My girlfriend is a Miao demon.

Color, quality, variety, texture, pattern, patina...

Xiang Nanfeng squatted by the shallow ditch on the pebble beach, his fingertips tracing the cross-section of the bluish-white stone before him. The rough pebbles hurt his fingertips slightly, but his heart was churning with turbulent emotions. He knew this stone too well, so well that he could precisely trace its every inch of texture—the bluish-white base color, like mist and rain washed away by time, the stone's texture fine and dense, producing a dull, metallic sound when struck, clearly no ordinary rock found in the mountains.

The stone surface is covered with a thin patina, a warm and lustrous sheen that comes from years of erosion by the stream and repeated caressing by the mud and sand, bearing the mottled marks of water erosion.

The exact same bluish-white stone, the exact same craftsmanship and history—Xiang Nanfeng was absolutely certain that the bluish-white stone Grandpa Zheng had led him to find on the pebble beach of the nameless stream was exactly the same as the stone tablet he and Gui Luyao had seen that night on the ancient castle mountain, which they had regarded as their tombstone. However, they were both the same stone and not the same stone. To be precise, they were two halves of a single stone tablet, a whole stone tablet broken in two.

The piece on the mountain should be the lower half, and the piece in front of us should be the upper half. At the fracture joint, the stone patterns are jagged, as if it was cleaved open by a giant axe. The color of the fracture surface is darker than the stone body, with the unique ruggedness of a fresh break, yet it has gained a touch of softness after being soaked in the stream.

Xiang Nanfeng placed his palm on the broken surface, as if he could feel the tremors that occurred when the stone tablet broke. What kind of intense force must have been needed to split a heavy, bluish-white stone tablet in two?

Was it the impact of a flash flood, or the crushing force of a landslide?

He had no idea what was going on, only that one half of the stone tablet remained on the mountaintop, while the other half rolled into the secluded valley stream, gazing at each other across the mountains and rivers for countless years.

The two found the stone tablet at 3 p.m. on January 6.

Xiang Nanfeng knew that even if Grandpa Zheng went down the mountain now, he would still have to walk for two hours in the dark before he could get out. In the deep mountains at night, the cold wind was like a knife, and the fog was like a slumber. Without any lighting tools, it would be easy to lose one's way. So he gave Grandpa Zheng his headlamp and helped him and his flock of sheep to get back quickly. Afterward, he himself returned to the broken monument on the riverbank.

The south wind made the following assumption:

A stone tablet that was originally placed on the mountaintop broke into two pieces for some reason. The lower half, supported by a base, remained in its original location, but over the years, the base was buried by local rubble, possibly due to a landslide. The upper half simply slid down into the valley and sank into the stream. Then, during a heavy rain one year, the stream swelled, and the upper half was carried by the river to the gravel beach it is today.

Why did he make the above assumption?

This is because ancient stone tablets emphasized the "dragon head and tortoise base" design, a practice that has been passed down since the Qin and Han dynasties.

The "螭首" refers to the dragon pattern on the top of the stele, a mythical beast that sits atop the stele with its head held high and eyes glaring, its body strong and agile, symbolizing majesty and respect; the "龟趺" refers to the tortoise-shaped base of the stele, also known as the "璧屓", one of the nine sons of the dragon in legend.

Most of the broken steles on the mountain were buried by other rocks. Although he had never seen the base, he could clearly see the whole piece exposed on the gravel beach. Half of the stele was roughly in the shape of a semicircle, and the edges were faintly marked with carvings. It was definitely not formed by natural weathering and was obviously the top of the stele.

Secondly, they discovered that the mountains on both sides of the ravine where the upper section of the gravel beach was located were not high. This was completely different from the mountain that Xiang Nanfeng remembered climbing with Lu Yao that night. That mountain was very high, otherwise it wouldn't have taken them so long to descend to the open area.

Furthermore, the hills on both sides are low and gentle. Let alone such a large stone tablet, even a ball rolling down the hill would probably not go very far, let alone drift down the stream to the gravel beach several kilometers away.

Therefore, it is clear that this inscription did not come from the nearby hills; its true home must be that towering mountain.

The discovery of this half of the stone tablet was of great significance to Xiang Nanfeng, because it meant that by going upstream along the stream in the valley, finding a high mountain or a cliff overlooking the stream would lead to the other half of the stone tablet, and thus to the place where Lu Yao had disappeared. However, there was one regret that remained here for the time being, like a thorn stuck in Xiang Nanfeng's heart.

That is, he vaguely felt that the words on the stone tablet might also have some special connection with Luyao's disappearance. After all, in the deep mountains of Wangshan, a new industrial city, an ancient stone tablet transported from hundreds of kilometers away must have hidden unfathomable secrets. Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. According to Grandpa Zheng, when he and Brother Lou first saw the tablet while herding sheep in the mountains, it was still standing on its side, stuck in the mudflats and pebbles. It was probably washed ashore by the current and the tablet was exposed when the water receded. At that time, they could still see the inscription on the stone tablet directly. It was because they saw the incised inscription that they were convinced that it was an artifact and even had the idea of ​​transporting it out to sell for money, which is why they had such a deep impression of this half of the stone tablet.

Unfortunately, when Xiang Nanfeng saw it again 28 years later, the half of the stone tablet was upside down on the ground, and the inscription could only be seen by turning it over.

The problem was that the strength of one or two people was simply insignificant when facing something weighing hundreds of kilograms or even more. Xiang Nanfeng had tried; he mustered all his strength, gripped the edge of the stone tablet with both hands, and tried to lift it upwards, but the tablet didn't budge, only scraping off a few patches of wet mud. Therefore, if he wanted to see the inscription on this half of the tablet, he would have to find help and even bring equipment into the mountains. Thus, he had no choice but to carefully memorize the coordinates of this half of the tablet and set aside the matter for the time being, going to find the other half first.

Fortunately, every cloud has a silver lining. At 5 p.m. that day, after passing through a small stone forest, the view suddenly opened up before us.

A towering mountain rose abruptly from the ground, like a veiled warrior blocking the way, its summit shrouded in a light mist, appearing majestic and mysterious. At its feet, a stream meandered and flowed around the foot of the mountain, making a rushing sound.

Xiang Nanfeng stopped and estimated the height difference between the mountain and the streambank, which was at least 500 meters. The area directly facing the riverbank was a sheer cliff, steep and rugged with jagged rocks, offering almost no foothold. Xiang Nanfeng thought to himself, "This is the mountain. It's been quite a search," and began looking for a path to climb it.

This mountain was both high and treacherous. To climb it from the cliff face on the riverbank, one would have to resort to rock climbing, but the south wind couldn't manage that, so he had to take a detour. Who would have thought that this mountain had the imposing presence of Mount Hua, described in the Classic of Mountains and Seas as "cut into four sides"? He circled almost half of the cliff face, from the northeast corner to the northwest corner, but still couldn't find a place to set foot and climb up.

As the sun gradually sank in the west, the last rays of light disappeared behind the mountains, and night began to fall. At that time, not only the valley was dark, but the entire sky was also as black as the bottom of a pot. Finding a way out in the dark was no longer a realistic option, so Xiang Nanfeng had no choice but to find a nearby high slope to camp and rest.

Strangely enough, despite sleeping in the mountains, where it was cold, damp, and damp—far less comfortable than the small inn he'd stayed in a few days ago—Xiang Nanfeng slept exceptionally well, without a single dream. This was clearly due to the severe exhaustion from days of hiking and trekking dozens of miles each day, yet he was convinced that his sound sleep tonight was solely because he was closest to Luyao.

On January 7th, we set off at dawn.

As dawn breaks and clouds swirl around, the mountains gradually reveal their clear outlines in the morning light, majestic and solemn.

He had already planned his route before going to bed last night. There was a mountain ridge in the northeast of the mountain, which was the shortest route to the top of the mountain by bypassing the cliff. However, before climbing this ridge, he had to climb a small peak on the other side of the ridge in the northeast. Starting from the bottom of the valley, the route to climb that small peak went further and further south, eventually taking a full 10.1 kilometers and taking a whole day.

This time, Xiang Nanfeng truly understood what it meant to "look at a mountain and run until the horse dies"! It wasn't until 4:30 PM that day that he finally managed to climb the small peak.

As he reached the summit, he felt his memories awaken and his blood surge—this was it, this was it! He instantly recognized the bluish-white stone tablet atop the opposite mountain peak, gleaming like a bronze mirror in the sunlight:

"It's it! It's it! Luyao, I'm here!"

The south wind shouts recklessly at the mountains, and the echoes in the empty mountains sound like the surrender petition of a defeated person.

He quickly took out a satellite positioning device and marked the exact location of the stone tablet. Fearing that the electronic equipment might malfunction again due to some strange magnetic field interference, he even sent the coordinates via satellite phone to one of his "informants" at work, asking him to copy the coordinates onto paper and keep them safe.

He then took out his camera and began taking pictures, meticulously recording the blurred inscriptions on the stone tablet.

The shutter clicked away, taking advantage of the last rays of the setting sun, snapping photos of Nanfeng for several minutes straight, as if clearing out all the memory.

The inscription on the stone tablet was indeed as blurry as they had seen it late at night before the 13th. In addition, Xiang Nanfeng was only a novice at recognizing seal script; he could barely recognize a few characters, and he wasn't even sure if he recognized them correctly. Even if he did, there were too few characters to decipher, and there was absolutely no possibility of him understanding the contents of the inscription.

However, Xiang Nanfeng had a vague feeling that the content of the inscription might have some hidden connection with Lu Yao's disappearance, and the inspiration supporting this view was still the eternal truth: there must be something fishy about abnormal things, and there was no reason for an ancient stone tablet of bluish-white stone to appear alone in the belly of Shounan Mountain.

At the same time, what made him even more uneasy was that after simulating the trekking route he and Luyao took 13 days ago using satellite positioning records, he discovered that if one wanted to reach the location of the stone tablet from the outside, the actual trekking distances of more than a dozen mountain trekking routes, such as Loujia Village, Yongjia Village, Lile Village, and Donglikan, which were all about the same straight-line distance, varied greatly. Although the route behind Loujia Village seemed to have many steep slopes and be very winding, it was the shortest and the only trekking route that could be completed in the middle of the night.

However, after leaving the Bijia Mountain South Valley, there are no established mountain paths left by predecessors. It faces countless choices of direction on the discontinuous rock belts exposed on the karst landform. If you choose the wrong direction even once, the final result will definitely be going in the opposite direction.

In fact, this is why Xiang Nanfeng, carrying a GPS device, walked for five days and only managed to find this place by chance after meeting Grandpa Zheng. From the southern valley of Bijia Mountain all the way to this point, Luyao was the guide. Let's assume Luyao's disappearance was a pure accident, assume she just happened to lead the way here that night, and assume that every choice Luyao made on the "sky road" of the discontinuous rocky terrain was just a coincidence. Then, with a 50/50 chance of being right or wrong, the probability of her choosing correctly once is 50%, the probability of her choosing correctly 10 times in a row is only 0.0977%, and what about choosing correctly 100 times in a row? That would be 10 to the power of -30!

What kind of concept would that be...?

At this moment, the setting sun had already disappeared into the darkness of the night. The night in the mountains came so decisively. Xiang Nanfeng took out and lit his headlamp, and then pulled a jungle knife from his leggings, as if the cold, sharp blade could give him the courage to challenge the darkness in the night.

In the darkness, the beam of the headlamp, carried by the tremors of his breathing and footsteps, swept forward, across rocks, withered grass, thorns, and low shrubs. Suddenly, layers of thin mist floated within the pale, dazzling beam of light from the LED lamp.

He quickly turned his head towards the south wind, looking around. There were no rocks, no withered grass, no thorns or low shrubs. A thin mist, a light mist, enveloped his body, filling the night with its unique coolness.

We've arrived; the south wind has arrived.

As he walked south, he passed through the relatively gentle rockfall zone formed by the rolling rocks and stepped onto the square stone platform again. He remembered that when he arrived here 13 days ago, Luyao asked him, "Does anyone build their tomb on the mountaintop?" He thought of the Mancheng Han Tomb in Baoding, Hebei. It was only after leaving this stone platform that the path under his feet became increasingly slippery.

The past events are vivid in my mind, and the truth seems to be within reach.

The wind on the stone platform wasn't strong, and the terrain wasn't steep or dangerous, but the southerly wind suddenly seemed to be "possessed" by someone with acrophobia. He mistakenly thought he had lost his balance and stumbled, almost falling off the stone platform.

He stood there, constantly adjusting his posture, but he still didn't step down from the stone platform. He remained standing there, panting heavily. He became unusually uneasy.

Thirteen days ago, he and Luyao dared not linger, hurrying along. He focused all his attention on his feet and the path, never once looking up to gaze at their surroundings during the descent. Judging from their speed at the time, the distance from here to the open area at the foot of the mountain was at most 500 meters. Therefore, as long as that open area still existed, and that ancient castle still existed, or rather, if he had already returned to the dream world, then under the bright moonlight tonight, with just a gust of wind, opening his eyes, the ancient castle at the foot of the mountain should be there.

At this moment, standing on the stone platform, he made his final mental preparations: excitement mixed with fear surged through his body with each heartbeat. He took a deep breath towards the south: The wind is here, the wind is here.

He opened his eyes, and the bright moonlight pierced through the boundless mist, illuminating the distant mountain ridges: the moon had risen.