Chapter 27: The Overbearing Gao Xiang

The door was open, so Feng He could see the people outside, and Baoling could see everything inside the room. As she peered into the room, Feng He cried out, "Aren't you... aren't you the..." She rushed to the doorway, shoving Guan Wen aside, raised her hand and pointed at Baoling's face. "You are... you are that woman, you must be that woman..."

Baoling was startled, shrinking back and hiding behind Gao Xiang.

Guan Wen hastily pressed Feng He's hand down. "Don't point at her. She's my friend, you're scaring her!"

Baoling's frightened look pained him, but with Gao Xiang by her side, he could only speak up—he had no reason to jump in and comfort or protect her.

"She is that woman! She is the woman in your painting—can't you see it? Can't you really not see it? She's the woman in white, the one who was tied up..." Feng He shouted, one hand held by Guan Wen, the other raised, half her body spilling through the doorway, her finger nearly touching Baoling's nose.

Guan Wen frowned. "What woman? Who are you talking about?"

"Hey, must we speak so aggressively? Can't we talk calmly?" Gao Xiang smiled, flipped his right hand, clamped Feng He's wrist, pushed and pulled—there was a cracking sound, and all three major joints in Feng He's right arm shifted out of place. The move was swift and ruthless, revealing Gao Xiang as a master of combat, merciless and precise.

Feng He let out a low cry, her features contorted in pain.

"Hey, Mr. Gao, she meant no harm, don't take it personally!" Guan Wen shouted, pulling Feng He back and setting her behind him.

"Sorry for my heavy hand," Gao Xiang sneered. "It's just a simple dislocation. Let her rest. When I'm free, I'll fix it."

Guan Wen was furious. "She couldn't hurt a fly, she only pointed at Baoling—was it worth such a harsh response?"

He didn't know martial arts; in this situation, all he could do was reason. At moments like this, he truly understood the old saying: a scholar's knowledge is useless in times of trouble.

"Baoling is my good friend, kind-hearted and timid. Since entering Tibet, she has suffered much unfair treatment but always endured in silence. I swore never to let her be wronged again; from entering to leaving Tibet, I will accompany her. Anyone who tries to touch her, I will not allow it. Mr. Guan, if you don't want yourself or your friend to get hurt, be careful—control your hands, feet, and mouth." Gao Xiang sneered, then turned to Baoling with gentle words, "Don't be afraid, it's just a madwoman. I'll take you to meet the sages of the Five Nations and Twelve Temples."

Baoling, a little embarrassed, stepped out from behind Gao Xiang and whispered, "I'm fine, I wasn't scared."

Old Dao came from the side, pointed at Feng He. "Watch yourself. Point again, and I'll cut off your hand."

Of course, his eyes flicked toward Guan Wen as well, meaning his words for both.

Guan Wen hadn't expected Gao Xiang and his people to be so domineering, but he had no way to fight back, so he swallowed his anger and said softly, "Mr. Gao, could you treat her first? She is the one the Crimson Flame Venerable values most. If you hurt her, I can't explain it to him."

Baoling bowed slightly, apologetic. "Sister, I'm sorry, my friend was too reckless."

"Someone of the Crimson Flame Venerable?" Gao Xiang's attitude shifted a little. "Alright, I suppose there must be some misunderstanding. Step aside, I'll treat her."

Before Guan Wen could move, Gao Xiang stepped into the room, pushing Guan Wen aside. He was a head taller, and his presence made the spacious room suddenly feel cramped. His ability to adapt was remarkable; in an instant, he dissolved all hostility inside and outside the door.

"She's that woman, I'm not wrong—she's the woman tied up..." Feng He said through clenched teeth, pain making her jaw chatter.

"Watch your words, and don't point at my girlfriend, or you might not live to regret it." Gao Xiang sneered.

"I'm not lying. Look at those paintings," Feng He said, stubbornly.

Gao Xiang grabbed Feng He's right arm with his left hand, pressed her shoulder with his right, twisted and pushed—the shoulder joint snapped back into place. Then, the elbow and wrist, all restored in seconds.

"What paintings?" Baoling leaned in from outside.

"They're some—"

Guan Wen wanted to answer, but Gao Xiang waved his hand abruptly, his palm brushing dangerously close to Guan Wen's head.

"Just some insignificant paintings, nothing important," Guan Wen changed his words, unwilling to oppose Gao Xiang further.

Feng He opened her mouth, but Old Dao squeezed in from the door, his finger almost touching Feng He's forehead. "Shut up. Say another word, and I'll knock all your teeth out."

Guan Wen stepped forward, pushing Feng He behind him, facing Old Dao. "Is it necessary to be so aggressive? I've said she's the one the Crimson Flame Venerable cares most about. If you scare her like this and the Venerable finds out, no one will look good."

Old Dao grinned wickedly, lowered his hand, straightened Guan Wen's collar in a mocking tone. "Mr. Guan, I'm a rough man, I don't care about appearances, but I do know 'illness enters through the mouth, disaster comes from the tongue.' Whoever offends Brother Xiang won't have a good outcome. Brother Xiang is a civilized man, polite to everyone, but we aren't. I'll warn you again—control your friend's mouth, or you'll get beaten for nothing."

Guan Wen took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and nodded. "Alright, you can leave now, we have things to do."

Gao Xiang laughed. "We'll go first, you stay here and admire the paintings. Goodbye." He glanced at Guan Wen from the corner of his eye, then backed out, closing the door behind him.

Guan Wen felt his chest constrict; he returned to the table. He wanted to pick up his pencil and continue the drawing, but as he gripped it, the pencil snapped in half.

He had finally welcomed Baoling, but hadn't expected her guardian to appear as well.

"Are you alright?" He heard Feng He's groan, looked up, and asked with concern.

"I'm fine. That person just now... she really is... the woman in your painting..." Feng He's right arm still hung limply, any movement causing her to grimace in pain.

"How could that be?" Guan Wen shook his head in surprise, then looked down at the painting. Their appearances were completely different—she is she, Baoling is Baoling, there was no resemblance.

Feng He nodded. "So she is Baoling, that's her name..."

She stroked the painting with her left hand, frowning, lost in thought.

Guan Wen discarded the broken pencil, puzzled by Feng He's actions.

Logically, if Baoling were the woman in the painting, he should sense it himself. Besides, in his eyes, Baoling was pure and elegant—she couldn't be connected to the tragedy amid chaos.

"Her disappearance really is a mystery, isn't it?" Feng He asked.

Guan Wen was baffled, looking at Feng He. "What? What disappearance? Who disappeared?"

Feng He was surprised. "Of course the woman disappeared—who else?"

She flipped through dozens of drawings on the table, finally asking in amazement, "Didn't you see? She vanished from the mountaintop. Your drawings don't show that part—why?"

It seemed their understanding of the event had diverged, each interpreting it differently.

Guan Wen quickly lined up all the finished drawings, pointing to the one depicting the solitary peak tragedy. "You mean, the event didn't end here, and the woman wasn't violated, but... but vanished—vanished into thin air?"

Feng He scanned the drawing, staggered a few steps, pressed her left hand to her forehead, voice trembling. "I need to think... My thoughts are a mess, everything is so fuzzy... Don't you know how it ended? You've seen all the memories hidden in my mind, how could you not know the ending and ask me?"

Guan Wen moved to a corner, poured a cup of hot water.

It was for Feng He; he hoped a drink would help her calm down and recall the tangled details.

Such vanishing only happens in magic, illusions, or tales of the supernatural. If the tragedy on the solitary peak really happened, the woman couldn't simply disappear.

When Guan Wen turned, he saw Feng He's face had gone pale as paper, her left hand pressed hard on the table, desperately holding herself up, as if she might collapse at any moment.

"Hey, are you alright?" Guan Wen hurried over, took her arm, and helped her into a chair.

"The memories in my mind are fading... I don't know how, but everything I once saw is being erased, bit by bit. I think I saw my parents, flocks of sheep, a brook... fields covered in grass and wildflowers... My mind is very clear, clearer than ever—I want to go home..." After less than half a minute, Feng He struggled to her feet, looked around as if just awakened from a nightmare, then staggered to the door, leaning weakly against the wall.

"Where are you going? You haven't told me—what happened to the woman in the end?" Guan Wen followed, one hand on the wall, supporting most of Feng He's weight.

"I want to go home... home..." Feng He stubbornly reached for the door handle, turned it fiercely, and the door swung open.

Outside, several young monks stood at attention. Hearing the door, they all looked up in unison.

"Go inform the Crimson Flame Venerable—something’s happened to Feng He!" Guan Wen shouted loudly. At this moment, all thoughts of appearances vanished; solving the problem was paramount.

Someone rushed off to report, but Feng He didn't stop, continuing outside, straight through the main door into the courtyard.

Night had passed; the eastern sky showed hints of pale light, and the distant mountain contours gradually emerged.

In all four corners of the courtyard, bonfires blazed, crackling as pine branches burned.

From the central tent in the courtyard, the great figure rushed out, White Maha close on his heels, never leaving his side. Behind them came the Crimson Flame Venerable, slow in movement, and the sages from the Five Nations, Twelve Temples who had appeared previously at the Tashilhunpo Monastery.

"What happened to her?" The great figure approached, asking loudly.

Guan Wen explained anxiously, "She says the memories in her mind are fading fast. She keeps shouting she wants to go home. I don't know what else."

Out of the corner of his eye, Guan Wen saw Gao Xiang, Baoling, Old Dao and others standing in a corner, watching.

"Is that so?" The great figure frowned, grasping Feng He's left wrist.

The morning wind seemed fiercer. The wind-horse flags on the courtyard walls fluttered and snapped, swaying unpredictably.

Suddenly, Guan Wen felt his thoughts drift infinitely far away, forgetting the people before him and all the sounds, floating toward Mount Nisari.

He heard the sound of flowing water, and a hoarse, ancient voice repeatedly chanting the Surangama Mantra. The chanting mingled with the water, low and raspy, but with a profound, enlightening power.

Subjugate demons! Hearing the chant, Guan Wen immediately thought of those words—not ordinary words, but a sacred mission.

"I am waiting for you... The light of this world is about to extinguish; if you do not come, you will miss it forever... If you do not come, the cause pursued by countless people will be wasted... I do not know how much longer I can recite the mantra; I have stopped thinking about it, and instead focus all my energy to send this message to your mind... When will you answer me? If you do not come, you will receive my failing message, and by then, no matter who comes, this calamity will not be resolved... Come, come, come..." The ancient voice called in a mournful, sorrowful cry.

"Where are you?" Guan Wen couldn't help but shout.

"I am..." The ancient voice faded away.

"Where are you?" Guan Wen repeated, but there was no response.

"I don't know where he is. I simply repeat those words, speaking them as they were given to me. I don't know what it means... Who is he? Whom does he seek... none of it matters now. I want to go home, lay down all burdens, go home..." Feng He laughed bitterly, leaning against Guan Wen.

"All those things—you told me?" Guan Wen asked, shocked.

Feng He nodded with effort. "Yes... they are... what he wanted me to say, always in my mind. I never knew whom to tell, but now I do. You... at the foot of Mount Nisari... I know who you are—you are the one whose flesh and organs were carried away by the eagle... She vanished, but you did not... You died, and her fate remains unknown..."

Guan Wen couldn't understand these fragmented words; besides, he was not the man from the solitary peak tragedy, and had no idea what Feng He meant.

"She's going to die," the great figure said suddenly, letting go of Feng He's wrist.

"What?" Guan Wen was more and more bewildered.

"Her pulse is gone. What sustains her now is only the strength of a dying flare—" As the great figure spoke, the highest wind-horse flag on the wall suddenly snapped, dragging its colorful strings, and fell outside. The monks in the courtyard were in an uproar.

At the same time, the wind in the courtyard surged, the bonfires sent sparks flying, and light and shadow danced chaotically.

Guan Wen immediately reached for Feng He's wrist—indeed, there was no pulse. He felt her neck—same result. No living person could lack a pulse; without it, her heart would soon stop. Yet, Feng He was still alive.

"Light all the torches—I want to dance." Feng He stood upright, her face white as paper, her eyes shining with a strange light.

"I should help you back to rest," Guan Wen said.

"This isn't the time for rest. I must dance. After today, I'll have plenty of time to rest." She pushed Guan Wen away, gazing grimly at the Crimson Flame Venerable.

"Let her dance, do as she says," the Crimson Flame Venerable ordered.

With a command, all bonfires and lanterns in the courtyard were lit, illuminating every corner.

There was no music, but Feng He danced gracefully in the firelight, twisting and spinning, her movements utterly captivating.