The next morning, Bai Yu went to the priest.
The priest was already waiting in the altar chamber. He stood beside the stone platform, his staff empty, his gaze fixed on the golden mark on her left wrist. After a long while, he spoke, "It's still there. It hasn't faded."
Bai Yu glanced down. The gold thread on her wrist was lighter than yesterday, but it hadn't disappeared; it looked like a thin layer of ice on a river in winter.
"The place you need to go is north of the village," the priest said. "Walk half a day's mountain path, and you'll find a canyon. At the entrance, there's a black stone with the mark of the Mountain God carved on it."
That's an ancient trial ground—every generation of chosen ones must enter it once. If they don't come out, they're trapped inside forever.
"And those who came out?"
Only those who have overcome adversity are qualified to continue moving forward.
Bai Yu was silent for a few moments, then said, "Understood, I'll go."
The priest didn't say much, but turned and took an old lamp from under the stone platform, handing it to her. "Take this and go inside. If the lamp goes out, it means you've been inside too long."
Bai Yu took it. The lamp was very light, and there was no oil inside; only a small piece of dark Shitou was embedded in it, as if it had long since dried up.
" Bai Rong knows the way; let him lead you there."
When Bai Yu walked out of the altar chamber with the lamp in his hand, Bai Rong was already waiting outside. He leaned against the wall, the dark mountain-like markings on his arm particularly clear in the morning light.
Seeing Bai Yu come out, he didn't say much, but simply straightened up and walked towards the north of the village. "Let's go, the road isn't short."
Bai Yu followed. Shi Yan followed from behind and walked beside her. The three of them walked through the village one after the other and exited through the north entrance.
As they passed through the fog, Bai Rong led the way without hesitation. Bai Yu followed behind him, the lantern in her hand occasionally swaying.
Shi Yan walked at the back, making a few inconspicuous marks on the Shitou along the way—this was his first time walking this road, but he habitually remembered the route.
After walking for about an hour, the road became narrower and narrower, and the mountain walls on both sides changed from gentle slopes to steep cliffs. The tree canopy overhead blocked out the sky, leaving only a thin line.
As Bai Yu walked, she suddenly remembered something and asked, "Brother, have you been here before?"
Bai Rong didn't turn around. "I've been here once before, and I stopped in front of that black rock."
Why didn't you go in?
"I was too young then, it wasn't time for me to go in." He paused, "Now it is."
Bai Yu didn't ask anything more.
After walking for another half an hour, Bai Rong stopped ahead. A black Shitou stood beside the roadside rock wall, its color completely different from the surrounding gray rocks. Its surface had fine lines that spread outwards from the center, like the veins of the earth.
Bai Rong took a step back. "We've arrived."
Bai Yu stood in front of the black stone, looking at the patterns on the Shitou, and could feel a very faint sense of oppression emanating from the canyon behind the Shitou.
The entrance was very narrow, allowing only one person to pass sideways. It was pitch black inside, and the depth was impossible to discern.
"Let's rest here for today," Bai Rong said, sitting down against the roots of a large tree nearby. "We'll go in again tomorrow at daybreak."
Bai Yu nodded, placed the lamp at her feet, and sat down on a flat Shitou.
Shi Yan found a spot near the entrance, sat down against the stone wall, glanced at the crack in the stone, then at the gold thread on Bai Yu's wrist, and said nothing.
As darkness fell, the mountain breeze was cooler than that in the village, carrying the scent of grass and earth.
Bai Yu leaned against the stone wall and closed her eyes for a while, her breathing gradually becoming even. Shi Yan sat not far away, occasionally opening her eyes to glance in the direction of the entrance, and then closing them again.
Bai Rong sat leaning against the tree roots, intending only to rest for a while, but his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and before he knew it, he closed his eyes.
He heard the wind.
It wasn't the sound of wind whistling through the treetops in the mountains; it was a more open, distant wind, as if it were blowing from the depths of memory.
When Bai Rong "opened" his eyes again, he found himself standing in the village.
The path beneath his feet was a bluish-gray gravel, and the houses on either side were shorter than he remembered. He looked down at his hands—his palms were small, his fingers short, and his sleeves were too long, covering half of the back of his hands.
He paused for a moment, stunned. He hadn't experienced this kind of vision in a long time. He recognized the road, the crooked tree by the roadside, and the roof of the stone house in the distance.
He stood still, not moving. Then he heard someone call his name from behind.
" Xiao Rong! Come here!"
Bai Rong turned around—a middle-aged woman was squatting at the entrance of her yard, holding a handful of wild fruit, waving at him. He remembered her; she used to always give him food.
"Third Aunt."
The woman stuffed wild fruit into his arms, smiling as she said, "Eat this and you'll grow taller, and you'll be a big shot in our village someday."
He held the wild berries in his hand, looked down at them for a while, and said nothing.
Then he continued walking, encountering several people along the way—some patted him on the shoulder, some squatted down to talk to him, and some watched him and smiled from afar.
Those gazes fell upon him, warm and certain, as if he had been preordained for something important.
He stood in the open space in the center of the village, still clutching the wild fruits in his hand, when someone whispered in his ear, "You're going to be something special someday."
He doesn't know what he'll do in the future, but he knows everyone is waiting. Waiting for him to grow up, waiting for him to become the person they expect him to be.
Then the wind blew again.
This time the wind was stronger, as if it had come from somewhere, blowing up the fallen dry leaves that swirled around his feet.
Bai Rong looked up and saw people running in the direction of the other end of the village. Many people were running. He heard the sound of " Wind Chime " coming from afar, in waves, like ripples on the surface of water.
He stood still, without running.
He watched the people pass by him, all surging in the same direction. He glanced down at the wild fruit in his hand, then looked up again and saw the people gathered around the doorway of a house; no one looked back in his direction anymore.
Bai Rong squatted down, placed the wild fruit on the stone steps at her feet, then stood up, turned around, and walked back.
In the days that followed, fewer people stared at him on the street. People who used to greet him would just nod and walk by.
No one gave him wild fruit anymore, and no one squatted down to ask him, "Where did you go today?"
He sat on the stone steps by the village, looking down at his hands. The sleeves were still a bit too long, but they didn't seem as big as before. He had grown a little taller, and then a little taller still.
Life in the village continued. Smoke rose from the chimneys, dissipated, and rose again. He sat there alone, watching people walk by in the distance, as if watching a river flow by.
One day, as he passed by the stream behind the village, he saw a little boy squatting by the water's edge. That little boy was four-year-old Bai Yu.
Bai Rong originally intended to walk around it, but Xiao Bai Yu heard footsteps, looked up, saw it was him, grinned, and had grass juice still on the corner of her mouth.
Bai Rong stopped.
The little one looked at him, pointed a wet finger at the water, and said, "Brother, there are fish."
Bai Rong stood there without moving. Bai Yu called him several times, but he didn't respond. Finally, Bai Yu lowered her head in disappointment, traced a line on the water's surface with her finger, and didn't call him again.
Bai Rong hesitated for a moment, then walked away.
That day, he sat by the edge of the village, looking at the distant mountain ridge. The wind blew from the other side of the mountain, making the grass at his feet sway gently.
He didn't know what he was thinking, but he sat there for a long time without getting up.