My girlfriend is a Miao demon.

In the dead of winter, January is bitterly cold.

Deep within the Wangshan City Circle Art City, in the painter's studio where Professor Zuo once rented a place, the old-fashioned air conditioner blew out warm air, but still could not dispel the chill of the night.

A warm breeze flowed through the cold glass window, condensing into a thin layer of mist that blurred the twilight outside. Occasionally, the night wind could be seen whipping crows past the windowpane. Against the wall stood an easel, an unfinished oil painting. The canvas was a patchwork of abstract colors, a blend of deep brown and dark red, intense yet tinged with a sense of oppression, as if concealing an unsolvable mystery. It was unclear which previous tenant had owned this painting.

In the corner of the room, a warm yellow floor lamp was turned on. Its light filtered through the dust-covered glass shade, casting a hazy glow on the floor tiles, barely easing the chill of the room. The fingertips of all three were slightly cool.

Xiang Nanfeng rubbed his hands together, breaking the silence:

"We've talked long enough. Logically, this is the first time the three of us have met, and since you two have come to Wangshan, I should treat you to a nice meal in the city as a hospitable host. But today is special; we're all incredibly anxious, and getting answers to our questions is probably more important than a meal. So, I've taken the liberty of ordering hot pot takeout. Let's warm ourselves up and talk while we eat!"

Just as she finished speaking, a knock sounded at the door. Xiang Nanfeng got up to fetch the takeout and quickly set the pots and pans and ingredients on the table. The broth, steaming hot, instantly dispelled the chill in the room. Xiang Nanfeng picked up the serving chopsticks and gestured for it to be served.

"Master Mao Xi, Miss Zuo, please don't be shy, have some meat to warm you up first. It's nice to eat something hot in this weather, it'll make talking more comfortable."

Zuo Hezi stood up and thanked Xiang Nanfeng politely several times. Mao Xigu, having known Xiang Nanfeng for a long time, skipped the formalities, simply nodding slightly, picking up his chopsticks, and jokingly saying, "Thank you for your kindness, Reporter Xiang," before joining Xiang Nanfeng in cooking meat and vegetables. Watching the boiling broth, the tense expressions of the three relaxed somewhat. In the swirling warm steam, the previously heavy atmosphere dissipated.

"When I first heard my grandmother tell the story of the Sanmiao War, I was even more shocked than you are now."

Mao west Gu Master added a piece of freshly cooked beef to each of their bowls, then gazed at the moonlight streaming through the window and muttered to himself:

"Our Maoxi village is very isolated. My village is a Miao village, and it is indeed full of Miao people. But on the first and fifteenth of the lunar month, we go to the town for the market, and there are many more people in the town. The Miao people take the tenth month of the lunar calendar as the beginning of the year, so the Miao people celebrate the New Year from the tenth to the eleventh month of the lunar calendar."

"I remember the weather was probably like this too, the mountains were gloomy and cold, but the town was very lively. My second aunt's husband's family ran a dye shop in the town, and they were Black Miao people. My mother took me to visit relatives in the town, and we stayed at my second aunt's house."

"Next to my second aunt's batik workshop was a silversmith's shop. The silversmith's owner was a Bai Miao (Hokkien) person. I was elementary school classmates with his son, and we were very close. At that time, my grandmother had just told me the history of Panhu's extermination of the Hua Miao (Hokkien) people. Haha, I was only eight or nine years old then, and I felt like the sky was falling. My second aunt's husband, my two older cousins, my older cousin, and my best friend..."

"Can you imagine? In another world, we would experience betrayal, war, and massacres. There would be no kinship or friendship among us, only an endless blood feud?"

Xiang Nanfeng unconsciously leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his fingertips with the rough fabric.

A ripple of emotion stirred within him. He understood the shock, the tearing apart—it was as if someone had suddenly told him that everything he knew about the past was a lie; the sense of upheaval was truly devastating. Because in the days following his shocking awakening in the hospital ward, everyone had told him with absolute certainty that Gui Luyao was nothing but a dream:

He understood best that feeling of being isolated and helpless.

However, after a brief moment of emotional resonance, Xiang Nanfeng astutely grasped the unusual information in Mao Xigu's words:

"Wait, you mean Panhu didn't betray his country? And the Miao people weren't massacred?"

"Yes, that's right. None of this happened in our world. The history my grandmother told me, including what I told you before, is the history of the Sanmiao behind the Twin Gates."

Mao west Gu Master nodded as he ate the meat, swallowing it down before continuing:

"I've checked the relevant documents. The Book of Documents says, 'He moved the Sanmiao to Sanwei to change the Western Rong.' This means that in our world, there is a history of Yu Shun imprisoning Tang Yao and forcing Danzhu, the legitimate successor of Tang Yao's dynasty, to abdicate by using the position of a powerful minister. It is also true that the history of Yu Shun using the abdication to cover up a coup and seizure of power is real. There is also a history of the Sanmiao opposing Yu Shun and raising an army to defend against the enemy. After raising an army, they were in a disadvantageous position and eventually retreated to Sanwei Mountain. But what happened after that?"

"And then?" Xiang Nanfeng pressed.

"Then, the Classic of Mountains and Seas, in the Southern Overseas Classic, says, 'The Sanmiao Kingdom is located east of the Chishui River, and its people follow each other.' The Sanmiao migrated south and settled on the east bank of the Chishui River."

"The east bank of the Chishui River? Isn't that...that's Maoxi!"

"Yes, it's Maoxi. What happened after the Sanmiao Kingdom arrived at Sanwei Mountain? Why did they migrate south, and why did they migrate east of the Chishui River? Our world has no records of that."

"What? How could this be!" Xiang Nanfeng threw down his chopsticks, looking at Mao Xi Gu Master in disbelief. However, at that moment, the bottom of the copper pot was boiling hot, and layers of thick steam were rising, obscuring Mao Xi Gu Master's face.

"That's right." Sawako, who had been eating quietly, suddenly spoke up at this moment:

"My father also told me this story, which is the story that the Maoxi Gu Master just told you about the Black Miao betraying their country, and Jiang Yang cultivating little Gu Masters and sending them into the Twin Gates. Two years ago, when I had just been admitted to university, one of my friends really liked Maoxi because she went there for a trip, and she wanted to study the Miao people. She knew that my father was Zuo Sigong. At that time, I went to Youdu to see my father during summer vacation, and she asked me to ask my father to give her some reference books. My father asked me to bring a few books from Youdu for her, and I flipped through them on the plane when I had nothing to do."

"Those books include 'Draft History of Maoxi Xiangtu,' 'The Miao and Wu Family,' and 'Songs of Miao and Han' written by Chinese scholars, as well as a book written by a Thai scholar, which I think should be translated into Chinese as 'History of Han-Miao and Multi-Ethnic Relations from the Fifth to the Eighteenth Centuries.' These books clearly record that the Sanmiao are the Black Miao, White Miao, and Flower Miao, and the three branches have lived in harmony since ancient times without any internal strife. There is also no record of the Flower Miao being exterminated."

Zuo Hezi's tone became serious, and her eyes showed a hint of confusion:

"More importantly, all the books mention that the ancestor of the Sanmiao was Panhu, who was a hero who helped Emperor Ku quell the war and was the guardian deity of the Miao people. I searched through all the materials I could find, and there was not a single book that mentioned the name 'Jiang Yang,' nor a single word about Panhu's betrayal."

"What? Not even Jiang Yang? Are you sure?"

"Of course." Zuo Hezi nodded, then said:

"That's one of the reasons I'm staying here today. I was planning to go back to the US this afternoon. This morning I deactivated my phone number in Wangshan and switched back to my US SIM card. As soon as I connected to the internet, I received a text message from a stranger. This person told me that my father might not have died of a heart attack, but rather from witchcraft."

"He listed some suspicious points about my father, such as why he came to Wangshan and why he stayed here for so long. He also told me that there was a reporter in Wangshan, China, who was in a car accident on the night my father died and experienced some things that ordinary people might find unbelievable. And these things might be related to my father's death. He heard that I came to Wangshan to handle the funeral arrangements, so he hoped that I would wait for him and meet this reporter with him."

"That's right, that person is me." Mao Xi Gu Master ate meat while urging Xiang Nanfeng, "Hey, Xiang Nanfeng, don't just stand there, eat, eat! Eating hotpot doesn't stop you from talking!"

"Oh, oh!" Xiang Nanfeng realized that he had been so surprised that he had dropped his chopsticks for quite some time. He quickly picked them up again and continued cooking the vegetables. He first muttered to himself, "I see," and then, remembering what Zuo Hezi had just said about how all the historical records in the real world were completely different from what Professor Zuo had told him, he continued to press Zuo Hezi for answers:

"Ms. Zuo, you just mentioned that you read the books Professor Zuo gave you on your way back to the United States, and what they said was different from what he said. Did you ask about this afterward?"

A distinctly different light flashed in Zuo Hezi's eyes. She nodded and answered shyly:

"I asked him. When I asked him, he denied the existence of Jiang Yang and also denied the history of Pan Hu's treason. He just said that he made it up on the spot to lull me to sleep."

"To lull you to sleep?"

"Yes. It was July 25, 1994. My grandfather was hospitalized, and my mother had to go to stay with him, so my father had to take care of me. I was young then, and without my mother around, I felt insecure, so I had a nightmare in the middle of the night. My father did tell me this story to comfort me. But my father... how should I put it, he was a typical scholar, meticulous, even a bit old-fashioned. He didn't know how to comfort children."

"So..." Xiang Nanfeng asked tentatively, "So, he can't make up stories either?"

"Yes, I think so. And my dad told the story very fluently, with a very natural tone and expression, and he spoke quite quickly. I think even if he made up the story, he must have prepared it long ago and knew it by heart. But I can't think of any reason why he would make up the story."

At this point, Zuo Hezi paused, picked up a piece of piping hot green vegetable from the pot, placed it in the bowl in front of her, and continued:

"Actually, I did have my doubts about my father's sudden death. He was in very good health. Two days before he came to Wangshan in July this year, he had just had a comprehensive medical examination in Youdu, and the report was very detailed."

"I've seen the medical report, which shows that my father's heart indicators are excellent, healthier than many middle-aged people. Moreover, he exercises regularly, runs every day, and swims every week, and he has never had any heart problems. But after I arrived in Wangshan, I saw that the police and doctors here are very professional."

"They have indeed conducted a detailed investigation and examination. Moreover, before I arrived, Professor Zhiyuan, the secretary of the University Office of Youdu University, was present the whole time. The university heard that the circumstances of my father's death were somewhat complicated, so they specially sent an associate professor of forensic medicine from the School of Medicine and a teacher from the School Security Department to come and take a look. However, I arrived from the United States later than them, so by the time I arrived, the two teachers had already returned to Youdu."

"But with so many people overseeing the process and everyone being so responsible, I thought they had no reason to lie to me and it was impossible for anything to go wrong. Plus, Teacher Zhiyuan also persuaded me, so I agreed to the cremation."

As Zuo Hezi spoke, her eyes welled up with tears. Mao Xigu, who had been focused on eating the hot pot, suddenly came over to comfort her:

"Don't be sad, you did nothing wrong. If I'm not mistaken, if your father was really killed by witchcraft, even an autopsy wouldn't find anything."

Zuo Hezi nodded, silently dabbed the tears from the corners of her eyes with a tissue, then turned to Xiang Nanfeng and said:

"Alright, alright, let's not talk about this anymore. Xiang the reporter? Xiang Nanfeng, right? Well then, tell me about yourself. How did you find me?"

"Me? My story is a long one. I think Master Maoxi has already told you about what happened before."

Xiang Nanfeng met her gaze and began to speak fluently, recounting how he had unexpectedly learned of Professor Zuo Sigong's death at Zhenru Temple while searching for clues to Miaoyao Zen Temple, and how he had also come here three months earlier to inquire about the same thing. He explained how he obtained Zuo Hezi's phone number through Professor Zuo's student, Teacher Shen Feng, and how he had chased after them to the airport and encountered them. He also told them all the hypotheses and conjectures he had drawn from his and Lin Shu's memory loss during their interview with Professor Zuo and the mysterious disappearance of the interview video.

Mysterious man, twin gates, is this a journey of four hundred or five thousand years, or a chase of three hundred or twenty thousand miles?

The floor lamp's glow enveloped the three people at the table, casting long, thin shadows of their slender figures onto the stone bricks where the "Stubborn Stone Gu" had just been wreaking havoc. The night wind outside the window picked up, making the glass rattle slightly. Having finished speaking, Xiang Nanfeng suddenly put down his chopsticks again, his sharp, knife-like eyes fixed on Zuo Hezi:

"Miss Zuo, I'm afraid I need to ask you something."

Both Mao Xigu Master and Zuo Hezi were startled by his sudden change in tone. Zuo Hezi instinctively straightened up and asked, "What do you want to ask?"

"How old are you this year?"

"Twenty years old...

"On July 25, 1994, your maternal grandfather was hospitalized, and your mother stayed with him at the hospital. You had nightmares that night, and your father told you stories to comfort you?"

"Yes, yes."

"This year is 2012. In July 1994, you were just over two years old. How could you possibly remember the Tang-Yu Rebellion, Panhu's betrayal, and the Twin Gates? How could you possibly have preserved your memories from when you were just over two years old so perfectly? Even an adult wouldn't be able to accurately remember the date of something that happened 20 years ago, right? So, Miss Zuo, you—are you lying?"