Chapter 5

11.

Back at the inn, I dumped Old Zhong on the lobby floor.

He was completely unconscious.

Yet I could feel that the sinister presence around him had gone.

He was a frail, scrawny old man again.

After resting for a while, I called the police.

They arrived quickly.

They sealed off the inn and took Zhong and the injured Master Shan away.

Later, they excavated several sets of remains from the collapsed cave.

All belonged to people Zhong had lured here over the years and sacrificed to the mountain wraith.

Among them...

Were Lin Wan's remains.

She really had discovered his secret.

But before she could escape, he'd killed her and thrown her into the pool.

12.

In the end, Old Zhong was sentenced to death.

Once his mind cleared, he confessed fully to his crimes.

He said it wasn't that he hadn't wanted to leave.

It was...

That he couldn't.

Ever since sacrificing his wife, he'd felt his soul was bound to the mother fungus.

He'd become the mountain's prisoner, searching day after day for new nourishment to feed it.

The police shook their heads as they listened.

Perhaps, to them, he was simply an addict beyond saving.

Master Shan's injuries were severe.

He spent two months in the hospital before he was discharged.

The police questioned him several times and eventually determined that he bore no responsibility for the crimes.

I visited him a few times.

He was always alone, quietly watching the distant mountains beyond the window.

I asked what he planned to do.

He said he would stay and watch over that mountain until he became part of it himself.

He told me:

"You can never unearth all the secrets in a mountain."

13.

I gave Lin Wan a proper funeral.

I brought her remains and the voice recorder back to our hometown for burial.

On her gravestone, I had these words engraved:

"Return to the woods. Rest among the mountains."

Long after it was over, I still had nightmares now and then.

In them, I was always back in that dark cave, watching the face identical to Lin Wan's open and close its mouth on the mushroom cap.

It always watched me, murmuring that warped, tuneless melody.

I knew...

Some wounds might never heal.

But life...

Had to go on.

A year later, I left my job in the city and returned to that little town.

I opened a small inn at the foot of the mountain, directly opposite the old site of Guilin.

Mine was called Yingshan—Welcoming the Mountain.

I hoped to protect these woods in my own way.

And to protect travelers like Lin Wan, people filled with longing for the natural world.

I didn't want the tragedy to happen again.

14.

Sometimes I would climb to the summit alone.

The mountain wind blew. The pines whispered.

I seemed to hear that familiar melody again.

But this time...

There was no resentment or fear in it.

Only a gentle longing, and peace.

I knew...

She was keeping me company.

And I was keeping her company too.

We...

Had both become part of this mountain.