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墨書 Inktalez
The old man tidied up a bit, holding his grandson's hand as they set off for the sacred mountain. Although the little boy was weak, after a night's rest, he felt somewhat better. The other frail Tibetan people also seemed to have regained their spirits, their faces glowing with hope and their eyes sparkling with a flicker of anticipation.
They believed that the sacred mountain could bring them hope, freeing them from illness and suffering. Jiang Chen shook his head slightly; while this encounter with illness might be resolved, the troubles within the heart stemmed from various desires. Even those in the Buddhist sect were not exempt from such feelings. In this universe, Jiang Chen had yet to meet anyone devoid of desire. Even the highly revered monks and deities, including the Buddha himself, possessed desires—though theirs were a yearning for the cosmic truth.
One by one, people began to set out to pay homage to the sacred mountain, which was over thirty miles away from the town and required crossing two ridges. According to the old man, the sacred mountain was not particularly remarkable; if not for the phenomenon of its golden peak in December, it would simply be an ordinary mountain.
The path to the sacred mountain was a rugged trail built collaboratively by local authorities and Shenshan Temple, as they hoped to develop it into a unique tourist destination. It would be impossible to do so without proper roads. Traversing over thirty miles on foot would take at least half a day, especially with an old man leading a child, which slowed their pace further.
Jiang Chen was not concerned about speed; he walked leisurely alongside the old man along the mountain path. As they grew more familiar with each other, the old man felt more at ease chatting with Jiang Chen. The tales of Tibet were abundant, and having lived most of his life there, he had countless stories to share. Jiang Chen listened as if he were a leisurely patron in a teahouse enjoying a storyteller's performance.
On the mountain path, there were not only pilgrims walking but also some driving up. The roar of vehicles echoed across the vast plateau, bringing liveliness to the highlands.
"Hey, kid! You’re quite resilient against the cold! Surprised you didn’t freeze to death last night—guess you’ve got good luck!" Suddenly, several cars stopped ahead, and Qian Wenwu and others poked their heads out in surprise at Jiang Chen.
Jiang Chen ignored them and walked over to a BMW X7 where Xiong Sumei was watching him.
"What about the clothes I gave you?" she asked.
"I put them away; I’ll return them later," Jiang Chen replied with a smile.
Xiong Sumei’s expression darkened as she looked at the old man and child beside Jiang Chen. Overwhelmed with sympathy, she said, "Let me give you a ride."
The old man quickly shook his head. "Thank you, young lady, but we cannot take a car. We must walk step by step to pay our respects to the sacred mountain; otherwise, it would seem insincere. If you also wish to pray at the sacred mountain, I think it’s best if you walk with us; driving wouldn’t be appropriate."
Hearing this, Xiong Sumei hesitated for a moment but ultimately decided not to get out of her car. "I’m just here to see the scenery of the sacred mountain; I’m not here to make wishes," she said before stepping on the gas and driving away.
Jiang Chen smiled faintly and continued chatting with the old man. The old man's spirit and strength were commendable; as a herder on the plateau, he had walked over ten miles without stopping.
Soon they reached the first ridge. Standing atop it, Jiang Chen looked out—the sacred mountain was indeed nearby but appeared to be just an ordinary peak compared to those surrounding it.
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