Chapter Fifty-Five: The Disappearance of My Sister

The next day, Uncle Niu Er had already gathered more than thirty people to help with the work. By this time, much of the road had dried, and Xiao Ding drove the donkey cart to town to purchase many supplies—rice, flour, meat, vegetables, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, and the like. He also ordered a large batch of commonly used farming tools, such as shovels and mattocks.

At noon, the meals at the worksite were prepared by Madam Li, together with Little Ya, Xiao E, and Er Niu. Xiao Ding felt it was too burdensome for the women of his household to cook for so many people, especially since another thirty workers were expected to join soon. Moreover, Tang Yunzhi and Zhao Laixi both required care at home.

So, after lunch, Xiao Ding sought out Uncle Niu Er and suggested that if Aunt Niu was willing to come and help prepare lunch, she could do so, and perhaps recruit three to five village women to assist her. Xiao Ding was prepared to pay each of them twenty wen a day and provide lunch.

Uncle Niu Er was overjoyed. It was the slack season for farming, and his wife was only doing some needlework at home; earning twenty wen a day for cooking was an opportunity not to be missed. His eldest daughter-in-law was also idle at home and could come along to earn some money.

Uncle Niu Er agreed without a second thought.

That afternoon, Xiao Ding continued to busy himself with matters on the wasteland and the small hill. Workers from Yao’s Brick Kiln delivered two ox carts of blue bricks. Xiao Ding asked Uncle Niu Er to count them and report the tally so he could settle accounts with Yao’s men.

That night, after climbing into bed, he was again pestered by Er Niu with several questions about the mysteries between men and women before finally falling asleep.

At dawn the next day, Xiao Ding was awakened by the fierce barking of the little wolf, Huihui, in the yard. He quickly put on his clothes and slipped out of the shed. Tang Yunzhi, roused as well, sat up alertly, peering outside.

At the gate, Xiao Ding saw a figure in a lake-blue robe standing just outside—the very same Mei Ruoxue, one of the Mei sisters, who had been gone for two days and nights. Behind her stood two horses, one black and one white.

At that moment, her hair was disheveled, her clothing torn in many places and stained with blood—whose, he could not tell. Seeing Xiao Ding, Mei Ruoxue’s voice was hoarse as she broke into tears: “Brother Xiao Ding, my sister, my sister is missing…” With that, she let go of the reins, her body went limp, and she collapsed to the ground.

Startled, Xiao Ding hurried over and found her unconscious. He gathered her in his arms, carried her into the yard, and laid her on the donkey cart. The Mei sisters’ horses, both intelligent beasts, followed of their own accord into the courtyard. The black horse even stretched its neck toward the cart, as if trying to see what had become of its mistress.

“What happened to her?” Tang Yunzhi asked as Xiao Ding passed her grass hut.

“She fainted. I don’t know what’s happened,” Xiao Ding replied.

By now, Er Niu had also dressed and come over; since she had begun practicing martial arts, her sleep was not as heavy as before.

Xiao Ding felt Mei Ruoxue’s pulse and quietly channeled some spiritual energy into her. She was simply exhausted, her spirit strained by her sister’s disappearance and the ordeal of being hunted. Only upon seeing a familiar face had she allowed herself to collapse.

Soon, Mei Ruoxue regained consciousness. Seeing Xiao Ding and Er Niu standing before the cart, tears welled up once more.

Xiao Ding asked Er Niu to fetch Mei Ruoxue a cup of water and see if there were any leftovers to warm for her.

Er Niu agreed and went to the back courtyard.

After drinking half a cup of warm water, Mei Ruoxue composed herself a little. Haltingly, in a hoarse voice, she recounted what had happened.

After leaving Xiao Ding’s home, the Mei sisters followed the route he had described to the foot of Sunset Mountain. Arriving there, they found more than a dozen people already gathered.

These were all drifters, unattached to any martial sect, unremarkable in skill and lacking in courage, yet each harboring fantasies of striking it rich by chance. Alone, none dared venture into the mountain, so one man took the initiative to rally others—any who wished could join his group to search for the fabled treasure together. That way, if trouble arose, at least there would be a better chance to escape.

The leader’s name was Guo Jing, but because his head was larger than usual, everyone called him Big-Head Guo.

When Big-Head Guo invited the Mei sisters to join, they figured they were there mostly for the excitement and might as well tag along—perhaps they could pick up some useful information. So, they agreed to join the group.

By midday, Big-Head Guo had recruited three more people and led the company into the mountains. They could not ride up the slopes, so those who had horses led them on foot. As the terrain grew rougher, taking horses further became impossible, so they picked a secluded, grassy spot to tether them. The Mei sisters’ horses were well-trained and intelligent; they simply let them roam free on the hillside, carrying only their bundles and swords.

Throughout the trek, the sisters spoke little, dressed as men and heeding Xiao Ding’s advice, wary of saying anything that might give them away.

The group wandered through the mountains, searching as they went, but though all had heard legends of a divine treasure, none knew its true form or whereabouts—how were they to search in earnest? Those with real skill or information had surely slipped in long before, without raising a fuss, unlike this ragtag crowd making a public show of their quest.

That night, they camped beneath a wind-sheltered cliff—little more than lighting a few fires, roasting some wild fowl and rabbits, drinking from their canteens, and finding a clean spot to rest. Big-Head Guo assigned a watch rotation for the night.

But the scent of roasting meat attracted a giant bear. There was no valiant battle—of the seventeen people, two were bitten to death, four were seriously wounded, and nine suffered minor injuries.

The Mei sisters, timid by nature, had wisely climbed into the trees early and emerged unscathed.

The bear, having sustained some minor wounds and seized a haul of half-cooked meat, gorged itself and lumbered off.

Only after the bear had long gone and the night had grown silent did Big-Head Guo descend from his tree, calling for the others to come out. He, too, had suffered a minor injury, saved only by his quick escape up the tree.

One after another, the group crawled down from trees and rocks. They checked the six now lying on the ground—two had perished, and the other four had little hope of survival, even if their lives were spared, they would not be able to continue.

Big-Head Guo set the group to dressing the wounds of the four gravely injured and digging graves for the dead.

The Mei sisters were still reeling in shock. They had grown up in a mountain manor and had never witnessed such horror. Just moments ago, everyone had been laughing together, roasting meat—now, two corpses lay before them. And when the bear struck, everyone had silently fled, leaving the slower ones to their fate; no one tried to help.

Weren’t wild beasts supposed to fear fire? There were several bonfires here—so why would the bear dare approach?

The sisters exchanged a silent, uneasy glance.

Because of this calamity, no one slept much that night. All feared that if they slept too soundly, another beast would come and, with everyone fleeing for their lives, no one would be left to warn the rest, and they would become the next victims.