very good
relationship. His older sister was publicly prosecuted and sentenced to the death penalty
because of you. That Chen Yuan is the person who has been protecting you all this time.
Also," she said softly, while piecing together in her brain all the things Fu Ming had said on
the coffee plantation grounds and inside this room, "he is very angry because you suspect
the four of them, so he came here tonight to debate this with you."
She tried as much as possible, using the word "debate," to brush over their conflict earlier.
"Anything else?"
Still more? There did not seem to be any more useful information.
"You… committed some sort of offense when you were young, and served some time in
prison. It should have been when you were somewhere between fourteen and sixteen years
old?"
She remembered, in Moscow, anyone under fourteen is not held criminally responsible,
while those who have reached the age of sixteen begin assuming full criminal
responsibility. The two years in between are a gray area, and the crime has to be very
serious before the offender will be prosecuted, but there is discretion on the severity of the
sentence.
Thank you to those few troublesome teenagers who lived next door for helping her know
about this stuff.
Through that man called Fu Ming, Cheng Muyun's past was slowly becoming clear before
her. Committed a felony when he was young, served time in prison, and later, observed the
Buddhist precepts to atone for his crime… Had once studied in university, although it was
not certain whether he had completed his studies. Since he had saved the eldest son of this
manor, that would mean, since university, he had already begun to live this lifestyle in
which death was always an imminent risk.
Ten years ago, he took up the monastic life; ten years later, he came back… to find the
traitor.
Right before they came upstairs, he had still been telling her about India's rat temple.
When they passed through the corridor of the entire first floor, he had still teased her by
talking about the sadhus.
But now, this man had suddenly become real and three-dimensional to her. Where he had
come from, what he had experienced, what he was going to do now…
She knew all of it.
Wen Han felt, though, that Cheng Muyun would not be so completely devoid of emotion
about everything. Fu Ming was right. Out of the four, only one was a traitor. That meant
there were still three who were innocent. If these were brothers who had risked their lives
for one another, their hearts likely were chilled with bitter disappointment for being placed
under suspicion like this. She could even understand Fu Ming's outrage earlier.
Cheng Muyun walked over.
The candlelight in the room and the light from the bonfire outside interwove with one
another in this space.
"The way you are looking at me"—he took her right hand in his, bent his head down, and
placed a light kiss in her palm—"is as if you are looking at an injured stray cat."
She curled her fingers inward. "Do you… need me to do anything?"
"Pretend you do not know anything and protect yourself, just like how you were able to
fool everyone in Kathmandu. I know this is something you are very good at doing." His
voice was soft as he told her, "I have said before, I would not be able to bear it at all if your
body became cold and stiff and lifeless."
The last time he said this, it was to persuade her to flee out of that inn alone, to flee, alone,
for her life.
Now…
Hearing such words, Wen Han instinctively grew uneasy.
But just as Cheng Muyun had said, her greatest strength was putting up a placid front. She
thought, the best way to comfort him and support him was, as he had said, to play well her
role of an unsullied piece of white paper.
Wen Han blew out a long breath, lightly patting her own chest. "Just now, when I hit him, I
scared myself to death."
Cheng Muyun refrained from replying. Even rats could terrify her.
She looked again at the light outside the window. "I've never interacted with a sadhu
before. Last month when I was here in India, they were all really scared of the sadhus.
Would you be able to take me downstairs for a look?"
Cheng Muyun shrugged. "That is not a problem. I am very well acquainted with them."
Side by side, the two of them walked downstairs together. Wen Han thought up all sorts of
questions to ask him, such as, why were there sadhus here? Or such as, why was Cheng
Muyun so well acquainted with them? Or such as… For the first time, Cheng Muyun felt she
was quite adorable, especially the way she was pretending that everything was perfectly
fine and peaceful.
He told Wen Han, the lord of this manor several years ago had already wanted to officially
take up the monastic life, but all this time, his family had been stopping him from doing so.
This year, he at last had persuaded all of his family and so was now beginning to make the
preparations for the ceremony.
This was going to be a grand event unprecedented in history.
More than one hundred thousand people would be present, and twenty to thirty thousand
workers would be hired for it.
And these sadhus who lived here were all gathered in this place specifically for this
ceremony that would take place this month. In India, after all, sadhus were viewed as
messengers of the gods, as holy people, and were very respected.
When they arrived downstairs, Cheng Muyun took a seat, cross-legged.
Wen Han stayed close by his side. Right as they sat down, a monk rose and came over to
them and, in a friendly manner, applied a bindi, a red dot of auspiciousness, to her
forehead. With awestruck reverence, Wen Han pressed her palms together in thanks. Then,
giving a shrug of her shoulders, she beamed at Cheng Muyun and asked him secretly, "Hey,
monk, does it look nice?"
A smile also came onto Cheng Muyun's lips. Placing his palms together, he gave a slight bow
of his head to her. "You enthrall the hearts of all living beings."
He, in this moment, had eyes that burned hotter than fire.
十八层地狱. Literally, the eighteen layers of hell. In the traditional Chinese view of hell,
there are eighteen levels, each one subjecting the sinner to a different type of torture and
punishment.

金刚怒目，所以降伏四魔；菩萨低眉，所以慈悲六道。This is a line quoted directly

from《太平广记》Taiping Guangji (also known as Extensive Records of the Taiping Era),
compiled in the Song dynasty.

金刚 "Jingang" is the warrior attendant of Buddha. In Buddhist beliefs, this warrior

appeared with a fierce and terrifying face, his eyes filled with rage, in order to conquer the
Four Maras [evils; demonic forces]. These four are the Mara of death; the Mara of
afflictions, emotions, and attitudes; the Mara of the aggregate factors of experience; and the
Mara as the son of gods.
The image of the Bodhisattva, with her eyes lowered, is a symbol of compassion. She looks
down to bring compassion to the Six Realms. The Six Realms of Existence are the Buddhist
representation of all possible realms in which a being may exist.
Note that this line is not placing any judgment on whether a warrior attendant is "mean" or
whether the Bodhisattva is "good." They are contrasted as two different methods to achieve
the same goal.

往生净土 "wang sheng Jingtu." This Chinese name for the Pure Land, which in Sanskrit is
called Sukhavati, and is also known as the Land of Pure Bliss or the Western Paradise.
Although described as a joyous place, the concept is actually not like that of heaven, and the
Pure Land is a place in which a person can be reborn and dharma is everywhere.
As usual, I put forth the disclaimer that I am not learned on Buddhism and proper Buddhist
doctrine. Please take these notes only as an approximation to understand in context to the
story.

苦行僧 “ku xing seng.” Sadhus are the holy men of Hinduism who remove themselves
from earthly attachments and live simple lifestyles apart from everyday society, practicing
asceticism to attain spiritual liberation and enlightenment. They are viewed by Hindus as
being holy and representatives of the gods and are therefore generally revered.
In the precepts of abstinence that Buddhist monks usually practice, there is a precept of
not drinking.

颠倒众生 "dian dao zhong sheng." This actually most literally means "the minds of living
beings are improperly reversed [confounded]." This saying often comes up within Buddhist
texts. In that context, living beings’ hearts and minds are confounded and view the things of
the worlds as opposite of what they actually are, often mistaking things that should be
harmful and painful as happiness, disorder as order, etc. Later, this saying came to be used
to describe great beauty, one who is so beautiful the mind of any person who lays eyes on
her is completely captivated and enthralled. Here, then, Cheng Muyun is taking a saying
that is often heard and used in Buddhist contexts and using it to compliment Wen Han.
(Note: this is quite similar to the words 神魂颠倒 that Cheng Muyun had once used on her
in chapter 1.1, that she enthralled his mind and soul. The same words 颠倒 "reverse/turn
upside down, confound" were used.)
 Chapter 11 - Persons Who Exist in Jambudvipa

Wen Han knew that occasionally, these sadhus would smear their own bodies with the
ashes of the cremated. Out of fear of the departed, she did not dare get too close to them. In
particular, most of their faces were painted with rather frightening designs, and their
methods on the path of attaining enlightenment were also too unique and peculiar, such
that ordinary people, including even herself, someone who had similar religious beliefs to
them, could not truly totally understand them.
For instance, the one closest to Wen Han, according to Cheng Muyun, had kept his right arm
raised for more than ten years and had never lowered it for even one minute or one second.
This was his method of tempering his physical body…
They sat until sometime past midnight, when showers began to fall.
This rain shower deep in the night reminded her of Nepal.
The rain was not heavy, and the bonfire was somewhat sheltered from it so would not be
extinguished.
The sadhus were actually happy about this bizarre change in weather, for to them, the
more torment inflicted on their bodies, naturally, the better it was.
But Wen Han did not think so.
Quietly taking Cheng Muyun's hand, she said in a low voice, "Let's go back?"
She clearly was simply worried his wound would become infected because of unclean
rainwater, but somehow, the look he returned her made her feel as if she had warmly
invited him to…
"Go back to where?" He turned a question back on her.
Wen Han looked up at the building's second level.
Luckily, her suggestion had been put forth early enough, by just a little bit. They had just
stepped under the eaves of the building before water came flowing down.
Here, where they stood, the light was behind them.
With his body, Cheng Muyun sheltered her against the wall of the corridor. His hands
propped on each side of her body, he dipped his head down and, catching her completely
off-guard, kissed her face and neck. Her heart feeling flustered from his actions, she quietly
protested, "Can we not go upstairs?"
His voice low, he answered, "Dearest, you must know, sometimes men tend to be
impatient."
The rain had grown heavy, or perhaps it was because of the very basic, stark furnishing of
this place that the sound of rainfall seemed particularly noisy.
So noisy it left one feeling restless and on edge.
So noisy she would sometimes forget where she was.
The entire time, she could sense it, could see that those eyes that were even more
breathtaking than the Himalayan Mountains were watching her, were searching for her
soul.
This moment, it was as if she was beholding the wolf pack leader that had lost his pack in
the wilderness and, in the raging wind of the black night, was searching for his companions.
He thrust his hands into her hair, which was damp from the rain as well as her own
perspiration, making her focus and look at him. "I do not like this pitying look that you
have. If you do not start immersing yourself into this, trust me, I will make sure you do not
forget this night for the rest of your life."
Alas, his words were completely opposite of what his body was actually doing.
The next second, Wen Han had already fully lost her willpower. With her head tilted back,
sounds that caused her cheeks to flush slipped out from her. She abruptly bit down on her
lip.
……
This rainfall came fast but also left quickly.
Early in the morning, those sadhus, who had let themselves be drenched in an entire night
of rain, were making their own breakfast, which was merely a type of flour that the manor
lord had provided for them and they would mix with cold water before swallowing it down.
Wen Han watched them eating it heartily.
With his arm around her shoulders, Cheng Muyun asked her, "Are you hungry?"
"A little bit." She thought for a moment. "You're not going to have me eat that, right?"
Squinting his eyes, Cheng Muyun pretended to ponder in silence for three seconds. "That
stuff actually does not taste that awful."
"I'm still not going to eat it…"
He used to very much dislike people who turned their nose up at any type of food.
Evidently, though, this girl in front of him would become an exception to that. He wanted to
treat her better, to be good to her these next few days.
Shrugging, Cheng Muyun told her he was going to have a cold shower and then take her to
eat something. She thought he would be bringing her back to that little building that she
was staying in to have a "warm and harmonious" breakfast with those friends of his. To her
surprise, he actually voluntarily brought her out of this manor, leaving through the back
door.
Only after stepping out beyond that two-metre-high gray wall did she learn what was
behind it. It was a bustling street and market.
And here she had been worried last night whether any thieves would climb into the manor
grounds while she was all alone with the peacock…
From the moment they walked out of that building, Cheng Muyun had begun maintaining
the required distance that should exist between them.
The two strolled side by side down this slightly rundown, dirty, and messy street that had
no tall buildings.
He was someone who was not at all picky, and arbitrarily selecting a small eatery, they
walked inside.
The items ordered were, as before, flatbread and all different types of curry-based, paste-
like dishes contained in several stainless steel bowls. This time, Wen Han very attentively
made the discovery that he truly did not eat any animal products. Now that she thought
about it, it seemed that after they had escaped from that mountain valley, during that meal
in Kathmandu, he also had not eaten a single bite of the chicken in that set meal. But—
"To not take the life of a being, to not steal, to abstain from strong drink, to not lie, to not
lay or sit upon comfortable beds or seats, to not adorn oneself, to abstain from music and
dancing and shows, to abstain from food after midday." Laughing, she jested, "Monk, you
have already violated many precepts.
"Also"—Wen Han pointed her chopsticks at the curry dishes before them—"Buddhists do
not eat the 'five pungent,' those five strong-flavoured vegetables. Does this curry that's in
front of us count as you not refraining from the five pungents?"
Cheng Muyun's propped his hand against the side of his face, listening to her speak and
only smiling, not giving her any reply.
Her attempt to goad him had fallen short. "What are you thinking?"
"I am thinking, since this woman who is before me now started to lose her fear of me, she
has become more and more interesting." Cheng Muyun sincerely expressed his praise. "I
am enjoying more and more the feeling of being with you. Very few people can say words
like these that amuse me or I find enjoyable."
Looking directly into her eyes, Cheng Muyun softly added, "Or perhaps more simply, Wen
Han, I believe I am beginning to fall in love with you."
At dusk, on a certain evening before Zhou Ke had died …
He had sent Meng Liangchuan into the tent to change the dressing on Wen Han's wound,
while he had sat in the jungle and chatted with Zhou Ke. Zhou Ke had asked him whether he
had fallen in love with this ethnic Chinese girl from Moscow. He had not given an answer.
At that time, he still should not have. He had merely, out of instinct, wanted to draw closer
to her.
Now, however, he very clearly knew that everything had changed.
Despite the large age difference between them, despite the fact that to him, this girl in front
of him was like a blank piece of paper, he was truly beginning to not want to let go of her.
Every time he made the decision to leave, he would overturn it. And then, this would repeat
again. Perhaps it was from when she had repeatedly looked at him last night with eyes that
contained pity that he had at last realized this.
Everything, both before and after that, was starting to point to the one answer: he truly,
genuinely was beginning to fall in love with this ordinary girl from Moscow.
God.
Wen Han was still gripping her stainless steel spoon, utterly at a loss over what she should
do.
Her fingers tightened their hold, the metal edges digging into them until they were sore.
Still, she was unable to suppress her most direct of responses—her leaping heart.
It was only yesterday that she had just found out who he actually was, his approximate age,
where he had come from, and what he was going to do. She still, to date, did not even know
what he planned on doing after he rooted out the spy amongst his brothers.
There were still so many questions, many speculations and uncertainties, many…
And then he told her, he had begun to fall in love with her.
Oh God! What should I say?
Wen Han could not utter even half a word. She had completely lost her voice.
However, Cheng Muyun did not give her the chance to deliberate over how she should
answer. With a beckon of his hand, he paid their bill. Then rising, he walked to the door of
the little eatery, slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants, and gazed out upon all the
various Indian locals and tourists.
He remained like this until Wen Han caught up behind him.
As a result of Cheng Muyun's one, sudden sentence, the atmosphere had switched and
started to feel strange.
And he had begun to fall into a taciturn manner.
Wen Han surreptitiously eyed him over numerous times, but none of these times got any
response.
The two seemed to be travellers casually strolling around. Outside a temple, when Wen
Han cast a few extra glances at it, he finally spoke. "Would you like to go in for a look?" He
had brought her to India but still had not stepped into a temple with her yet. In this nation
of Buddhism, that seemed a little inexcusable.
Wen Han hurriedly nodded.
Of course she wanted to. The wish she had prayed to Buddha for had been fulfilled…
So she needed to go offer her votive gratitude.
Therefore, these two people who had been ambling aimlessly now mixed into the queue
that stretched very far back outside the temple. After waiting beneath the scorching sun for
approximately half an hour or more, it was at last their turn. With Cheng Muyun's gesture
to her, Wen Han removed her shoes. He had her go inside herself.
After all, he had once been a monk and was not a follower of Indian Buddhism. Even if he
really were to pay respects to Buddha, it still would not be appropriate for him to go in
here. Wen Han naturally understood this, so after going in and giving her votive offering,
she came back out.
Not far away, Cheng Muyun was bent down in a half-crouch in front of a stall selling young
women's jewelry and accessories.
It was merely a white cloth spread on the ground, laid out with many accessories that had
little value.
He saw her approaching. Picking up a stack of golden, brass bangles, he took her wrist in
his hand and slipped the ornaments onto it. "In their custom, bangles signify happiness and
longevity. The more you wear, the better."
She had actually always wondered why Indian girls liked to wear so many bangles, groups
and groups of them, wanting to cover half their arm with them. Now she understood.
"Just look. The rich here are always gifting ones made of gold and have precious gems on
them," Cheng Muyun told her in a low tone. With a chuckle, he said, "But I do not have much
money. Are these ones acceptable?"
Wen Han lifted her wrist and examined it, feeling happier than if she had received precious
gems.
She did not believe that he could have much money. In the beginning, she had even thought
he was a monk who had returned to the secular world and was now a destitute vagabond,
squandering his days away in Nepal. Later, she had believed him to be a robber and
smuggler who passed back and forth through the borders making illegal money. Now…
In any case, he was a person who had no association whatsoever with being rich.
Thinking this, she waggled her wrist and grinned. "What else are you going to give me? Just
giving this is a little stingy."
These had merely been arbitrary words spoken in jest.
He, though, truly did spread open his palm, revealing a very small protection amulet, one of
those that were the most common of tourist souvenirs found in temples in China. Usually,
there was a metal medallion of some sort inside.
Untying its red string, he fastened it around her neck for her.
Wen Han did not know when he had gotten this. He seemed to have had it ready for a long
time already. She touched it, feeling what was inside. It was a strangely-shaped item, its
contours not very regular… It appeared to be something like a piece of wood.
This was a trick, right?
As if he had seen into her thoughts, Cheng Muyun leaned forward and whispered, "Your
thinking is correct. We monks often use these to con people. Keep it somewhere safe. Do
not lose it."
They were like a couple who had just started dating. When they returned from that obscure
little town, they even brought back a bag of mangoes.
While Cheng Muyun was selecting the fruit, she had actually turned her back to him and
curiously pulled out the object inside the embroidered protection amulet pouch, taking a
look at it. It was about the size of a fingernail and rather irregular-looking, similar to the
dried rootstalk of a plant. What was this thing? So bizarre.
They arrived back in the manor. The servants had let all of the peafowls out, and upon a
quick count, she discovered there were five or six of them, three of them peacocks, the
males.
"Too bad they haven't spread their feathers," she sighed.
Cheng Muyun could hear the disappointment in her voice. Walking up in front of one of the
peacocks, he lowered himself into a half-crouch, scratched out a small stone from the dirt,
and rolled it between two fingers.
Wen Han thought he would attack the peacock with the stone.
To her surprise, he made no motions that carried any form of attack, merely staring
intently at that peacock with a dangerous type of look that was filled with threat and
showed he was poised to strike at any time. The peacock halted its sauntering steps,
motionlessly staring back at him as well.
Without any warning, he made a hissing noise at it.
The peacock's plumage fanned open with a whoosh, and then, screeching, it fled.
"See, it also thinks you are very beautiful." Holding the stone in his open palm, he smiled
and straightened back up. "He spread his plumage for you to express his besotted
admiration of you."
Wen Han had a wry expression. "It's obvious you frightened it."
Regarding this point, Cheng Muyun's words were unable to mislead her.
Back when she was in university and writing a paper for social science, she had studied
many different animals. At the time, she had felt that peacocks were very interesting
creatures.
Only when either of two feelings was present, when it was enamored by you or when it felt
you were threatening its life, would it display its most fascinating and beguiling self to you.
In this moment, she realized, this also seemed to be Cheng Muyun's trait.
It appeared that Cheng Muyun did not intend on continuing to stay in that austere, little
building that lacked any modern facilities. He went back with her to the white, modernly
furnished, two-level, European-style villa.
On these estate grounds, there were many similar standalone villas like this one.
The servants and the several thousand workers responsible for the preparation work were
busily getting ready for the manor lord's monastic induction ceremony that was taking
place in a few days. There were simply too many guests. No one would pay any special
attention to them.
To pay attention to this particular building's one, two, three, four, five, six—
Six guests.
Wen Han changed into some clean clothes and went to the second-level terrace, where she
saw the several of them laughing and sitting together around a stone table. On top of the
table were the small, bright red mangoes that Cheng Muyun had brought back.
"Monk, why'd you buy mangoes? What's so fresh about these? Are there any of those amla
fruits that you talked about on the train?" Xiao Zhuang peeled one and wolfed it down. "I
got the name right, didn't I?"
"You actually believe what the monk said?" Fu Ming picked through the mangoes. "That
thing does not taste good, nor does anyone eat it. He just talked about it on the train for fun.
Here, you give this a try, too. India's most famous fruit is the mango." Fu Ming tossed one to
Chen Yuan. Chen Yuan caught it and set it on the table, not eating it.
"Doesn't India have a type of mango that you can just eat directly through a straw? I don't
want to peel it with my hands." Zhou Zhou could not be bothered to use her hands to peel
off the skin and then have her hands covered in juice.
Happy and harmonious.
Like a gathering of old friends of many years.
Although many times these people were working on the same thing, they had actually
never told one another about themselves
Now, it seemed everyone had loosened up.
Wen Han pulled off her shoes and curled herself up at the edge of a sun chair. She lowered
her head and, in a well-behaved manner, peeled off the skin of the mango in her hand. Not
far away, two Indian boys held plastic hoses and gently hummed a tune as they watered the
garden. Their spraying water even created a rainbow.
As she slowly ate her mango, she watched them..
Zhou Zhou was Zhou Ke's girlfriend and also Cheng Muyun's younger cousin-sister. Even Fu
Ming did not know her true identity. These were things Cheng Muyun told her just earlier.
"You're not going to eat any?" she asked Zhou Zhou.
Pursing her lips in a smile, Zhou Zhou shook her head.
It seemed; besides Xiao Zhuang and Wen Han, everybody was not very interested in the
mangoes that Cheng Muyun bought. So, while they were eating away, Xiao Zhuang and Wen
Han also detected that only the two of them were being gluttons. Exchanging a grin, they
both felt a little sheepish.
Wen Han genuinely felt in her heart that this teenage boy was a good person.
But she did not dare influence Cheng Muyun's judgment.
When she set her mango peel on the table, Zhou Zhou yanked out a moist towelette and
stuffed it into her hand. "You absolutely cannot copy what those men do and just wipe your
hand on your pants. So disgusting."
Wen Han smiled. "Thanks."
Immediately, Xiao Zhuang turned his eyes to Fu Ming.
Holy crap! The monk's skills are just too good. He's got his own Ehuang and Nü ying. He's
living the good life of having more than one wife, eh."
Fu Ming, seeming utterly as if he had not drawn a blade or pulled out a gun and fought
Cheng Muyun the previous night, was acting uninterested in everything. "What are you
looking at me for? Eat your mango."
Everyone laughed.
The sun was sweltering.
Standing up, Chen Yuan dragged two large patio umbrellas over and set them beside the
stone table to provide some covering from the sunshine for everyone.
Fu Ming gave Xiao Zhuang a kick, sending Xiao Zhuang to go grab some poker cards. They
were going to start a game and gamble. All of them were not carrying much cash on them,
so they told Zhou Zhou to grab a notebook and keep track of the money. Supposedly, after
they all left the manor and went their separate ways, whoever lost anything would transfer
the money into an account accessible by all of them and the winner would withdraw it.
After they went their separate ways?
For a moment, Wen Han's heart felt stifled. Even she, someone who had interacted with
them for only a few days, did not dare think about what would happen next, let alone…
Cheng Muyun.
Xiao Zhuang brought some playing cards back. The game began.
They were all carrying out casual dialogue, someone griping that they were unable to eat
meat, someone complaining that the streets outside were too filthy, someone commenting
that it was unimaginable that in a few days, there would be more than a hundred thousand
people here to attend the manor lord's monastic induction ceremony…
Though they treated Wen Han politely, she was still, after all, an outsider, and after not
even a few sentences of chitchat, the conversation with her would be unable to continue.
Wen Han also noticed that her existence here was a hindrance. Cheng Muyun was far away,
squatted down and viewing the flower garden, so after sitting for a short while, she left.
The instant Wen Han's backside disappeared from sight; all the complaints evaporated as
well. Those several people who were in the midst of a game of gamble also began to fall into
wordlessness.
Liveliness had returned to cold silence.
"Fu Laoban." Chen Yuan rubbed the three cards that he held, then slowly, ever so slowly,
lifted them to take a look and check his hand. "You came back with injuries last night?"
Fu Ming lifted his brows, not speaking.
"Huh?" Xiao Zhuang was surprised. "Didn't you go to drink and catch up with the monk?
What gives with injuries?"
Fu Ming gave an insipid smile. "Let's not talk about me. Chen Yuan, you've been his shadow
for so many years. It's the first time being exposed beneath the sunlight. Is that quite a
peculiar feeling?"
Zhou Zhou continued shuffling the cards, giving a faint sigh. "So you actually all know?"
Xiao Zhuang looked at the other three people, not making a sound.
Every person here seemed to know what that man who right now was bent over in a half-
crouch out in the scorching sunlight, looking at flowers while talking to the young Indian
boys watering the plants—Cheng Muyun—was doing.
Only this boy, the youngest amongst them, still seemed not to understand.
Wen Han returned to the guest room, drew the curtains shut, and threw herself into the
softness of her quilt. Before long, she had slipped into slumber. The incense in the room
was too sleep-inducing.
Something cool was sliding along her wrist
One. Another one.
She let out a couple sounds of "mm," her brows coming together. With her eyes squinted,
she blearily watched as Cheng Muyun toyed with the set of inexpensive bangles on her
wrist. Resting her hand against the back of his waist, she curled herself up and leaned her
cheek against the side of his leg. "May I buy some incense to bring home? My mom really
likes these."
India was the birthplace of the incense culture.
If she brought some home, her adoptive mother definitely would like it.
"That will not be a problem." Saying this, he drew the heavy, white bed curtains lining the
edge of the bed.
As if pre-arranged, some servants pushed open the door and walked into the room. They all
tacitly accepted that this female guest was already asleep, and working quietly, they began
to tidy the room.
Smiling, Cheng Muyun carried on running his fingers over the bangles on her wrist.
Occasionally, when those accessories collided against each other, silvery tinkling sounds
could be heard.
Wen Han pulled her hand back, which triggered a series of clinking and jangling…
Wordlessly, she removed that group of bangles and stuffed them under the quilt,
temporarily covering up the source of the sounds. After all, right now, she was his sister in
name, and if people saw them in this suggestive setting, alone together on the bed with the
bed curtains drawn, their imaginations certainly would fire with all different ideas.
Cheng Muyun narrowed his eyes, smiling because of her way of dealing with this.
These little gestures and actions from Wen Han reminded him of a wild cat that he once
saw in a temple. The entire time, that creature had wandered back and forth on the eaves
so gingerly and carefully, lest someone would discover signs that it was there. However,
that little wild cat did not know that the sound of its tiny footsteps was so extremely clear
in his ears.
Cheng Muyun's quiet calmness caused her to relax her guard as well, and sprawling beside
him, she smiled. But her bliss did not last more than three seconds before, without any
warning, the man beside her pulled her underneath himself. Once she was pressed fiercely
beneath his body, his hand slid to her soft bosom and, one button at a time, began
unfastening her shirt. Her struggles were unable to budge him. After her shirt was forcibly
removed, she saw Cheng Muyun pull out several tubes of dye from the pocket of his pants.
He had brought those in with him?
She looked at him in astonishment. And in the gaze that Cheng Muyun returned to her,
there was a faint smile.
Spreading his legs apart, he knelt one knee on each side of her body. Bent at the waist, in a
position that was nearly a form of torture to him, he picked up one of the tubes of dye.
The moment the dye came down on her, a picture was conjured up from Wen Han's
memory.
She could still remember how the sunlight had slipped through the gaps between the
leaves and fallen down, and she, her head tilted upward, her face toward the light, had been
utterly unable to open her eyes… It was at that time that he had said he would paint
another henna design for her again.
Throughout the first half of the henna application, the two servants were chatting in quiet
tones outside the bed curtains.
Perhaps they had seen the silhouette of the man kneeling on the bed, or perhaps they had
not, for the sounds of their conversation were too low and no one knew what they were
talking about.
Half an hour after the servants left, he had completed painting this design. During the time
when they were waiting for the henna to totally dry, he finally told her that the picture on
her back was one of the designs found on the walls inside the Taj Mahal.
The Taj Mahal. A mausoleum built by one of India's former emperors for his wife. Legend
has it that after his favourite consort died, this emperor's hair overnight turned entirely
white, as if with the death of his beloved wife, the life within him was also wholly
exhausted.
During her last time in India, Wen Han had gone to that famous destination. Photographs
were not allowed inside, but outside, the brick-red designs incised into the walls were very
unusual, and she had taken pictures of them.
Unfortunately, she had lost her camera.
"Why are you so good at henna tattoos?"
"During that period, there was nothing particular for me to do, so I learned a lot of random,
senseless things."
She mulled for a moment. This period in time he was referring to was likely the period
when he was a monk.
While they were having this casual conversation, the door was unexpectedly pushed open.
Zhou Zhou's reddened eyes caused the warm, suggestive atmosphere that had been
hovering in the room to instantly dissolve.
"I want to talk to you alone." Zhou Zhou quietly gave this request in Russian, not showing
any of the rage that is a result of being suspected but, rather, the mental and physical
exhaustion that comes after disappointment.
Without speaking, Cheng Muyun gave a nudge on the back of Wen Han's waist.
She comprehended his meaning. Getting off the bed as quickly as she could, she did not
even have time to put on her shoes, and carrying them in her hands, she sprinted outside.
In the hallway, the servants were talking in whispers. When they saw her come out looking
like this, startled expressions came over their faces, but then respectfully, they bent at the
waist and withdrew from there.
Xiao Zhuang was standing at the corner of the stairs, seeming as if he had chased his way
up here. Seeing Wen Han's slightly awkward appearance, he also gave a sheepish grin and
scratched the back of his head. "Sorry about that. She was dealing the cards and then just all
of a sudden ran off. I wanted to chase after her but couldn't catch up. We didn't interrupt
you guys getting cozy, did we?"
 阎浮提 "Yanfuti." This is the Chinese name for Jambudvipa. As we read in chapter 8.2
through the thoughts of Wen Han, Jambudvipa has a variety of meanings, but in the context
of what the author is trying to refer to, it is the "human world," in Buddhist beliefs, the
space where humans live.
I shall simply point out that a search for "Aghori sadhus" can be a good starting point for
more information.

五荤 "wu hun." The five pungent foods are scallions, onions, chives, garlic, and leeks (and
other members of the onion family). According to Buddhist beliefs in some areas (China
being one of them), these foods produce lust when eaten and are also unclean, creating an
odour in the body.

护身符 "hu shen fu." A protection amulet or auspicious amulet is generally believed to
bring physical protection, health, luck, or protection against dangers, etc.

堂妹 "tang mei." Younger female patrilineal cousin. Cheng Muyun's father and "Zhou
Zhou's" father are brothers. In Chinese culture, cousins who share the same surname (i.e.
their fathers are brothers) are closer in blood than others and are called 堂 "tang" siblings.
They address each other not as "cousin" but as brother or sister.
In legends, Ehuang and Nü ying are two sisters who married the same man. The Emperor
Shun is a legendary emperor of far-ancient China. Emperor Yao heard Shun was a man of
integrity and married his two daughters, Ehuang and Nü ying, to Shun. Later, when
Emperor Yao passed on the rule to Shun, the two women became empress and imperial
concubine. Because they were virtuous wives who aided Shun significantly and were also
sisters who harmoniously shared the same husband, the term "Ehuang and Nü ying"
became a saying to describe the (happy) situation of a man having two women.
 Chapter 12 - This Avici Hell

For roughly one hour, she and Xiao Zhuang sat on the steps at the corner of the staircase,
casually talking. Of the people here, only this boy, one year younger than her, could be
considered her peer in age, and only this boy, as well, would chat with her.
Xiao Zhuang told her; he had actually previously never seen Cheng Muyun.
That day on the train had been his first time seeing this former leader of the ops team. At
the time, it had been Fu Ming, hidden away in the shadows, who had directed Xiao Zhuang
to pose as an ordinary traveller and get close to Wen Han to protect her.
"Did you know? When I walked over, he took one glance at me. And it was in that one
glance that I knew he viewed me as a brother."
Xiao Zhuang spoke with extremely stirred emotions.
Her arm was being used as a pillow under her head as she tilted her head to look at Xiao
Zhuang.
Pausing, Xiao Zhuang leaned in close and whisperingly said to her, "I'll tell you; my name is
Zhuang Yan."
Zhuang Yan? That was his real name?
Prior to meeting Cheng Muyun, she had not known how great was the importance of
someone's name and what it represented. But now she understood clearly. Your name
represents your past, your friends, your life, as well as places of refuge you once had. All of
these are extremely important. Even Cheng Muyun had never told her Xiao Zhuang's real
name.
Wen Han did not know how to express the alarm she felt when she heard it.
Rubbing a hand over her heart, she said, "You shouldn't have told me. I nearly died of fright
when I heard it."
Zhuang Yan chuckled. "You know, this rule that the monk set really sucks. We, as brothers
who go through thick and thin and life and death together, in the end don't even get to
know each other's names. It's no fun at all. Remember my name. Who knows? Maybe one
day you may see my tombstone in some place."
Suddenly, successive sounds of metal falling to the floor echoed out from the room behind
them.
The sounds were very clear and carried that quality that indicated objects had flown out
and slammed into something.
They both stopped simultaneously and turned their heads.
The bangles. That string of inexpensive bangles. Before the henna tattoo application, she
had taken them off and put them under the pillow. That was such a concealed place. How
could they have been found and then thrown? … She immediately stood. Something must
have happened.
"You're going in?" Zhuang Yan grabbed her sleeve. "Fu Ming said before, we cannot do
anything that the monk does not allow." Such as right now, when the door was closed.
In other words, no one was allowed to go in.
Zhuang Yan's Russian was not very good. He had told Wen Han earlier that he was not from
Russia. These recent years, Fu Ming had actually not been in Russia. Zhuang Yan actually
was Vietnamese, and so amongst this group, he was the only one whose understanding of
Russian was not very good.
She could hear it; Zhou Zhou was crying Cheng Muyun's name in Russian, was crying "Big
Brother."
"Do not come in. Absolutely do not come in. You do what I say, got it?" The dialogue inside
was already broaching upon Zhou Zhou's identity. She did not want Zhuang Yan to get
involved in this.
Subconsciously, she wanted Zhuang Yan to be able to successfully leave this manor estate.
She hoped that he was not the mole, hoped that he would be safe.
For the sole reason that he had told her in that dirty, noisy railway station, "Don't be
scared. We're all here."
Without waiting for Zhuang Yan's answer, she rushed up to the outside of the door. Gasping
lightly, she closed her eyes and mustered up courage for herself. Yes, she was still afraid of
that man… afraid that sometimes he would throw aside all those things that bound him and
his beliefs and faith and totally transform into a rage-filled man of Moscow.
Wen Han pushed open the door.
In the pitch-blackness, she closed it again behind her.
An air that caused one's flesh to creep flowed through the entire room.
Her mind was blank. She saw Cheng Muyun pinning Zhou Zhou to the bed with one knee
and squeezing Zhou Zhou's neck with one hand. Zhou Zhou's two hands were grasping his
wrist tightly, like a fish that had already lost its water and was on a chopping block,
painfully and in vain twisting its body…
Could not breathe. All hope and feelings of living were dependent on the throat—
Wen Han could even still recall that type of despair.
Those bangles just now must have been thrown by Zhou Zhou out of desperation, as a cry
for help.
"Cheng Muyun…" She stepped toward him.
In the darkness, Cheng Muyun's eyes were devoid of emotion as they turned to look in her
direction.
"Dearest." He spoke in a low voice to her in Russian, like someone who had been witnessed
in the act of robbery in the back alley behind a bar in Moscow. In a most indifferent
manner, he told her, "You know I do not like people watching my personal matters from the
sidelines, especially my family matters." It had been a long, long time since he had spoken
in a serious manner to Wen Han in Russian. And now, this icy-cold, indolent tone was a
warning. It was just like back then in the utility room of the Western restaurant; when Wen
Han had pleaded for Wang Wenhao, his behavior had been the same.
The instant Cheng Muyun opened his mouth, she knew he was submerged in the darkest of
emotions.
He was warning her, telling her that the further she got away from him, the better.
From that temple in Nepal, to when they were on the train, to the shores of the Ganges
River, he had been like a monk who had climbed out from the abyss, reserved, humble…
But now, what had pushed him back into hell again?
Behind her back, Wen Han's one hand unconsciously squeezed her other palm viciously.
"Cheng Muyun… Calm down for a bit. I'm scared you'll regret this. Look. See who she is."
He gave an extremely quiet chuckle. "Do you think I have already fully lost my senses and
forgotten who she is?"
"No, what I mean is…"
He cut Wen Han off. "This beautiful woman grew up with me holding her in my arms.
Dearest, come. I will outright and openly introduce you to her. This is my youngest little
sister [cousin-sister]. Her name is Cheng Jiayi. She told all of you her name is Zhou Zhou
merely out of remembrance for that poor boyfriend of hers who died an early death." As he
spoke this, he did not show any hints of letting up on that action that wanted to take Cheng
Jiayi into death with him.
Cheng Jiayi feebly thrashed her legs. Her hands were slowly beginning to go limp.
The hope of living drifted further and further away from her.
"Cheng Muyun!" Wen Han took two strides forward. "Let go of her first. Even if she did
something wrong, you cannot kill her with your own hands."
She swore, even if this Cheng Jiayi was the mole…
If Cheng Muyun personally did the deed with his own hands this time, for the rest of his life,
he would never in his heart be able to release himself from it. That was his little sister; she
was different from the others. No! Actually, it should be said, Cheng Muyun could not
personally do it to any one of the people who were here. This man could endure anything—
anything but this.
He was Hell.
But not to his own brothers.
There was a hell in his heart that he had locked himself away in ten years ago.
Wen Han took another step forward and ended up kicking one of those bangles that were
strung together, which in turn collided with the others.
With these faint sounds, her heart leapt madly.
……
It was not certain whether her words had persuaded Cheng Muyun, or he had not truly
intended on bringing death with his hand. In that second that he relaxed his grip, Cheng
Jiayi, using the utmost strength that she could muster, escaped from beneath him and
tumbled wretchedly to the floor. Cheng Jiayi panted with all her might, as if the last thread
of her strength had been used to break free, crying and coughing as she lay face down on
the floor. Wen Han moved to help her back up, but she shoved Wen Han away.
Stumbling, Cheng Jiayi threw open the door and fled.
The shadowy outline of Cheng Muyun's figure came off the bed and walked over.
Fearing that he would give pursuit, Wen Han backed up several steps and leaned her back
against the door, where she remained unmoving.
And there she stayed, until he drew so close he could not get any closer, so near that his leg
was against her leg and his body was pressed against her body. He lowered his head. Not a
trace of light was in his eyes, as if they were whirlpools that could devour her at any
moment.
She was terrified, terrified that the instant he opened his mouth, what came forth would be
that language that she was most familiar with, the one she had heard since she was a child.
Was it not rather absurd? It was merely a different language, but that was enough to make
him transform into an entirely different person. Perhaps because the most legitimate
Chinese that he learned had been from an old monk, only when he showed his ethnic
Chinese side were people able to feel that he was a person whose reason and rationality
were within the boundaries of normal.
She was even getting a certain feeling.
If he still did not speak, he would end up having her take Cheng Jiayi's place to die right
here—
"She thinks Zhou Ke betrayed me before he died." Cheng Muyun looked down at her, his
finger brushing away her already sweat-dampened stray hairs from her forehead. "This is
the type of malicious speculation that I most do not want to hear, especially coming from
her mouth."
Wen Han's eyes flickered. "Your younger sister is telling you that all four of them are
innocent?"
"She implored to me to not continue investigating. She said, everything should have ended
on the day of Zhou Ke's death. No more people should die."
This statement sounded very familiar.
Fu Yiming had also said, if Cheng Muyun insisted on continuing to root out a mole, he
undoubtedly would cause the deaths of everyone.
Wen Han touched his face. The tip of his ear was searing hot, as if fire burned it. She did not
know whether Cheng Muyun was beginning to waver, or if he did not believe his cousin-
sister's words at all.
This was too hard.
This current situation was a Rashomon scenario.
Each of the involved parties was holding to his or her own views, and each provided
statements according to what was most advantageous to himself or herself, weaving lies
with them. Where did the final truth lie?
Was it that Zhou Ke's death had been wrongful and there was a mole amongst these four
people?
Or was it, Zhou Ke was the mole and these four had been wrongly accused?
Amid the darkness, Cheng Muyun's lips pressed down on hers.
This was the first time he closed his eyes when kissing her. In that same moment that he
relinquished all light, he also felt Wen Han's hands sliding up to his shoulders… Before, she
had always wanted to avoid his gaze, but now she wanted to see his eyes. That was the only
way for her to know what he was thinking.
Outside the window, there were the sounds of music, as well as singing and dancing.
The celebration had already begun in the manor for the monastic induction ceremony that
would be occurring three days from now. The esteemed guests came from all states and
cities of India. Every person from every place who had once had any business dealings or
whose life had somehow intersected with this manor lord had come. In this nation,
abandoning one's earthly identity and wholly dedicating one's life to Buddha were things
that were worthy of celebration.
But inside this room, he bit down on her tongue and broke skin.
On that pathway of pitch-blackness, he wanted to use the bloody sweetness from the tip of
her tongue to help him find some of his rationality. Or perhaps, it was some resoluteness,
the resoluteness to continue carrying out what he was to do—to find that person, find the
betrayer.
Wen Han felt as if something was wedged in her throat. "Cheng Muyun…"
Her heart in her chest was trying with such difficulty to beat.
She was feeling more and more uncomfortable. Finally, she could clearly hear the sound of
herself collapsing to the floor and her body slamming in to those inexpensive bangles. She
clutched tightly at his sleeve. Cheng Muyun, there's something not right with my whole
body. I feel really unwell.
But though her mouth opened, she could not make a word come from it. He was so near…
Wave after wave of blackness rolled over her until she was wholly submerged.
Wen Han did not know how long she slept. When she awoke again, she was still only
hovering on the edge of consciousness.
The first thing she saw in her vision was the oxygen mask on her own face. Her limbs were
completely numb, and she had no control over them.
With great effort, she forced her eyelids to lift. She saw many doctors dressed in white
coats beside her bed, speaking in a language she did not understand.
It was different here from in that manor. The servants of the manor had received some
training, so even if their pronunciations were poor, they would still speak in English to
them, the guests of the manor. Now, however, the people surrounding her were all
speaking the local language, the native tongue of this state.
So noisy. She saw Fu Yiming gripping Cheng Muyun's collar, shouting something. Cheng
Jiayi was crying. Chen Yuan was smoking by the window. There was one person missing…
Zhuang Yan? Where was that youth?
All sounds were fuzzy. She could not hear them clearly.
Before Wen Han could discern more, she lost consciousness again.
For the entire day, she was in a deep sleep.
Then, in the middle of the night, Wen Han’s heartbeat suddenly sped up, and she started
awake in a flash, gasping heavily. Amidst her panic, someone clasped her hand firmly in the
darkness.
This warmth was too familiar to her. It was him.
The oxygen mask on her face was removed. She opened her mouth slightly. Her throat was
so parched it ached a little. As if knowing what she in this moment wanted, Cheng Muyun
brought his lips against Wen Han’s. Icy water slowly slid from his mouth past her lips, the
stream passing her throat and flowing downwards.
After a few times of this, he stopped. “Feeling better?”
A furrow formed between Wen Hans’ brows. Muddled, she was unable to differentiate
whether this was reality or a dream, and as her heart throbbed with fear, she gazed into his
eyes. In that long stretch of quiet, she slowly found her awareness again. “I… actually am
not feeling unwell.” Yes, it was true; she was not feeling as bad as what her appearance
might have made her seem.
Apart from that moment when she had lost consciousness and been unable to breathe and
speak, and also, when she woke those few times during the daytime, the total numbness in
her limbs such that she had been unable to move, she actually had not really felt anything.
This was what she found most frightening.
“Is that so?” he answered simply.
“I don’t think I have done anything.” Wen Han’s voice was scratchy. Having only just
awoken, even enunciating each word was laborious. “Why? The issue… was in the
mangoes?”
She could not think of any particular thing that could cause her to be like this.
Moreover, because she had not seen Zhuang Yan when she regained consciousness that
first time this morning, a deep sense of uneasiness had all along pervaded in her
subconscious.
“It was the mangoes.” He confirmed her speculation.
Wen Han immediately wanted to ask how Zhuang Yan was, but because she was too
anxious and hurried, she began coughing violently. Cheng Muyun tossed aside the
breathing device on her body that had been confining her and picked her up, putting her on
his lap and patting her back. When Wen Han recovered from this, he set her back onto the
bed and lifted the pillow up for her to lean back into.
In the corner of the room, someone coughed.
Only now did Wen Han notice that there were not only herself and Cheng Muyun inside the
room. There was also a shadowy figure standing in the corner, smoking a cigarette while
facing the barred window that was open. She could not tell who it was.
“Xiao Zhuang?” she softly asked.
That person who had coughed seemed to choke on his cigarette smoke and began coughing
even more severely.
Cheng Muyun did not reply, instead beginning to help her remove that large, loose hospital
gown, which drafts of air could slip into. From the corner of the bed, he brought over some
clean clothing and began putting it on for her. As he helped her get dressed, he shifted his
body slightly to the side, blocking the line of sight from the window.
“Where’s Zhuang Yan?” She was growing increasingly apprehensive.
Crouching down slightly, Cheng Muyun stuffed her feet into a pair of sneakers, tying the
shoelaces for her in the same way as before, with non-slip knots. “I will bring you to see
him.”
Her nerves, which had been tightly strung this whole time, at last loosened somewhat. At
least he was still here and still fine and had not tried to run away. At least it was not him. So
good that it was not him. However, after she walked out of the room with Cheng Muyun and
followed the stairs all the way to the first floor
, then to the first basement level, and then to end of the staircase on the second basement
level, that peace of mind was utterly no more.
These were not patients’ rooms at all.
From the beginning to the end of the corridor, there were only a few rooms, and only the
door on one of those rooms was locked. And it was in front of that locked door that several
unfamiliar Indian men stood. Fu Yiming and Cheng Jiayi were there, as well. The remaining
person, Chen Yuan, had followed behind Wen Han and Cheng Muyun and come down with
them.
Wen Han looked all around and then, in somewhat of a panic, turned her eyes on Cheng
Muyun. “What do you mean by this? Is he here? Where? Why don’t I see him?”
No, it was not possible. It couldn’t be. How could that be? …
Even she did not felt unwell. It was just something that made people lose consciousness. It
was not possible…
Fu Yiming had originally been arguing with those several Indian men, but the instant he
saw Cheng Muyun, a cuss burst from his lips, and with large strides, he charged toward
Cheng Muyun.
In a mere flash, a gun suddenly appeared in his hand, its muzzle pointed directly at Cheng
Muyun’s heart. “He was only nineteen! He’s been following me since he was a kid. Now is
everything great? Huh? He’s dead! His death proves that he’s innocent, that he’s not the
mole, right? This is your method?!”
“Put down the gun.” At the same time, a gun also pressed into Fu Yiming’s temple.
Coughing, Chen Yuan gave this warning to Fu Yiming.
Fu Yiming was treating the gun muzzle against his head entirely as if it did not even exist,
and sneeringly, he glared at Cheng Muyun. “You might as well just get straight to it. Kill us
all and be over with it. Or be good about this and just let me end this pointless game.”
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Cheng Muyun extended an arm, stretched it around Fu
Yiming’s shoulders, and viciously pulled Fu Yiming in front of himself. This sudden
narrowing of the distance between them caused Fu Yiming’s gun to collide hard into Cheng
Muyun’s chest. “You want to kill me?”
Fu Yiming did not answer. He slid the safety catch of the pistol to “off.”
Cheng Muyun looked right at Fu Yiming, once more torturing interrogating the other
party’s soul. “You really want to kill me?”
Two guns, three people.
A dangerous world had been built from these.
Wen Han seemed as if she was isolated on the outside of that world.
It was as if, beside her, there was a deep abyss continuously collapsing in on itself, and
buildings and cars were constantly plummeting into that giant, caving pit, causing her to
want to flee for her life, to leave that place…
You cannot flee!
She suddenly grabbed Fu Yiming’s gun.
As a result of this unexpected action, everyone’s eyes fell on Wen Han.
“Zhuang Yan said—” She tried hard to speak every word very clearly. “He was very happy
that on the train, from the very first glance when he saw Cheng Muyun, Cheng Muyun had
already viewed him as a brother. He was very happy that he could follow Cheng Muyun…”
When that adolescent boy sat on the staircase and told her this, he must have been sincere.
She could sense Zhuang Yan’s worship of Cheng Muyun.
Silence.
No one responded.
Wen Han’s hands began to tremble, but still, she would not loosen her hold.
“Get the hell away!” In the end, it was Fu Yiming who threw her off of himself.
Cheng Jiayi, who had rushed over, caught Wen Han.
Fu Yiming took his hand that gripped the gun and slammed it fiercely into the wall.
In that instant, Wen Han swore she heard the sound of bone splitting.
His eyes scarlet, Fu Yiming pulled the gun out of that hand that was in severe pain and put
it behind his waist. Forcing out every word to form a coherent thought, he stated, “Your
woman is right, Cheng Muyun. Zhuang Yan worshipped you like you’re a hero. Cheng
Muyun, the mistake is on me. He had never even seen you before and is the one person who
has the least connection to you. It was just so that he could see you that I brought him along
here.”
As Fu Yiming spoke, the view before him began to grow hazy. A mist obscured everything
that was in front of his eyes. “You were suspicious of him only because he was someone
who followed me everywhere. The mistake is on me; all of it is on me…”
He shut his eyes. After regaining control of himself for a few seconds, he opened them again
and directed his gaze at Chen Yuan and Cheng Jiayi.
“No matter who out of the two of you did it, whoever it was, I will rip your tendons out and
flay you with my own hands. Trust me. I, Fu Yiming, am a man of my word.”
Turning, he strode to that locked door, gave it a vicious kick, and then walked toward a
different staircase, where his figure disappeared at the end of the corridor.
This altercation had happened too abruptly, too quickly.
Those five or six Indian men were dazed and did not even whisper amongst themselves,
each one merely staring blankly in their direction. Wen Han’s mind seemed to awaken and
pull itself out from that fierce confrontation a moment ago. Slowly, she could feel the chill
that was permeating into the very crevices of her bones. She knew that Zhuang Yan’s body
must be in that room.
But she did not dare go inside to see.
When the Indian men recovered themselves, they walked over and began to communicate
with Cheng Muyun in English, saying that they would immediately be doing as Cheng
Muyun had requested and arranging for an autopsy. With a wave of his hand, Cheng Muyun
told them it was not necessary and there was no need to do any examination. Someone
would be coming in a few days to take away the body.
Pulling Wen Han over to him, he softly asked her, did she want to go in for a look?
Wen Han shook her head.
She could not accept that she would be going in for this so-called last look, this final
farewell.
She would rather her memory stay frozen on that ordinary Indian train, where the nearby
Indian travellers were gathered together, chatting and, in the night hours, even singing
along to instruments. And there in that compartment, she still had not known that those
passengers were harbouring ill intentions, and everyone had simply exchanged stories of
what they had seen and heard in their travels.
That train had jolted forward very rhythmically along the tracks.
He, in the garbs of a lama, had been leafing through a book.
She had lain on the upper berth, watching him.
Their occasional deliberate communication had all been about Buddhist scriptures—amla
fruit; to become entrapped in a cocoon of your own spinning.
And in such an atmosphere, the youth had appeared.
……
The hospital arranged for a simple medical examination for Wen Han. After verifying that
there was nothing abnormal with her body, they cautioned Cheng Muyun that, although at
the moment no aftereffects could be detected, this did not mean that there were no issues.
That very responsible Indian doctor even insisted on writing a detailed medical record in
English and told Cheng Muyun to make sure he kept it, so that when they returned to
Moscow, it could be referenced during Wen Han’s follow-up checks.
Wen Han only asked a few careful questions when the doctor was explaining some of the
words on her medical record that she could not read clearly. She confirmed that Cheng
Muyun had not lied to her; her loss of consciousness had indeed been food-related.
There was no autopsy performed on Zhuang Yan. His cause of death was established to be
food poisoning.
The manor lord sent a vehicle and driver to take them back to the estate.
Cheng Muyun sat in the front passenger seat. Wen Han sat in the spot directly behind him.
The remaining three people were also within this same vehicle, so some bumping and
contact between arms and legs were unavoidable. However, it was evident that the happy
and harmonious atmosphere had completely dissipated.
Every person sat in silence, each occupied with his or her own thoughts.
No one spoke.
How had this whole incident happened? Wen Han gazed out her window, the entire way
unable to figure out the answer.
Cheng Muyun had bought those mangoes and brought them back. When it was time to eat
them, only she and Zhuang Yan had expressed any interest. What had happened in
between?
With bowed head, she stared at her right hand, her heart quivering.
Hard. Cold. Carrying a sense of subjugation of life.
That was the feeling she had had in that first time in her life when she had touched a gun.
Cheng Muyun sent the other three back to that little white building, but he brought Wen
Han with himself back to that austere, two-level building. She surmised that tonight, he
wanted to stay in a place that could allow his heart to quieten.
The peafowls had long since entered the straw shed far back in the fenced area. The bonfire
outside the building was still burning brightly. There were another two days; the day after
tomorrow was the big day of the manor lord’s monastic induction.
Reportedly, this bonfire would not be extinguished prior to that.
The weather was already very cold, but those sadhus who sat around the bonfire were still
garbed only with a rag of cloth around their lower bodies. They sat around the fire not for
warmth, but only to have some light.
The entire way here, Cheng Muyun had been silent.
When they arrived here, the tautness in him seemed to loosen somewhat. In the cold wind,
he removed his jacket and shirt, tossing them by his feet, and sat down cross-legged as well.
Asking for a bowl of cold water from the sadhu beside him, he drank it down in two
mouthfuls. The cool water poured into him, and the biting wind blew on him. In this way,
he allowed himself to maintain a clear head.
Wen Han sat down close beside him.
Zhou Ke. Zhuang Yan.
It seemed that every time she just learned their real names, they would die. It was like a
curse. She thought of Fu Yiming, and also thought of Cheng Jiayi, and then did not dare
continue thinking in this direction. She would rather she never knew what their actual
names were, and she could reminisce about that scene from their very first meeting on the
coffee plantation grounds, when they had each introduced themselves using fake and
ordinary names…
“There are times when I am very envious of these sadhus. From when they enter into
monkhood, there is no love or hate. They forsake fame and glory, abandon sexual desires,
and lay down the joys of relationships.” Cheng Muyun unexpectedly spoke up.
Wen Han looked at him.
For the whole night, she had been immersed in her own grief and had neglected that this
man was actually the one who most needed comfort. Zhuang Yan’s death, Fu Yiming’s gun
muzzle pointed at him, and also Cheng Jiayi’s malicious speculations about Zhou Ke. She
had only just caught a glimpse of the tip of the iceberg and was already feeling that she
could not bear this. And she was not even well acquainted with these people, let alone did
she have any deep emotional bonds or relationships with them.
She could see the lines of his taut muscles and the numerous wounds and scars on him.
“What they desire is liberation, true liberation.” Cheng Muyun set down that wooden bowl
that was covered in filth. Turning his head, he laid his icy palm against her warm cheek. “All
things of the past are gone as yesterday; all things of the future are born today.”
However, being unable to lay down all the hatreds of the past was Cheng Muyun’s greatest
karmic hindrance.
The bonfire gave off a crackling sound. The wind blew a glowing ember toward them and
nearly singed her hair, but he blocked it with the back of his hand. Several claps of thunder
pounded the air. Wen Han lifted her head. The moon could still be seen. There should not
be rain, then. Besides, the wind was also blowing so strong.
However, these rumbles of thunder successfully managed to startle awake the peafowls in
the straw shed. In the middle of this night, some blue peafowl leisurely strolled out, pausing
after every couple of steps. They were several peahens surrounding one peacock. From a
distance, they haughtily surveyed these human folk.
With her arms encircling her knees, she watched these peafowl that were raised even more
carefully and meticulously than the little masters of this manor estate. They were, after all,
the national bird of India. As she gazed at those blue-hued feathers below these blue
peafowls' necks that were illuminated by the blazing flames, she all of a sudden
remembered how, that day, he had crouched down and teased that peacock. It seemed he
was very familiar with this particular creature.
"Were you ever in India before?" This was a harmless topic, she thought.
"I have been to many places," he said in an even tone. "The Ajanta Caves, Hawa Mahal, the
Golden Temple in Amritsar, Amber Fort, Sri Meenakshi Temple… and also the deserts,
beaches, and rocky deserts here. Many places." This was the first time Cheng Muyun had
told her about his past experiences.
Even if they were only a series of place names, they were still like pictures of a black and
white film unfolding one by one in front of her eyes.
His fingers stroked over her hair that was tied up. Applying only a slight force, he undid it,
allowing her long, black tresses to spill down. "I also raised peafowls for half a year."
No wonder… he knew so well how to bully peafowls.
That was ten years ago.
The Cheng Muyun back then and the one now were two completely different people. Or
perhaps it should be said, the "he" that Wen Han saw in Nepal who enticed and seduced her
was a pared down incarnation of the Cheng Muyun of ten years ago. He had grown up living
his life in gray areas. In his adolescent days, he had committed too many evils, and to allow
his heart to feel less uncomfortable, he began observing the precepts from age fifteen. Then
later, because of an old monk's questioning that cut to his very soul, he had at last suddenly
and wholly awakened from his ways.
Afterwards, he had turned himself in, purely as a form of self-punishment.
It was in prison that he had met Fu Yiming.
Fu Yiming at that time was acting undercover and was squatting in a jail cell to investigate
a case.
In that darkest of prisons in Moscow, Cheng Muyun had looked on as Fu Yiming fraternized
with an imprisoned drug lord, being "brothers" with him, and found out about a shocking
smuggling line established along a very long stretch of borders. And when Fu Yiming's true
identity was detected and he was nearly killed as a silencing measure, it was Cheng Muyun
who had rescued him.
"Interested?" At the time, the injured Fu Yiming had helped Cheng Muyun get an early
release from prison. "I need someone to help me continue investigating this. I can't. I need
to keep away to avoid suspicion and conflict of interest. My older sister is involved in this."
When Fu Yiming made this request, he had already clearly known that Cheng Muyun's pre-
prison identity, background, and connections could help him complete this assignment.
So, Fu Yiming had solicited him to help.
Later, Cheng Muyun had agreed to it.
His agreement to help Fu Yiming investigate this case had come with a stipulation: Fu
Yiming's entire operations team had to be turned over to him and fully cooperate with his
orders, with a time limit of three years. Three years later, the case was solved within the
agreed timeframe. The other side launched a mad pursuit of vengeance, trying to
completely purge and annihilate this underground ops team that was specifically in charge
of transnational cases.
In that cruel incident of "being purged," Cheng Muyun had actually been targeted as one of
the ones to be killed. Countless brothers had given their own lives in order to protect him
and send him to a safe place.
Before he left, it was his own family who had forced him to take the vow, that he could be in
any country he so pleased, doing whatever to squander away and enjoy his life, but for the
rest of his life, he could not return to Moscow. That city had already become too dangerous
for Cheng Muyun.
He really did take that vow. Of course, it had been made to God.
That was the first half of his life.
Cheng Muyun picked up a small stone and held it in his open palm, like he was weighing it.
Suddenly, it shot out from his hand. In the dark night, a peacock let out an abrupt shriek
and immediately unfolded its plume, eyeing Cheng Muyun with hostility.
"Dearest, do you know what these wild peafowls in India most like to eat?" Cheng Muyun
rose, and amid the chilling wind, he stared down from on high at that peacock. His voice
becoming light, he told her, in Russian, an interesting fact. "It is the young form of that
snake that strikes fear into man, the cobra."
Nature always contains so many surprising facts.
You may think that the cobra is the most dangerous thing and peacocks are noble and
beautiful. Hence, you will not imagine that one of the much-loved foods of the peacock is
actually the immature cobra.
Just as, when Cheng Muyun first took over the leadership of that small operations team,
everyone had believed that his background was complicated and, moreover, unclean, that
he was a dangerous individual and would bring bale to the group. Yet, in the end, it was a
person within this group, or perhaps a few persons, ones who had "clean" backgrounds,
who had betrayed everyone.
Since when have the ways of the world conformed to being if not black, then white; and
when have they complied with being if not this, then that?
Who is a brother, and who is an enemy? Were it so easy to discern, there would never have
been so much blood shed in vain and innumerable skeletons left behind. There would not
be spirits that, with even one hundred thousand recitations of the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva
Sutra, could not be released out of suffering into peace.
When the early morning hours arrived, the two of them both squeezed onto that bed on the
second floor of that small building. Long after he had closed his eyes, Wen Han still had
quietly opened hers several times to look at him.
The new day's sunlight shone into where they were, dispersing both yesterday's day and
night.
Looking up diagonally from her angle at his chin, she could see his thick lashes peacefully
blanketing down over his face. In a somewhat muddled state, she even had a fear that those
eyes would never open again.
Why did she have such a foreboding feeling?
Wen Han shifted her body slightly, her palm sliding over from his waist to hook her thumb
through his belt, as if doing this would make her feel less uneasy, that she could hold on to
him.
Cheng Muyun finally gave a chuckle. Light, unhurried Russian slid, a little at a time, from
the tip of his tongue. "Darling, you miss my body?" He opened his eyes, his hands gliding to
the underside of her thighs and lifting her up onto his waist. "Come."
"I'm really scared to hear you speak Russian."
"Why is that? Could it be that my Russian makes you feel uncomfortable?" He laughed
lightly.
Words were at her lips, but she suppressed them. "No, it's very magnetic."
Did it strike fear in her? Yes, yet right now, it was also like a heavenly sound.
His gaze was like a spell that caused her to instantly lose her ability to resist.
Cheng Muyun. This name to her was still a mystery. Perhaps, in this entire lifetime, he
would never tell her about all the dark things he had experienced, the tortuous roads he
had once walked, and the evil people he had encountered. However, there was no question
that from the very beginning, she had never been able to evade him.
"When you first arrived in China, was your Chinese very good?"
"Not good at all. My foundation in it was basically zero."
Wen Han gave an uneasy laugh, feeling unsettled.
It was as if he would not speak Chinese to her anymore. Since last night, he had begun more
and more frequently to speak in Russian, and now, it seemed as if that man on the train
who had flipped through his book had disappeared. Hurriedly, he had come, made an
appearance, and then disappeared.
Did this signify that he was making some sort of decision? Or was he simply too grieved
over the death of two of his brothers, and this had brought up memories of his days in
Moscow?
Cheng Muyun seemed to have seen through her thoughts, and holding her in his arms, he
sat himself up directly. His tongue's tip glided from her collarbone to her earlobe. "I
remembered something. The dye that I used on you this time is rather special, and I foresee
that even several months from now, the henna tattoo that is on you will still be very
distinct. If you do not find it too much trouble, by then, you could find a tattooist to follow
my design and tattoo it onto your body. Trust me, you will not find anyone in Moscow with
art and skill better than mine."
After agreeing to do so, Wen Han remembered that he had said he would send her back
after three months.
"Here, henna tattoos are good things that are believed to bring good luck and happiness. On
important occasions, a woman will purposely get henna done, for example, on her day of
engagement, on her wedding day,"—his palm slid along her bosom and down, coming to a
rest firmly on her abdomen—"during her seventh month of pregnancy, and also for
childbirth."
Each word he spoke seemed, one by one, to strike her heart.
"I shouldn't be…" Shouldn't be pregnant.
"No." Cheng Muyun spoke with certainty as he told her, "Trust me, I will not leave any
trouble for you, nor, even more so, will I allow you to bear any pain or hardships that
should not be yours to bear."
Having the child of Cheng Muyun was not any sort of lucky thing. Being an object of
revenge, being the target for cruel purge-like killing, being used—this fate did not suit her.
There was a slight upheaval in Wen Han's eyes.
She remembered the wish she had said in her prayer to Buddha on the banks of the Ganges,
after she gave a dying, old Indian man money to buy wood to cremate his own body.
So, it turned out that, regardless of whether he fell in love with her or not, the final outcome
still would not change.
Cheng Muyun unexpectedly changed the topic, asking her if she was fed up with Indian
dishes that had texture like paste and if she wanted to have some Western-style food or
something else. Before Wen Han could catch up with the cadence of his thought process, he
had already turned over and gotten out of bed. As if their embrace and kisses had not even
existed, he left that wooden bed, which only just now had still carried a brief moment of
tenderness and affection, pulled on his black hiking shoes, and, with seldom-seen
seriousness, put on a clean, button-up shirt and his hiking jacket. He then felt his slightly
prickly-to-touch short hair. "I will go have someone prepare some for you. Just look. There
is not even a servant here, so I can only make a trip out myself."
Smoothing a hand over her own hair, she burrowed belly-down back into that bed, which
still carried the warmth of his body, muttering, "How can you just say you're getting up and
then you get right up?"
With a tilt of his head, Cheng Muyun chuckled and went downstairs, his steps light and
relaxed.
However, Wen Han did not know that after this man, whom she was waiting for to bring
back breakfast, left the building, what he faced were numerous armed special police, some
of them Indian officers, some from other countries. They had all been ready with guns in
hand to go upstairs and make the arrest, so when they saw the subject of their mission
come down of his own accord, they were surprised.
Meng Liangchuan stood rather powerlessly among these people and, in a low voice, stated
that he wanted to have a few words with Cheng Muyun. Within the group, there was
someone who was a relatively good friend of Meng Liangchuan, and as a result, he was
given what was considered an exception.
Walking over, Meng Liangchuan wanted to put an arm around Cheng Muyun's shoulder, but
when he stretched his hand over and discovered that Cheng Muyun was too tall, he cleared
his throat and pulled his hand back. "This place is not the same as Nepal, where I could
keep things under wraps for you. Someone died without any cause or reason. An
investigation is necessary, especially since… you and your identity are so special."
No matter how you looked at it, if this type of conduct of unofficial "mole catching" truly
had caused the loss of a life, it was a homicide case.
If that life was an innocent one, even more so, an explanation and appropriate resolution
would be required.
Cheng Muyun did not speak, which could be considered his unspoken agreement.
"Your hearing is so darn good. And here I had been worried that if they really did go up, it
would scare your woman." After saying this, Meng Liangchuan thought for a moment, then
asked, "Be honest and tell me. Zhuang Yan wasn't killed by you, was he? If it really was you,
it doesn't matter which country's laws you're talking about. You will need to pay for that
with your life, Cheng Muyun."
He was not given any extra time. Cheng Muyun was absolutely required to leave with them
immediately.
Once he sat into the vehicle, it drove directly out the back door of the manor estate.
Cheng Muyun turned and glanced back at that gray wall that was not too tall, mulling over
what Wen Han would do after she realized he had disappeared. If this were more than a
month ago, that ordinary girl from Moscow would have cried. But what about now?
The vehicle passed through the streets outside the manor.
The streets were teeming with people who had come from all places, all of them gathered
here to take part in the celebration tomorrow of the manor lord's total dedication of his life
to Buddha. There were people crammed against people. The old, the young, women, all of
them were dressed in splendid attire.
Noisy and lively.
……
Inside the vehicle, Meng Liangchuan and a few armed officers sat, shoulder to shoulder,
across from Cheng Muyun. Giving a cough, Meng Liangchuan switched into a relatively
official type of voice to talk to him. "It's like this. Back when you and Fu Yiming arrived at
an agreement of cooperation, Fu Yiming's direct superior, that is, the top dog of the
Interpol, actually did not think it was a good idea. Therefore, in that small ops team of
yours, there is a higher-level undercover Interpol agent, and he's been there already for
many years."
"Oh? Is that so?" Dancing in Cheng Muyun's eyes was completely that unique smile of his as
he waited for Meng Liangchuan to carry on with what he was saying.
Meng Liangchuan's brows lifted. "His assignment is to keep you under watch. Cheng
Muyun, you yourself should be very clear on this. You were not one of us, were not part of
our organization and systems back then. You had a criminal record and had gone to prison
before."
Cheng Muyun motioned that he should continue speaking.
"Your return this time was sudden, and Fu Yiming even worked with you to assemble all
the members of the ops team to Nepal and India. That made the higher-ups very nervous.
The assignment this undercover agent was given was to continue monitoring you to see
what exactly you were doing." Meng Liangchuan sighed, "Originally, everyone kept their
silence. But now that a homicide case has occurred, things are different. We are criminal
police. We can't use those methods that the triads use. We can't just chop off the hands and
feet of whoever betrays the organization."
Cheng Muyun nodded. Picking up a bottle of water, he glanced at Meng Liangchuan. Meng
Liangchuan laughed. "Go ahead, drink it. Got it ready specifically for you."
Twisting open the cap, he slowly drank the water down.
Meng Liangchuan heaved a final sigh. "Zhou Ke and Zhuang Yan are both police detectives,
so it's not possible that their deaths would not be investigated. Of course, my colleagues in
Nepal and I can testify that you did not kill Zhou Ke. But Zhuang Yan's death was so sudden,
and you would not let an autopsy be performed and even had someone transfer the body
away. That's a violation of the rules. So, that undercover agent acted in accordance with the
rules and passed that information on to me… and I passed it on to my superiors. Then, the
orders I received were to bring you away."
Nodding again, Cheng Muyun at last asked a question in return. "And so, who is that
person?"
Was it Fu Yiming? Chen Yuan? Or Cheng Jiayi?
To have been with him for many years and also be able to effectively carry out surveillance
on him, only these few fit the criteria. Others were not close enough to him.
Meng Liangchuan discovered that it was very difficult to state the name.
It was equivalent to telling Cheng Muyun, while he was doing his utmost to try to find that
"mole," someone had stabbed him in the back and reported him for being connected to a
homicide…
"You will know in a moment." After wavering for a long while, Meng Liangchuan still did
not end up saying it out.
All along the way, their vehicle passed through areas for various types of planting and
cultivation.
From coffee plantations, to tea farms to, finally, a sea of sunflowers, the vehicle drove until
it entered the grounds of a very ordinary farm and stopped in the front courtyard, where
Cheng Muyun was informed that he could get off.
He stepped out of the vehicle. All around, the people who had been gathered there now
dispersed.
Someone walked out from the house. It was a high-ranking Interpol official in his forties.
This person had an Asian face, but when he spoke, it was all in English. "Hello, former
hero."
Cheng Muyun did not answer. Shifting his gaze, he let it fall on the person behind that high-
ranking official, the person who had already changed into a police uniform and was
coughing quietly—Chen Yuan.
Chen Yuan pulled off his blue, metal-framed glasses and gave Cheng Muyun an apologetic
smile.
Without speaking, Cheng Muyun strolled directly into the room.
They had hastily set up this ordinary farmhouse to become an interrogation room.
That high-ranking official and two of his subordinates sat behind a long table. As he pointed
at the three chairs in front of them, his smile was still genial. "Just carrying out routine
business. Let's have a little talk."
Meng Liangchuan and Chen Yuan astutely chose to walk over and take a seat.
As ones who had come on the entire journey here with Cheng Muyun, they both naturally
needed to be questioned as well.
The high-ranking official once more pointed at the chair in the middle. Ambling over, Cheng
Muyun brushed a glance over Meng Liangchuan, then gave Chen Yuan a deep look before
sitting down.
The door was shut. Apart from the transcriber, there were only the six of them.
Three interrogation officers, three people to be interrogated.
The high-ranking Interpol official pointed at Meng Liangchuan with his pen. "When did you
meet Cheng Muyun? Why did you meet him?"
Meng Liangchuan recalled, "Three years ago, in order to investigate the largest trafficking
ring in Nepal, I went undercover, infiltrating the underground black market and becoming
a gun for hire. Half a year ago, my superiors suddenly gave the orders that Cheng Muyun
had entered Nepal's borders and I was to find a way to approach him and get close to him."
"Do you know what he came here to do?"
"No, not at all." Meng Liangchuan used a truthful face to speak a lie. "I only know that he
wanted to steal a batch of goods and, while he was at it, get revenge by destroying that
smuggling base in Nepal. Afterward, I helped him deliver those goods to this manor here in
India, and then my business was over."
"Oh?" The high-ranking official was suspicious. "You truly did not know? Then why did you
continue to stay in Nepal?"
"Oh, that." Meng Liangchuan gave a cough. "I knew a long time ago that there was one of
our own who had gone undercover and was by his side. I thought, if I stayed with him and
the time came when that undercover brother was in danger, I could be of assistance."
The look on Meng Liangchuan's face was of complete openness.
The high-ranking official gave a nod, then turned his eyes to Chen Yuan. "When did you
meet Cheng Muyun? Why did you meet him?"
Chen Yuan answered sedately, "Thirteen years ago, after Fu Yiming was rescued by Cheng
Muyun, he wanted to specially enlist Cheng Muyun into the ops team and turn over the role
of leader to him. Consequently, my superiors sent me to join that ops team, and my
assignment was to monitor Cheng Muyun."
"Do you know what he came here to do?"
"I was not absolutely certain. I merely had speculations." Chen Yuan carried on speaking his
words of truth. "Half a year ago, after Cheng Muyun entered Nepal, he sent word to Fu
Yiming that the entire team was to come to the border area between Nepal and India and
continue investigating the case. Back then, the operation had only destroyed the smuggling
route along the Russia-Mongolia border. Cheng Muyun said, he now had already learned
the details on the smuggling route along the India-Nepal border."
"So Cheng Muyun's presence here this time is as a retired member of the team continuing
to help Fu Yiming investigate the case?"
"No. That is his excuse." Chen Yuan contemplated for several seconds. "He came back for
revenge. He suspects that many years ago, there had been a traitor in the ranks and that
was what resulted in the deaths of so many members of the team. So, Cheng Muyun's
return this time is to find the spy."
The high-ranking official nodded. "What you mean is, he was going to take the law and
punishment into his own hands, to use illegal means to investigate who the traitor is in the
ops team."
"Yes, that is correct. They are illegal means." Chen Yuan stated his final conclusion.
Inside this room, there were clacking sounds.
The transcript was being simultaneously sent to Headquarters and also, at the same time,
being wiped out from the computer, leaving no record behind.
These people who had come here actually did not have the seniority to make a judgment on
this. After all, that special Moscow operations team was actually very high ranking. The
rank of this high-up official doing the interrogation was actually one level lower than Fu
Yiming's, and he had no authority to issue punishment.
Hence, they were responsible only for the questioning piece and would wait for
Headquarters to make the verdict: should Cheng Muyun be taken into custody and turned
over to Headquarters or not?
Next, everyone's attention turned to Cheng Muyun.
He had, after all, vanished for ten years, so now, suddenly seeing him here in person, the
feeling he gave was like a man who had stepped out of a stack of black and white
photographs.
Time will grind the edges off everything.
The he of today had buried away his extremeness and untamedness and was now placid as
the waters of a deep pond.
The official gave a cough and prepared to ask his questions.
"I need a Russian interpreter," Cheng Muyun impassively told the other party in English.
"You see, when all is said and done, I am still someone from Moscow. If I do not use my
mother tongue and end up being unable to properly convey my meaning through my
words, that would be a great disadvantage to me. Also, please give me a cup of hot water. I
do not want the atmosphere here to become like an interrogation. I do not feel I have
committed any wrongdoing. That is especially true in regards to Mister Chen Yuan's
malicious conjecture of 'illegal means.' "
"Of course, of course. No conclusion has been established yet about all of this." The official
motioned with his hand. "Go outside and find someone who knows both Russian and
English. While you are at it, go pour a cup of hot water for Cheng… Mister Cheng Muyun."
Five minutes later, all of his requests were met.
With another cough, the official prepared to ask his questions.
"I came here to the border between India and Nepal precisely because I wanted to track
down that smuggling line." Without needing him to ask, Cheng Muyun directly answered
the question. "Of course, we were only halfway through the investigation and then that
smuggling base in Nepal was blown up, after which all my leads were cut off."
"Oh?" The official thought briefly. "Then what is your purpose for coming to India?"
"Because Buddha is here."
"……"
"Here, in India and Nepal, is the birthplace of Buddhism. Although it was somewhere in
China that I entered into the monastic and became a monk and I do not follow Hinduism,
they still share a common origin, after all. I would believe that there is nothing to be
condemned about coming here because of one's beliefs and religion." Cheng Muyun
meticulously, with small sips, enjoyed the cup of hot water that he held, as if tasting a rich
cup of Indian coffee.
"Regarding Zhou Ke's death, I am greatly aggrieved. I hope you all will continue the
investigation and make that trafficking ring pay its due price." A smile was on Cheng
Muyun's lips as he looked directly at this official in front of him. He had nevertheless once
been the ops leader of that special operations team in Moscow and two levels of ranking
higher than this official… "However, my apologies. I cannot help you with it. I am one who
follows the monastic way."
"Please set your mind at ease." A solemn look covered the official's face. "In regards to Zhou
Ke's death, we have already created a special case for it. Any companion's sacrifice of death
should be engraved onto our hearts.'
"Zhuang Yan…" Cheng Muyun lowered his eyes, remaining surprisingly silent.
Everything was quiet. Even the transcriber who was uploading the records and sending
them off had stopped.
Waiting for this crucial answer.
"My heart is extremely pained as well, even though I did not know him well." Cheng Muyun
once more opened his mouth to speak. "Why was there no autopsy? Because I do not trust
any outsiders. And therefore, some people within the ops team have already sent the body
back to Moscow. I trust that shortly, there will be a long and detailed autopsy report. If by
that time you need me to cooperate with that investigation, I will gladly do so."
No interrogation or questioning had been necessary. All that had needed to be said, Cheng
Muyun had now finished saying.
This included his final words: "And as for Mister Chen Yuan's speculations that I am trying
to root out a mole? That is truly absurd. Way back ten years ago, I had already left the ops
team. I have not been leader for a long time already, and I have neither the position nor the
authority to investigate that. My apologies. I do not accept that allegation."
The official fell silent for a little while. "Mister Cheng Muyun, you must understand, even
though Zhuang Yan was just an ordinary police detective, he should not be casually
sacrificed."
"Of course." Cheng Muyun gave a composed nod of his head. "I hope as well that you can
find out the truth."
The official turned his eyes on Meng Liangchuan.
Meng Liangchuan shook his head. "I am unclear on this whole matter. Cheng Muyun never
spoke anything about a spy in his ranks."
The official looked at Chen Yuan.
Chen Yuan seemed prepared for countering this defense that Cheng Muyun was giving.
Removing the glasses he had all along been wearing, he folded in its arms and held it out.
"There is a recording here."
One of the people with the official stood up and took the glasses from Chen Yuan. Cheng
Muyun cast a look at Chen Yuan. No wonder he had been coughing all this time. It was to
cover up the action of taking a recording? Cheng Muyun smiled for several seconds because
of this inference.
The recording was from yesterday, in the second basement level of the hospital.
Along with a very clear coughing sound, the entire altercation between Fu Yiming and
Cheng Muyun could be heard.
"He was only nineteen! He's been with me since he was a kid. Now is everything great?
Huh? He's dead! His death proves that he's innocent, that he's not the mole, right? This is
your method?!" It was Fu Yiming's voice.
"You want to kill me?" This was Cheng Muyun's voice.
"You really want to kill me?" Still Cheng Muyun's voice.
……
The three people heading the interrogation finished listening to the entire recording.
That official seemed to be waiting for Cheng Muyun's explanation. In a rather innocent
manner, Cheng Muyun carried on drinking his water, until, in front of everyone, he finished
the very last drop and set the cup down.
"Mister Cheng Muyun, do you have any other explanations that you would like to provide?"
the official finally asked a question.
Cheng Muyun was perplexed. "What do you need me to explain?"
"It was very clear in the recording. Fu Yiming discovered that you were hunting down the
mole, and that was why there was this conflict with you." The official repeated the contents
of the recording.
Cheng Muyun looked as if he suddenly comprehended. "Could it be you did not hear that
the whole time, it was only Fu Yiming making his own speculations? During that entire
development, I only felt terribly pained in my heart that he would actually want to kill me.
Officer, you should know very well, Fu Yingming not only has looks like those of a woman,
his temperament is like a woman's, too—is easily angered, is always suspicious, lets
himself be blinded by emotions, has a volatile temper, and also is very petty-minded and
vindictive. He is angry at me for leaving without saying a word ten years ago and has been
resentful of me all this time."
When Meng Liangchuan finished listening to this series of descriptions that Cheng Muyun
gave, he could not refrain from looking out the window and admiring the field of
sunflowers in the distance.
"He frequently will, out of the blue, throw temper tantrums and make wild, unfounded
conjectures. You can ask the people in Moscow about this particular point. I have long
grown accustomed to it." Cheng Muyun gave a wry smile. "But that does not mean I am
tacitly admitting to Fu Yiming's words, especially if they are to be used as evidence against
me."
There were no holes at all in Cheng Muyun's response. After all, in the recording, he had
practically said nothing. The only other words, spoken from that girl named Wen Han, had
nothing to do with anything about a spy, either. The rest was only Fu Yiming, alone, making
furious denunciations.
The three interrogators began to fall into silence.
Their questioning had basically come to an end now, and they needed only to wait for
Headquarters’ decision on whether they needed to completely take Cheng Muyun away.
This was a very difficult problem.
To put it in simple terms, Cheng Muyun was once on the "bad side," but then later washed
himself clean and became a hero—he was a legend. But now, if you were to say again that
he was bad… that was tantamount to overturning everything that had happened ten years
ago and was basically a slap to everyone's face.
Consequently, with this whole matter pertaining to Cheng Muyun, everyone was treading
especially prudently.
Moreover, Cheng Muyun had once done a great meritorious deed.
An endless wait.
It seemed that Headquarters was also very much vacillating over whether or not Cheng
Muyun should be temporarily detained. Rather impatiently, the official looked at his watch
hands. After forty minutes had passed, Headquarters still had not given an answer.
The official thought for a moment, trying to come up with something to say to lighten the
atmosphere.
Should things turn out fine for Cheng Muyun, then the great commotion and mobilization of
all these people in order to bring him here would become a little embarrassing.
Polite niceties were about to roll off his lips when knocking was heard at the door.
The official signaled with his eyes to the person beside him to open the door. As the sun of
the outdoors shone into the room, the one who Cheng Muyun had accused only just earlier
of being suspicious and volatile like a woman—Fu Yiming—also walked in. Narrowing his
eyes, he took in the show of pretentiousness in the room, then gave a laugh. "What? You
take away one of my people and you don't even bother letting me know?" His tone was very
obviously irked. "And on top of that, the one you took away is the former ops leader. How
do you expect me to explain that to all my brothers?"
The official was all business as he answered this commanding officer who was higher-
ranked than himself. "I cannot do anything about that. We are just following the rules and
carrying out routine practice."
"Then do you know this? Do you know how hateful it is that, while we are out in front
putting our lives on the line, you all stick a spy in our ranks and stab us in our backs?"
His questions left the official feeling slightly shamed.
Fu Yiming carried on, saying, "Each person in the midst of an assignment is not to be
restricted in any way. All charges, even questioning, must be put aside and wait until the
assignment is concluded. This is the rule that has come from long-established and accepted
convention." Becoming increasingly impatient, Fu Yiming stretched out his hand and
stabbed a finger at the official's chest. "We are hunting down a trafficking ring; we're in the
midst of carrying out a mission. Do you know how many of my men that trafficking ring
caused me to lose ten years ago?"
"Regarding this… I am deeply sorry about it as well." The official grew more and more
sullen.
For a moment, the atmosphere dropped to the freezing point.
The most awkward piece was that Fu Yiming, this difficult-to-handle person, had suddenly
appeared.
……
Everyone was silent. What should be done?
Eventually, it was Fu Yiming who broke the stillness. "I have already written up a report for
Headquarters. It was just now. I am here to vouch that Cheng Muyun has not done any
illegal form of investigating, and our ops team does not have any sort of traitor or mole in
it, either. Zhuang Yan's death was an accident from food poisoning. When the autopsy
report from Moscow comes back, it will prove everything."
The three interrogators were once again taken aback.
Fu Yiming had just directly overturned that earlier recording evidence from Chen Yuan.
"Now, may I ask, can we go now?" Fu Yiming brought his head down and looked at that
official.
"Wait a moment. I need to confirm with Headquarters." The official pointed at a chair.
Fu Yiming expressed that he did not need to sit while he waited.
The transcriber sent off the question.
Three minutes later, the answer they were waiting for came: Release him. Continue
surveillance.
Letting out a relieved breath, the official extended his arm toward the door. "You may go
now. However, I will be monitoring the actions of all of you in India."
Fu Yiming's eyes narrowed. "Not a problem. You may send someone to surveil Cheng
Muyun, but you have no authority to take him away. Unless I die." Saying this, he walked up
in front of Cheng Muyun. "Let's go."
Unperturbedly, Cheng Muyun rose and picked up his jacket that he had laid on the chair,
clasping it in his hand. In passing, he even nodded his head and smiled at that person
responsible for interpreting for him, saying in Russian, "My thanks to you."
Prior to leaving, Cheng Muyun did not glance again at Chen Yuan.
Fu Yiming, on the other hand, swept a gaze over the shoulder piece on Chen Yuan's police
uniform. With a smile that was only skin deep, he told Chen Yuan, "Congratulations that
your mission is complete and you can now withdraw. Finally, you no longer need to be
working undercover in our most dangerous little ops team from hell."
And then, with everyone's gazes on them, the two left that interrogation room.
With a snap, the official turned off the lamp that was on the table and had been used for the
questioning.
"Chen Yuan, you stay here alone and give a report about your work to your superiors."
Had Chen Yuan not sent out a message and requested that Cheng Muyun be taken into
custody, it would not have been his place to preside over this interrogation.
It is said that Moscow is the place where hot-bloodedness and cold-bloodedness co-exist.
Nobody here wanted to get on the wrong side of that group belonging to Fu Yiming.
"So there's nothing here for me, then?" Meng Liangchuan stood up and stretched.
"You can go ahead and go." The official was relaxed now, patting Meng Liangchuan on the
shoulder. "Hey, Ol' Meng, you should hurry on back to Nepal. That group from Moscow is
called 'Hell's Ops Team.' Don't always be with them. Be careful that you might end up
getting pulled into this and implicated."
"I know, I know." Meng Liangchuan gave a mocking smile. He himself was covered in cold
sweat, as well. After all, to protect Cheng Muyun earlier on, he had stated quite a few lies. If
they were exposed, he would not have many good days ahead of him, either.
Walking out the doorway of that room, he looked afar.
It had only been a short while, but all that could be seen were the silhouettes of two
especially small backsides.
Meng Liangchuan threw a final look into the room behind him. This Chen Yuan should be
the person he most looked down on. Though he knew that Chen Yuan was also carrying out
an assignment, Meng Liangchuan imagined that if he were Chen Yuan, he likely would have
defected and absolutely would not have reported Cheng Muyun during this time.
Meng Liangchuan gave an inward sigh.
When he first stared at that group photograph taken in the coffee plantation, he had
already made the inference that, amongst those four people, one was a mole and another
was an undercover agent sent by the higher-ups to surveil Cheng Muyun.
Now, Chen Yuan had already exposed his own identity as a spy and left the manor estate,
and Zhuang Yan was dead.
There remained still Fu Yiming and Cheng Jiayi.
Just how many more things needed to happen, and how many more people needed to die?
…
Fu Yiming and Cheng Muyun were strolling forward, side by side, beside the sunflower
field.
Just as Cheng Muyun had described earlier, Fu Yiming very much held grudges, was very
volatile and very easily angered, and very much required effort to regain control of his
emotions.
However, with this fuss that had come, he had still put their many years of camaraderie and
brotherhood first.
After walking for a little while, Fu Yiming gave a soft sigh of regret. "I told you a long time
ago not to go digging up that mole. We are not a triad where we can decide to do a purge
and then just go ahead and do it. We need to act according to the law. If this type of illegal
conduct that you're using ends up bringing about a murder case, you will have to pay for it
with your life."
Cheng Muyun glanced at him.
"Do you still suspect me?" Fu Yiming asked him.
"Hard to say." Cheng Muyun was very honest.
"Very good. It's an either/or choice. Between Cheng Jiayi and me, choose one to kill. Need
me to first send off a write-up to my superiors to tell them that, if I die, it absolutely will not
have anything to do with you, Cheng Muyun?" Once Fu Yiming finished saying this, he
began laughing first.
Amid the sound of his laughter, Cheng Muyun saw Wen Han anxiously waiting in the
distance.
"Your woman came rushing into my room and pulled me up to come find you," Fu Yiming
described in a low voice. "Your woman is very smart. She knew that I could help you. Go on.
This time, she is the hero and you are the beautiful maiden. When the hero rescues the
maiden, the maiden should always offer her own self in repayment."
Cheng Muyun threw a look at Fu Yiming.
The latter let out a laugh and jested, "That was the first time I ever felt my physique is not
as good as yours. When she pulled me up, I was not wearing a thing on me, but the look in
her eyes when she looked at him was no different than if she was staring at a hunk of
wood."
With a light chuckle, Cheng Muyun replied, "You think that the only difference between you
and me is your physique?"
Fu Yiming frowned slightly. "Hey, that's crossing the line. I'm a lonely, old bachelor, and
may even die in India in the next few days because you suspect me. In these scarce
remaining days, not only have you not gone to find me a beauty so that I can taste a woman,
you're even trying to provoke me like this."
Cheng Muyun could not even be bothered to pay any more attention to him and continued
striding ahead.
Stopping where he was, Fu Yiming looked around in search of that small, rundown electric
three-wheeler that had brought himself and Wen Han here. He felt that something would
definitely occur in that sunflower field with those two, and if they dallied a little bit, it
would be nighttime. He did not want to sit on the side of the field and wait.
Sunflower fields beneath the sun's glow carry a power that causes people's hearts to turn
toward the light.
This was especially so amidst this vast stretch of sky and earth where no bounds could be
seen. It was through this strength of nature that Wen Han had settled her heart, and
continued settling it as she waited for him. But now, as she watched him appear, she could
stay settled no longer. Sprinting forward a few steps, she threw herself against him and
wrapped her arms around his neck.
She could truly, tangibly feel his palms, firmly against her thighs, holding her up in front of
himself.
Her nose tingled. Too terrifying. This morning, as she watched his backside heading
downstairs, she had felt that something was not right. Later, when she witnessed that
terrifying scene, witnessed him being taken away by many people carrying guns, she had
been stunned. From that rundown building, she had raced all the way to the small, white
building. Viciously pounding open Fu Yiming's door, she had dragged Fu Yiming up from
his bed and flung some clothing onto the head of that man who had still been groggy with
sleep. "Quick, quick! Cheng Muyun was taken away by a lot of police!"
Then, she had flustered rushed out to the main road and grabbed an electric three-wheeler
that was still speeding along, shocking the countless splendidly dressed Indian passersby
who were waiting for the grand celebration. She vaguely remembered Fu Yiming barking,
"Are you trying to kill yourself?!" and, while he was at it, also berating her for thinking of
Cheng Muyun as being too fragile. Even if there were mountains of daggers and seas of
flames, Cheng Muyun could come out of those alive, let alone from just a dozen or so armed
people.
And then, they had followed the clues and messages left by Fu Yiming's team and tracked
down this place.
……
The entire way here, Wen Han had not cried, but as he held her like this, tears flowed from
her.
The sound of her weeping was stifled.
"Cheng Muyun, can you just not tell me straight out next time when something is wrong?"
Wen Han sobbed, her heart aching so terribly that it quaked. "I still haven't told you; I love
you…"
Cheng Muyun did not know whether he should cry or laugh at this.
Truly, he should thank the Heavens, for what kind of woman had they given him?
After he had survived a great adversity, she would actually say something like that. Should
it not be something… a little more touching? Why was it so funny?
Bringing her face down, Wen Han bit fiercely into his shoulder. "You still haven't even
heard me say that I love you. Wouldn't you have regretted it if you died?"
This man had made her fall in love with him, yet every time, he could just up and leave or
just be arrested away…
Wen Han's fingers were still quivering as she encircled his back tightly with her arms.
"Cheng Muyun, I love you. Please don't make me go back to Moscow alone." Her voice was
scratchy as she beseeched him quietly, "I'm begging you, please don't make me go back
alone."
She could not even imagine, when she returned to that gray city of Moscow, when each
time winter fell upon it, would she be unable to endure the cold, unable to bear the times
without him? She could not imagine what the state of her heart and mind would be when
she tried to picture where he was and what sufferings and perils he was undergoing.
"My love," he answered, his hand stroking her back, "you're making it very difficult for me.
Back in Nepal, in that laundry room, do you still remember? I had told you, before you
returned to Moscow, we would be together, and then after that we would part."
Balling her hands tightly into fists, she hammered his back ferociously. "I won't agree to it."
He felt it really would not be good to let Fu Yiming continue watching the fun. Hence,
sweeping her straight up into his arms, he turned to the right and leapt into the sunflower
field.
Amongst the stalk after stalk of sunflowers that were taller than a person, Cheng Muyun
crouched and set Wen Han down. He gazed directly into her eyes. "On the day that we first
met on the Tibetan Plateau, an old lama said one thing to me: 'Who first awakens from the
Great Dream? The life I have led only I myself know.' He was telling me; all things of this
world are unreal illusions. At the time, I did not tell him that in the Diamond Sutra, it also
says, 'All phenomena are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow.' You see, everyone is
saying that everything in this world is illusory, that we should not be so stubbornly
unwilling to let go of it. Wen Han, think of me as someone who is not real, an illusory thing.
If it should be forgotten, then forget it; if it should be let go of, then let go of it."
In this entire space, there was only the sound of the breeze rustling the sunflowers.
Wen Han shook her head lightly, wanting to refute him.
"Darling, I love you, too." Cheng Muyun brought his face close and touched it against hers.
In the softest, most tender voice, a voice that left a person's heart lingering in and longing
for it, he told her, "If I could live my life again, I would absolutely be a diligent railway
worker, or some other occupation. I would take home a meager pay cheque. Every night on
the weekends, I would go drinking in a bar near the railway station until I was dead drunk.
I would live a life of worry and anxiousness and also be single the whole time. And then,
when I was thirty-five years old, in a little corner of that bar, I would meet a young,
conservatively dressed girl of one-quarter Chinese descent. I would bring her home with
me, make love to her, marry her, and have a bunch of children with her. I would use reality
to tell her, an exciting type of love is not suitable for her. The woman I love should have the
right to walk down any street in Moscow with peace of mind, and to complete her entire
journey of life peacefully and ordinarily."
无间地狱 "Avici Hell" in Buddhist beliefs is "the perpetual hell."

A situation in which different individuals give contradictory interpretations of the same

scenario.

从前种种，譬如昨日死，以后种种，譬如今日生. This well-known line is quoted from

《了凡四训》Liaofan’s Four Lessons, which was written in the Ming dynasty by Yuan
Liaofan. My translation here is more literal and less interpretational in order to fit with the
feeling of this scene, where Cheng Muyun is actually quoting from an ancient text. There are
multiple translations of this book, including
http://www.buddhanet.net/pdf_file/liaofan.pdf and
http://www.wizanda.com/content/Four_Essays_On_Karma.pdf. In the first link on
buddhanet, the interpretation of this line is “Live as though everything of the past dissolved
yesterday, and all of the future begins today.”

本愿经, referring to 《地藏本愿经》Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva Sutra, also known as The

Sutra of Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha's Fundamental Vows or The Earth Store Bodhisattva
Sutra.

《金刚经》, which actually has the full Chinese name of 《金刚般若波罗蜜经》is called the
Diamond Sutra in English. The original Chinese line quoted by Cheng Muyun here is 一切有
为法，如梦幻泡影. I did not do this particular translation of the line. A search on English
translations of the Diamond Sutra brings up many results, and this translation of the line is
referenced in many texts and websites. However, I do not know the original source.
Additional Comments:
Come back and read this last paragraph after you’ve read the whole story and know
everything about Cheng Muyun, including his motivations. Maybe you’ll blubber like me (or
maybe not… LOL).
I’ve argued for Cheng Muyun before that he has a lot more to think about than just love and
romance, but that does not mean his feelings for Wen Han are insignificant to him. To
Cheng Muyun, the price to pay for being with him is simply too great. Let’s not even talk
about being able to protect Wen Han, an ordinary girl, from all the dangers that come with
it. Not everyone is Cheng Muyun and can withstand the stress of living a life of uncertainty
in which “death is always an imminent risk.” It is not that he does not want to be with her.
He regrets that he had not lived a mundane life before, and hence, he now cannot live a
mundane life that has her, no matter how much he wants to. I believe, to Cheng Muyun, the
greatest things he can give the one he loves are peace and stability.
 Chapter 13 – The Dream and the Ones in Sleep

At midday this day, while Fu Yiming was sitting beside the sunflower field, contemplating
whether he should continue walking forward or simply go back and ask those people who
had interrogated Cheng Muyun earlier for a vehicle to use as transportation, Cheng Muyun
had already brought his little woman out from that sunflower field that stretched as far as
the eye could see. Cheng Muyun wanted to kiss Wen Han.
The person sitting beside the field looked down and searched about everywhere for some
pebbles, wanting to throw one over there to disrupt that suggestive scene. Catching sight of
him, Wen Han immediately nudged Cheng Muyun away.
Despite never having had a girlfriend due to his dangerous identity, over all these years,
there was not much Fu Yiming had not seen before. The look in Wen Han's eyes as she
gazed at Cheng Muyun was even identical to the one his own older sister had once had.
However, Wen Han was much luckier, for in a certain sense, she did get to have Cheng
Muyun.
Was it because she had a clean background? Or was it for some other reason?
Who knew? Who would even try to delve into this?
The ones who like to explore the questions of "Why did you fall in love?" "When did you fall
in love?" or "How much can you love?" are all people who have plenty of life to squander
away. But for people like them, the things they most lacked were life and time. Nobody
understood better than them the deep, profound meaning of "this moment."
In this moment, if one still possesses living, breathing life, then it is already extremely
wonderful.
Anything else remaining that is in addition to being alive is a bonus gift.
He did not know what views this man, Cheng Muyun, had on the word "love."
In Fu Yiming's eyes, love is a very difficult thing to find, but it is very easily lost. You can
never have any way of knowing whether the one you have fallen in love with is an enemy,
or perhaps a potential future enemy. Instances are too commonly seen where one moment,
you are staying by one another's side through life and death, and the next moment, life and
death have separated you.
At the end of the field, a rundown jeep came chasing toward them. They were the three
men and one woman who had the responsibility of surveilling Cheng Muyun. The driver
hopped out and, in English, quietly expressed, sorry, the higher-ups had requested that
they do this.
Fu Yiming had no real complaints. After all, having a vehicle to take him back was better
than walking back.
Very soon, the vehicle had driven into a bustling street. Looking out at the people sitting
along the side of the street, Cheng Muyun asked Wen Han, "If you were given an entire day,
where would you want to go?"
Inside this vehicle, there were four strangers, the ones responsible for monitoring him, and
there was also Fu Yiming, who was sitting in the front passenger seat. All of them could
hear their dialogue.
"Me?" Wen Han answered softly in Russian, "Kathmandu, I suppose."
That was the place the two of them had first met. Even though the he in that place had not
shown even hints of having any sort of religious convictions and had been very shameless,
looking back upon that time now, it seemed that place had actually been the most
wonderful.
Whether it was the burning Indian incense, the little inn that hung a small wind chime in its
doorway, that small Western restaurant with the awning that leaked rainwater, or that
crude henna shop at the corner of the street, it was still so vivid in her memory, even
carrying with it the dampness of Nepal's rainy season.
If time could turn back, she absolutely would not avoid him in that very beginning. They
had only ever had that tiny bit of time that was peaceful and calm. She would grasp every
minute, every second to try to know and understand him.
Wen Han's eyes stung slightly, and trying to cover this up, she bowed her head. And then,
she heard him chuckle also as he told her in languid and somewhat resigned Russian, "But,
whether it is from a time or a distance perspective, there is some difficulty in us going back
to Nepal. I must rush back here tomorrow by noon to take part in this grand monastic
induction ceremony. How about Varanasi? It only takes one hour to get there." Completely
disregarding the gazes of the three men in the backseat, Cheng Muyun tilted his head to the
side so that his warm breath feathered from her forehead to her ear. "In that room that is
completely occupied by only one bed, was I not able to make you sufficiently happy?"
From the front passenger seat, furious coughing sounded out. Fu Yiming truly had choked
on that.
Wen Han, however, could not concern herself that someone had heard. She had utterly lost
the awareness that she should blush.
Her eyes were filled only with astonishment. She even forgot to reply and simply made
random guesses. Could it be he was going to give her one entire day? That nothing would
happen, and it would only be the two of them?
"Go to Varanasi." Making the decision, Cheng Muyun gave these instructions to the driver of
this vehicle.
"I wish you two a pleasant time in the next twenty-four hours." Directly opening the door,
Fu Yiming jumped out of the still-moving vehicle, and in that instant when the driver
reflexively decelerated, he took advantage of inertia to back up several steps before coming
to a firm stop by the roadside.
After deducting the time that they would be spending on the road, there were already only
less than twenty-four hours.
This was perhaps the last bit of time that Cheng Muyun could give her.
The jeep hurtled along the entire way.
It was as if they were racing against the clock to go rescue someone.
Cheng Muyun would only speak when he needed to give directions, instructing the driver in
simple words how they should go. Just as he had said, ten years ago, he truly had lived in
India for a long period of time, so he was very familiar with each road here. In the end,
when she saw a familiar-looking street, she discovered that they really had come back to
that very first place they had stayed in when they initially arrived in India.
Hopping out of the vehicle, Cheng Muyun extended his right hand to Wen Han, who was
still in the car.
The small eateries on both sides, as well as that little yellow dog that meandered back and
forth in front of the shop, were all still here… But this thought was actually very silly. It had
only been a few short days. Why wouldn't they be here?
Wen Han stepped out of the jeep and followed him.
The last time she came here, she had fumblingly found her way to this place based on
Cheng Muyun's description of the surroundings.
At the time, a white-garbed Indian man selling souvenirs in the alley had warmly stood at
his doorway and smiled in greeting to Wen Han. Wen Han still remembered that door.
Turning her eyes in that direction, she saw that the white-garbed, uncle-like man was
sitting inside the shop, dozing.
"What would you like to buy?"
She shook her head. What would she buy? This was obviously not a vacation. She had even
lost her luggage.
"Did you not say you would like to buy incense?"
It seemed Cheng Muyun was very much trying to fulfill his duty as a boyfriend. When your
girlfriend is in a foreign country and pauses her steps in front of a small shop, you must
immediately fish out your wallet and satisfy all her demands. Whether it is jewelry,
souvenirs, or even items that are completely unnecessary, you should still buy them all.
Wen Han shook her head once more. "Are we going to your Indian friends' home to stay the
night?" She looked at the metal staircases not far away and also the house after house that
all rose tightly next to each other.
"If you want to stay there, then we will."
"You have the key?"
Cheng Muyun's gaze fell on Wen Han's lips, lingering there for several seconds as he gave a
mysterious smile. "Is a key such an important thing, my love?"
A giggle spilled out from Wen Han's lips.
He wasn't going to pry open the door, was he?
Fortunately, Cheng Muyun did no such a thing. From a crack at the bottom of the concrete
landing, he found the key, and opening the door, he led her into this small, unoccupied
home.
After exchanging a glance, the four people behind them decided still to follow them inside.
This was, after all, a three-level house. While it was no big deal to stand guard outside for a
night, the worry was that they would be unable to totally monitor Cheng Muyun's every
action.
The result when they stepped inside was that they discovered those two people,
surprisingly, had gone into the kitchen.
What were they going to do? The way this former Moscow operations team leader did
things, was it always this mystifying? Composedly, those four people sat in a circle on the
rug, waiting quietly in the living room.
Throwing a glimpse into the living room, Wen Han softly asked, "Are they your people,
too?" She did not know what had happened inside that interrogation room and also did not
know that Cheng Muyun was already under surveillance.
Cheng Muyun's smile was a little… strange. "Yes, you could say so, and also, not really."
She gave an "oh," and then, in the kitchen, began digging over here and rummaging through
there, looking to see what could be used. There were lots of spices, and she needed to one
by one open the lids to identify what types there were, which ones she needed, and which
ones she did not need.
Cheng Muyun saw that she had pulled out many spices and also tomatoes and carrots.
Picking up a tomato, he weighed it in his hand. "You want to cook?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Do not bother going to such trouble. We can go anywhere to have some good food."
Wen Han put the last of the vegetables that she had found onto the concrete countertop.
"But I don't want to go that far." Reaching out her hand, she slowly closed it around Cheng
Muyun's hand. "We would need to spend time finding a restaurant, looking at the menu,
and choosing what we want to eat. Those are all such a bother and waste a lot of time. Let
me cook for you. That way, you can keep me company in the kitchen."
Companionship. And in this place that was the kitchen. This was the most normal of
everyday life of ordinary people.
It was such that no one would even find this romantic.
But for him, Cheng Muyun, to set down everything and wholly and completely belong only
to one person—this was a life he had never before lived.
Seeing the scorching heat in his eyes, Wen Han's cheeks burned slightly. "You are the first
man I have ever had, although I know that's a little strange coming from someone who
grew up in Moscow. But I really just want to spend one most ordinary day with you." That
way, every time she thought back on all of this, it would not simply be a romantic fling and
sex, as well as a continuous journey of peril and the heartache of never-ending separation.
The dangerous air that Cheng Muyun emitted had, right now, completely vanished.
Bringing his hand onto her shoulder, he took one stride forward. Her back bumped into the
concrete counter.
His lips were right above the bridge of her nose, about to make contact.
"So, my love, what would you like to make for your beloved to fill his belly?"
Wen Han wanted to reply that she would leave him in a little bit of suspense, but he had
already first sealed her lips in a kiss that was very much not gentle and was actually a little
bit rough.
Engaging her tongue directly with his own, he pressed his slender leg against the side of
her thigh. His hand glided down until it was below her waist, and with one arm, he lifted
her onto the concrete countertop, allowing their eyes to be at the same level. "This
morning, before I left that little building, I was wholly regretting things . Why did we have
to waste away the entire night's time last night by being in the cold wind? If I had ended up
dead, then those six hours last night would have been so dull and boring."
After saying this, another vicious, deep kiss came down on her. He was ravaging her.
Silent and direct. Scorching and deep. Her head collided heavily into the corner of a cabinet
up above. She let out a muffled sound. Cheng Muyun cupped the back of her head in his
palm, cushioning her head for her and using his rough, burning palm as a barrier between
her and the cabinet corner… Wen Han's mind was in a muddled state. When she was
released from his hold, she was breathing heavily, her mouth open wide. With a palm
pressed against her chest, she coughed, feeling both embarrassed and wanting to smile.
The blush coloring her cheeks was because the door was not closed at all, and those
strangers undoubtedly must have witnessed this entire scene. The smile she wore had
come from the bottom of her heart, simply because she wanted to smile.
Cheng Muyun wanted to take things a step further, but she resolutely pushed him away.
She still needed to cook.
However, this matter did not go as smoothly as she had imagined. You see, so long as Cheng
Muyun was there in the space, she could only prepare things a little at a time. When it was
time for everything to be put into the pot, she suggested that he go out to wait. "Look. Your
friends are still waiting for you. They must be feeling so awkward, just sitting there and not
saying a word."
Cheng Muyun threw an amused glance outside. He wondered what she would think if he
were to tell her that those people were legally carrying guns at their waists, and the instant
they detected that he, Cheng Muyun, had any intentions of endangering the safety of society
or another person's life, it was only a matter of the blink of an eye that they would draw
their guns and fire directly at his fatal points.
In the end, that large, fragrant pot of red soup, which smelled as if it was rich in flavour and
spices, yet was somewhat different from Indian food, actually was a surprise to Cheng
Muyun.
"See? You don't eat meat, and it so happens that there is no beef here, either. There were no
beetroots, only tomatoes, but the color is right." With her face against the side of his neck,
Wen Han softly asked him in Russian, "Do you remember this? Red borsh." Moscow's red
borsh.
Borsh. Борщ. A very popular soup in Eastern Europe.
Regardless of the number of variations of this soup and how many countries in Eastern
Europe it had spread throughout, it was always a thick, bright red soup that brimmed with
the rich flavours of spices and onions.
Cheng Muyun's fingers caressed her chin as he gazed upon that steaming, thick, red,
vegetable soup.
Ten years.
Moscow. It truly was a homeland that left people nostalgic for it.
The entire room was filled with the smell of Moscow.
This soup was simply too ordinary, so ordinary that you would be able to drink it in the
home of any poor family in Moscow, and it was not worth specially introducing to those
unfamiliar "friends" who were with them.
But for Cheng Muyun, after ten years of being away from his homeland, being able, here in
India, to drink this soup that this girl from Moscow had made with her own hands still
caused his throat to tighten somewhat. Love—it gave him not only someone for his heart to
constantly be thinking of and physical intimacy but also the dangers of homesickness.
"Is this a rosemary leaf?" He glanced at her from beneath his eyelashes.
Wen Han made a sound in response, feeling somewhat self-conscious as she looked at those
deep green plant leaves on the surface of the soup.
In the kitchen earlier, when she was looking for spices to cook with, she had spotted these.
Whenever she saw rosemary, she would always remember the feeling she had had about
him in the beginning when they first met. Never had there been a man whose eyes could be
so beautiful, like rosemary, the persistent, bewitching fragrance. He needed only to take
one look at you and then your entire body would heat up.
And there were also the rosemary’s symbolic meanings of loyalty and endless, lonely
yearning.
These all made her unable to resist using that spice.
Wordlessly, Cheng Muyun took the stainless steel bowl that she had filled with borsh.
Those four people, the men and the woman who had all stayed quiet the entire time, now
over and over declined Wen Han's kindness. Only one perfunctorily drank a small sip of
soup, but after taking it into his mouth, he immediately apologetically spit it all back out,
explaining in English that he really could not handle the taste of rosemary.
It was from this moment onwards that Wen Han had a strange feeling about these four
people.
It was as if they did not fully trust Cheng Muyun, just like how… that day in the manor,
when Cheng Muyun had placed the bag of mangoes in front of everyone, only she and
Zhuang Yan had not hesitated at all and eaten some.
This was a type of trust.
Wen Han tidied up the kitchen, meticulously making sure every detail, big and small, was
taken care of. The tableware in this place was truly very basic, all of it stainless steel, so was
also very easy to clean and tidy up. Before long, she had finished drying the water off of the
last stainless steel bowl and shut the cupboard door. Her next action was to glance at the
clock hanging on the wall of the living room.
There were still another twenty-two hours left.
"Do you have… any plans after this?" The voice she used to ask this question was very light,
as if she was being a thief.
Narrowing his eyes, Cheng Muyun moved in close to her, pressing his tall body against her
back, the backside of her thighs, and also her calves, until there was no gap between them
at all. "How about going upstairs with your beloved?"
Inside the living room, someone turned on the television.
Indian singing and dancing programs are very noisy and also very joyful.
She could even hear in the house directly next door someone playing an instrument. The
song being played in real life intermingled with the song coming from the television and
gave her the illusion that she had once more returned to the world of humans. She tilted
her head down. The stray hairs in front of her forehead slipped down. They were very long
already.
In these dozens of days, she had not really taken care of her appearance.
Luckily, she was young, and aside from her complexion being somewhat pale, there had not
been any major effect to her.
It was in this stillness that someone knocked on the front door of the house.
One of the men in the living room instantly shut off the television.
All sounds were temporarily paused right there, and the atmosphere became tense and
unusual. Wen Han did not even really dare to breathe as she looked nervously at Cheng
Muyun. Only this man in front of her showed no abnormal reaction. Passing through that
living room, where the atmosphere seemed as if it had congealed, he put his hand on the
door handle and, with a click, opened the door.
Accompanying the sunlight that streamed in was the sound of a "Hi!" that came from an
unfamiliar, Indian youngster. "I'm looking for the owners of this home."
Cheng Muyun smiled, looking down at this young person of a foreign country.
"Unfortunately, they are not here. You likely know that their father is going to be having a
grand monastic induction celebration in the nearby town?"
The Indian young person suddenly remembered, a smile radiating from his dark-skinned
face. "I had thought they would finish these next few days of ritual worship ceremonies on
the Ganges before going there. It seems I thought wrong."
When the Indian youngster finished saying this, he puzzledly eyed over the people inside
the home.
"These are all my friends." Cheng Muyun rested against the doorframe, letting the
afternoon breeze ripple up a corner of his shirt. "You see, we are only staying here for this
one day as well, and tomorrow we will be hurrying back for that ceremony."
"Oh really?" The Indian youngster gave a laugh. "Then I will wish you a pleasant evening
tonight in Varanasi.”
"Thank you." Cheng Muyun smiled also.
When Wen Han, who was leaning against the kitchen doorway, caught sight of the
expressions of those three men and one woman, where they seemed as if they were
prepared at any time for battle, she felt even more affirmed about her views. These four
people unquestionably were here as a means of monitoring Cheng Muyun. No wonder,
beside the sunflower field during the day, they had expressed that they had had no choice,
that it was the arrangements of those higher in authority.
While she was still mulling over these things, Cheng Muyun had already shut the door and,
turning around, restored that detached expression on his face.
"We…" Before she could speak a complete sentence, he had swept her up into his arms.
"We what?" He chuckled lightly.
"… Nothing." Wen Han rested herself against his chest, not speaking. As she listened to each
sound of his black boots treading up the staircase, she stole a glimpse at those few people.
Since they certainly would know what the two of them were going to do, were they still
going to follow them upstairs?
Wen Han's thoughts were chaotic as she anxiously paid attention to those people who were
shadowing behind the both of them but maintaining a distance. He soon arrived at the third
level. The door of the room that she had once stayed in was open. A wind came in through
the window and blew straight out into the hall, billowing the hallway window's little
curtains, which were adorned with an intricate design.
While Wen Han was still secretly peeking at the people behind them, Cheng Muyun had
already stridden into the room and hooked the door with the tip of his boot.
The door closed with a bang, and Wen Han was set back down.
Her eyes swept around the room. When she turned her head back to say something, she
discovered he was unfastening, one at a time, the buttons of his shirt. Leaning herself gently
back into the wall, Wen Han watched him.
The sun cast its light in through the glass, spilling onto half of the room.
The place where she stood was in the sunlight, while he happened to be in a shadowed spot
where the sunshine could not reach.
There was a wound on his broad shoulders. An old wound.
Beneath his collarbones was his chest. And as her gaze travelled further down, from her
angle, she could see his black, leather belt that was already undone and draped loosely over
his hips.
Cheng Muyun removed those heavy and hard, black boots.
"I began observing the precepts when I was fifteen years old. It so happens that that same
year, you were born." His feet bare, he stepped across the wooden floors. Resting himself
lightly against the wall also, he lowered his head to admire the contours of her gently rising
and falling bosom as well as the little actions of her fingers, slightly curved and digging
lightly into the wall. "Isn't that interesting?"
She gave an "mm-hmm," unconsciously rubbing the pads of her fingers together.
"Near the Red Square, there is the red Kremlin Wall, Lenin's Tomb, Saint Basil's Cathedral,
the State Historical Museum of Russia, and also the oldest department store in Moscow,
built in the late nineteenth century." His voice low, he asked, "Did I get anything wrong?"
As he pulled these up from his memory, he was able, as well, to imagine Wen Han as an
adolescent girl, walking within that white structure, and the expression of longing and
anticipation on her face while she gazed at the shop windows. That was the life of an
ordinary woman in Moscow.
The department store in Moscow that Cheng Muyun mentions, the one that is next to the
Red Square and whose building dates back to the nineteenth century, should be the GUM.
Left: The GUM building facing the Red Square. Right: Interior view of the white structure of
the GUM.
"No. Your memory is very good." Even after being away for ten years.
"Tell me about your life in Moscow in the past." He was at last no longer satisfied with this
form of flirting where they were staring into one another's eyes. Slowly, he took hold of her
blouse, using that thin layer of cloth to pull her toward himself.
"My past…" Wen Han bumped up against his body, and her fingers contacted his chest. "I
was in an orphanage when I was a child, but I don't really remember it clearly. Later,
because of my one-quarter Chinese blood, my parents, who came from China, adopted me.
They run a small inn on an unremarkable street in Moscow. My grades in school were
neither great, nor bad."
Mundane and without lustre—these were the first twenty years of her life.
And these several dozen days spent with him were enough to make up for a countless
number of twenty years.
Cheng Muyun's hand trailed from her delicate shoulder, down her arm, and to her wrist,
and then he grasped her hand. "Aside from that shameless, cowardly friend of yours, have
there been people who wanted to court you?"
"Yes, but… not many."
Only a few Chinese who had stayed in her family's little inn had ever praised her for being
very beautiful. In Moscow, her appearance would not be considered outstanding, and to
those young Moscow men, she was no different from any other ethnic Chinese girl, having
simply an Oriental-looking face.
"There has been no person whom you held in your heart?" There was already a sexiness in
Cheng Muyun's eyes that could not be repressed.
Fiery, intense love has always been deadly.
Let alone, this was his love
"There has…" In a voice barely audible, Wen Han answered softly, "You."
"Is that so?" Those deep black eyes that contained no light held only her in them. "It is my
honour."
Their voices were very light. It was not known whether the people outside the door could
hear their words.
She knew there were people on the other side of the door, and so her every word choice
was very careful. Even now, her ears were pricked, trying to listen for any movement
outside.
Cheng Muyun suddenly shoved his hips forward, thrusting her heavily against the ash-
colored wall. She could not contain the moan that slipped from her in the same moment
that he seized her lips in his.
This man in front of her was completely obstructing her view, blocking out all the light in
her life. Only a little remnant of light passed between their two bodies, illuminating the
dust that floated in the air all around.
She could not remember how long the two of them spent in that space. There was nothing
in the room that displayed the time.
She remembered only some fragments of scenes. There were many scratches on that
wooden floor that rubbed her knees raw. And also, that searing sensation as his body
pressed against her back, which was slick with perspiration. Much, much later, she still
clearly remembered all of these.
……
When the two went back downstairs, everyone noticed Wen Han was wearing Cheng
Muyun's shirt.
It was tucked inside the waist of her skirt, though just barely, and although a little baggy, it
was still passable to look at. Cheng Muyun, on the other hand, was much simpler, with a
hiking jacket with the zipper pulled all the way to the top and nothing worn inside of that.
One of the four people shadowing them finally opened his mouth, grinning as he remarked,
"We were just saying, if you guys stayed up there the whole night, would someone need to
bring dinner up to you? But who would bring it was truly a question that caused a bit of a
headache. You see, when compared with sitting on this little rug in the living room and
watching boring Indian dances and songs, delivering dinner would be such a pleasant and
enjoyable task."
This was the veiled teasing banter that occurs between men.
The flush that flooded Wen Han's face was so scarlet it looked as if the color would drip
down.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. Another twenty hours left.
The afternoon was so wonderfully warm that they could not simply squander their time in
the room.
They left that house.
Walking down the alley, Wen Han, while avoiding puddles filled with mud, gazed at that
man who was two steps in front of her. To her surprise, Cheng Muyun truly was interested
in that little souvenir shop. He strode up the concrete steps, then extended a hand to her.
The instant Wen Han wrapped her hand around his fingers, she was pulled up onto the
step.
The white-garbed Indian man inside the shop was somewhat bored and was drinking milk
tea. In a corner of this souvenir shop, a woman, with hair swirled atop her head and held in
place by a wooden hairpin, was selecting postcards, her back toward them.
"Is this Sarnath here on this one?" The woman turned around to ask that uncle-like Indian
man.
It was her?
It was the female innkeeper of that little inn in Kathmandu.
An expression of surprise flitted across Wen Han's face, but she evidently was very astute
and bowed her head, concealing away this moment of astonishment. Right behind her
followed one of the men monitoring them, his hands also behind his back as he looked at
this and that inside the shop, pretending he was an ordinary tourist.
The uncle-like Indian man chuckled. Rambling smilingly, he asked the woman in English,
"Just how devout are you that you would stay here for half a month? You have nearly gone
through and bought a round of everything in this shop of mine."
The female innkeeper gave a laugh. "I will be leaving here soon, very soon. It might be
tonight."
The uncle-like Indian man was puzzled. "You are going back to Nepal?"
"No, no." The female innkeeper looked down and smiled. In that instant when she lifted her
head again, her eyes flicked toward Cheng Muyun, who was examining a wooden carving. "I
am sick of living there already and plan on switching to live in a different country. After
all… there is nothing drawing me to Nepal anymore."
The uncle-like Indian man began to suggestively and enthusiastically shower her with
flattery, hoping to retain this female tourist from Nepal who had been buying something
from his shop every day. The female innkeeper smiled as she sidestepped the provocative
tone of the other party's words. In the end, she selected a stack of postcards that were all
printed with famous holy sites of Buddhism in India, and then, pushing open the door, she
left. The wind chimes in the doorway swayed as the door banged shut again, producing a
pleasant sound.
Wen Han also picked up a stack of postcards that were the same as the one the innkeeper
had bought, flipping through them—nothing special at all.
She began making aimless speculations.
She wondered whether that woman bought these postcards because she was a believer of
Buddhism herself or because she was following in Cheng Muyun's beliefs. Wen Han still
remembered, that night, in the smoke-filled liveliness that had evoked a suggestive feeling,
this female innkeeper had said, Cheng Muyun abandoned monkhood because the women of
the earthly world could not bear to let him go.
So, that woman had stayed here in waiting for so many days simply because she wanted to
say her goodbyes to Cheng Muyun.
As her thoughts turned to this, Wen Han could not help casting a glance at Cheng Muyun.
Cheng Muyun, right then, was casually shaking a string of brass bells between his fingers.
He had been waiting for Wen Han to choose some souvenirs but noticed that Wen Han was
looking at him, so walking over, he flipped through the stack of items in her hand. Soon, he
had pulled out a bill of money and was handing it to the uncle-like Indian man. "I will buy
these postcards. My wife is very fond of them, although I do not think there is anything
special about them."
That person who was shadowing them moved in closer, saying he was curious and wanted
to look at the postcards they were buying.
This was a type of "polite" explanation. Those four people all respected Cheng Muyun, this
former hero, so prior to any routine, duty-required inspection, they would first provide a
respectable and proper reason.
Wen Han, however, very much took offense. After handing them over to that person, she
kept a cold, detached stare on him until that man awkwardly gave the postcards back to
her. "My apologies. The little stories on these postcards are very fascinating, so I looked a
little longer at them." The other party made up an arbitrary excuse.
"Is that so?" Wen Han leafed through the postcards in her hand. "You are a believer in
Buddhism, too?"
This Moscow girl successfully caused the other party to choke into silence on his own
words.
Wen Han took those postcards that had been turned into a disorganized heap and stacked
them neatly again. The first one happened to be a panoramic view of Sarnath. Raising one
arm high, she stood with the sun behind her and tried to get a clearer look at the picture.
It was a shot of the stupa standing lonesome beneath the sun's glow on an open stretch of
grass, and not far from it were peepal trees that reached to the sky.
Turning the postcard over, she discovered there truly was, as the man had said, a short
story written on it in English about the connection between Sarnath and Buddhism.
"This is one of the four holy sites of Indian Buddhism. After the Buddha attained
enlightenment, it was here in the Deer Park that he taught for the first time that the sea of
suffering is boundless; about good and evil and cause of suffering; and about the endless
cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Here, he also took his first five monk disciples," Cheng
Muyun softly translated. "Thereafter, all three—Buddha, Dharma, and monk—were
present, and Indian Buddhism began."
"Actually…" Wen Han lifted her eyes to look at him. "I want to know, too. Is there anything
special about these postcards? Other than the scenery on them? What use do you have for
them?"
"It was completely because you like them that I bought them." Smiling leisurely, Cheng
Muyun shook his head. "There is nothing special about them. Oh, yes, if you do want to talk
about what is special, I do recall that it was in Sarnath that that Chinese monk, Xuanzang,
received and then took away the scriptures."
"You know I'm not asking about classic Buddhist stories." She gazed at him in seriousness.
Cheng Muyun shrugged his shoulders, chuckling, "It appears that in your heart, my
credibility has already fallen to the lowest levels."
Seeing the placid openness on his face, Wen Han began again to doubt her own judgment.
"So, could it be that innkeeper really was here just to bid her farewells to you?"
"You could consider it as such, but also no, not quite."
They were both very cautious in their dialogue. The entire time when he spoke to Wen Han,
he maintained a very intimate posture, his lips and her ear every now and then brushing
against each other, seeming more as if he was speaking seductive lover's words.
"You must be fibbing me." Something in the depths of her heart seemed to want to emerge
and was just waiting for her to call upon it, but she could not catch what it might be. Still,
she muttered, "Our return here to Varanasi… wasn't purely because you wanted to be here
with me, either?"
There were all different types of conjectures in those blue-black eyes of hers.
Two "sacred cows" were passing by her side when, all of a sudden, they straightened their
necks and bellowed a couple of times.
While Wen Han was turning her head back reflexively, Cheng Muyun grabbed her by the
wrist and pulled her over. As a result, though she escaped a collision with those sacred
cows, she ended up falling against his broad chest.
On this dirty, chaotic Indian street with muddy puddles and livestock excrement
everywhere, he used his lips to barricade all her various qualms. Nearby, there was an
Indian man facing the corner of the wall and urinating. Breaking out into a wide grin, he
hastily pulled up his pants and, chortling, began heckling them in English.
Everywhere in this winding, narrow alley, there were these sorts of people who would
relieve themselves in any random location. Many people in this place did not even have the
concept of using a restroom, let alone those many different mammals. Flowing or piling up
on the street underneath everyone's feet were the excrements of all types of livestock… But
while he was kissing her, he was still even able to pick her up by the waist so that she could
elude those filthy puddles beneath their feet.
Those four people shadowing and surveilling Cheng Muyun, though, were not so nimble.
They had originally been carrying out assignments in neighbouring countries and had only
last-minute been deployed here and put in charge of the case of this mysterious ops leader,
Cheng Muyun. Consequently, they only had a rudimentary understanding of the place that
India was.
You had to be kidding. Wasn't Varanasi supposed to be a sacred city?
Why was there excrement everywhere? And it would flow along with the water and
converge into the Ganges River… The woman in that group of four on surveillance duty was
showing noticeable discomfort with all this. Her high heels were already stained with filthy
matter, and frowning, she looked glumly at those two people who were still kissing in such
surroundings.
"My love, enjoying the present moment is what you most should do." As Cheng Muyun
lightly spoke this, he set her down on the highest stair step next to the Ganges River so that
all this while her shoes would stay clean.
"But you should tell me, at least even just a little bit. Just look. Chen Yuan suddenly brought
charges against you. If I hadn’t…"
"If you had not come, I still would have had a way to rid myself of Chen Yuan's accusations."
Cheng Muyun's breath fell on the tip of her nose. "Trust me. The more you know, the more
difficult it will be for you to go back to the normal world."
"Well, then, you should at least tell me, what is this?"
Wen Han completely pulled out the string around her neck. It was that thing that looked
just like a protection amulet. In the room earlier, he had removed every single item on her
body that was in the way, with the exception of this, which he had not taken off of her.
With a smile, Cheng Muyun shook his head, using silence to bring this discussion to a close.
He scanned around, helping her search for that old man.
Countless boats lined the shore, packed closely and facing every direction, all waiting for
their patrons.
From memory, Wen Han found the corner by the wall that the old man had always slept in.
There was no one. She looked all around, but there was no face that looked familiar. It
seemed that that old Indian man who had blessed her had already accomplished his desire,
and his ashes had joined the flow of the Ganges River.
She squatted down. The angle she was standing at was the same as last time, but in front of
her was only a decrepit and messy corner by a wall. The air was teeming with dust and
infused with smells that came from the bodies of nearby people. Crude, yet real.
"From the moment I entered Nepal…" Wen Han stared dazedly at that empty corner, her
smile forced. "The people around me were either bad people or good people killed by bad
people. Even this stranger… is dead. I'm starting to suspect whether I'm a curse on people."
"Trust me. At the very least, his death was a natural one and had nothing to do with you."
Cheng Muyun bent down into a half crouch.
An ordinary girl had stepped into this huge conspiracy, where good and evil were turned
upside down and hard to determine, and death came following right at her heels. If this
were Moscow, she undoubtedly would require a long period of psychological counseling
before she would be able to carry on with her peaceful, uneventful life again.
A warm touch covered the back of her head.
Cheng Muyun gently stroked her long tresses. "Do you know what I used to study in
university?"
This managed to successfully capture her attention so that she was no longer caught up in
her sorrow over the death of that Indian man who had actually been a stranger.
"Mathematics," he whispered beside her ear in Russian.
Her eyes abruptly widened. "You're only just telling me this now." From that night in the
campsite when they had chatted idly to that time in the temple when she had performed
that tonsure-like ceremony for him, he had pretended to be completely ignorant about this
field.
"That is what is amusing. You always are able to rouse in me a little bit of those memories
from my past." Languidly, he twined her long locks between his fingers several times.
A group of people parading behind them interrupted their conversation.
A procession formed by an uncountable number of sadhus had attracted the attention of
too many tourists and also Indian locals, causing them to come over to look. With the noise
and excitement, flocks of crows flew overhead and charged into the smoke and soot from
those corpses that were aflame.
Curiosity led Wen Han to jog over and, with much effort, push aside the crowd.
But the sight that fell upon her eyes caused her to hastily retreat back out from there.
Those sadhus were not wearing a single item that could cover up their bodies. That truly
left her not wanting to continue watching…
"What’s wrong? You have discovered that my physique is still the better one?” Behind her,
Cheng Muyun laughingly teased her. When he spoke, his eyes looked toward that
procession, and slowly, he rotated his right shoulder, stretching and loosening it.
Very good. Everything was proceeding as normal.
Late this night.
Downstairs of the house that they were staying in, Cheng Muyun found a small restaurant
that had already closed for business. There, he cordially treated those people who were
surveilling him. At the table, Wen Han sat in the furthest corner against the wall. A small,
yellow light bulb with no lampshade swayed in front of her, relying on only a single cord to
hang above the table.
In the beginning, they were very careful about the content of their conversation.
Later, though, they discovered that Cheng Muyun was not averse to talking about his past,
so gradually, everyone loosened up.
Most importantly, meat could be eaten at this restaurant. Truly just too wonderful.
Of course, as a careful precaution, two of the people still bought a takeout box of food from
a faraway shop and did not enjoy Cheng Muyun's hospitality.
Cheng Muyun stepped over to the small fire pot in the center of the restaurant and
stretched out his arms, warming his hands from a distance where he could practically
touch the flames. His back was to everyone, and the glow of the fire enclosed him in a faint
halo of light.
"Have you ever thought about, if one of the four of you became a traitor to your little group,
what would happen in this room?" Cheng Muyun quietly asked in English.
This one question caused the entire little restaurant to slip into silence.
The blackness of his shadow landed on half of the wall, as if it was looking down upon the
whole room.
"Cheng Laoban." The woman in that group of four gave a cough, then told him in a soft
voice, "I want to remind you, we will accurately report to our superiors each word that you
say. It is best if you are a bit more careful."
Cheng Muyun turned to the side, smiling slightly in the firelight. "Oh? Is that so?"
"Of course, at times, some information may unintentionally be overlooked when things are
being reported up." Another man scooped the last couple of mouthfuls of his takeout meal,
leaving not even a speck behind. "Such as now. I am drunk already."
Someone else chimed in, "Cheng Laoban, look, we do not want to get on the bad side of the
Moscow special ops team or that madman, Fu Yiming. So, I will also ask you to please speak
less and allow us to also be able to relax a little."
The last person also made his standpoint known. "Personally speaking, I feel that any rat in
the ranks should be sent to heaven to see God."
These four people were basically all, at the same time, declaring their stances in this
situation.
As long as Cheng Muyun did not leave behind any obvious evidence that could be used
against him, the four of them would also turn a blind eye to what he did.
The reflection of the flame's glow danced in Cheng Muyun's eyes as he laughed, "Do not be
nervous, everyone. Though the price on my head is quite high, I believe that the four of you
do not dare casually sell it out."
He moved away from the fire pot and stepped up behind Wen Han, who had been eating in
silence the whole time. Bending forward, he spoke softly in Russian. "Eat more, darling. Just
look, you have lost weight again.”
As he spoke, his gaze fell on…
A flush of red rose into Wen Han's cheeks, and also in Russian, she murmured back,
"Sometimes, you really are as much of a scoundrel as one of those middle-aged men in the
back alley of a bar who have drunk themselves silly.”
The four people by their side who were there to monitor them did not understand these
few sentences of dialogue at all.
They exchanged a glance amongst themselves, then lowered their heads to eat their dinner.
That official plainly knew that Cheng Muyun and the people around him all spoke Russian,
yet he still had not assigned anyone who knew Russian to monitor Cheng Muyun. This was
already clearly showing that even the higher-ups were deliberately closing an eye and
letting something slide. Setting aside proper procedures and rules, everyone actually hoped
that that so-called "mole" truly would be caught.
By the time they returned to that little room, it was already past three in the morning.
Wen Han psychologically was beginning to resist looking at the clock. It was as if the night
sky represented one node of time, and then, when the sun rose, it would be the next day.
What would happen tomorrow?
She turned over, bringing her gaze to the windowsill right at the head of the bed. "Have you
thought through how you're going to face Fu Yiming and your little sister?"
In this room where no lights were lit, Cheng Muyun beckoned to her. Wen Han climbed up
onto the windowsill.
He pulled out an object from behind him. Under the light of the moon, she saw it was a very
lifelike image of Buddha adhered to a piece of… bone. More accurately, it looked more like a
bone relic left after cremation. Although she had never touched one before, she had seen
through a glass display case what bone relics looked like.
"This is what I brought out from that mountain lair." Cheng Muyun placed into her palm
that relic that carried an image of Buddha. "Relics that contain a Buddhist image are
priceless."
He had never lied to Meng Liangchuan. This indeed was a priceless item, and he had
secretly kept it.
The weight she carried in her palm was immeasurable.
To any devout Buddhist, this item was something that should be reverently worshipped.
What sort of venerable spiritual leader would that monk have had to be to leave behind a
relic like this containing the image of Buddha? …h
"The smuggling line that I uncovered and destroyed ten years ago had many extremely
valuable items." Cheng Muyun lowered his eyes to look at the relic on her palm. "This was
the most important one out of all of them. But after I left, it was secretly stored away—by
me—in my home in Moscow."
"Secretly stored away?"
"Meaning, it was not recorded in the files that were submitted to the higher authorities.
Later, just a few years ago, someone took it, and then it was passed from hand to hand until
it ended up in that smuggling base in Nepal."
"And so, you discovered from that that there's a mole?"
"No." Cheng Muyun's smile was so faint it was barely discernible. "This was a bait that I left
behind."
There is something called situational awareness. The reason he was able to successfully
complete his mission after three years of going undercover was precisely because of his
reliance on this type of situational awareness that was almost instinctive to him and
allowed him to perceive the dangers that were everywhere. Hence, it was solely from this
feeling that he had in him that he inferred there was a traitor amongst them.
Later, this priceless treasure confirmed his inference.
Truly, it had been by Buddha's blessing and grace.
The greedy enemy, in the end, had made a move for this most valuable item.
"They thought I had abandoned everything. But, I was simply waiting for them to take this
thing." In the gleam of the moon, Cheng Muyun, sitting cross-legged, gazed at that image of
the Buddha on the relic.
His wait had been rather long. Ten years.
But no matter how long it was, the wait had been worth it.
Everything had been proceeding according to plan. Zhou Ke's death, though, was
unforeseen. However, it was also Zhou Ke's death that ended up pointing out the four
people most deserving of suspicion.
Cheng Jiayi; his good friend of many years, Chen Yuan; ops leader, Fu Yiming; and that one
who was always by Fu Yiming's side, Zhuang Yan. Only these four people knew Zhou Ke's
true identity and details.
Wen Han wanted to give that item back to Cheng Muyun. "You should not have told me so
much."
She remembered what Cheng Muyun had said, that the more she knew, the more it would
be a threat to many other innocent people.
"No, my love, I need you to know this." Cheng Muyun took her chin between his fingers and
leaned in close, saying softly, "When we were eating earlier, I prepared for them some high-
quality incense. Now, they should all have sunk into dreams about the Ganges River and
will not care what you do. So, darling, take this priceless treasure, walk out of this room,
and hide it in any place that you so desire, a place that only you know."
The moonlight was behind Cheng Muyun's face, so none of the details on it could be seen.
Thump, thump. Wen Han's heart was pounding. She cupped that extremely valuable item in
both her hands, not daring even to touch it with her fingers. Despite not knowing what
Cheng Muyun was planning, she still acted on instinct, climbing off the bed and, in bare feet,
stepping as lightly as possible out of this room.
There was a breeze in the hallway. It came from behind her, blowing over from the window
that Cheng Muyun's arm held open.
Wen Han's skirt fluttered up in the breeze. Looking back, she saw the man sitting on the
windowsill give her a nod.
She did not hesitate anymore. Doing as he had instructed, she slowly headed towards
downstairs. This type of setting caused fear to instinctively rise up in people, and she
breathed lightly to calm herself. Then, following the staircase, she carefully, step by step,
proceeded down it.
 Xuanzang was a Chinese Buddhist monk from the early Tang dynasty. He is famous in
particular for his pilgrimage to India to obtain Buddhist texts, and when he returned to
China, he brought back with him many written in Sanskrit. His journey was the inspiration
for classic story,《西游记》Journey to the West.

舍利 "she li." The Chinese term for body relic, which is also called sarira. It is said that
when an enlightened monk or Buddhist spiritual leader is cremated, crystalline or pearl-
like objects, called sarira, as well as other pieces, such as bone, teeth, etc. are left behind.
The Buddhist sarira are said to be a physical representation of the purity and devotion of
the person. Here in the story, a bone relic actually had an image of Buddha on it. (There is a
photograph on this of real-life example of a bone relic with a Buddhist image. In this case, it
is an image of Bodhisattva, found on the bone relic after the cremation of a 94-year-old
monk.)
 Chapter 14 – From Buddha It Is, With Buddha It Shall
Remain

Wen Han circled once through the unlit living room, considering almost every single corner
of it. In the end, as if prompted by a supernatural force, she stepped into the kitchen. She
opened the cupboard that was beneath the sink and filled with spices. People of India love
eating spices, and this home of those young priests had an entire cupboard of different
varieties.
She had discovered this cupboard when she was making that Moscow borsh for Cheng
Muyun.
Laid out in the furthest back part of the cupboard were eight canisters of rosemary.
Judging by this number, they would be using this rosemary until next year? By next year,
Cheng Muyun should have retrieved the item and taken it away already. Pulling out the
innermost canister, she carefully removed some of the rosemary that was inside and
stuffed it into the pocket on the side of her skirt. Then, gently, she put the relic deep into
the canister and covered it up.
Rosemary was often scattered on coffins during funerals to convey remembrance, so
putting that item into here should not be considered a desecration to it. Wen Han shoved
the canister into the corner and then neatly stacked each of the remaining canisters.
In that instant when she closed the cupboard door, a pair of eyes appeared in the window.
Shaken with alarm, Wen Han stepped backwards, bumping into the wall behind her.
Her breathing was quick and shallow. By the light of the moon, she saw the outline of the
shape of an animal. It was that little yellow dog… Yes, it was the dog. Just an animal. Good
thing, good thing…
Calming her breathing, she watched as that little yellow dog that she had once played with
stretched out its tongue, licked the window, and then, turning around, hopped off the high
windowsill.
Everything was done.
When Wen Han returned to the room, she took the extra rosemary leaves that had been in
her pocket, rubbed them until they became crushed, little pieces, and threw them out the
window. There was the sound of water inside the bathroom. Pushing open the door, she
saw, through the white, steamy air, his clearly defined backside and also that spot of dim,
yellow light that glowed in the mist.
"I've hidden it." Her voice was quickly swallowed away by the steam in the room.
That warm, moist steam dampened her eyelashes.
Cheng Muyun leaned in close, grabbed her hand, and pulled it up toward himself. When he
bent his head down, he smelled a familiar scent. "That hiding place is quite a good one."
Sure enough, nothing could be kept secret from him. "But, my love, you forgot to wash your
hands."
With her wrist enveloped in his hand, Cheng Muyun pulled Wen Han under the water.
The last remnants of aroma in her palm were washed away by the water.
She lifted her head. Her forehead was almost directly against the tip of his nose. "Are you
always so careful?"
His voice low and husky, Cheng Muyun replied, "Always been so."
He truly was grateful to Heaven for imparting in him a cautious, suspicious instinct that
caused him to not believe in chance encounters, to not believe that there could be such a
coincidence that he would encounter her first on the Tibetan Plateau and then in Nepal.
Without such an instinct, she would not be standing here now, her clothing completely
drenched from the streaming water, so real before him.
"You're rushing back tomorrow because you need to attend that manor lord's monastic
induction ceremony?"
She would rather stay here longer, even if for only one extra hour.
"My love, why do you think I told you that you would be safe once you were here in India?
It is precisely because that rich master of this family is my friend. They have so kindly
hosted us, so we must of course give repayment of that hospitality in accordance with
proper etiquette." Cheng Muyun peeled off her sodden blouse from her. "Tomorrow, there
will be hundreds of monks and sadhus and a herd of Indian elephants. Trust me, you will
like it."
……
On the dawning of this day, those four people surveilling them awoke to the clear sound of
running water in the bathroom.
Outside the bedroom, they all felt this was rather inconceivable.
The fact that all four of them had fallen asleep together meant that Cheng Muyun must have
done something to them. But the purpose of knocking them out had not been for escaping,
so what then was it for?
Still, after the sky brightened, one of the men slipped into their bedroom and went into that
bathroom. He found traces left behind of the passion that had occurred between the two
people not long ago in this very bathroom. Therefore, after exchanging thoughts, they
decided that they would brush over this matter with simply a passing comment. This more
than two-hour blank period would simply be viewed as one where Cheng Muyun had been
engaged in intimacy with his little girlfriend.
The only thing was, they wondered, when the people in Headquarters saw this twenty-
four-hour report, what would they think of the fact that this man, who had already retired
from the world for a decade, actually had such an amazing and romantic private life?
They left Varanasi.
Before noon, they had hurried back to the manor estate. Everything for the monastic
induction ceremony was prepared and ready to go.
At this time, those several young priests, who were standing outside the door, noticed
Cheng Muyun.
Stepping forward, they greeted him warmly. One extended his arms and embraced Cheng
Muyun. "I was worried that you and your younger sister were having too much fun in
Varanasi and had forgotten the ceremony time."
"My dear friend," Cheng Muyun smiled, "I came such a long distance, all the way here to
India, because of the invitation from all of you. How could I possibly miss today?"
"Thank you, Yun." Another person of the group smiled. "My father will be very happy to see
you here today."
"It is my honour." He gave a slight nod.
"Oh, by the way, my dearest friend, my father hopes that you could help him by escorting to
the temple that treasure that is enshrined beneath the bamboo platform. You were, after
all, once a monk."
"Is that so? That even more so is my honour." Cheng Muyun gladly accepted this task.
As Cheng Muyun continued to idly converse with them, he indicated to Wen Han that she
should go find Fu Yiming and Cheng Jiayi first.
Wen Han surveyed the surroundings and soon found those two people. Walking over, she
took a seat beside Cheng Jiayi. And then, what followed was a French-style sun hat being
placed lightly on her head by Cheng Jiayi. "My dear, beginning at twelve noon and through
the more than two hours of the day when the sun is most intense, that manor lord who is
renouncing the secular world will be parading once around the town." Cheng Jiayi heaved a
sigh. "I was thinking, you will very much need this to block out the blistering sun, because,
out of politeness, we must stand under those scorching rays and wait for his return from
circling the town."
"He needs to walk for that long?" Wen Han was surprised.
She did not think that such a small town would require more than two hours to walk a
circle around it.
Fu Yiming shrugged. "The town may be small, but the procession that will be following
behind that manor lord is a full five, six kilometres long. Behind him, there are going to be
six hundred monks, two hundred sadhus, and also a dozen or so elephants and some camel-
drawn carts. On top of that, all along the way, they'll be throwing large amounts of gold
coins and bills and also car keys as gifts to the at least 130,000 people who came here from
all parts of India. I’m guessing this trek will take even longer than two hours."
Wen Han let herself imagine the scene where things like gold coins were being tossed out…
and more than a hundred thousand Indian people all rushing over madly to fight for them.
Indeed, taking even a single step would be difficult.
"But just now, those priests told us that Cheng Muyun would be taking some sort of
treasure to the temple." Cheng Jiayi was very curious. "Wen Han, do you want to secretly
take a look to see what that is?"
This question stirred in her mind her secret from last night of hiding away that relic.
Contemplating briefly, Wen Han quietly answered, "That probably wouldn't be a very good
thing to do?"
Cheng Jiayi gave a smile, not continuing with what she had been saying.
Wen Han picked up the Indian milk tea that was on the table and took a small sip, her heart
feeling uneasy as she glanced these two people over.
She could not even imagine that one of these two people, who right now were chatting
casually like friends, had once betrayed more than ten brothers, betrayed Zhou Ke, and
killed Zhuang Yan.
Returning to this place from Varanasi was like returning to hell after being in heaven. Wen
Han knew that everything was about to begin. The ceremony today was like a little
breather—and was the final slice of peacefulness.
Regardless of what method Cheng Muyun used, someone would… die.
Discerning that Wen Han's nerves were becoming increasingly taut, Fu Yiming gave a little
chuckle. "Miss Wen Han?"
"Hmm?" Wen Han tried hard to put up a nonchalant front.
"You seem preoccupied with worries. What's making you so uneasy?"
Wen Han was left without a response to this question. He knew the answer, yet he was still
asking.
She had not had much contact with Fu Yiming, but she had always felt that his temper was
extremely eccentric, sometimes good, sometimes bad, and very volatile. From the way he
had grilled her in the coffee plantation with sentence after sentence, to later, how he had
come to a fight with weapons in that small, austere building with Cheng Muyun, to his rage
and the physical altercation that had occurred in the hospital basement, these all had left a
deep impression on Wen Han… But that day, when Cheng Muyun was taken away, her
instinct had been to find Fu Yiming.
How bizarre. Fu Yiming was obviously very dislikable when he spoke.
Using her lowered lashes to conceal her emotions, Wen Han responded, "The weather
today is very abnormal. It's unbearably hot and dry. Maybe I'm just not used to this awful
weather of India's."
"Is that the case?" Fu Yiming loosened the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt. "Weather is
weather. I feel, though, Miss Wen Han, that your eyes are filled with animosity when you
look at me, and that makes my heart very uncomfortable."
"This is an internal matter of our team. She is an outsider." Cheng Jiayi jumped in to help
Wen Han out of this situation. "Don't turn everything on her and make her your target."
"Outsider?" Fu Yiming eyed Cheng Jiayi up and down. "I am the leader of this ops team, yet I
do not even have your file. So, to me, are you not an outsider, too?"
"It seems it really bothers you that Cheng Muyun did not transfer the files of all the team
members over to you back then?" A smile touched Cheng Jiayi's lips. "Even though you do
not know me, I am very familiar with your past, Ops Leader Fu."
"Is that so?" Fu Yiming laughed. "I actually attracted such attention from you, the beautiful
woman that you are. That really is an honour. Then, do you know a very important secret?"
Cheng Jiayi paused in surprise. "What secret?"
"I am not married," Fu Yiming replied, his voice low.
"……" Cheng Jiayi frowned. "You really know how to tell a joke. I’m not interested in you."
Fu Yiming gave a slight lift of his brows. "Then that truly is regrettable. I'm very interested
in you."
Cheng Jiayi's voice dropped even lower. "You had best be more respectful with your
words."
A laugh came from Fu Yiming. "My dear, why are you so uptight? If you were in Moscow
and a handsome man like me was flirting with you, wouldn't you be happy?"
With a forced smile, Cheng Jiayi picked up from the couch that red sun hat that belonged to
her and put it on. "But your flirting makes me really uncomfortable. Your method of
attracting women is just crude."
"Is that the case? Then, if I switch to a different method, will it help you feel a little
happier?" Fixing his eyes intently on Cheng Jiayi, he enunciated each word, each sentence.
"Enjoy this hard-to-come-by blazing sunlight. My dear, no matter how much that face of
yours makes people want to have you, as long as you really are the traitor, I will, without
question, find the evidence that will make death seem better than living for you and put
you forever in hell. That place doesn't have such nice sunshine." Fu Yiming flicked a glance
at Wen Han. "Do you think so, Miss Wen Han?"
……
Wen Han pressed her lips together, not answering.
Fortunately, at this moment, an Indian man dressed in white approached them and, putting
his palms together, bowed. "Our three honoured guests, please come outside the hall with
me. The wait for Master's return will be very tiring and hard. Thank you that you have
come from afar to walk with our master in this final leg of his journey in the mundane
world."
Wen Han hurriedly pressed her palms together and rose to return the greeting. "Thank you.
We will go now."
Those two people who, only a moment ago, had been sparring back and forth with words
and verbally lashing out at one another now were back to normal.
Fu Yiming even motioned in a very gentlemanly manner that the two ladies should go first.
When Wen Han found Cheng Muyun, he was at the very front of the procession, conversing
in English with a barefooted, elderly Indian man garbed in splendid dress. Wen Han
stepped over and stood quietly. Listening attentively for a while to their dialogue, she was
approximately able to ascertain that this elderly Indian man was the manor lord.
"My congratulations." When Cheng Muyun was bidding farewell, Wen Han put her palms
together and quietly offered her felicitations.
Smiling, the elderly man pressed his palms together in return. "Thank you for coming all
the way here from so far."
Music started playing. The ceremony had officially begun.
Wen Han followed Cheng Muyun to wait off to the side.
Nearby, there were patient staff members repeatedly telling all the honoured guests,
"Distinguished guests, please wait patiently. The procession will come back soon."
The first ones to follow behind the elderly man and step out on their way were the parade
of sadhus.
The majority of the sadhus here were ones who had walked all the way to this place from
Varanasi yesterday. When they strode past, Wen Han even caught sight of some familiar
faces from the manor. They were those few people who had once stayed with Cheng Muyun
in that building beside the peafowl shed.
She remembered, one of them had applied a bindi to her forehead.
Following closely were the monks.
Behind the procession of monks was the elephant herd.
The heavy footsteps drew near. This state where the entire earth seemed to be shaking
stirred up an unsettled feeling in Wen Han. Because Wen Han was standing very close to
this scene, an elephant trunk nearly swept into her. Fortunately, Cheng Muyun pulled her
behind him and blocked the trunk with his hand.
As a result of this contact, the elephant bull whose trunk had been obstructed let out a
displeased trumpet but then was subsequently given a loud shout of reprimand from a
mahout [elephant handler]. The bull reluctantly suppressed its emotions but still
brandished its trunk and swept it viciously in their direction.
This time, the mahout gave an extremely loud, sharp rebuke.
A rope that had been thrown out captured the trunk, bringing the trunk's course to an
abrupt halt right in front of Cheng Muyun.
With a light shrug of his shoulders, Cheng Muyun dropped his chin and lifted his eyes to
stare directly at that elephant, as if he was using his eyes to do some sort of negotiation
with the beast. Slowly, the agitated elephant swayed its trunk and let out another muted
trumpet cry.
Then, it left in a well-behaved manner.
Cold sweat had broken out on Wen Han from fright, and even after the entire herd had left
in succession, she was still tightly gripping Cheng Muyun's sleeve. "Those are still large,
ferocious beasts." Her heart still quaked with lingering fear as she said quietly, "Even if
they've been tamed, they are nonetheless very dangerous."
She had, after all, done specialized translations for this type of topic in the past and had
even specifically gone to see many elephants that had suddenly turned violent such that
they trampled their mahouts.
"You were worried for me?" Cheng Muyun hugged her diminutive head to him, the tip of his
finger gently tracing out a small circle on the very top edge of her ear…
Wen Han had not forgotten that she was still his "younger sister."
But before she could shirk away, he had already loosened his embrace, seeming as if he had
done nothing at all. "Have you forgotten, in the virgin forest of Chitwan, who brought that
herd of elephants to be a mode of transportation for you when you were injured? I am very
familiar with the temperament of those beasts."
He let his gaze fall on the elephant herd that had gone far already as well as the dust that
had kicked up behind the herd, pondering on something only he knew.
However, in Wen Han's mind, the memory floated up of how, when he had led the herd of
elephants into that camp of despair, those travellers had shouted with joy as they hailed
him a hero. That had not been long ago, yet it seemed as if it was a previous lifetime ago.
The sweltering sun beat down on all the people who were waiting at this site.
One hour.
Two hours.
At 2:35, there were still no signs of the procession's return.
Wen Han's legs were aching from standing, but only when no one was looking did she shift
her feet onto her toes to move them about a bit. Naturally, this little action did not escape
his eyes.
Cheng Muyun brushed his gaze sideways to look at her. "Your legs are sore?"
Pretending to hold down her sun hat with her hand, she also tilted her head to the side to
return his look. "Yup. Do you have any methods to relieve them?"
Cheng Muyun smiled. "Tonight, there will be no more sadhus in that little building, only you
and me. I think that is the 'relief method' you most need."
Wen Han nibbled down on her lip. Such a brazenly shameless man.
"Eighteen thousand bamboo poles. That's right, it is eighteen thousand." To Wen Han's left,
one of the staff was enthusiastically explaining to everyone that the tall platform not far
away had been constructed from a total of eighteen thousand bamboo poles and had taken
more than half a year to complete. Other than bamboo, no additional materials had been
used.
Wen Han looked toward that tall, distant platform. No additional materials? How had it
been built?
"And moreover, the platform itself is hollow. That is a holy site in there. It holds a most
precious item that our master consecrated to Buddha," the young Indian man stated
proudly. "But please rest assured, it is very safe, extremely safe. It absolutely will not
collapse. Even thirty people standing on it will not pose a problem."
Then that indeed was safe.
Only that elderly man and a few monks would be standing up there.
While she was thinking this, the sound of music began slowly drifting over.
All the guests standing in waiting beneath the searing sun breathed out in relief. It would
appear those gold coins and bills had all been thrown already. The riches were spent, so
now, they had finally returned.
Soon, the splendidly garbed elderly man appeared. Mud caked his bare feet, but he was
utterly unaware of it. The look in his eyes was devout as he passed by in front of all the
guests.
The focus of the elderly man's gaze fell only on that bamboo platform.
The crowd gradually grew quiet.
Within the multitude of people, Wen Han walked with Cheng Muyun toward that tall,
bamboo-built platform. Under the beating sun, two monks by the elderly man's side
removed the man’s splendid dress from him until only a white robe remained…
The ceremony proceeded very quickly and also very smoothly.
However, after it had drawn to a close, Wen Han's lower back and legs still ended up being
stiff and sore from standing for such a lengthy period.
The elderly man had already left with the monks, reportedly heading to a nearby temple.
And as for the guests who remained, the elderly man's sons were still treating them with
warm hospitality, inviting them to drink tea and take a short rest beneath the several
white, cloth canopies beside the tall platform.
That elderly man was one of the top wealthiest persons in this place, and his businesses
were large and successful. Beside Wen Han, two people had pulled aside one of the elderly
man's sons and were talking to him about the coffee business as well as tea farms.
That eldest son whom Cheng Muyun had once rescued, who also was the young man oldest
in age of those several priests, walked over and asked if Cheng Muyun could escort that
precious treasure now.
"You go ahead. I'll wait here for you," Wen Han said quietly when Cheng Muyun's eyes
turned to her. "I'm too tired to walk anyway." Saying this, she picked up a cup of tea and
glanced toward the elephant herd that was gathered beneath the trees on the other side of
the tall platform. "While I'm at it, I can look from a distance at those large, ferocious beasts
that you like."
Brushing away the perspiration on her forehead with a finger, he leaned in and whispered
behind her ear in Russian, "From Buddha it is, with Buddha it shall remain; from the world
it came, unto the world it shall go. My love, I will most certainly be back by your side before
the sun has set behind the horizon. Do you still remember that night of deluging rain?"
Wen Han was still clutching her teacup.
The image had already floated up in her mind of his fingers thrust in her long, rain-
dampened hair.
Cheng Muyun had already seen through the ripples in her eyes. Word for word, he repeated
by her ear what he had said that night. "I do not like this pitying look that you have. If you
do not start immersing yourself into this, trust me, I will make sure you do not forget this
night for the rest of your life."
This man…
Her ears burning, Wen Han watched him leave.
After Cheng Muyun stepped out from underneath the canopy, the four people surveilling
him, who all along had been amongst the crowd, also trailed after him but were stopped at
the edge of the tall platform by servants. From afar, they appeared quite frustrated, but due
to the manor lord's status and position, they could not force their way in and could only
wait outside.
Wen Han did not continue watching in that direction. From a nearby staff member, she took
the fresh cup of tea that was handed to her.
After standing in the sun for an entire afternoon, she was parched, and even drinking two
consecutive cups of tea was unable to alleviate her thirst. She swept a glance around. Most
likely, Fu Yiming and Cheng Jiayi had thought this too boring, and having already found a
cool, shady place, they were long since resting. She could not even glimpse so much as their
shadows.
Suddenly, an explosion that rocked the heavens shocked everyone.
Wen Han's head whipped up, her eyes turning to look at that place in the distance.
In her vision, the mad, frenzied herd of elephants were all ceaselessly throwing back their
heads and trumpeting in fury, swinging their trunks to throw off those mahouts. As if filled
with uncontrollable rage, they rushed toward the bamboo platform.
Amid these deafening bellows, a loud explosion also burst forth from beneath the platform.
Glaring flames shot into the sky. The entire platform and also the ground rocked violently
amongst the thunderous reverberation of the explosion.
Before Wen Han could rush forward, a huge force propelled into her. The several priests
had all worked together to pounce on her, thrusting her to the ground. "Get down quick!"
Incited by the roar of the explosion, the already enraged elephant herd grew even more
hysterical. Seeming completely unafraid of the flames and explosion, they stampeded
madly toward that bamboo platform. Trampling everywhere, they wielded their trunks
desperately, as if they wanted to smash apart that bamboo platform that was already
aflame from the blast.
Several monks covered in blood came running out in panic from beneath the platform,
tripping, tumbling to the ground, and then climbing back to their feet again. Compared with
the explosion, what was even more terrifying was the crazed elephant herd.
"Let go of me!" Wen Han writhed incessantly in the dirt, trying to struggle free from the
Indian men who were pressing down on top of her. She wanted to rush over, but she could
not at all.
Those priests were pinning her down fiercely, continually urging her in English, "Miss Wen
Han, do not move! Do not be hasty! Over there are explosions and a herd of enraged
elephants. It is hell there!"
"Let go of me!" Her entire mind was filled only with that one name. Using her hands, her
teeth, she tried to force those Indian men to let go of her.
But she was a woman, and in this situation where several men were forcefully holding her
down, there was no way she was able to move at all.
Dust flew into her eyes and mouth. Choking, she coughed violently.
"Miss Wen Han, please calm down. You cannot go over there. There is nothing you can do."
With sobs in his voice, one of the priests told her, "Look! Our mahouts are doing their best
to try to calm those raging elephants."
Wen Han's eyes were flooded with tears. In the midst of the dust and sand that stung her
nose, she twisted and squirmed with all her might until, in the end, she was sobbing
uncontrollably and crying again and again in English, "I'm begging you, please let go of me. I
need to go find him. I need to go in there to find him."
It must be, it must be that the explosion knocked him out.
As long as she found him and brought him out, there would still be a chance.
It must be…
But no one let go of her. And no one dared go to save Cheng Muyun.
As her weeping spilled forth, it became that she did not dare look at that tall platform. Fear
—fear that it would collapse at any moment. Sobs choked her as she repeated over and
over, "I'm begging you, please, even if you don't let go of me, still go save him. Go save
him…"
No one else had come out since those monks escaped from inside.
The manor lord’s eldest son, who had gone in with Cheng Muyun, had not come out, either.
Those priests pinning Wen Han down were also distraught, their eyes fixed on that place
where flames towered into the sky.
Hoping to see a miracle, to at least see even just a figure crawling out.
But, no one dared to go rescue anyone.
The elephant herd had gone mad.
Apart from the Buddha, no one would dare go near more than ten mad elephants. That was
basically suicide…
She looked on helplessly as those elephants attacked that tall platform.
Bit by bit, her heart sank into despair.
No one.
Not a single person's shadow made an appearance.
Amongst the ten and more enflamed elephants, that platform was like a lone toy being
ravaged. Even the snapping of bamboo could not be heard, all of the sounds completely
buried. No one else fled out from there, and no one dared take even one step closer.
Those mahouts dared not get near either, all of them taking refuge far, far away, terrified of
those crazed animals.
"F*ck off!" Someone burst out this furious curse in Russian.
A jolt swept through Wen Han's entire body. Frantically, she searched for the source of that
voice.
It was Fu Yiming. It was Fu Yiming, who had already left.
That man, like Wen Han, also seemed as if he had gone mad, throwing, shoving, and kicking
off everyone who tried to obstruct him. Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled out a gun
from behind his waist. Its black muzzle pointed at any person who wanted to stop him. "If
you don't want to die, then f*ck off! F*ck off!"
Fu Yiming had completely fallen into a crazed state, utterly unaware that he was speaking
Russian.
No one here could understand what he was saying.
He could not even care. He had wholly lost his ability to reason. He had only one thought:
rush in and save Cheng Muyun. That platform was going to collapse at any instant. He
needed to rush into there, to drag out from there that man for whom it was unknown
whether he was dead or alive.
This was the one and only thought going through Fu Yiming's mind now—dead or alive, he
needed to drag him out.
The Indian servants all hastily raised their arms into the air, trying all they could to explain
in English, "Sir, it is extremely dangerous over there. We need to ensure the safety of each
one of you, our honoured guests."
Fu Yiming did not bother paying attention to any of the nonsense that they spoke and
charged into the cloud of dust that filled the sky.
In comparison with the herd of elephants, even such a man as Fu Yiming was like a pitiful
little ant. Wen Han stared fixatedly after his disappearing outline that vanished into the
darkness, as if she was staring at her last shred of hope.
He had to save him. He would for sure…
Those fearsome elephants were unceasingly battering that bamboo platform.
Wen Han's heartbeat seemed like it slowly, ever so slowly, was about to stop. She dared not
even breathe. All her hope was placed on Fu Yiming.
Suddenly, there was a huge roar. Against the massive sounds of continuously snapping
bamboo, that tall platform let out a loud boom. And then, it completely crumpled…
All screams ceased.
Wen Han's mind was utterly blank as she lay on the ground, staring at the collapsed ruins.
All the screams of horror around her and the men who were pinning her down did not
exist. It was if a hand had cruelly emptied her body, and her heart, blood, and everything
else within it had ceased to exist…
The elephant herd was seemingly startled, as well. Taking advantage of this, the mahouts
each captured their own elephants with ropes and, with sharp rebukes and curses, made
these enraged Indian elephants calm down. Slowly, the beasts were led away, leaving
behind only a wreckage that struck fear into people's hearts when they beheld it.
Wen Han was long since without any feeling. Anyone who tried to pull her up did so
without success. She simply lay face down on the ground, sobbing softly, suppressing
herself. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, unwilling to believe that all of these disasters
were true.
Just earlier, Cheng Muyun had still been flirting with her.
Shamelessly, he had described all the passion that should take place tonight—
"Wen Han." Someone wanted to pick her up from the filthy, dirt ground. "Wen Han…"
A shudder racked Wen Han's body. Her eyes unfocused, she lifted her head.
That sun hat that seemed magnified in size and also that face that, too, was streaked with
tears enflamed her immeasurably. Cheng Jiayi. It was Cheng Jiayi—
Amid the continual screams that rose up all around, Wen Han, who only a moment ago had
seemed as if her soul had left her, pounced, knocking Cheng Jiayi backwards and pinning
her into the dirt.
Yelling and swearing in Russian, she, like a demon, spoke curses on Cheng Jiayi.
The sudden befalling of disaster had already left the guests and servants distraught, and
now, everyone was also filled with great shock from this clash between two female guests.
Those few priests barely managed to pull the already completely unhinged Wen Han away.
Her chest heaving violently and her eyes blurred with tears, Wen Han shook her head
incessantly. Grabbing the hand of one of the Indian men, she clutched it tightly and cried
nonsensically in English, "She's the one. She's the one who brought harm on Cheng Muyun.
She's the one, she's the one…"
Everybody stared bewilderedly at one another.
Cheng Jiayi gathered her shirt, which had been yanked open, back together and smiled
awkwardly. "I think she might have some sort of misunderstanding about me. Her brother's
life or death is still uncertain, and I am her brother's girlfriend. I am willing to take
responsibility for her. Please, how about letting me take her?
"… Certainly. We will certainly give Miss Wen Han to the person closest to her to take care
of her." Those several Indian men once more exchanged a look. One of them remarked, "But
it appears that Miss Wen Han emotionally is very unstable. Are you certain you can handle
her right now?"
"Of course I can. These emotions of hers are only temporary—"
"No!" Wen Han pushed away the Indian man who was supporting her. "I'm not Cheng
Muyun's younger sister. She is! She is Cheng Muyun's cousin-sister. I am the one who is
Cheng Muyun's girlfriend! Do you not know that my surname is Wen and hers is Cheng?!"
……
Everyone looked pityingly at Wen Han.
Of course they knew this. Wen Han was Cheng Muyun's half-sister, sharing the same
mother but with different fathers. Regarding the difference in their surnames, Cheng
Muyun had already explained this to them long ago.
Wen Han stared helplessly at everyone. There was not a single person here who actually
knew the real relationship between her and Cheng Muyun…
She backed away. When she bumped into a table, her steps finally ceased. With eyes
clouded with tears, she shook her head. "I'm not going. I need to stay here. I need to wait
for you to finish clearing away the wreckage… I'm not going."
Cheng Jiayi hurriedly stepped forward and supported her with her hands. "Of course. We
both won't go. We'll both wait here…"
"Don't touch me!" Wen Han shoved her away once more.
This truly was a situation that made people feel awkward.
A man was killed in a mishap, and now, at this time, conflict had arisen between that man's
younger sister and girlfriend… Not having the heart to watch this, those several priests
pulled them apart and quietly tried to calm them. They told them that the police were
already hurrying over, that everyone was clearing the accident scene, and that they should
wait patiently.
Right at this moment, a jubilant roar sounded up near the wreckage.
Wen Han immediately whipped her gaze there. Someone was shouting something in Hindi.
She did not understand what was being said; she did not understand at all.
Wen Han anxiously gripped the Indian man who was trying to pacify and persuade her.
"What are they saying? Is it Cheng Muyun? Have they found him?!"
Elation could be seen on the Indian man's face, but then very shortly, he turned to look
regretfully and mournfully at her. "It is my brother. My eldest brother has been rescued out
from there."
"……" Wen Han's heart dropped to the ground once more.
"He was very lucky. He escaped from there before it collapsed! Miss Wen Han, do not
worry. There is still hope!" Because of his older brother's rescue, there was an
unconcealable expression of joyous surprise on the Indian man's face.
Her legs went limp. Unable to stand, she sagged into a sun chair.
Before long, several dozen Indian police officers arrived as well as those Interpol agents
who had taken Cheng Muyun away from that crude, little building that day. The site was
quickly sealed off, and rescue teams that were more professional continued digging at the
debris.
Cheng Jiayi tried several times to explain to Wen Han that she had only said those things
just now in order to follow through on Cheng Muyun's instructions. Since Cheng Muyun all
along had been trying to cover up Wen Han's true identity… Wen Han refused to talk to her.
She did not want to see Cheng Jiayi. She did not want even one extra glimpse of her.
Her face was completely stained with tears and dirt, which had intermixed together. A
kindly servant handed her a warmed towel. When she pressed that warm towel against her
whole face, tears once more began streaming out unrelentingly.
The sky soon darkened.
A filthy pair of boots came to stand in front of Wen Han. "Miss Wen Han."
In the night wind, she lifted her head to see Meng Liangchuan squatting before her, saying
in a low tone to her, "The site is almost cleared. Because Cheng Muyun and Fu Yiming's
identities are rather special, we cannot let you see the scene or the remains of the corpses
at the moment."
"Corpses…" Wen Han's lips parted. In a raspy voice, she repeated, "Corpses?"
"Yes. There are only corpses down there."
Her heart was clenching rapidly. Cold sweat began to break out on her back.
The sky and earth spun around her, and she had no choice but to shut her eyes tightly.
No! That was impossible… Her action of clenching her hands forcefully into fists caused her
nails to drive deep into her palms.
Cheng Muyun could not be dead.
She did not believe it, did not believe that he would die. Perhaps the enraged elephant herd
had shaken her earlier and she did feel fear, but even now, though there was lingering
horror when remembering the situation, she still did not believe that he would die.
That man could not have died here. He wouldn't die! He wouldn't die in any place!
Wen Han immediately opened her eyes and seized Meng Liangchuan's collar. "I don't
believe what you said. You are lying to me, right? Meng Liangchuan, you're lying to me—"
"Miss Wen Han!" Meng Liangchuan grasped her hands tightly and looked straight into her
eyes. "In such a time as now, if you don't believe me, whom can you believe? Tell me, whom
do you dare believe? You have not a penny on you. You don't even have your passport and
luggage. Here, you only had Cheng Muyun. You must believe me. Only I can get you safely
back to Moscow!"
Yes, that was right. All of her things had been left in Nepal…
She had nothing.
Not even anything that could prove her identity.
Right now, in this time, she was an illegal alien here. Anyone's words were more credible
than hers. Maybe those Interpol agents that were on the scene here knew all of her identity
information.
But…
Wen Han remembered that morning when they, armed with loaded weapons, had taken
Cheng Muyun away.
It seemed she could believe no one. Somewhat helplessly, she looked at Meng Liangchuan.
"He's not dead, right?"
Meng Liangchuan shook his head. "There's a body."
"He's not dead, right?" Wen Han's teeth clamped down tightly on her lip.
Meng Liangchuan continued shaking his head. "I can't make any conclusions."
"He's not dead, right?!" Wen Han had somewhat lost control of herself. Her shoulders
trembled slightly, an uncontainable tremble. Narrowing his eyes, Meng Liangchuan did not
answer.
He had to admit that this was also his speculation. Being the deeply shrewd and cunning
man that he was, Cheng Muyun would not die so easily in any place. If any person wanted
him dead, then the one trying to kill him needed to be prepared to pay with the lives of
hundreds, even thousands of people.
But… a corpse truly did exist.
Behind them, those servants responsible for cleaning up were all ordered away. This place
had been totally sealed off by the police.
The elephants turning violent could have been an accident, but the platform had exploded,
and that was what had incited the herd even more. With explosions and what they were,
there was a hundred percent chance it was not an accident.
The official who had interrogated Cheng Muyun that day was now crouched down at the
scene, frowning at the remaining fragments and scraps of the eighteen thousand bamboo
poles that had been trampled and crushed.
Indeed, it was Hell's Ops Team.
For two ops leaders to die on the same day from explosions and the attack of an elephant
herd…
The official rose, brushed off his hands, and walked over to the people beneath the nearest
white, cloth canopy.
Seeing this superior officer approaching him, Meng Liangchuan rose and gave a salute.
Cheng Jiayi stood. As Cheng Muyun had exposed her identity, she now had nothing to hide,
either. She gave a token salute to this senior officer who was not her direct superior.
Only Wen Han remained sitting, curled up on a white sun chair, completely motionless.
Nothing that happened before her eyes registered in her mind at all. There was only one
thought in her consciousness: he was not dead.
"Miss Wen Han." The official cleared his throat. "We have all of your information. In this
place, in India here, you are considered to have entered the country illegally. Of course,
considering your special status, we will not be holding you responsible in this matter. I ask
that you please cooperate with my subordinates and Mister Chen Yuan to do some
necessary checks, and then Mister Chen Yuan will be responsible for sending you back to
Moscow."
Wen Han slowly lifted her eyes.
Shadow after shadow overlapped together. With backs facing the brilliance of the
searchlights that were being used in the far-off wreckage to provide illumination, they all
appeared trapped within an outline of darkness.
Whether it was this official, or Chen Yuan, or Cheng Jiayi, or even Meng Liangchuan…
Cheng Muyun, tell me, what do you want me to do? What can I do for you?
Her mind was muddled thinking this as, amid once more the sound of that official's
bureaucratic tone, she was helped up by that female Interpol agent who had been one of
the ones responsible for monitoring Cheng Muyun all this time. Wen Han followed
everyone and got into a normal-looking, off-road vehicle. After she took her seat, the black
curtains over the windows were lowered.
To her left was Meng Liangchuan. In front of her were Chen Yuan and Cheng Jiayi.
The vehicle drove, bumping and jolting, for a long time. Along the way, a corner of the
curtain swung up from the rocking. Familiar scenery could be seen underneath the moon’s
glow—a sunflower field. That day, it was in this place that Cheng Muyun had told her he
loved her. He had said, if he could do everything again, he was willing to live his life for her.
The vehicle soon came to a stop.
Wen Han had not come to this rundown, courtyard home before. Last time, Fu Yiming had
dropped her off along the way in the sunflower field, and she had spent the entire time in
waiting.
She looked at her surroundings. Many armed men were silently watching her.
This reminded her of that time outside that mountain lair, when she saw for the first time
those people other than Cheng Muyun. On a boulder, he had sat with white dressing gauze
circling his body. On either side of him, they had been standing or sitting, their shadows
superimposing one upon the other and stretching over to her feet. At the time, when she
stepped up onto that huge rock, she had felt that she was stepping into a world completely
unknown to her.
"Miss Wen Han"—Chen Yuan lifted a hand and pointed at the door—"please go in."
Halting her footsteps, Wen Han wordlessly turned her eyes onto Chen Yuan.
Chen Yuan repeated again, "Please go in."
"Does it pain you? To do this?" Wen Han asked him in Russian, her voice light.
His face void of expression, Chen Yuan said for the third time, "Please go in."
Cheng Muyun had once given an order to all the members of the operations team. Chen
Yuan knew clearly that the message he received was the same one that had been given to
all those ops team members who still remained concealed in the shadows and whose
identities were still a secret: this Miss Wen Han was to be treated in the same way as one
would treat Cheng Muyun's wife.
Therefore, even if Wen Han were to pummel Chen Yuan with her fists and feet right now,
he still would not dare retaliate.
Even if he did dare, he still needed to take into consideration the reaction of those
comrades who cared not about sentiment or giving face and recognized only their leader.
Wen Han stepped inside.
Following in after her were also Meng Liangchuan and Cheng Jiayi.
The three chairs in front of them were all empty. Chen Yuan pointed at the one in the
middle. "Miss Wen Han, please take a seat. Just some routine questions." He then looked at
the other two people. "You two as well."
Meng Liangchuan let out a snort through his nose. "It sure is odd. Last time when Cheng
Laoban was being interrogated, I had to be interrogated at the same time. This time you're
questioning his woman, and I still need to keep her company."
The official who had been responsible for leading the interrogation last time was a
secondary interrogator this time. Sitting at the furthest corner, he gave a couple of coughs.
"Ol' Meng, be cooperative. This time, it's not that serious."
Cheng Jiayi, on the other hand, spoke no needless words and directly took a seat.
The door was shut. Three interrogation officers, three people to be interrogated, and a
transcriber.
This time, the one in charge of giving the questions and making the judgments was Chen
Yuan.
Seeming as if he did not know the three of them, Chen Yuan sat down and pushed up his
glasses. "Everyone, because the incident that just happened was an intentional, manmade
occurrence and two leaders of the Moscow operations team also ended up dying on the
scene, we will need to carry out some routine procedures and question those who had the
most contact with the two of them.
"This case is very special, and therefore, the responsibility of interrogating all of you could
only be given to me and not the local police. I hope you will all be understanding. After this
questioning, someone will escort you back to where you need to go. Your identities will not
be exposed. Only when this case is solved and the entire truth comes out will you be
completely cleared of all suspicions. Of course, you may all continue living your normal
lives during this period. No one will disturb you.
"I hope I have been very clear."
Cheng Jiayi and Meng Liangchuan both knew that this was normal procedure. Calmly, they
nodded in answer.
Only Wen Han was still uneasy and twisted her fingers together tightly.
With his pen, Chen Yuan pointed at Cheng Jiayi. "What is your relationship with Cheng
Muyun?"
Cheng Jiayi's eyes were red, and her voice was hoarse, "I am his cousin through our fathers,
his younger cousin-sister. Ten years ago, before a portion of the Moscow ops team was
cruelly wiped out, I had just finished an undercover assignment and joined the ops team. At
that time, I had only just learned, too, that my cousin-brother was the temporary ops
leader."
Chen Yuan nodded. "A very young undercover agent. Back then, you should have only just
passed the age of majority."
"Yes," Cheng Jiayi softly agreed. "It was Zhou Ke who convinced me to defect and become
an undercover agent."
Everyone was startled.
Chen Yuan asked, "What was your relationship with the one who was fatally shot, Zhou
Ke?"
"We were dating."
Chen Yuan nodded. "Why did you come to Nepal?"
"Half a year ago, after Cheng Muyun entered Nepal, he sent word telling me that I should
come to the border area between Nepal and India to continue investigating the case. The
operations back then had only destroyed the smuggling route along the Russia-Mongolia
border. Cheng Muyun said he now had learned the details on the smuggling route along the
India-Nepal border."
Meng Liangchuan could not help whistling at this.
Chen Yuan asked puzzledly, "What was that about?"
With a cough, Meng Liangchuan replied, "I was just sighing over how excellent that small
ops team that you all belong to is. There is absolutely no difference between the answer
this miss just gave and the one you gave before."
Chen Yuan frowned displeased.
Meng Liangchuan shrugged. "I did not mean to interrupt. Continue your questioning."
His brows creasing together tightly, Chen Yuan looked once again at Cheng Jiayi. "Why did
you later come to India?"
Cheng Jiayi answered, "Because Cheng Muyun said the leads for the case had dried up and
told me to go back to Moscow. But he and I had been close when we were young, and I
hadn't seen him for ten years, so I decided to come with him here. Also… I was grieving
over Zhou Ke's death, so coming to India could be considered a distraction for my mind."
Wen Han stared in astonishment at Cheng Jiayi. She was lying.
But no one expressed any sort of doubt toward her words.
Right now in this room, except for the noise of someone typing on a keyboard, there were
no other extraneous sounds.
Chen Yuan took a drink of water. "Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Cheng Jiayi."
He turned his gaze to the one who had made a strange noise just earlier, Meng Liangchuan.
"My question for you is very simple—the relationship between you and Miss Wen Han?"
Meng Liangchuan laughed. "She and I have no sort of relationship. We haven't even
exchanged more than a few words. She’s an ordinary person who went to Nepal on
vacation, and then Cheng Muyun abducted… hmm, brought her to India. In any case, she
and I have nothing to do with each other."
Abducted?
Apart from Chen Yuan, everyone else was rather astounded at this. This was different from
the information they had received.
According to their sources, this Miss Wen Han and Cheng Muyun had fallen in love with one
another at first sight, and she had come of her own accord with him the whole journey from
Nepal to India. You could call it… a romantic trip of love?
The person in charge of typing weighed for quite a while the idea of putting down the word
"abducted" but, in the end, still recorded the facts as they had been.
Chen Yuan gave a nod.
At last, he turned his eyes to Wen Han, whose hands had been on her lap and fingers had
been twisting together the whole time.
In regards to this girl, the information they had was very complete, and there was nothing
really worth interrogating.
She was the least likely person to have created that manmade explosion.
"Miss Wen Han, I only need you to answer some questions that will be asked under a
polygraph. Once we have confirmed that the information you know is not enough to
threaten the Moscow operations team, you will temporarily have your freedom."
"You can ask whatever you want," Wen Han stated, "but you must find that mole."
The room instantaneously fell silent.
It was practically a deathly stillness.
The interrogation officers and the transcriber from last time as well as everyone in the
room other than Wen Han all grew quiet.
This girl must not have known that last time, in that exact same seat, Cheng Muyun had,
with his own lips, refuted everyone's words, and the content of what he had argued: there
was no mole in the Moscow operations team, and he had never privately doled out
punishment on anyone.
The look on Chen Yuan's face was one of great… amusement.
With a slight smile, he said lightly, "Miss Wen Han, there is no mole in the Moscow
operations team. Former Ops Leader Cheng Muyun and current Ops Leader Fu Yiming both,
in front of everyone, gave their guarantees that there is no mole."
Wen Han's eyes met Chen Yuan's directly. "No, he was looking for the mole."
Due to her turbulent emotions, Wen Han was breathing heavily. With all her might, she
fixed her eyes on Cheng Jiayi.
No one was allowed to escape.
A smile curled Chen Yuan's lips. "Was he? Are you certain you are not being fooled by your
own imagination? You love him, so you hope that Cheng Muyun is a hero. And so, in your
mind, you have created a heroic image of him?"
"No, that's not it…"
"You fantasize that he came here to Nepal and India carrying a debt of blood, and for his
brothers and comrades, he lay in waiting in order to find the traitor?"
"No! It's not my fantasy!"
"He abducted you, yet you want to view him as some hero?" Chen Yuan pulled off his
glasses and, as if finding this laughable, shook his head. "Miss Wen Han, have you heard of
Stockholm Syndrome? You are practically the most successfully tamed case of it."
"I'm not fantasizing it! Cheng Muyun told me that from his own lips." Wen Han sprung
agitatedly to her feet.
Every person in this place knew that Chen Yuan's superiors had disciplined him for
reporting Cheng Muyun, saying Cheng Muyun had taken the law and punishment into his
own hands to find the mole. In those ten years spent with Cheng Muyun, not only had Chen
Yuan not earned any merit or gotten any achievements out of it, in the end, he was even
disciplined. Anyone in his place would feel a grudge about that…
But his words were still too harsh.
Unable to continue listening to this, that official gave a cough. "Chen Yuan, let me head this
questioning. You're too sensitive about this topic."
Chen Yuan sneered, then with a shrug of his shoulders, did not speak anymore.
That official cleared his throat. "Miss Wen Han, you may not know this, but not only did
Cheng Muyun deny the claim that there is a mole, even Fu Yiming went down on record and
also guaranteed to everyone that there is no mole in the Moscow operations team. From
what I see, you really may be mistaken."
Wen Han was left without a response that she could give to that. "You… Please believe me. I
wouldn't lie to all of you!"
The other interrogator was not so nice and amiable, and in an icy tone, he answered her,
"Do you think we would renounce the statements given one after the other by two ops
leaders, as well as the statement of this Agent Meng Liangchuan, and choose to believe you
alone?"
Wen Han could therefore only shift her gaze to Meng Liangchuan. "You know, right? Meng
Liangchuan, you must know, right?"
"……" Wen Han looked powerlessly at everyone.
Cheng Jiayi still had a look of innocence on her face, and she, too, flashed an apologetic
smile at Wen Han.
Alone and helpless.
Cheng Muyun, is this how you felt back when you left Moscow?
No one you could trust? No one you could talk to?
Wen Han's legs had grown weak, and her entire body was shaking. Clenching her hands
tightly into fists, under the stark lamplight, she closed her eyes and tried as best as she
could to calm down, and calm down some more.
The questioning was soon over.
Wen Han had no choice but to cooperate with them and, connected to a polygraph, answer
dozens of questions, all of which were related to the members of the Moscow operations
team and their information.
In the course of answering the questions, she finally understood that Cheng Muyun's
concealment of everything from her had truly been thought through and done with care
and good reason. Her world absolutely had to remain unsoiled and pure; she absolutely
had to be kept isolated from these secrets, for only then would she be able to return to the
world that she had originally been in…
"Very good, Miss Wen Han." The official gave a kindly pat on her shoulder. "Our people will
bring you back to where you would like to go. Because you entered India using a fake
passport, we will need a few days to prepare the paperwork and processes for sending you
back. Please be assured, considering your relationship with Cheng Muyun, even if he is
already… we will still guarantee your personal safety in Moscow."
Wen Han did not utter a word. Her eyes were still fixated outside the window on Cheng
Jiayi.
Up to now, up to this day, those who should have been ruled out had already been ruled
out. There was only her…
"What other requests do you have? We will try our best to fulfill them, since, after all," the
official smiled awkwardly, "if Cheng Muyun really did abduct you, we are willing to make
some compensation…"
"No. No, it wasn't that. I am his girlfriend. I willingly came here with him," Wen Han
answered in a faint voice. "There was no abduction."
Smiling, the official nodded. "That's good."
"But I have two conditions." Wen Han continued, "First, your agent, Chen Yuan, openly
insulted me and said that I was fantasizing after being abducted, that I had Stockholm
Syndrome. I ask that disciplinary measures be taken against him. Such character and
behavior of an Interpol agent gives me no trust or feeling of security with your
organization. Although I am merely a Russian citizen, I also am a person whom you should
be protecting, am I not?"
The official was taken aback for a moment before giving a rueful smile. "All right, then. I
will report everything to my superiors according to the facts. As for disciplinary measures,
it will depend on what the superiors decide."
"Second, in these next days that I am in India, I need Agent Meng Liangchuan to accompany
me. After all, I have no family or friends in this place, and I also am Cheng Muyun's… May I
say that I am his widow?"
"As long as you are willing, I have no opinions at all on that."
Wen Han nodded, saying quietly, "As the widow of the former leader of the Moscow
operations team, I need someone to accompany me through these most difficult few days.
Out of all of you people, I trust only him."
The official gave an awkward cough. "In regards to this, I need to ask Meng Liangchuan
himself about what he thinks."
"Can you not compel him to do it with an order? Aren't you his superior?"
"… I am not his direct superior, but in principle, I can give that order."
"Then please force that order on him." Her voice grew even lighter, as if she would collapse
at any moment.
So deserving of pity…
The official did not have the heart to see her like this, and instructing someone to go find
Meng Liangchuan, he issued the command to him.
It was only a minute later that this official received a phone call regarding the results of the
autopsy report. Those bodies did indeed have Cheng Muyun and Fu Yiming amongst them…
Looking at Wen Han's ashen face, the official wordlessly hung up the telephone. He did not
pass on this piece of information.
When this ordinary girl returned to Moscow, she would have utterly no connection with
this organization, nor would she have any chance of coming in contact with any of them
who were part of it…
So regarding the fact that Cheng Muyun had already perished… he would just treat it as a
secret and hide it forever.
Catching the look in that official's eyes, Wen Han paused slightly in surprise. "Do you have
any other questions that you want to ask?"
The official's smile grew even more kind and genial. "No. You have your freedom again,
Miss Wen Han."
Wen Han's nerves, which had been stretched taut the entire time, finally loosened. The
back of her blouse was completely dampened…
Heaven knew how scared she had been just a moment ago. Each sentence had challenged
the limits of what she could handle. Speaking with this official who was a stranger to her,
being interrogated, being questioned, and also laying out so many demands… Even now in
this minute, as she recalled everything, she still could not believe that all those words had
come from her.
It was his name that carried her, sustained her.
She did not want only to wait, wait until she had been sent back to Moscow and completely
removed from the environment in which he lived… She did not want it, did not want to
return to a world that was wholly without and unable to find Cheng Muyun in it. e
translator
When Wen Han left, not only was Meng Liangchuan with her, they also had a vehicle.
This vehicle would be accompanying her over these next few days as she went sightseeing
or amused herself here in India. Wen Han sat into the front passenger seat. No longer were
there black cloths covering the view as there had been on the trip here. She stared out at
the night scene outside, all along seeming as if her soul was drifting elsewhere in the
heavens.
She remained like this until the driver's door was pulled open.
Sitting into the vehicle, Meng Liangchuan glanced at Wen Han. "You really surprised me.
You were actually able to turn things around and win a round, and you were even able to
get me to accompany you."
"Why… were you unwilling to admit that he was looking for a mole?" Wen Han asked her
question directly. Though she did not know what sort of relationship and interactions there
were between Cheng Muyun and Meng Liangchuan, there was still a feeling in her that
Meng Liangchuan must have known about this. "Why? Do you know how hard it was for
him to rule out each person? We've finally gotten to the point where there is only one
person left…"
Putting his foot to the gas, Meng Liangchuan released the handbrake and left this place
where he had been interrogated twice.
Before long, they saw the field of sunflowers that they had caught a glimpse of on the ride
here.
The car came to an abrupt halt.
Meng Liangchuan motioned for Wen Han to step out of the vehicle.
Abandoning that vehicle, the two began walking on foot alongside the sunflower field in the
direction of the manor estate. Meng Liangchuan fished around in his pockets for a long
while before finally pulling out half of a cigarette that he had not finished smoking. Lighting
up, he took an inhale. "Secretly trying to track down a mole without authorization is against
the law. On top of that, so many people have died, one after the other, so even more so, we
cannot outright state that. Otherwise, Cheng Muyun will be tried and sentenced, and he will
need to pay with his life. Regardless of whether he is dead or alive, I do not want him to
have to carry these charges on his name."
"But only Cheng Jiayi is left! There's a huge probability that she's the one, right?"
"I'm not sure, and I don't know. I'm unable to make that judgment. Only Cheng Muyun
himself knows his method of ruling out each suspect and also the standards from which the
final judgment will be made. No one else knows."
Wen Han paused her steps.
"What?" Meng Liangchuan gave a shrug. "What I said is the truth. Cheng Muyun himself told
me that I should not trust anyone. He’s not even certain himself, so how can I, as an
outsider, know then?"
"But…" Breathing in deeply, Wen Han forced herself to say it aloud. "What if he is dead? …
We're just going to let that mole get away?"
What if he is dead? It was not an "if"…
He was already dead.
Recalling that autopsy report from earlier, Meng Liangchuan became silent, not knowing
how he should say it. Just now, that official, whom he was well acquainted with, had told
him to keep it a secret since, dead or not, Wen Han would not be able to find anyone to
confirm it later on anyway. But, would it be too cruel to not tell this girl?
Wen Han shook her head once more, refuting herself. "He isn't dead, right?"
Meng Liangchuan remained silent.
"It doesn't matter… It doesn't matter if you don't tell me." Wen Han inhaled lightly. "Even if
you told me that he's dead already, I still wouldn't believe you."
In the spill of the moonlight, those sunflowers were not as dazzling as when they saw them
during the daytime.
Their leaves quivered slightly in the breeze, and the faces of hundreds of sunflowers were
all bent downwards in the same direction, as if they were gazing down at something from
on high…
It was an eerie type of beauty.
 Chapter 15 – From Hell it Came, as Hell it shall Stay

That night, torrential rain fell from the sky.

This great storm was heavier than any of the rainfalls she had seen when she was in Nepal.
As a result of the rainstorm, Wen Han and Meng Liangchuan were left stuck on the second
floor of a little restaurant. It was a very narrow space on the second floor, and there were
only two small tables that the owner had squeezed in there to try to scrape in a bit more
business.
"Did you know? Since entering Nepal and all the way until today, in my memory, if it hasn't
been a rainy day, then it's been a cloudy day. I feel like all the rain that I may see in my
entire lifetime has already been seen here." There had been very few days of clear skies. It
was just like Cheng Muyun and the type of person he was. The times where he was relaxed
and laidback were very few. Most of the time, he was indecipherable.
"Miss Wen Han, you came at a bad time and were just in time to catch the rainy season
here." Having found some hard-to-come-by, decent-tasting meat in India, Meng Liangchuan
ordered two orders of it.
Through the rain-splattered glass of the second level, Wen Han could see that there were
not really any people on the street outside anymore. Rubbing her hair with the clean towel
that she had bought, she pulled out the protection amulet that was around her neck.
Meng Liangchuan had always had astonishingly keen observation skills. "You never wore
this thing in Nepal, right?"
Her head bowed, Wen Han squeezed that amulet that was in her hands and shook her head.
"Cheng Muyun gave it to you?" Meng Liangchuan continued to press, perceiving something.
All of Wen Han's bags had been left in Nepal, and she had no possessions on her, so for such
a thing to suddenly appear on her meant that there was a ninety-nine percent chance it had
come from that man.
Her heart skipping half a beat, Wen Han answered in a low voice, "Yes, he was the one who
gave it to me, but he said nothing." As she spoke, her voice grew tight. How could she have
forgotten that there was still this thing?
"May I have a look?"
Wen Han set it on the table and slowly pushed it over to him.
Picking it up, Meng Liangchuan first looked over the design on it. It was very ordinary, just
one of those protection amulets that were often found in temples. His brows came together
as recalled for a moment. "This amulet seems to be from the temple beside this restaurant."
He had stayed here for so many days already and had collected a lot of information and
facts. Useful information, useless information, all of it had been branded into his mind.
"That day… I went into the temple to burn some incense. He waited outside for me, and
then once I came out, he gave me this." Wen Han's heart was beating more and more
rapidly. "If you open it up, inside, it's actually not a protection amulet. It's like some sort of
rootstalk of a plant."
Meng Liangchuan nodded and, loosening the drawstring, very carefully pulled out that
small object.
Facing the light, he looked it over and then also brought it up in front of his nose to take a
sniff. His eyes narrowed slightly. "It appears to be a Chinese herb."
"Chinese herb?" Wen Han was surprised.
She had actually never even thought of that.
"There is an old Indian man nearby. He lived in China in the past for more than ten years
and is a doctor." Meng Liangchuan searched through the data in his mind. "No, that's not
quite right. He can't be considered a doctor. You know that the underprivileged people in
India are extremely poor and don't really go to see the doctor. This old man frequently
collects any unused, basic types of drugs and medications from the homes of rich people,
and then after sorting them, he will give them to the poor for free. I remember he even
collected Chinese herbs before because some of the rich really believe in Chinese
medicine."
Meng Liangchuan's words had already been very clear and understandable.
Wen Han, therefore, did not delay, and after hurriedly paying the bill for their meal, the two
of them braved the heavy downpour. Along the rain-deluged streets, they searched
according to the information stored in Meng Liangchuan's head for that old Indian man's
"assistance and relief station."
Dirty water was flowing everywhere. Rainwater washed over the dirt until there was
simply no place to step.
Meng Liangchuan did not feel anything at all toward this type of poor, dirty environment,
and as he was also wearing military boots, he trodden forward with large strides. Because
he was too impatient about wanting to know what exactly was this thing that Cheng Muyun
had left behind, he was moving swiftly and could not attend at all to the woman behind
him.
Wen Han was dressed in a cheap raincoat. The sneakers on her feet were completely
covered in mud, and her pants were totally soaked as well.
In the end, when they found that so-called "assistance and relief station," the old Indian
man was long asleep. Wakened by Meng Liangchuan's knocking, he drowsily went and
opened the door. When he saw the two people who were utterly drenched in rain and
muddy water, he muttered something in the local language that the two could not
understand whatsoever.
Wen Han's heart gave a quiver and then sank into a valley bottom. Her thoroughly sodden
clothes clung to her thighs and calves, and when coupled with the chilling wind, she could
not control her body from shivering with cold. Still, though, she clutched that old man's
hand tightly, asking desperately in English, "Do you know what this is? Did an ethnic
Chinese man buy it from you? Did he? Have you seen a Chinese man?"
Over and over.
The old man shook his head dazedly.
Wen Han's eyes tingled. As if she could not wait and had to know the answer right away,
she frantically grasped his wrist.
"Just wait. Wait." Meng Liangchuan told her quietly, "Let me go out and find someone who
knows English." After saying this, Meng Liangchuan rushed back into the curtain of rain.
He returned shortly with the driver of a three-wheeler.
That Indian man was put in charge of translating what the two of them were saying. The
old man finally understood. Carefully holding up the little object that Wen Han had stuffed
into his palm, he looked it over again and again, then nodded his head.
"He said he knows what this is," the person translating said with a strong Indian accent.
"What is it?!"
"Live alone." The Indian stated these two English words.
"Live alone?" Wen Han repeated baffled.
"Yes… Yes, 'live alone.'" Everything suddenly became clear to Meng Liangchuan. "It is 'Du
Huo.' This Chinese herb is called 'Du Huo.' [herb name is Du Huo, but 'du huo' also means
'live alone']."
Du Huo… Live alone… Live alone.
In that instant, her entire body became hot.
Her blood streamed madly inside her. Instantly, this entire day's feelings of restlessness
and helplessness evaporated from her without a trace. It was Du Huo; it was "live alone"!
Cheng Muyun had known long ago that all these things of today would happen. He had
arranged this! He had arranged all of it! If not, he would not have left this thing behind to
tell her that, alone, she was to keep living!
Her whole body trembling, Wen Han suddenly gripped Meng Liangchuan's hand fiercely. "I
told you that he isn't dead, that he wouldn’t just die! No one has the ability to make him die!
He gave me this a long time ago because he was afraid I would worry, right?"
As a result of her intensely stirred emotions, her nails were digging into Meng Liangchuan's
wrist.
Meng Liangchuan was somewhat baffled. "Wait, wait, say it slowly. What do you mean?
You're saying he gave you this thing way back when in order to tell you that he's alive?"
"It must be!"
"But, Miss Wen Han, have you thought of another possibility? He knew that he could die at
any time in India, so he left this thing for you that, after his death, could give you comfort."
Of course, stating such an explanation was something even Meng Liangchuan could not
take.
He reckoned, this action of leaving behind a love token after his death was something that
that man would not be able to make himself do.
"That's impossible. Do you think that if he's dead, this kind of thing here can give me any
comfort? Other than him still being alive, nothing can give me comfort! He specially gave
me this simply because he wanted to tell me, to tell me that he and I both have to…"
Wen Han's chest was heaving, and she was gasping for air with all her might. She wanted to
calm herself, but she simply could not find her composure. Leaving behind some sort of
thing to provide consolation was not something Cheng Muyun would do at all. If he were to
die, he would simply die and absolutely would not leave behind all these complicated
things that beat around the bush.
If he specifically left this Du Huo—this "live alone"—behind, then it must be for such a
situation, to tell her in a way where no one was even aware, I will not die. And you must
continue to live your life, alone.
Darling, perhaps we will never see one another again, but at least you and I are both still
alive.
An umbrella lay at the entrance to a rundown little building.
A person wearing a poncho bent at the waist and removed that poncho. Her eyes somewhat
red, she gazed upon the empty corridor before her.
Pitch black. Bereft of light.
The strident downpour outside seemed to highlight even more the quietness in this place.
For some reason, it felt a little frightening.
She softly pulled in a breath, then slowly released it, pressing the back of her hand briefly
against her stinging eyes. Along that corridor, she walked until she reached the very end
and then, for the first time, stepped up those stairs that led to the second floor. Soon, the
view before her opened up. In that open, second-level space, other than the stark, austere
furnishings, there were no other unnecessary items at all.
There was only that one bed in the far corner, with items along the lines of blankets and
bedding stacked on it.
In the middle were a long table and a few wooden chairs, while a corner held a shelf and a
few cabinets.
She was in the room gathering and packing things for a long time, putting all the things,
aside from furniture, that Cheng Muyun had once used or come into contact with into the
large plastic bag that she had brought. When she was heading back downstairs, there was
the sound of movement up ahead of her, on the left.
It was evident that strange sound was the type produced only when these already
somewhat-aged floorboards were bearing heavy weight on them.
Surprised, she paused her steps at the head of the stairs—
From the first floor, a figure slowly walked up, its tall shape concealed within the shadows.
Enshrouded within the chilling dimness, that shadowy outline emitted a familiar and
dangerous aura…
Icy coldness instantly came over her entire body.
"My dear little sister." That person who, with his right thumb hooked on his belt, was
walking up the stairs unhurriedly stepped out from the shadows. "How I wish you had
brought candles, incense sticks, and paper money here to have a memorial for me and
mourn my passing and had not come empty-handed, attempting to find something here."
Cheng Jiayi's whole body froze. She dared not move even the tip of her finger in the
slightest.
Apart from him, who else could strike fear like this into her? It was that man, the one who
had held her in his arms since she was young, the one whose name was buried in the most
confidential files of the Moscow operations team, the one who, only five hours ago, had
been system-wide reported as dead.
There was neither muddy water nor rainwater on Cheng Muyun.
That meant that, after she walked that entire way along the corridor earlier, she had been
under his gaze as she strode up these stairs. Cheng Jiayi clenched that plastic bag that she
held and took half a step backwards…
"What is wrong? This is not the first time I have escaped death." Cheng Muyun took two
steps forward. From the shadows, the full view of his face was revealed. There was no light
in those black eyes, but there was mirth. "You are very surprised?"
At age six, with his own hands, he had used a dagger to skin a tiger that his elders had
hunted. He had been covered in blood, and that tiger skin had been removed without any
damage or flaws—a whole, complete tiger skin. This was the very first knowledge Cheng
Jiayi had had of her elder cousin-brother, a description heard from her family members…
And also, the first time Cheng Jiayi held a gun, she had been flustered and had misfired,
striking him in the leg. He had not even wrinkled his brow, but she had been so frightened
she did not dare touch a gun for half a month after.
And so many other things—
Those things of Cheng Muyun's past, things that had to do with Cheng Jiayi and ones that
did not, all coursed up into her mind, like a sudden avalanche of snow that had
accumulated in the high mountains, a horrific, surging white wave sweeping over and
crushing every inch of her nerves… She feared him, a fear that was rooted deep, entrenched
into her very bones and blood.
"I just came to gather your belongings…" Her voice was soft, and she forced herself to keep
her back straight.
"Shh… Think it through before you say anything." He used Russian, the language most
familiar to her since she was a child, to tell her in a low tone, "Think it through before you
say anything."
"I wanted… to find evidence, leads, to find who killed you." Cheng Jiayi's fists were balled
tightly. Her eyes stung, and there was a slight tremor in her body that she could not
repress. "Cheng Muyun, you cannot, cannot suspect me like this… You suspect me, don't
you?"
The man in front of her did not speak. His eyes were cast downwards, gazing completely
without emotion at her from on high.
Eyeing Cheng Jiayi over, as if he did not even know her.
She swore, her mind was going to break down.
Cheng Jiayi's whole body was shivering as she helplessly, in Russian, called him "Big
Brother." Her leg muscles were weak and sore and could not support her. Staggeringly, she
drew backwards, but due to the height of the stairsteps, she toppled over and slid rapidly
down several steps.
It was this instant where she felt as if she could see a chance at life. Allowing momentum to
take her downward, she rolled and tumbled onto the concrete floor of the first level.
But before she could crawl back up, he had picked her up by the back of her shirt collar.
Twisting her right arm behind her, he thrust her forcefully into the wall.
"What gave you the courage?" Cheng Muyun leaned in close to her. "You thought you could
escape?"
"I was wrong, Big Brother…" Shudders racked Cheng Jiayi's body.
With everything in her, she tried to suppress them, but still she quivered uncontrollably,
and tears ceaselessly surged out. "I swear, I swear, I honestly did not hurt Zhuang Yan in
any way. And I had nothing to do with that explosion that was to harm you. I swear, I
honestly did not kill them."
"Of course it was not you." He moved in close beside the back of her ear. "I did those."
Picture after picture flashed across Cheng Jiayi's mind. Incidents, speculations—all of them
began to link up together.
Tests. They were all tests. Each one appeared to be a very direct and effective test.
Would you, knowing that Cheng Muyun at any minute might want to take your life, dare
calmly and undauntedly eat something that he handed to you?
Would you, knowing that he suspected you and did not trust you, still risk your life and
rush in to save him, exchanging your life for his to bring him out alive?
So long as you were the mole, you would hesitate. The more cautious you were, the more
he would suspect you.
Because you could not guess what Cheng Muyun would do, you were afraid at all times that
you would be killed, and so you would tread as if on thin ice, being careful in absolutely
everything.
With each action of his, you did not know, was it a test? Or was he using this to kill you off?
Perverse tests.
But in the Moscow operations team, everyone was perverse.
Here, there were people all around who were the same type as Cheng Muyun and Zhou Ke,
all of them carrying the creed-like attitude of "those who are my brothers must all die after
me."
Here, there was only absolute trust, the trust where one would give one's own life in
exchange for another's life.
This almost mad, ruthless, senseless method of using one's own life as a way to test others
was most suitable for this "Hell's Ops Team"… Only a madman could come up with this
method. And only madmen who genuinely followed him with all their hearts could get
through this type of perverse trap.
The shackles on her disappeared.
Slowly, powerlessly, Cheng Jiayi turned around and pushed her back against the wall,
trying desperately to find something she could lean upon, rely upon. Spates of heat flooded
her body, yet cold sweat broke out on her.
Ice and fire both seemed to explode in her body, devouring away her consciousness, her
mind, and her courage.
He pulled out a black gun from behind his back and tossed it onto the floor.
"You should be grateful to Zhou Ke." With the tip of his boot, Cheng Muyun kicked the gun
to her. "It is because of him that you have been granted the right to point a gun at your own
head." Otherwise, the punishment absolutely would not be that easy.
Cheng Jiayi pressed herself into the wall. The cold draft in the corridor poured relentlessly
into the openings at the cuffs of her sleeves and neckline. She helplessly tried, in this
dimness, to get a clear look at Cheng Muyun's face. Even if there was the slightest hint of a
hope at life…
She did not want to die, not at all…
In the darkness that surrounded her, the continual echoes of the safety catch being
switched to "on" incited her nerves.
This was telling her, "With just this gun, you do not even need to think of trying to escape.
Letting you end your own life is already the greatest kindness in the world that can be
bestowed on you."
Her fingers slowly unfurled, and bit by bit, they extended toward that gun. When contact
was made, she swiftly picked it up and, summoning all her courage, grasped the gun grip
forcefully. "Could you let me, in a quiet place…"
Her voice was barely audible. She was pleading with him.
"Regrettably, I cannot." When Cheng Muyun spoke this sentence, his voice was flat and
devoid of emotion. Word by word, he told her, "You know, my dear, that I am a person who
is most skilled in faking his own death. For people like us, we should not be merciful with
our enemies. Watching them die with our own eyes and confirming that the body has
grown completely cold is the safest way. This is common knowledge."
This is common knowledge…
In such a short period of time, her back was already drenched with cold sweat.
The fear of death was very real, so real that she did not even dare believe that all this was
true. She needed only to finish this final mission, find leads, and locate that relic with the
image of Buddha…
"Cheng Muyun, do you not even want to know why I betrayed you?"
Cheng Muyun remained silent, not answering.
He did not want to know. Every betrayal in this world has its own reason behind it,
especially when the betrayal is against one's own brothers and comrades. But he did not
want to hear it. After tonight, there would be someone responsible for pulling the records
and investigating every detail of every day, every minute, every second of the life of this
woman before him. That meant there would be yet another great purge that was bound to
implicate many people.
The final report would tell everyone what had actually happened.
But what Cheng Muyun wanted to do was simply to find the person who was the source of
the problem and do away with her.
"Tell my mom," Cheng Jiayi sobbingly begged him, "you must tell her that I…"
"I will tell her that you betrayed me and our entire family clan."
A shudder went through her whole body. Practically on the verge of breakdown, she leaned
forcefully against the wall, sobbing, "Cheng Muyun, you're my older brother! You cannot do
this to me…"
"Is that so? Why can I not do this to you?"
Those eyes were cast downward—cold, penetrating, judging.
She even had a sense that Cheng Muyun had returned—the he of ten years ago had wholly,
completely returned.
Those were not eyes that belonged to a person. Behind those pitch-black eyes, there
seemed to be concealed another icy set of eyes, deep amber, with a narrow slit running
vertically through them, like the cruelest venomous snake that never saw light. What was
mercy? What was forgiveness?
He did not know, did not comprehend those things.
……
The endless, stifling wait finally brought about the single sound of a gunshot.
The man who had been standing in the darkness stepped forward. His icy fingers brushed
over Cheng Jiayi's neck and also several other places. Only after unemotionally verifying
that this body held no signs of life did he slowly crouch down. His hand stroked over the
top of her head, feeling on his palm and the pads of his fingers her soft hairs that had been
soaked with the cold sweat of fear before she died.
Cheng Muyun half-crouched in front of Cheng Jiayi's corpse, his body displaying an eerie
posture. It was as if the ground before him was strewn with corpses. Each face was so
distinct, just as before.
It had been ten years already. In the depths of his soul, there still were spirits that could not
be released from suffering to peace with even one hundred thousand recitations of the
Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva Sutra.
When Cheng Muyun lifted his head again, his eyes contained that familiar, flashing gleam.
His languid, low voice filled that entire empty space and blended with the sound of the rain.
"Who has a smoke?"
Someone tossed over a flattened pack of cigarettes.
Crouching, he opened that package. Only half a cigarette remained inside, as well as a very
beat-up lighter that was made in India. Letting out a low curse, he clamped the cigarette
between his teeth and lit it.
A flickering glow appeared in front of his face and then flared fiercely twice as proof that he
had taken two deep inhales. Although the lighter was made in India, that half-used cigarette
was from Moscow—the taste of home. Smoke was drawn deep into his lungs, then after a
long time, was slowly blown back out. In that faint, gray smoke, he pinched the butt
between his fingers and brought that cigarette down from his mouth, setting it on the floor.
"Tidy up here. Put my things back where they had originally been as well."
That half a cigarette that still flickered red had been set in front of Cheng Jiayi's face.
Perhaps Zhou Ke can forgive you.
Perhaps Buddha can bestow his merciful forgiveness on you.
But I cannot.
From Buddha it is, with Buddha it shall remain; from hell it came, as Hell it shall stay.
Unspeaking, Wen Han gave a tug on Meng Liangchuan's sleeve and then left that little
assistance and relief station. Once she stepped outside, she threw the Du Huo into the mud,
watching as that small piece of herb joined with the muddy waters and was washed away
into a pile of garbage.
But she clutched that empty amulet pouch tightly in her hand.
"Do you know… where Cheng Jiayi went?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know. It's not like I'm their superior. Even if I were their superior, if they aren't
directly under me, I still wouldn't have the authority to inquire about their whereabouts.
That is the rule. However, I do know that after Chen Yuan finished questioning you, he left
India yesterday evening and returned to Headquarters in Switzerland. Right now, he
should be on a plane."
Wen Han nodded.
"You don't really believe that Cheng Muyun is still alive, do you?" Meng Liangchuan could
not watch her continue in her madness. Deciding to harden his heart and be cruel, he
grabbed her and, there in that continuous torrential downpour, told her the truth. "Before
we drove out here, the autopsy report had already come out. He really is dead, Miss Wen
Han."
"… What did you say?" Wen Han's eyes were fixed on him.
"Autopsy report. Cheng Muyun and Fu Yiming are both dead." Meng Liangchuan tried to be
as concise as possible.
"……" Wen Han shook her head vacantly. "Why didn't you tell me right from the start?"
Meng Liangchuan did not have the heart to look at her and avoided Wen Han's gaze. "See?
He's already left you that Du Huo, that 'live alone.' Miss Wen Han, don't have any
romanticized assumptions anymore. You need to trust that no one can hide anything from
our autopsy."
As a result of Meng Liangchuan's words, that entire night, in a little inn, nightmares plagued
Wen Han.
When she suddenly started into a sitting position at some time past midnight, her body was
already soaked in cold sweat. She was scared that that thing really was only just something
of her speculation. If it really was only a smoke screen that he had left to make her think
that he was not dead… Wen Han tossed and turned. This was not a very good inn.
Dampness pervaded her surroundings. Though incense had been lit in the room, it still
could not conceal the smells of a cheap inn, and this made her head feel heavy and groggy.
One moment, it was as if she had returned to Moscow; the next moment, she felt as if she
was in that little inn in Nepal, or perhaps it was that rundown, little building on the manor
estate. The latter half of the night, where she was in a half-asleep, half-awake state, was
filled with sadhus, a bonfire, and also Cheng Muyun…
At the first faint glimmers of dawn, Wen Han crawled out of bed and ran next door to wake
up Meng Liangchuan, telling him to go with her to the manor.
"Miss Wen Han," Meng Liangchuan asked, somewhat dazed, "what are you going to do
going back there again?
Wen Han's voice was bleak. "I just want… to have something of his to keep."
This reason left an ache in the heart of the one hearing it.
Meng Liangchuan did not refuse her request, and he accompanied Wen Han to the manor.
The person who received her was the one who had narrowly escaped death that day, the
eldest son of the manor lord and also the owner of that three-level home by the Ganges
River. He expressed his deep regrets regarding Cheng Muyun's death, continually stating
his remorse that, because he last minute had been called outside by someone, Cheng
Muyun had had to wait for him under that bamboo platform, and hence this had caused
Cheng Muyun to lose his life.
The entire time, Wen Han did not utter a word and, pale-faced, only gazed imploringly at
the other party.
When Wen Han laid out the request to go to that little building, that priest expressed his
understanding and personally led Wen Han across the entire manor grounds to arrive
outside of that little building.
In the daylight, the blue peacocks had all come out from their shed. Basking in the sun after
the rain and lazily dragging their tails behind them, they stared at Wen Han from afar. They
were not at all bothered that the sodden grass would soil their tails, or perhaps they
themselves knew very clearly that, beneath the extreme magnificence of their feathers, the
mud and water droplets would all be completely hidden.
Meng Liangchuan and the Indian man stood downstairs of the building.
Alone, Wen Han stepped into the empty first-floor corridor.
Without those sadhus, this place seemed particularly hollow and vacant. Looking at each
passing room, she walked to the end of the corridor and then proceeded up the stairs.
In that open, second-level space, other than the stark, austere furnishings, there were no
other unnecessary items at all.
There was only that one bed in the far corner, with items along the lines of blankets and
bedding stacked on it.
In the middle were a long table and a few wooden chairs, while a corner held a shelf and a
few cabinets.
Holding a plastic bag, she took all the things that Cheng Muyun had once used or come into
contact with and stuffed them inside. No one. No one had come here. Everything was still in
its original place.
Wen Han's head was bowed. After packing away the last pair of pants, she at last could hold
it in no longer. Sinking limply to her knees, she laid her face on the bed and began to weep.
Why does everyone say you're dead…?
Cheng Muyun, you're not dead, right?
Tell me that you're not dead…
*****
Wen Han brought Cheng Muyun's belongings back with her to the inn.
By the time noon approached, someone had already delivered her luggage to her.
Supposedly, the luggage that she had lost in Nepal had been found three days ago by a
"Good Samaritan" and sent back to Kathmandu, and then today, it had finally arrived after
travelling all the way here. It was obvious that "Good Samaritan" was a previous
arrangement by Cheng Muyun.
Meng Liangchuan thoughtfully opened her luggage for her. "Have a look and see if you've
lost anything?"
An entire suitcase of her travel belongings.
There were also souvenirs, a camera, and long skirts.
Wen Han's eyes brushed over it. She caught sight of those two blouses that Cheng Muyun
had once ripped the buttons off of, as well as that long skirt, and also that French-style sun
hat that she had worn the night they went to get their henna tattoos… Each item was a
memory. And there was also her passport. Her real passport was back with her as well.
Meng Liangchuan took out that passport and went out for an hour. When he returned, he
had already submitted all the necessary information from her entry into the country last
time. He had also completed for her the procedures for leaving the country and bought her
plane ticket.
In other words, from this moment onwards, Wen Han could return to Moscow at any time.
Moreover, his superiors had already given the orders and left instructions that this woman
absolutely had to leave tonight.
"Miss Wen Han." Meng Liangchuan cleared his throat and half-squatted down in front of
her. "I am very lucky to have met you and Cheng Muyun in Nepal. I think this is the most
precious memory of my life. For your man, I have great respect. Even though I couldn't help
him this time, I was able to have that one time with him of going through life and death
together in that smuggling base. And so, I feel no regrets."
Wen Han's eyes swiveled over slightly so that her gaze landed on Meng Liangchuan.
"I hope you know that, as long as you have any need for it, any one of Cheng Muyun's
friends will help you, myself included." This was Meng Liangchuan's true purpose for
saying these words.
She did not speak. She was pondering with all her might.
What else was there? What other methods could be used to find him? …
A picture that had actually not left a deep impression flashed across her mind.
It was a postcard that she, with her back to the sun, had tried to get a clear look at—
Sarnath.
Sarnath…
Wen Han suddenly seemed to come alive. "Take me to a place."
"Where?" Lifting his wrist, Meng Liangchuan glanced at his watch. "We don't have much
time."
"I know." Wen Han knew that though these people were very polite to her, they would not
truly allow her to willfully do whatever she pleased, especially since her previous status
had been someone who entered the country illegally. But she absolutely had to go…
"Sarnath. Take me to Sarnath."
"……" Meng Liangchuan knew that this girl was a believer of Buddhism, like Cheng Muyun.
He had not thought, however, that at such a time as this, she would still want to go have a
look at that famous holy site of Buddhism.
Naturally, Wen Han was not going to tell him what her reason was. She was very, very
cautious. She said only that she absolutely had to go to that place. After checking that, from
a time perspective, they could make it, Meng Liangchuan took the car out earlier than
planned and drove rapidly with her to Sarnath.
That place was less than twenty kilometres away from Varanasi so was not considered to
be very far.
When she stepped inside, there happened to be a gathering of a large group of Chinese
monks who had come to visit and observe. They all wore earthen-yellow robes with cloth
bags slung diagonally across their bodies, and numbering more than one hundred, they sat
on the grass and stone steps, which were half a person tall, conversing quietly in Chinese.
Wen Han did not know where she wanted to go or what she could find.
The view here was wide and open. Other than the most eye-catching Dhamek Stupa and the
tourists… there was only a single vihara as well as the Deer Park. Allowing her eyes to scan
as far as they could see, she observed that most tourists were sitting beneath the trees, but
there was nothing strange or special about them. While Wen Han was searching all around
with her eyes, those one hundred or more Chinese monks all slowly left.
Perhaps it was because they were Chinese, or perhaps for another reason, but Wen Han
could not refrain from trailing after them while pretending to look at the scenery. However,
her steps grew quicker and quicker, and continually she walked past each person until,
eventually, she was even running.
She wanted to have a clear look at each face, wanted to see if he was amongst them…
Alas, in the end, she was left with only disappointment as well as puzzled gazes that were
returned to her from the monks.
Putting her palms together apologetically, Wen Han gave repeated bows and expressed
that she was sorry for being rude. From a distance away, Meng Liangchuan watched this
scene. Such a feeling that he could not describe. When you fell in love with Cheng Muyun,
did it mean that, even if the man were dead, you still needed to over and over chase after
even the slightest traces of anything that might have to do with him? Meng Liangchuan
repeatedly checked his watch as he let Wen Han search like a headless fly, until, when dusk
neared, he finally told her, "Miss Wen Han, we need to go."
Wen Han slowed her steps, staring at him with an unresigned look.
Giving an apologetic smile, Meng Liangchuan said, "I'm extremely sorry. My task this time is
not merely to keep you company. I am to also transfer your care to some contacts from
Moscow and to help you leave India smoothly. Therefore, we must leave, Miss Wen Han."
Wen Han had no other choice. There, on the damp grass, she took one last look at the
Dhamek Stupa. "Will I be able to pass by Varanasi?" She wanted a final look at that three-
level house.
"I'm very sorry. We don't have time."
Wen Han's heart did not want to accept this. Constantly casting backward glances, she
followed Meng Liangchuan and left this place.
Beneath the peepal trees, within the many tourists who were sitting cross-legged and
resting, a female traveller lifted her head and remarked softly, "Laoban's woman is just
amazing. How did she find her way here?"
A person behind her rested his chin on his palm as he answered, "Probably after having a
deep, physical relationship, your hearts and minds will become interlinked, too?"
Everyone very much concurred with this sentiment.
Nearby, a male student gave a cough. "What a hot body. I didn't really dare take a good look
when we were in that mountain valley in Nepal, but I did look nice and thoroughly today.
Her face is top notch, too."
"……" Several people on all sides of him threw him looks of disbelief.
"Just saying." Shrugging, the male student gave a cough. "Laoban is feeding the deer?"
"Yeah. Since yesterday, he's been feeding those deer. I asked Little Fox. She said that in
Buddhist beliefs, deer symbolize a place of peace and purity or something like that.
Anyway, it's basically for comfort and peace of mind, I guess."
After all, that had been his younger sister. Blood is thicker than water.
After Wen Han arrived at the airport, she was taken into an empty office.
With that, Meng Liangchuan was considered to have handed her over to the people from
Moscow, but afterwards, he was also heartlessly stopped outside of the office, no longer
allowed to have any more interaction with Wen Han.
Though this place was still an Indian airport, this room already temporarily belonged to
Russia.
One of the people, a middle-aged man, took Wen Han's luggage away.
Two female police officers dressed in civilian wear remained in the room, giving Wen Han a
complete physical examination and then providing a whole new outfit for her, from under
to outer clothing. If one were to put it politely, she was being treated just like an honoured
guest, but in reality, this was to allow them to examine her from inside to outside.
"Miss Wen Han, from the info that we got, you were given a contraceptive injection in
Nepal. Did you know that?"
Wen Han paused in surprised for a moment, then shook her head vacantly.
No wonder Cheng Muyun had told her with such certainty that she would not be pregnant…
It turned out, after he abducted her away, he had once injected her with such stuff?
"There are no dangers at all with this type of thing, and it will be completely metabolized
out of the body after half a year. There's no need to worry," a female officer, as a formality,
explained to her.
Wen Han did not speak. She blinked once lightly, feeling somewhat tired and helpless. If he
really were gone, she would rather she did have his child, one who would look just like
him…
The female officer pulled out a needle. "Routine procedure. You will have a very peaceful
period of sleep, and when you wake up, you should already be on the plane."
Wen Han did not understand what the "routine procedure" that she talked about was, but
with so many police officers from Moscow here in this room, even if she wanted to refuse,
she had no excuse to, nor did she have the power to.
Doing as the woman said, she took a seat.
Her sleeve was rolled up. That person was very skilled at giving injections, and there was
only a slight pricking twinge. Very shortly, drowsiness rushed over her, and she gradually
was unable to keep her eyes open…
After she lost consciousness, a hand pushed open an interior door of the room. A man
wearing blue-framed glasses stepped inside. Every person in the room straightened and
saluted him in unison.
The man gave a slight smile and quickly returned the salute. "All of you, there is no need to
be uptight. We're all just carrying out routine business."
The female officer who had been responsible for giving Wen Han the injection fixed the
gaze of her large, clear-blue eyes on this person who had just arrived, and smiling gently,
she said, "Then we will hand her over to you now, Officer Chen. To prevent any side effects
from occurring in the body of this beautiful lady, there is only approximately ten minutes of
efficacy from the drug. Please make good use of this time."
Chen Yuan nodded, resuming his stern expression.
All of those other people retreated from the room.
"Miss Wen Han, we meet again." Removing his glasses, he folded them up and set them on
the table. "Let us have a little talk about a body relic that carries an image of Buddha. I
believe Cheng Muyun must have let you see that priceless collectible."
Warm light shone on her eyelids.
Wen Han was awakened by the whispers of quiet chitchat between the flight attendants. So
strange. Such light and polite voices were actually able to waken her from her deep
slumber. She shifted her fingers. She felt a little weak.
"Miss, do you need any sort of service?" A flight attendant patiently came closer and softly
spoke to this extremely distinguished VIP passenger. "You can call for me at any time."
"I…" With a faint frown, Wen Han thought for a moment. "My backpack."
The flight attendant immediately found her backpack for her. Taking it from her, Wen Han
set it on her lap and rummaged through for something. After searching for a long while, she
at last pulled out from beneath her notebook that protection amulet pouch that was now
empty. The embroidery on it was not very well done, and the Buddhist emblem on the
outside felt somewhat scratchy on the hands.
She stared blankly for a lengthy moment, then took out that notebook and flipped it open.
These were words she had written when she first arrived in Nepal…
D1 (9.9): Entered Kathmandu, Nepal via India (arrived 16:06 local time). Stayed in Thamel.
D2 (9.10): Nepal's Teej Festival. Went to Boudhanath and Durbar Square in the morning.
Exchanged some currency. Got henna tattoo done at night.
D3 (9.11):
The third day was still blank. It seemed, from that morning onward, she had had no mood
to write in her travel journal… That was the day of the rafting trip on the Trishuli River. She
still remembered that a male traveller had fallen overboard and how Cheng Muyun, after he
had saved him and brought him back up, had given that male traveller a smack across the
face to bring him back to his senses…
She still remembered, he had removed his shirt and shoes and sat quietly on a boulder to
take in the sun.
The afternoon sun had swathed his body in a faint halo of light.
A tattoo covered a large area of his back—
It was a lotus flower.
A large stretch of intertwining vines and layer upon layer of lotus that all came together
until, in the end, they formed an even more complete picture of a single lotus flower.
……
Wen Han covered her eyes with one hand. Tears streamed forth unrelentingly.
The flight attendant specifically assigned to her became a little panicked. This was a VIP
passenger, although no one had told her why this girl who appeared to be only twenty
years old or so was so important and honoured…
Stepping forward, the flight attendant bent slightly at the waist and quietly comforted her
in Russian, "Miss Wen Han, are you feeling unwell somewhere? They told me that because
you were injected with a sedative before you boarded the plane, you might feel airsick. Or
maybe something else feels unwell? Please tell me, all right?"
Wen Han shook her head incessantly, clenching tightly on her lip, desperately trying to
fight back her tears.
She forced herself not to cry anymore… He's not dead! What are you crying about? Wen
Han, what are you even crying about?!
With the back of her hand, she swiped away her tears. Then, still hiccoughing with sobs, she
asked in quiet tone, "Could you… help me take a look to see if the henna design on my back
is still intact?"
Chen Yuan knew this was his last chance to get the Buddhist relic.
After he truly left India, it would not be possible for him to enter the country again or else it
would rouse the suspicions of his brothers and comrades of the past, including his
superiors.
Hence, he took a risk. After acquiring this top-secret information from the mouth of Wen
Han, he had immediately hurried here—that small, three-level house along the Ganges
River in Varanasi.
According to Wen Han, she had hidden that item with her own hands in a corner of this
kitchen.
In a canister that held rosemary.
His hand came in contact with the innermost canister, and carefully, he took it out. Beneath
the moonlight, he opened the stainless steel lid, slipped his hand inside, and slowly pulled
out that body relic that was about half the size of a palm.
A relic, an object left behind after the cremation of a Buddhist spiritual master. And this one
contained a clear image of the Buddha, his eyes lowered and his legs crossed. How much
practice in the Dharma and how great was the enlightenment in order to leave behind such
an object? …
Chen Yuan stared rather dazedly at the relic in his palm.
From when he first met Cheng Muyun, he had watched that man believe in Buddhism all
these years, but had never understood Cheng Muyun's religious convictions, especially in
Moscow, that place where churches could be found everywhere.
But now, when he saw that relic that lay on his palm, there was a sense of pressure, as if his
very soul was being gazed down upon, being dissected… Slapping the lid back on, he stuffed
the canister into the corner and restacked the other spice containers, making it seem as if
no one had moved anything here.
In that instant, when he closed the cupboard door, a dark shadow appeared outside the
window.
A chill ran down Chen Yuan's back. Slowly, he turned his head. By the light of the moon, he
got a clear look at the shape of that shadow. It was a little dog. That little yellow dog
seemed accustomed to strolling around in the nearby areas in the middle of the night.
Stretching out its tongue, it licked the window and then, turning around, hopped off the
high windowsill.
Just an animal. Nothing to worry about.
Clenching that relic tightly in his hand, Chen Yuan closed his eyes and calmed himself for
several seconds. And then, he walked out of the kitchen.
Right as he stepped foot into that dark living room, brightness suddenly appeared in it.
A light that seemed to dance randomly and chaotically and also raucous sounds filled the
entire living room. It was a late-night Indian dancing program. The television that had
suddenly turned on caused the entire room to fall into an eerily lively atmosphere.
And on the sofa in the living room sat the one who should have died already beneath the
feet of a frenzied herd of elephants—Cheng Muyun.
His one arm rested on the back of the sofa as he, with seriousness, watched that program of
singing and dancing that was on the television, all the while never bringing his gaze over to
Chen Yuan. "You should clearly know how much I had hoped that right now, you were
already at Headquarters and not here beside the Ganges River that is scattered with Zhou
Ke's ashes, looking for some Buddhist relic."
Chen Yuan knew, from this moment, that it was all over.
Standing in a spot only five steps away from the sofa, his eyes took in Cheng Muyun's
profile.
Thirteen years of friendship.
From when Cheng Muyun first became a part of the Moscow operations team, Chen Yuan
had been the shadow behind Cheng Muyun. Countless times he had brought that man who
was now sitting on the sofa safely out of danger. This included that period in China. In the
ten years that Cheng Muyun had been a monk, he had also lived in the wild, mountainous
area for ten years.
There were even times, as he crouched on the snowy ground roasting wild game, when
Chen Yuan himself had felt as if in a daze.
Would he and Cheng Muyun be accompanying each other in this way for this entire
lifetime? Cheng Muyun would be out in the open, in the light, while he was in the shadows…
Sometimes, he had hoped that Cheng Muyun would never come back out from seclusion.
Wearing his gray robes, his head shaved, and staying forever in that dilapidated temple
deep in the mountains that did not get more than a few worshippers, weren’t those so very
good?
He knew that from the moment he had stepped into that kitchen and opened up that
cupboard of spices, there was nothing he could argue about. His hand holding that object
was already proof of everything—he had betrayed Cheng Muyun.
Cheng Muyun extended his arm and pointed at the armchair beside him. "Sit."
Chen Yuan walked over.
Cheng Muyun added another sentence. "Put that thing you are holding on the table."
Chen Yuan was slightly taken aback for a moment, and then slowly, he set onto the table
that relic that carried an image of the Buddha.
Cheng Muyun nodded. "Sit."
Chen Yuan was about to sit down when his wrist was enclosed in a grip. Cheng Muyun's fist
slammed into his stomach. Painfully, he doubled over, his knees buckling to the ground. His
face and body were being borne down on by Cheng Muyun and pinned against the fabric of
that armchair.
In that endless silence, Cheng Muyun did not do anything.
His forehead pressed against the back of Chen Yuan's shoulder. Softly, in a voice that the
other people in the room could not hear, he stated, "I am truly sorry that it is you."
"I am very glad," Chen Yuan answered, his voice also barely perceptible, "that you are still
alive."
That day, Chen Yuan had been in a spot not far from the explosion and enraged elephant
herd, watching as the elephants madly trampled the bamboo platform. Heaven knew how
he had wished he could have done as Fu Yiming had, throwing everything else aside and
simply rushing in to save Cheng Muyun…
Protecting Cheng Muyun had already long ago become his instinct.
Chen Yuan did not struggle, nor did he move. His gun was behind his waist, but the thought
of using it did not even cross his mind. He had shed himself of all the strength in his body,
closing his eyes like someone who was dead.
He could feel that gun behind his waist being pulled out by Cheng Muyun.
……
Into his palm, Cheng Muyun placed that gun. "Fare you well on your way."
All the weight that had been bearing down on him disappeared. He left him, released his
hold on him. Chen Yuan gripped that gun that belonged to himself. Slowly, he pressed the
gun into his own chest.
Many pictures of his life flashed unremittingly through his mind, never once stopping.
In this final moment of his life, he discovered that the parts of this lifetime that were most
deeply impressed on his memory all had to do with this man behind him who had pinned
him down.
After a loud, muffled bang echoed out, on the armchair, Chen Yuan gave a couple of slight
twitches, then slid to the rug. A dark, crimson bloodstain followed the path of his body and
appeared on the armchair and rug…
Cheng Muyun stood in front of the television, gazing at Chen Yuan's corpse.
Behind him, the three men and one woman in charge of monitoring Cheng Muyun stepped
forward, exchanging looks between themselves.
The woman amongst them coughed. "Cheng Laoban, we will write up a detailed report
about what happened tonight. In regards to Chen Yuan's betrayal, the four of us and this
relic are the witnesses and the physical evidence. I believe this whole matter can be
brought to a close here."
Cheng Muyun's silence could be considered his consent to this.
The woman and the three men behind her all exhaled lightly in relief.
After Zhuang Yan ate the mangoes and feigned death to slip away, he had, by Cheng
Muyun's suggestion, under his own name, reported Chen Yuan. At the time, Headquarters
had been divided into two factions that had disputed endlessly and been unable to come to
an agreement.
Were they to believe a former ops leader of the Moscow operations team who had a soiled
past but once did a great merit?
Or should they believe someone who himself was responsible for monitoring Cheng
Muyun?
No one had dared make that final call. Chen Yuan's identity and position were simply too
special.
On that day, in that little farmhouse beside the sunflower field, when everyone was
interrogating Cheng Muyun, they still did not have a resolution: whom should they believe?
This continued until Cheng Muyun faked his own death, after which he personally made a
pact with Headquarters.
That person, Cheng Muyun, would disappear from this earth. He would hand the complete
ops team into the hands of the one he trusted, Ops Leader Fu Yiming, and would no longer
have any connection to the Moscow operations team. This was the punishment that Cheng
Muyun handed to himself for privately and without authorization investigating whom the
traitor was—the rules could not be broken.
And, due to Chen Yuan's special status, Cheng Muyun would gather sufficient evidence
before convicting Chen Yuan of anything. It would not be like Cheng Jiayi, whose case had
been resolved internally in the team.
"Cheng Laoban, our chief said, thank you for everything that you have done over these
dozen and more years," added those several people who had once monitored him. Not
uttering a word, Cheng Muyun sat down, straddling the coffee table. With the back of his
hand facing outward, he gave a slight wave at them. The meaning of his action: You may
leave now.
They exchanged a few glances. According to proper procedures, right now, they needed to
take Chen Yuan's body away.
But… let it be. In the end, they decided to leave the corpse there and withdraw from that
room. Click. The door's lock fell into place.
In that room, the television was still playing that Indian program of singing and dancing.
Lively, with the exotic air of a foreign country.
Cheng Muyun sat on the coffee table; his eyes fixed for a long time on that corpse that lay
sprawled on the armchair.
Someone tossed over a pack of cigarettes, a new one.
The package landed on Cheng Muyun's leg.
Lowering his head, Cheng Muyun picked up that box, ripped open the plastic film around it,
tore open the foil, and pulled out one cigarette.
The first time he saw Chen Yuan, he had already had a feeling that this man more than
likely was sent to surveil him. All these years, though, he had never truly investigated or
tried to confirm whether Chen Yuan had indeed been sent by the higher-ups to monitor
him. This was because, as the leader of an operations team, Cheng Muyun was very clear
that even if there were no Chen Yuan, there would be others. There unquestionably would
be someone who would record his every action and report it upwards.
After all, he, Cheng Muyun, had a life whose first half was not very pristine.
But he genuinely had not thought that Chen Yuan would betray him. If one were to compare
the degree that they had gone through life and death together with Cheng Muyun, even Fu
Yiming could not compare with Chen Yuan.
The relic had been the final test. But even just earlier, when Chen Yuan walked into this
three-level house, Cheng Muyun had still been finding various reasons for Chen Yuan. He
had thought, perhaps Chen Yuan simply believed that he was not dead and wanted to find
clues in order to contact him.
It was only when Chen Yuan stepped into the kitchen that Cheng Muyun, in that instant,
was certain: Chen Yuan had betrayed him as well.
……
Cheng Muyun held that unlit cigarette between his teeth. Just now, he truly had wanted to
ask “Why?”
Why were you willing to risk your life and be a shadow for more than ten years, but yet, at
the final moment, you still chose betrayal?
But in the end, he had still simply thrust a gun over to Chen Yuan and used death to silence
the mouth that could speak, making it so that, in this lifetime, Chen Yuan would never be
able provide the answer with his own mouth to Cheng Muyun.
Why?
Those brothers who had died because of Chen Yuan, and also Zhou Ke, someone who had
treated Chen Yuan with utmost sincerity and loyalty, who had ever given them the chance
to ask "Why?"
Hence, he, Cheng Muyun, had no right to ask.
No right to ask this type of question on behalf of those who had died unjustly.
Hiding the light from the lighter's flame behind a hand, he lit the cigarette in that little bit of
fire that was in his palm. "These past ten years, I lived as a monk in a secluded mountain
area. The old monk who gave me my tonsure was more than ninety years old. He nearly
could not even hold the razor steady in his hand, but still, he was not willing to be my
teacher and only told me to be his junior brother." In the most harmless tone, like he was
simply chatting idly, he used Russian, that language that every person in this room could
understand, to narrate quietly, "When I first got there, the old monk and I still had
problems even communicating, so the two of us would teach each other, one teaching
Chinese and the other teaching Russian. It was actually not boring passing the days like
this, and just like that, ten years passed by. But it was miserable for Chen Yuan…"
Cheng Muyun paused for a long while before giving a light chuckle. "In these ten years, if he
was not hunting for game, then he was still hunting for game. Or else he would wait for me
to finish receiving the food given as alms and give some to him. Let's not even talk about
women; he did not even get to have a two-legged person with him… Even if he had money,
he did not dare use it, for fear that he would expose my hiding place."
When his words reached this point, Cheng Muyun gave a gentle shake of his head.
He did not continue with what he had been saying.
Regarding those ten years in which he had accompanied Cheng Muyun in his monkhood,
Chen Yuan had not mentioned them, even on the day he reported Cheng Muyun to his
superiors. In Chen Yuan's account, he, like every other member of the team, had received
Cheng Muyun's last-minute instructions and then hurried to Nepal.
Chen Yuan had not said anything about those years and also had not reported them to his
superiors.
Perhaps, in Chen Yuan's heart, he wanted to guard the secret of where Cheng Muyun had
concealed himself.
Cheng Muyun recalled the discussion he had had half a year ago while sitting across from
that old monk of Tibetan Buddhism and the conclusion that the two of them had drawn
from it: life is like a dream; only you know the things you have done, be they good or bad.
Cheng Muyun reached out his left arm and, like all those other times in these past dozen or
so years, patted Chen Yuan on the shoulder.
It could be considered his farewell to him.
Setting that still-burning half of a cigarette onto Chen Yuan's shoulder, he gave a long
exhale. "Continue investigating. There is no need to tell me the conclusions."
Henceforth, it would all no longer have anything to do with him.
On the wall, lights and shadows were continuously shifting. It was the glow from the
television screen.
Rising, Cheng Muyun walked up beside the front door and pushed down on the door
handle. The moment the door opened, that little yellow dog that had jumped off the
windowsill just earlier sprang over to him and, after bounding two circles around him, let
out a couple of barks while wagging its tail. He bent down and petted the little yellow dog
on the head. In a half-crouch, with his back to everything on the inside of the door, he
stated in a low voice, "This television program is quite good. Finish watching it before you
leave."
The door was shut ever so lightly. It was not locked and had even been left open by a small
crack.
This was an order, and also a parting farewell.
This particular program would not end until 2:00 in the morning.
Right now, it was 10:49 at night. There were still another three hours and more that would
allow him to depart from here.
This was, for these operations team members—whether they were old comrades who had
already been following Cheng Muyun ten years ago through life and death and had
managed to escape that great purging, or new members who had been recruited by Fu
Yiming—Cheng Muyun's parting farewell to them.
The final words that he left his brothers were for them to completely finish watching this
Indian singing and dancing program that they did not understand at all.
Do not follow him anymore.
Do not follow this man who is called Cheng Muyun anymore.
独活 "du huo." The name of this Chinese herb is Du Huo. It is also known as angelica
pubescens root or Angelica Du Huo. However, the Chinese characters of its name, 独活 "du
huo" literally mean "live alone."
A vihara is an early form of a Buddhist monastery. The vihara in Sarnath is the Mulagandha
Kuti Vihara.
 Chapter 16 – Those of the World Shall Remain with the
World

Half a year later, Moscow.

An old air-conditioning remote control in her hand, Wen Han continuously switched the
air-conditioning on and off, trying to get it to work again. This year was practically
Moscow's highest temperatures. Thirty-six degrees Celsius. Her forehead was damp with
perspiration while she said in her mind, Hopefully the air-conditioning upstairs is all fine…
Her attempts at adjusting were fruitless. Tossing the remote control onto the counter, she
sat herself back down on the small chair.
She could still distinctly remember how, after she saw that female innkeeper looking at this
stack of postcards, she had also studied them for a long time, and how Cheng Muyun had
picked them up, handed over the money, and bought them. At the time, he had called her
his wife… As she lay with her upper body sprawled on the counter, she pressed two fingers
against the top edge of the postcard, balancing it so that that thin card stood upright in
front of her, and stared at the Dhamek Stupa on it.
That day, if she could have had a bit more time to search around the Sarnath site some
more…
Wen Han shut her eyes.
Were it not for this stack of postcards and the tattoo on her back, she would have
wondered if these were her hallucinations. Wang Wenhao had already been put away in
prison. Agnesa and Roman both believed that when they were being detained and guarded
over in Nepal, Wen Han had also been isolated away in some place, just like them. And as
for her adoptive parents, their notions were even more simple and innocent, merely
thinking that her Buddhist pilgrimage had been extended by a month and some more. She
had just graduated at the time and had not been working anyway, so it did not matter if she
had taken a bit of extra time for some additional fun.
Other than Wen Han, nobody knew about those many things that had occurred from Nepal
to India.
The door was pushed open. The wind chimes that hung in the doorway tinkled gently and,
in passing, brought in a clammy wave of heat that was intermixed with car exhaust…
Someone drew near and placed his hands on the counter.
Two bills of money were set on the counter. "May I trouble you? I need a room."
A jolt went through Wen Han's entire body. Slowly, almost as if her soul had left her body,
she lifted her head. It was a man with fair complexion and a slightly effeminate appearance.
Following in behind him was an adolescent-age youth wearing headphones and listening to
music…
"Miss Wen Han." Fu Yiming narrowed his eyes and gave a low laugh. "You can now answer
that last question of mine. If one day Cheng Muyun were to leave you, would it pain you so
much you would not want to live?"
The searing sun filtered through the dense leaves and branches and fell into the courtyard
of a derelict temple.
On a small, concrete platform, cracks were everywhere, and all over it, scatters of dried bits
of dirt and debris could be seen.
Because the weather was too hot, Cheng Muyun's upper body was unclothed, and he wore
only khaki-colored pants as he sat cross-legged with feet bare. He appeared to be very
patient while he noddingly listened to the two people by his side chatter on about the
gossip in the nearby village.
A train of ants crawled by in front of him in very ordered formation.
In reality, he was counting just how many ants there were in this troop.
"Venerable, back when you were still a monk, your rituals for releasing departed souls from
suffering were far and well-known. Still, though, you did the ritual for a wrong person. You
don't even know, the family that you performed the ritual for before you left have never
gotten along with their neighbours. The oldest son in that family is a murderer, and there's
always been something 'unclear' between the second son and the youngest daughter. There
are tons of rumours and gossip about them in the village. Any elder who could raise such
children would not be a good person either…"
Sixty-seven? Should be pretty close.
He nodded. "Presumptuous speaking about others will bring about karmic retribution of
the tongue."
"……" One of them immediately shut his mouth.
The other smiled sheepishly. "We're just chitchatting to pass the time…"
"In eastern Jambudvipa, there is a mountain range called Iron Ring. Its mountains are pitch-
black and devoid of any light of the sun and moon. There is a great hell called Interminable
Hell, and there is another hell called Great Avici." His eyelids lowered slightly, concealing
that glimmer of light within his eyes. "Do you understand these words?"
"… Avici Hell. I understand, yes, I understand."
"Each of those contains lesser hells numbering hundreds and thousands. Every karmic
consequence shall find its own way. Karmic consequences of the tongue also have their
own place."
"……" The other person shut his mouth as well.
" 'Commit not that which is evil, though it may seem trivial.' Each word you say now,
though man may not remember, ghosts shall remember, and Buddha shall also help you to
remember. Therefore," Cheng Muyun stated, his eyes now cast downward, "be mindful of
your speech."
All of a sudden, a golden light flashed in front of his eyes.
Reflexively, he turned his head to the side to look. A young girl wearing a white sun hat
stood in the blazing sunlight and gave a shake to the string of inexpensive bangles on her
wrist. Smiling.
Cheng Muyun, with the sun behind him, watched with narrowed eyes the entire time as she
drew nearer in front of him.
Wen Han halted her footsteps.
She stared at this man, as if in a dream.
With the aid of Fu Yiming, she had used a half a month to leave Moscow without a trace,
abandoning all of the past associated with the name "Wen Han." She had "died" once in
order to be able to stand here, to find him. Even she was no exception—to see Cheng
Muyun, one first had to "die."
Just as he had once asked her beside the Ganges River: “Would you be willing to die for a
man?”
Yes, she was willing.
Because that man was Cheng Muyun.
Before she left, Fu Yiming had handed her two thick investigation files belonging,
respectively, to the cases of Cheng Jiayi and Chen Yuan and told her to pass them on to
Cheng Muyun. Within them were the final results after six months of investigation and
verification.
This was according to Fu Yiming:
Thirteen years ago, when Zhou Ke was working on getting Cheng Jiayi to defect from that
organization, his identity and information were exposed. To protect Zhou Ke, Cheng Jiayi
had no choice but to sell out the operations team and divulge a list of team members'
names, which directly caused the deaths of a dozen or more people. It was also due to this
that she gained the trust of that trafficking organization and hence was able to eliminate
anyone within that organization who knew Zhou Ke's identity. Ten years ago, the one who
brought death on so many brothers and comrades was Cheng Jiayi—she did it to protect
Zhou Ke.
As for Chen Yuan, he was actually the first spy planted in Headquarters by that criminal
group, but then was unexpectedly assigned by Headquarters to go into the Moscow
operations team to monitor Cheng Muyun. In those thirteen years, he never once betrayed
Cheng Muyun. There was only the one time, in that little lodging house in the border area of
Nepal, where, in order to protect Cheng Muyun and aid his escape, he had deliberately
leaked Zhou Ke's identity to the trafficking organization. He had used Zhou Ke's life to give
Cheng Muyun a chance to escape. Half a year ago, the person who caused Zhou Ke's death
was Chen Yuan—he did it to protect Cheng Muyun.
At the time, after Fu Yiming finished recounting everything, he had sighed lightly. "My
guess is that Chen Yuan possibly stole the relic so that he could get back into the trafficking
group and then avenge Zhou Ke's death."
"Is that a guess? Are you sure?"
"There's no way to be sure. The person himself who would be most clear on this is already
dead."
The truth would not ease anyone's mind.
They each had their own reasons. But no matter what the reasons were, if you take a life,
you must pay with your own life. One bore the responsibility of taking more than ten lives;
the other caused the death of a brother. When Cheng Muyun handed them the gun,
perhaps, compared to having to bear that blood debt, choosing to end their lives was
actually the easiest path.
Doing evil with a good reason is still doing evil.
Wen Han, at the time, had not taken those two files from him. She had only asked one
question: "Is this something Cheng Muyun wanted?"
Fu Yiming's answer was "No, he does not want to know."
"Let him let go of the past." This was what Wen Han had beseeched in a low voice.
Fu Yiming had considered this for less than twenty seconds. Then, in the end, with his own
hands, he had burned all the data, information, and conclusions. Thereafter, in this world,
apart from himself and Wen Han, there would be no more people who would know the
whole truth.
"This… Miss." One of the older men squatting beside Cheng Muyun rose and rubbed his
hands together. "You're here…? Travelling? How did you find this place of ours? This
remote…"
Wen Han gave a slight shake of her head. "No, I came here to find someone."
In those black eyes that carried a deep blue color, there was Cheng Muyun's shape as he
remained seated, cross-legged. She gave a very friendly smile, and bringing her palms
together reverently, she bowed to him in respectful greeting. "Good after-midday. Do you
remember that more than half a year ago in Nepal, you said that I am so beautiful I enthrall
your mind and soul?"
The two middle-aged men beside Cheng Muyun were shocked by this remark. This very
venerated man of noble character had indeed left for seven, eight months, but wasn't it said
that… he had gone on a holy pilgrimage? …
"Oh? Really?" Cheng Muyun, his back to the sun, changed to a different sitting posture and
continued gazing at her with his chin supported on his hand. "We met before in Nepal?"
He seemed to have already forgotten her.
But those eyes were still like they had been when they were on the fourth floor of that little
inn in Nepal's capital of Kathmandu, still had the same expression they had held when they
were in that room. They carried a fearsome force and power in them that no one dared look
directly into and exuded a sense of unpredictable danger. And also real was that smile that
was hidden in the very deepest reaches, in the darkest part of those black eyes.
He was still that same him.
But how could she possibly be afraid of him anymore?
"It doesn't matter. I trust that you will certainly remember by tonight. Oh, yes, I forgot to
say," Wen Han stated lightly in Russian, "it is a pleasure to meet you—here, in China."
China. Yes, in China.
They were both in China.
Cheng Muyun switched to another sitting posture, setting his arms on his knees and leaning
forward slightly. In Russian, he uttered softly, "Fu Yiming… is such a 'woman' who must get
even for even the pettiest of things."
The mole had been dealt with.
But what was to follow would be even greater retaliation and retribution. How could the
fight between the Moscow operations team and the trafficking organization come so easily
to a conclusion? Perhaps, it would take several generations of people. Cheng Muyun had
exhausted all methods so that she, as Cheng Muyun's woman, could pass through layer
after layer of tests and safely continue living in Moscow. Just how much effort had he put
in? He had even abandoned everything and faked his own death to slip away, all so that she
could live like a normal person, so that she could survive and continue living…
He had deceived everyone and escaped unnoticed, like a golden cicada shedding its molted
skin. But in the end, Fu Yiming had forced his will and sent Wen Han here to where he was.
Thrusting the one woman in this entire world whom he, Cheng Muyun, loved into the
maelstrom of danger once more.
……
The ants continued to come together in large numbers to pick up a dead cicada and
transport it away.
It was as if they were mocking him that his "golden cicada shedding its skin" strategy had
failed.
Those two middle-aged men dressed in white tank tops were already in a stunned state
from the Russian that had suddenly come from Cheng Muyun's lips and had forgotten about
all the village gossip from a moment ago.
Amidst the intermittent chirping of cicadas, Cheng Muyun at last lowered his head and
smilingly shook it. "Two sirs, may I ask that you please leave first? My wife and I need to
resolve some personal matters."
After an awkward silence, the two men gave embarrassed laughs. First one of the, then the
other put their palms together and departed from this place with floundering steps.
The sweltering sun still baked down, creating in people a feeling of restlessness.
Walking up to him, Wen Han took a look around, selected the cleanest spot, and sat down.
Her feet were already so sore they were numb. She had actually worn high heels and
walked more than fifty minutes on these mountain paths. Luckily, this place was merely
isolated and not located on some sort of sheer cliff or steep slope; otherwise, in order to see
him, she likely would have needed to spend another day finding a local to help her.
There was sweat on the tip of her nose and also her forehead.
Those calmly spoken words a moment ago had been rehearsed over and over countless
times. But now, there was not a single person in this little temple, only him and her…
Only him and her.
The dream that she had had an uncountable number of times over this last half a year had
become reality.
Wen Han breathed lightly. The composure that she had forced herself to maintain in front
of other people all vanished without a trace. Her nose tingled. Her throat was tight and dry.
Even the tips of her fingers had a slight tremble in them that she could not control…
For the first time since sitting down, she finally had the courage to lift her eyes and look
into those deep black eyes that had been gazing at her the entire time. "I told my mom; I've
fallen in love with a man. He once did a great deed for Russia, but also because of this, he
got on the bad side of many people and had no choice but to leave his homeland. I want to
use all of my remaining life to be with him and may not have the chance to return to
Moscow anymore. She told me, if I believe that is the best thing to do, then go do it. She
can’t accompany me for my entire life. She adopted me because she wanted me to have the
happiest life possible."
Cheng Muyun placed his palm against the back of her head, feeling that warmth that
belonged to her.
Heaven knew that he had wanted to do this all along since that elephant stampede. Every
time he imagined her weeping because of his death, he would want to take her away.
He suddenly remembered what Meng Liangchuan had said in Nepal: "Fate is when 'one
gives a kowtow.' When you finally realize you cannot fight it, you naturally will… willingly
bow in submission to it and completely believe in it."
At the time, he had not really believed this type of talk.
That was because, that morning, everything had still been in his control. Zhou Ke had still
been sitting in the lobby of that lodging house, pretending to be dozing, his pulse still
jumping rhythmically—still alive.
Now, though, he did seem to believe it somewhat.
"My love, you should know that," Cheng Muyun said to her, his unique, dangerous smile
that was innate to him seeming to jump in his eyes, "my return here signifies that I am
letting go of my past. You should know that if you really do leave with me this time, there is
a chance…"—he leaned in closer—"… a chance that you truly will not be able to go back to
Moscow again in this lifetime."
This was her last chance.
She could still go back on her decision.
"Fu Yiming promised me he would take care of my adoptive parents. Also, all that money
that you left me; I only took a small bit of it. The rest I left for my mom. Also, I was
thinking,"—her eyelashes fluttered slightly—"maybe, many years from now, we can mail a
photo back. On it will be our children. See? Maybe Fu Yiming is more capable than you and
is able to tear that whole trafficking organization up by the roots and destroy it, and then
we can go back, right?"
This place was extremely quiet. There was not even a breeze.
"Just look, you're thirty-five already." Wen Han muttered quietly in Russian, "If you keep
wavering about this, we won't be able to have a lot of kids."
As a result of this sentence, there was a slight flicker in Cheng Muyun's eyes.
All things of the past are gone as yesterday; all things of the future are born today.
That was his greatest wish.
Although he knew that worldly things and thoughts plagued him and he would not be able
to enter into monkhood again, this place of morning bells and evening drums and oil lamps
burning before Buddha's statue was the best place for him to be. But more often than not,
fate will play a joke on you. Such as right now.
Not only had the one who was of the world remained in the world, love had also followed.
After an endless silence, he tugged up her too-low neckline. "As you wish."
Tossing out a "Wait a moment," he rose and went back into that small brick house behind
the temple's great hall. Before long, he came back out wearing once again the hiking wear
from before. When he stepped out, he wordlessly gave a rub of his bald head with his right
hand, then immediately pulled on his hood.
From age fifteen, he had kept the precepts in order to bring peace to his heart.
That same year, that girl, who right now was standing a dozen or so paces away on the
concrete platform, had come into this world. He was not certain—to date, he still was not
certain—whether or not Wen Han had been placed into the world as a reward to him from
Heaven.
Pure. Strong and tenacious. Intelligent. A woman who, in any situation, could very quickly
find the direction of her heart.
No. She was actually still young. She should still be called a girl.
He hesitated no more and took her with him, leaving this temple that had long been
without monks. The temple doors were open, and they left directly.
The instant they stepped beyond the last brick outside the doors, he took the girl behind
him by the waist and straightaway picked her up into his arms. Wen Han let out a startled
cry. He had lifted her very high, and facing the sun, she was unable to open her eyes.
This was the first time he held her so high. He lifted his head, lifted it to gaze up at her.
When he set her down again, he immediately stretched out his hand and let it slide from
her shoulder into her top. At the same time that his hand contacted the front of her bosom,
he also bit down on her lip, using sucking and the force of his teeth to compel her to open
her mouth. Her feet stumbling, Wen Han's back crashed into the red, brick wall…
This sudden physical intimacy ignited all the blood in her body…
And her tears. They simply would not stop. Desperately, they streamed down, as if they
needed to completely pour out these last six months of sorrows and suffering. Right here, in
the sun, all her tears flowed out.
"Darling," Cheng Muyun, his voice by her neck, quietly confirmed with her in Russian,
"what did you just say just earlier? You want to have a child with me?"
Without waiting for her mouth to open in answer, he sealed it again with his own.
As Cheng Muyun thrust his fingers into her hair, he pushed aside that sun hat so that it fell
to the ground, causing those long, black tresses, which had originally been neatly bound, to
fall open and become exposed beneath the intense sunlight. His eyes squinted, unable to
open because of the brilliance of the light reflecting off of her locks.
Wen Han's eyes had long since grown red, and again and again, she called his name. "You
really are leaving with me, right? You won't fake your death again, right?"
"I will not." He brought his face down, kissing her chest. "I will not."
He would no longer allow any man to see her body or her eyes, to sense her blazing and
genuine soul. "We must hurry off this mountain as soon as possible and find a place to
spend the night. I believe my words cannot be clearer and more understandable, yes?"
Over these many days, she had found her way here to this remote mountain village. She had
previously had many instances of apprehension, fearful that he would be unwilling to see
her, fearful that he would refuse to leave with her, and even fearful that he had also tricked
Fu Yiming and was actually not even in this place… But all these fears, in this moment, were
crushed amid his every word. Her feigned composure, her fluster, her hopes, all of these
were, right here, outside the walls of this temple that he had hidden himself away in for ten
years, one by one smoothed over.
"I love you, Wen Han." Cheng Muyun did not try to hide this at all. He had never been
someone to conceal his feelings, be it his desire for her in the very beginning or his love
later. After all, no matter what they were, all those things that he could not control and had
to do with love were somehow connected to this woman. "Regardless of whether it was as a
punishment or redemption, Heaven sent you to my side. Only you can make me feel lust
and desire that cannot stop, and also jealousy that I do not know what to do about. And
also, love. I love you. I have loved you all this time. Wen Han, all this time, I have still deeply
loved you…"
Wen Han could not open her eyes, for they were blinded by the sun. And her tears.
This man had finally wholly, completely surrendered all of himself. From this day forward,
in everything, whether it was wandering from place to place, without a home, or being on
the run as fugitives, he would no longer be leaving alone. And she would no longer be living
her life alone.
Never again.
This passage is quoted directly from chapter 5 of《地藏本愿经》Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva
Sutra. The translation I have used is modified from this source:
Buddhist Text Translation Society (2000). Earth Store Bodhisattva. Retrieved from

勿以恶小而为之. This is quoted from 《三国志》 Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

金蝉脱壳 "jin chan tuo qiao." Literally, this translates as "a golden cicada leaving behind its
molted skin." This is one of the Thirty-Six Stratagems and is where one escapes something
by strategy, usually by disguise or leaving something distinctive of yours behind to deceive
people.
Epilogue – Drunken Until One's Head is Graced by White

Moscow, in a certain speakeasy bar.

Wen Han sat with her head lowered, staring at her own toes.

Beside her was a suitcase that was neither too big, nor too small. The scuffs and scratches
on its outside seemed to be reminding all the onlookers who passed by that it had been
through many things.

A young Moscow man sauntered over and, without so much as a greeting or notice, took a
seat. He wanted to take from Wen Han's hand the small die she was holding, but Wen Han
lifted her eyelids and gave him a strange look.

"You know, there is a unique draw to you, darling." With an expression that was really
inviting a beating, the man said this cheapest of cheap pick-up lines and, furthermore,
thought it was very charming. "You enthrall my mind and soul."

Something in her mind seemed to overlap with the present.

Wen Han remembered their first meeting. She had once felt humiliated because of such
words, and, as she restrained herself, fear like a spider's web had seeped out from her
nerves and into the depths of her insides…

When that young Moscow man reached out his hand, about to touch her bare knee,
someone grabbed his hand and held it down. It was a woman she had never seen before, a
very beautiful woman, especially her lips. A smile curved her upper lip and also the corners
of her lips upwards. But what came out the instant she opened her mouth was a very
poorly pronounced "Bastard."

The young man was taken aback. "Enchanting miss, what was it you just said?"

"Scoundrel." Still extremely poorly pronounced.

Every sentence that followed after was a swear or an insult.

Yet, the person uttering all these was so open and unperturbed.

"Where the heck did this rude, ill-bred woman come from?"
The man leapt up and threw out his arm, about to shove her, but extending out her palm,
the woman blocked his action and seized his hand in her grip.

A piercing wail rang out. Amid the astonished stares that turned in their direction from the
several people at the adjacent table, a man garbed in a white button-up shirt and black
pants stepped over, obstructing the gazes of everyone. "Bei Bei."

He gave a wave of his hand. Someone beside him dragged away that Moscow man.

Frowning, the girl looked at that man in the white shirt and black pants. "Cheng Muyang,
did you teach me some weird things to say?"

Cheng Muyang snapped his fingers, calling for some alcohol. "Did I? What I taught you were
all very cultured things to say."

Nan Bei still felt that something was odd. But oh well; she just let it be.

She was never going to be able to learn Russian in this lifetime anyway.

Two minutes later, Wen Han was clear on the situation. This man was that younger cousin-
brother whom Cheng Muyun had once mentioned, the one who liked to drink strong liquor.

"Hello. I am Cheng Muyang." The man pulled out a silver flask from his pocket and twisted
it open. "I want to take advantage of these next ten minutes to let us get to know one
another. Of course, if you want to understand my older cousin-brother's past, I am also very
happy to offer my assistance. After all, I believe he will never tell it to you himself."

Ten minutes. The first half of his life.

This would certainly be a very interesting narration process.

These were Wen Han's thoughts.

The first time they met had been at dusk on a certain day.

A fifteen-year-old Cheng Muyun had sat at the southeast corner of Moscow's Red Square,
pulling in inhale after inhale from a cigarette. An adolescent's face, a slender neck, black
eyes.

There had been few passersby in this oldest city square of Moscow.
The entire time, he had been silent, until someone pushed a little boy with an extremely
pale face up to him.

Shifting his gaze to the side, the adolescent stuffed the remaining half of that wet and cold
cigarette between the shivering lips of that boy. "Welcome to Moscow, my dear… younger
cousin-brother."

In the beginning, this was the impression Cheng Muyun had given him—one who carried a
deep aura of viciousness and cruelness.

That had only been a temporary stopover for him. He remembered, in that large family,
there had been a younger little girl, Cheng Jiayi, who was very cute and whose
temperament was most compatible with Cheng Muyang's, but they had not had much
interaction. When he left Moscow and returned to China, he still remembered that older
cousin-brother of his whose entire being exuded an air of ruthlessness.

He did not like Moscow's overly cold weather.

Nor had he ever thought about going back.

But his unexpected experience at age fourteen of being abducted caused him to change his
mind. When Cheng Muyang arrived in Moscow for the second time, Cheng Muyun was
already in prison serving his sentence. This had been a great surprise to him. Purportedly,
that older cousin-brother of his had actually been the one to report himself and had
willingly gone to prison.

As a result, their second meeting had been in the small prison visitation room.

From the wrist of that former adolescent hung a strand of phoenix eye Bodhi seed prayer
beads, simple and without any extra, unnecessary items on that circle of Bodhi seeds. His
head shaved; he had taken measure of Cheng Muyang with narrowed eyes. "Welcome back
to Moscow."

At the time, he had merely been fifteen years old, and facing the twenty-year-old Cheng
Muyun, he had still only been a half-grown child. In what could be considered a calm
manner, Cheng Muyang had asked him when he planned on finishing his atonement for his
crimes and leaving prison. Cheng Muyun had seemed very disinterested in this question
from him. "Ten years? About that."

"Do you need me to send anything to you here?"

"Women?" Cheng Muyun had joked. "No. Do you have any alcohol?"
Cheng Muyang pulled out a small, rectangular flask from on himself and pushed it across
the table to him. Once Cheng Muyun left this room, he would not be able to drink. Here,
though, enjoy as you please.

After only a few years, Cheng Muyun did a great deed while in prison and was released
early.

At the time, he had done according to the instructions of the elders of their family,
preparing a welcome celebration for Cheng Muyun, burning away all clothing and items
from the past, and setting out a pan of fire in front of the door of the old family mansion for
him to step over. Cheng Muyun had not stepped over it, striding around it instead. No one
had expected that, after being in prison for so long, in the end, Cheng Muyun still had not
broken away from the trafficking business and, in fact, was even one step deeper in it,
becoming engaged in marriage to one of the core persons in the largest trafficking
organization that operated along the borders. That trafficking organization had no bottom
limit to what it would do and would touch anything, regardless of how dirty it was. The
elders of their family had been extremely displeased with this and had cut off ties with
Cheng Muyun.

Approximately another two or three years later, Cheng Muyun joined forces with the
brother of his fiancée and, in a single blow, had destroyed the core of that trafficking
organization. The complete reversal of his role and identity had shocked everyone. Cheng
Muyun, as the person that he was, always seemed to have this ability. However, after
accomplishing this great meritorious deed and shedding his undercover identity, on his
return journey to Moscow, he had suffered an even greater turn of events.

That night was most the unforgettable of nights to Cheng Muyang.

If he had arrived only a little later, his older cousin-brother possibly would have been dead.
If he had arrived slightly earlier, he possibly would have accompanied Cheng Muyun into
the netherworld together.

In short, perhaps because in the first half of his own life, he had practiced abstinence from
meat, while Cheng Muyun, in the latter half of his life, had turned his heart to Buddhism,
that night, he had been fortunate enough to pull Cheng Muyun back out from the gates of
hell. A blood-covered Cheng Muyun had, in front of all those mangled corpses, bent his
knees and wordlessly knelt. One by one, he had pressed his face against each of those
former brothers of the underground operations team who had died in order to protect
him…

Later—
Something stirred within Nan Bei as she listened to all of this. Softly, she commented, "This
is the first time I've heard you praise a person."

"Am I praising him?" Stroking Nan Bei's petite earlobe, Cheng Muyang replied in a low
voice, "I am actually denouncing him. Had he not been like one of those shop owners who
throw all the work onto others to do and walked away to be a world-renunciant for ten
years, I would not have ended up parting from you in Belgium and, because of all the
matters I had to attend to, being unable to immediately find you."

Nan Bei gave a light laugh.

There was an envious admiration in Wen Han as she looked at Nan Bei. It was as if, from
the very beginning, this woman was of the same world as them. Her smile was gentle, yet
also unbridled.

"Your older brother still isn't here." Nan Bei lifted her wrist to look at her watch.

When she spoke this, the person who had been the subject of their discussion had already
arrived.

The man in that story followed the steps down, avoiding the various drunken men and
women. As his feet stepped onto the brick floor, the attentions of the nearby people were
drawn to him, and they turned to cast a couple of glances on him.

Relaxedly moving his shoulders about, Cheng Muyun strode toward that table in the corner.

Everything had come to an end.

Half an hour ago, he had watched with his own eyes as Fu Yiming closed the case files of
those who had been sentenced to the death penalty.

In this round of the battle against the trafficking organization, the Moscow operations team
had come out victorious, although it was only an interim victory and darkness still existed.
However, this at least gave Cheng Muyun a chance to catch his breath and bring Wen Han
back to see her adoptive parents. Even though, in order to ensure the safety of the two
elders, they had not actually truly appeared in person to them and had only gazed upon
them from a distance, this nonetheless could be considered to have fulfilled the wish that
had been in Wen Han's heart these last few years.

Wen Han caught a whiff of a familiar scent—an incense. This incense was the one that she
had been frequently using of late, and its scent, intermingled with the unique smell of
leather, now brushed across her cheek. "My beloved girl, would you be willing to take me to
a little inn tonight and cavort the night away with me?" He was flirting with her in the most
seductive Russian, and the breath that came from his mouth and nose caressed her cheek.

Blushing, Wen Han threw a glimpse at Nan Bei, who did not understand Russian, as well as
his younger cousin-brother, who was pretending he had not heard. In Russian, she quietly
asked, "You saw them?" Those brothers and comrades of his former days.

"No." Cheng Muyun's hand slid down from her narrow shoulder, following the curve of her
arm, and took her wrist. "Their world does not need me."

From his pocket, Cheng Muyun pulled out a car key, tossing it to Cheng Muyang. The key
landed in the palm of Cheng Muyang, who, with a hook of his finger, spun it one full circle,
then slapped it onto the glass table. Cheng Muyang watched as that man led his young wife
away and left, like any other foreign traveller dragging a beat-up suitcase behind him,
turning around and departing without even a backward glance.

He had not even given a farewell.

"What was your older cousin-brother saying to his wife just now?" Nan Bei asked quietly.

Cheng Muyang gave a little rub across the back of Nan Bei's hand, his smile very calm. "I
will tell you when we get back."

Nan Bei was suspicious. Fixing her eyes intently on Cheng Muyang for several seconds, she
suddenly pinched his chin between her fingers. "Little scoundrel."

He laughed. "Oh? You have suddenly learned Russian without anyone teaching you?"

Wrinkling the end of her nose, Nan Bei tossed him a glower.

When Wen Han, her hand in Cheng Muyun's, walked back up from that underground bar, it
was snowing outside. Along with the night wind, the icy touch of Moscow struck her nose,
cheeks, and lips. Tomorrow, they would be leaving Moscow, as if they had never returned
here.

This was her hometown.

"Wen Han," he called her.

A searing hot palm covered her cheek. As a taxicab sped by, he brought his face down and
placed a kiss on her upper lip. "When you were a young girl, did you ever pass by bars like
this one? And when you walked past, were you scared of those drunks?'

Now that he asked, there really had been a time.

She recalled, "There was one time, when I was in high school. A drunk came and blocked
my way at the end of the road." She had struggled and then, leaving behind her most
expensive down coat at the time, she had tremblingly run back home. Afraid that her
adoptive parents would worry, she had not told them the truth and simply said that she
had lost the coat at school…

"I am very fortunate that that didn't leave any psychological scars behind on you." There
was a moist touch on her lips as Cheng Muyun blocked all the reality in front of her from
her view. "I would not want to have missed the chance with you in Nepal because you were
afraid."

Wen Han paused in surprise. Leaning herself against him, she asked, "You honestly don't
smoke or drink?"

Beside her ear was the whistling night wind, which blew against Wen Han until her ears felt
raw.

"It is the absolute truth." He was very composed.

Recalling the scene that his younger cousin-brother had just described, a flicker of
skepticism glinted in Wen Han’s eyes.

He gave a low chuckle. "It would seem you heard something that you should not have
heard."

"Mm-hmm." She also laughed.

He drank and, in fact, liked drinking hard liquor.

But it did not matter. No matter how many facades he put up, what she had was time to
remove all of them.

It was like a dream. As a teenager, whenever she passed by such places and encountered
any ruffians or drunks, she would be so frightened she would run away. Yet, in Nepal, she
had encountered him, the ruffian that he was. If she had not taken that trip, would she now,
whenever she passed by places of this type, still be afraid, still be avoiding them and
detouring around them?
She was very glad that life did not have alternate possibilities.

He had walked up from the pit of hell, crossing mountains of daggers and seas of flame
before he could stand in that place—and encounter her.

How could the world's ways ever conform to being if not black, then white; and when have
they complied with being if not this, then that?

Since who owes whom can never be clear, since a strong drink still lies in your embrace,
you may as well hereupon, like silkworms trapped in their own cocoons, wander from
place to place and be drunken until your head is graced by white.
In Chinese beliefs, stepping over a small pan of fire will purify you and get rid of bad luck.

Up until he was fourteen years old, Cheng Muyang had firmly believed in Buddhism and
had adhered to it. Something drastic happened when he was age fourteen that changed the
course of his life, and he left, believing in no one but the girl named Nan Bei, and eventually
became the leader of the powerful, underground family of Russia that, as mentioned in
Beautiful Bones, functioned outside of the law (similar to the Zhou family of Beautiful
Bones). Their story is featured in 一生一世 Vows of Eternal Love, the first of the "One Life,
One Incarnation” series, of which both Beautiful Bones and Black and White Film belong.

Indeed, Nan Bei is from the same "world" as the Cheng brothers. The Nan family holds
significant weight amongst the powerful underground families, which include the Cheng
family and the Zhou (Zhousheng) family featured in Beautiful Bones.