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墨書 Inktalez
A ray of the setting sun passed by Jiang Chen, creating an indescribable sense of profundity and mystery. Xiong Sumei was slightly taken aback. Although she hadn’t spoken much with Jiang Chen and didn’t know him well, his demeanor suggested that if he wasn’t mentally unstable, he was indeed enigmatic.
However, Xiong Sumei leaned more towards the former; a young person couldn’t really be profound, perhaps just pretending to be so. After a moment’s thought, she couldn’t help but choose an angle to capture a photo that included Jiang Chen, the sacred mountain, and the devout Tibetan people.
Jiang Chen seemed to sense something and turned around to see Xiong Sumei taking his picture, offering a faint smile in response. Feeling a bit embarrassed, Xiong Sumei silently scolded herself for being caught taking a candid shot; now that guy would surely think she had some sort of interest in him.
As she pondered whether to explain herself, Qian Wenwu and Chen Shuifeng, along with their wealthy friends, pretended to finish their worship and stood up, asking Xiong Sumei to take their pictures. Such beautiful scenery would be a waste not to capture.
After a round of photographs, the sun gradually sank lower in the sky, and Shenshan Jinding grew dimmer. Yet some devout worshippers remained kneeling on the ground.
“What wishes did you all make just now?” Chen Shuifeng couldn’t help but ask after they finished taking pictures.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true. It’s getting late; let’s head back,” Qian Wenwu replied with a smile.
“Why are you so anxious? Why don’t we check out that temple across the way?” Chen Shuifeng suggested curiously.
“A bunch of lamas—there’s nothing worth seeing. Once the sun sets, driving back will be difficult. You all saw how treacherous those mountain roads are,” Qian Wenwu dismissed.
“Brother Wu is right; let’s hurry back,” Li Chengdu chimed in. Since none of them believed in Buddhism, they naturally had little interest in the lamas and preferred to return early to find some nightlife fun.
“Alright then, let’s go back,” Chen Shuifeng said helplessly, nodding in agreement.
Suddenly, as Qian Wenwu and the others prepared to leave, a heart-wrenching cry pierced the air, startling everyone. They turned to see a man in his forties from the Tibetan community suddenly collapse, curling up in agony as he struggled painfully, seemingly afflicted by some illness.
“What’s happening?” The surrounding crowd was alarmed; most people instinctively moved away except for a few who remained close by.
Qian Wenwu and Chen Shuifeng watched from a distance.
“Is that man going to die?” Chen Shuifeng asked with a pale face. It wasn’t out of sympathy; rather, the anguished cries from the Tibetan man were chilling.
“Most of those Tibetans are sick and come here seeking help from the sacred mountain; that man must be having an episode,” Qian Wenwu explained knowingly.
“But didn’t he just worship at the sacred mountain? Why isn’t it working?” Chen Shuifeng frowned.
“Do you really think the sacred mountain grants every wish? Not everyone’s desires can be fulfilled. Besides, most of these people are suffering from terminal illnesses; even if divine beings were truly present, they would likely be powerless to help—especially with so many people here. Even if the sacred mountain has some spirit, it wouldn’t be able to manage,” Qian Wenwu argued on behalf of the mountain.
“In my opinion, this sacred mountain might just be a natural phenomenon. If it truly granted wishes, there wouldn’t only be a few hundred people here today; I bet everyone from Huaxia would have come,” Xiong Sumei remarked.
"Ah, it seems my wish is going to be dashed," Chen Shuifeng sighed.
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