Hot flashes

Cheng Yan took the wooden plaque, looked down at it, then looked up at Shen Ji, his eyes filled with confusion.

Shen Ji did not explain, but simply took out another roll of paper from his sleeve, unfolded it, and laid it on the table.

It was a hand-drawn map, drawn in great detail. Starting from the dry well in the back garden of the Shen family mansion, a red line meandered through the ground, marking every turn, every fork, and every low hole that required bending over to pass through. The red line finally ended at a place outside the city marked "Land Temple".

The back of the map had a few lines of small print showing the exact location of the local earth god temple and the escape routes to the north, west, and east from there.

"There's a secret passage in the dry well," Shen Ji said. "Go out from here, walk to the end, and you'll find a local shrine. The bundle is in a hidden compartment under the offering table; the silver inside is enough to ensure you'll live a life of comfort. After you leave, head north."

Cheng Yan gripped the wooden plaque, staring at the map, the color draining from his face. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but his throat felt blocked, and no sound came out.

Shen Ji looked at him; a few strands of Cheng Yan's hair fell across his forehead.

Shen Ji raised his hand, paused, and then lowered it again.

"Let's go," he said.

Cheng Yan stood there, looking at Shen Ji. His lips trembled a few times before he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence: "And you?"

Shen Ji did not answer.

He turned around, walked to the door, and opened it. A cold wind rushed in, making the map on the table rustle.

Cheng Yan didn't ask any more questions. He took a deep breath, put the wooden plaque into his pocket, folded the map, stuffed it into his sleeve, and strode out of the room.

Shen Ji stood under the eaves, watching Cheng Yan's figure disappear through the moon gate leading to the back garden.

Cheng Yan found the dry well. The planks were heavier than he had imagined, and it took him a lot of effort to move them open and squeeze in sideways.

He searched for quite a while before finding the brick on the inside of the well wall—the third one, the third one counting down from the well opening.

He pressed down, and the entire brick wall slid silently inward, revealing a dark, narrow passage, so narrow that only one person could pass sideways. A damp, old wind wafted out, carrying the smell of earth and moss.

He squeezed in sideways. The brick wall closed silently behind him.

Darkness surged up like a tide, enveloping him from all sides. He could see nothing, hear nothing, only the sound of his own heartbeat, thump, thump, thump, echoing in the narrow, cramped space, like someone pounding his chest with their fists.

He groped his way forward in the darkness, his hands gripping the cold, damp brick wall, his feet treading on the uneven stone slabs. Every so often he would come across an oil lamp, its oil still full and its wick dry, but he had no tinderbox and couldn't light it.

He walked forward step by step in the dark, stopping at turns, forks, and low holes, using his hands to feel his way.

His fingers touched the rough cracks in the brickwork, the smooth stone surfaces worn by time, and the cool water droplets seeping from the walls in the darkness, confirming little by little that he had not gone astray.

He didn't know how long he had been walking. Maybe an hour, maybe two.

The darkness made time meaningless; every step felt like walking on empty air, with no idea how far ahead lay ahead.

Cheng Yan gritted his teeth and continued walking forward.

The light came in from the front. At first, it was just a very thin, almost invisible sliver of white, blending into the endless darkness, like an illusion.

But when he rubbed his eyes, the light was still there, even brighter than before. He quickened his pace, almost running and walking through the narrow passage, his shoulders scraping painfully against the brick walls on either side, but he didn't care.

The light grew brighter and brighter, from a line to a patch, from grayish-white to bright white, and finally into a kind of cold, almost transparent light unique to winter.

When he emerged from the secret passage, it was already daylight.

The exit was hidden by a thicket of thorns covered in snow. He used his hands to push aside the thorny branches, leaving several bloody scratches on the back of his hands. Ignoring the pain, he squeezed through the gaps and fell into a thick layer of snow.

Behind him stood a dilapidated, low-lying earth god temple, its walls mostly peeling away, several roof tiles missing, and its door crookedly half-open, revealing a dark interior from which nothing could be seen.

He stood up, brushed the snow and dead leaves off his clothes, put the wooden sign and map away again, checked the direction, and headed north.

A trail of deep and shallow footprints was left in the snow, stretching from the entrance of the local temple all the way to the distant, hazy mountain ridge.

The wind blew in from the north, carrying fine snowflakes that stung his face, feeling as cold as a knife. He hunched his shoulders, pulled his cotton robe collar tighter, and quickened his pace.

He knew he could never go back. He also knew that Shen Ji would never leave the Shen residence.