A master of both medicine and martial arts, he picked up a beautiful CEO as his wife.

The kraft paper bag was opened in that empty office upstairs.

There were only four people in the room: Ye Feng, Lin Yuqing, Zhu Wanqing, and Shen Yu. The bag contained only three things: a photograph, a photocopy, and a handwritten note.

The photo is black and white with yellowed edges, clearly quite old. It shows seven or eight people standing in front of an old-fashioned building, all wearing woolen overcoats in the style of the 1990s.

Lin Yuqing's finger landed on the woman in the very center.

"This is my mom."

The woman was young, her hair was pulled back, she was holding a baby in her arms, and she was smiling, her eyes curving into an arc.

"This is me." Lin Yuqing touched the baby with her fingertips, very lightly, as if afraid of hurting him.

Zhu Wanqing reached out and put her hand on her shoulder.

"Look here." Ye Feng's finger landed on the far left of the photo.

There was a man standing there.

He wasn't young anymore, around fifty, wearing a faded old Zhongshan suit, thin and standing ramrod straight. He wasn't looking at the camera, but tilting his head, gazing at something outside the frame of the photo.

Shen Yu let out an "Ah!" and plopped back down in his chair.

"master."

The room fell silent; no one spoke first. Ye Feng stared at the photograph, remaining silent for a long time. In the lower right corner of the photograph was the date: Winter, 2000.

Twenty-six years ago. Lin Yuqing was still an infant then. Ye Feng hadn't even been born yet. His master carried him from the mass grave to Nirvana Mountain twenty years after this photograph.

His master was standing next to this woman.

"Where did this photo come from?" Zhu Wanqing asked in a hoarse voice.

Ye Feng picked up the photocopy.

It was a photocopy of a police file, addressed to "Criminal Investigation Detachment of Dongyang Public Security Bureau," and dated 2005—the year Mrs. Zhao died of a "sudden illness."

On the photocopy, one page number is skipped. After page seventeen, it jumps directly to page nineteen. Page eighteen is missing.

On Old Zhou's note, only two lines were written:

"The eighteenth page is the visit record. There was one person visited, but the name column was crossed out, leaving only the place of origin: Niepanshan Tingxue Town."

"The photos came from the safe in your uncle's study. He kept them for twenty-six years."

Ye Feng clenched his fists.

"My master," he said, emphasizing each word, "recognizes your mother."

"I not only recognize him." Lin Yuqing's voice trembled. "Twenty-six years ago, he stood at my door and hugged me. He was there. In 2005, when my mother had her accident, the police interviewed him. Then, that page was torn out."

Zhu Wanqing looked at the note over and over again, her brows furrowing more and more deeply.

"Let me interject," she said. "There's something wrong with this."

"you say."

"Old Zhou said the photos were taken from the safe in Lin Guodong's study, and he kept them for twenty-six years." Zhu Wanqing looked up. "Yuqing, we've all figured out what kind of person your uncle is in the last six months. He's greedy, he's cowardly, and he's good at keeping small accounts."

"Would someone like that, holding a photograph that could unravel a long-standing case involving a wealthy family, keep it hidden for twenty-six years?"

Lin Yuqing's expression changed slightly.

"Unless he dares not touch it," Zhu Wanqing said, emphasizing each word. "Unless he already knew that what was behind this photo was something he couldn't afford to offend. So he dared not sell it, dared not burn it, and dared not hand it over. He could only lock it up."

"There's one more thing." Zhu Wanqing pulled out the photocopy again. "The missing eighteenth page is the interview record. The interview record was handwritten by the criminal police, in duplicate, one for filing and one for record-keeping. The one for filing was taken."

"What about the copy we kept as a backup?"

Shen Yu suddenly stood up and paced back and forth in the room twice.

"This doesn't make sense!" he cried, his voice hoarse. "Master hasn't left the mountain in the past twenty years! He rarely even goes to Tingxue Town!"

"He did it," Ye Feng said.

"What?"

"Thirty-four years ago, he spent forty days brewing medicine in the south," Ye Feng counted on his fingers. "Twenty-six years ago, he was in this photo. Twenty years ago, he went to Dongyang and was questioned by the police. Then he returned to the mountains and stayed there for twenty years, never to come out again."

He looked up at the three people in the room.

There's one sentence in my master's letter that I've never understood.

He said, "The ordeal she suffered was much earlier than yours."

"I used to think that 'early' meant that the event happened a long time ago."

"I understand now."

Ye Feng gently placed the photo on the table.

"'Early' means: He knew it much earlier than I did."

"Twenty-six years earlier."

"He was already waiting at their doorstep before she was even born."

Inside the room, no one spoke. Lin Yuqing reached out, picked up the photograph, and looked at it again. Her gaze slowly shifted from her mother's face to the man in the worn-out Zhongshan suit.

"Ye Feng".

"Um."

"Your master's words, 'I didn't dare leave my other half in someone else's hands; I returned it,'"

She looked up.

"We always thought that 'returning it back' meant returning Nirvana Mountain."

"But he held me in his arms twenty-six years ago."

"He was questioned by the police about my mother's case twenty years ago."

"His life was intertwined with Nirvana Mountain, and also with our family."

She placed the photo face down on the table, her voice soft, yet each word was as sharp as iron:

"Could the place we're 'returning' be somewhere other than that mountain?"

"Could it be—"

"Where is my mom?"

Ye Feng's breath caught in his throat. Outside the window, the night in Dongyang was brightly lit. Standing amidst this sea of ​​lights, he suddenly recalled that night in the Hidden Vein Hall, and the last three words in his master's letter.

Protect her.

He had always taken those three words as a promise. Only now did he realize—it wasn't a promise. It was the words of a man who had guarded the line for twenty-six years, as he handed over the last thread in his hand.

"Senior Brother Shen," Ye Feng finally spoke.

"exist."

"Book the earliest car."

"Go back where?"

Ye Feng put the photo into his pocket.

"Back to Tingxue Town."

"My master is there, and there must be another place that none of us know about."

Zhu Wanqing put the copy into the file bag and stood up.

"I'll check the copy on file," she said. "I have connections in the city bureau's old warehouse. It should only take three days."

"Aren't you going into the mountains?"

"I can't fight, what would I do in the mountains?" She tucked the folder under her arm, walked to the door, and said, "I'll stay here and watch the house."

The door closed. Lin Yuqing stood by the window, gazing at the passing car lights below, silent for a long time. Ye Feng walked to her side.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I miss my mom," she said. "I'm twenty-six this year. She was two years younger than I am now when she died. In that photo, she's holding me, smiling so happily. Standing next to her is an old man I've never met. That old man later raised you in the mountains."

She turned her head.

"Ye Feng, do you think there's any such coincidence in this world?"

Ye Feng did not answer.

He recalled his master's words in the letter: "You have to cultivate this destiny yourself."

At that time, he only thought it was the old man's good intentions.

"Yuqing".

"Um?"

"There's no such thing as a coincidence in this world."