Chapter 67: Radiant Splendor

"Green ant-like foam on the newly brewed wine, a small red clay stove glows bright. As evening falls and snow threatens to descend, would you care for a cup?"

Ding Jun awoke from his stupor, Bai Letian’s poem "Asking Liu Nineteen" the first thing to surface in his mind.

Before him, shadows flickered, hazy and indistinct, shifting between near and far. Finally, a fragrant hand pressed against his forehead, and a voice whispered, "Mr. Ding, how are you feeling?"

Ding Jun grabbed the hand, blurting out, "Xue Wan... Snow Night!"

Xue Wan—a beautiful name. In the mood of "as evening falls and snow threatens to descend," a girl as ethereal and otherworldly as she appeared and vanished, like a timeless, elegant painting of a lady in the distant mountains. No matter what she had done, he wanted to preserve that image in his mind forever.

"Oh, it’s me, Fang Qing," the person sighed.

Ding Jun’s temples began to throb, as if they were about to explode, or as if two electric drills were boring into his skull, trying to dismantle his head from the inside out. Finally, he fully regained consciousness, meeting Fang Qing’s concerned gaze.

"Where is this? Is it Tholing Monastery..." He looked around: wooden beds, old tables, ancient utensils, and the scent of butter lamps that had lingered for centuries hanging in the air. This was indeed Tholing Monastery, the place where all the bizarre events had begun. Only a few days had passed, yet the world felt transformed. The faces of the living and the dead swirled in his mind like a carousel, every detail unfolding at once.

"Tholing Monastery, I’ve finally returned." He let out a long sigh, a mix of relief and lingering regret. He had returned, but Xue Wan had gone far away; the two of them were like meteors crossing in the night sky, never to meet again. The life-and-death struggle in the underground labyrinth clung to his emotions like a tangled, unbreakable thread. Before Xue Wan, he found his sense of right and wrong dissolving—a feeling contrary to all his cultural and military training. Moreover, her way of handling problems was unconventional, a path worlds apart from his own.

"Coming back alive is, at least, the greatest of fortunes amidst misfortune." He noticed Fang Qing watching him and offered a self-deprecating smile to mask his complex emotions.

"Yes, you’ve returned safely. You’ve slept for seven hours; it’s good you’re finally awake—" Fang Qing covered her mouth, stifling a yawn. Seeing her exhaustion, she must have been pulling all-nighters without a moment’s rest.

"Thank you for looking after me." Ding Jun remembered that in his delirium, someone had been feeding him water with a small spoon and applying cold towels to his forehead periodically. It must have been Fang Qing. They weren't close, and he felt truly guilty for putting her through such trouble.

"It’s nothing, just a small favor," Fang Qing replied.

She stood up, scooped some dark ink-colored tea leaves into a thermos, and poured the water. A complex aroma, blending herbs and tea, drifted through the room.

Ding Jun stared at her back, involuntarily comparing her to Xue Wan. Both were slender and beautiful; if taken out of this bitter, cold Tibetan landscape and placed in a city setting, both would surely be stunning beauties who would captivate any man. The only difference was that Fang Qing was warm and gentle, while Xue Wan was cold and aloof—the former a flower blooming in the breeze, the latter an icicle hanging from the peak of a snowy mountain in midwinter.

"What are you looking at?" Fang Qing asked, her back still turned, yet keenly aware of his gaze.

Ding Jun lowered his head, masking it with a wry smile. "Nothing. I was just thinking that you are truly the sister of 'Mountain King' Fang Qianqi. You are calm and composed, able to organize any chaotic situation with ease. Compared to you, I have so much to reflect upon."

Fang Qing looked up and smiled silently. "Mountain King" Fang Qianqi was the pride of Asia. Hearing Ding Jun say this, she made no effort to hide her admiration for her brother. "You are too modest. My brother once said that among the rising stars of the Asian diaspora, you are undoubtedly ranked first. In time, your achievements will surely be no less than his."

Ding Jun offered a bitter laugh. "I’ve never had such grand ambitions. The matters at hand are thorny enough as it is, leaving me completely overwhelmed."

He then proceeded to tell Fang Qing everything that had happened in Tholing Town, holding nothing back.

Upon hearing the conclusion, Fang Qing couldn't help but sigh in frustration. "After all that effort, you came back empty-handed? If only you hadn't been so soft-hearted. A man of action should be decisive. The strength gap between you and your opponent was vast, yet you missed opportunity after opportunity, refusing to strike a fatal blow against that Xue Wan girl—if this were a military operation, you would have repeatedly delayed the offensive; how should that be punished?"

On the battlefield, a commander had no right to make mistakes, for even the smallest negligence could lead to the innocent deaths of his subordinates.

"I made many mistakes, so I agree that returning alive is a stroke of luck. I am ashamed. As you said, if this were a military operation, I would deserve to be executed on the spot," Ding Jun replied softly.

"Sigh, don't blame yourself. To err is human; everyone makes mistakes. In fact, your self-control has been quite impressive. By your description, that Xue Wan girl seems otherworldly, absolutely divine. An average man would have fallen deep into the trap, becoming a prisoner to her beauty. The matter of Tholing Town has come to an end; let’s turn our attention to the problems within the monastery. Can you manage? Shall we go see Si Qin now?" Fang Qing said with a smile.

Ding Jun nodded, immediately standing up to put on his shoes. "I’m fine. Let’s go see Si Qin at once." His mind had cleared, but he felt a blush of shame thinking of his repeated battles and his utter failure.

The two passed through a moon gate and turned right at a crossroads.

Ding Jun stopped, looking back toward the left. Two intersections down in that direction lay the mural of the Sixteen Vajra Dancers. The thought of potentially unraveling the secret of the three-moon pattern in the Sutra Library made his heart feel much lighter.

"What is it?" Fang Qing asked.

"Xue Wan took a child—to be precise, she took the descendant of Shi Man and Si Qin. I had a chance to turn the tide, but like building a mountain with a single basket of earth missing, I failed at the very last step. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed a child could have such a strange birthmark on their forehead. Xue Wan said that such a birthmark is one in ten thousand, and the child must be taken back to Guge," Ding Jun said, lost in thought.

Fang Qing smiled. "You’ve already told me that five times while you were unconscious."

Ding Jun was startled. "Really?"

Fang Qing nodded. "Of course. And you called the name 'Xue Wan' over two hundred times."

Ding Jun lowered his head in shame. "Is that so?"

Fang Qing recited softly, "Green ant-like foam on the newly brewed wine, a small red clay stove glows bright. As evening falls and snow threatens to descend, would you care for a cup? You recited this poem repeatedly; were you inviting that Xue Wan girl for a drink in your dreams?" Before she finished, she was bent over, laughing mischievously behind her hand.

Ding Jun awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, shaking it incessantly, not knowing how to deny it. In truth, any man who encountered a beauty like Xue Wan would find his thoughts wandering and his heart lingering.