Reunion in the Forest
The outer edge of the forest is exposed to sunlight, the ground is dry with a thin layer of soil, and the vegetation is lush and has a certain shape, not much different from a common grove of trees.
Meng Yan didn't think the picky herbs would grow here, but she still insisted on scanning the surroundings thoroughly to make sure that no grass grew in the twisted way shown in the painting before clearing away the branches blocking her way and carefully stepping into the forest.
After walking for a short while, the air around her was noticeably different from when she first came in. A chill crept up her arms from her sleeves, and the dampness enveloped her, quickly soaking her clothes.
Deeper into the forest, the vegetation grew wildly and haphazardly, with thick tree roots and branches intertwined in a complex and intricate manner, leaving few places to stand. At first, Meng Yan planned her location carefully, trying not to step on the short grass. However, when she couldn't avoid it, she simply stepped wherever she could find a foothold.
Ahead, there was a faint sound of flowing water, splashing and gurgling over the pebbles. The further you went, the clearer the sound of the water became.
A flowing white line appeared before Meng Yan, dividing the forest in two. Both sides were dark green, but this line stood out as a bright spot.
The paper notes said that the herbs might grow on the riverbank, a shady and damp place that seemed like a good spot for grass to grow.
She avoided the moss-covered stones, trudged through the weeds, and walked cautiously and hopped along the way, finally stopping by the stream, leaning against a leaning dead tree.
The stream is so clear that you can see the rocks, soil, and aquatic plants at the bottom. Occasionally, a fallen leaf is swept up by the stream and disappears from sight in a flash.
Meng Yan managed to squat down using the dead wood and stones as cover, and picked up the grass on the ground one by one to make comparisons.
No, this one isn't; it's too perfectly shaped.
This isn't it; it's too bare and has no leaves.
This isn't it either; it was washed away by the current before I could even see it clearly, so it definitely isn't.
After some effort, she stood up dejectedly, stretched her slightly numb legs, and tried to think of a way to get to the other side.
The water wasn't deep, but the current was very fast, and she didn't dare to go into the water rashly without knowing the bottom of the stream.
A moment later, a huge object appeared across the rushing stream; it was a mechanical kite in its normal form.
Meng Yan climbed up from the iris's tail, stepped over the body, jumped from the head to the ground, turned around and put away the mechanical kite, thus easily crossing the river without touching the ground.
The scenery on both sides of the river was the same. She bent down and patiently searched around the tree roots. The herbs seemed to be deliberately avoiding her. She couldn't find a single one under more than a dozen trees.
Feeling dizzy and lightheaded, she heard a noise from the side. She stopped making a sound and squatted down, hiding herself behind a tree trunk.
The sound was very similar to the one she had heard all the way, sometimes landing on withered branches and leaves, sometimes brushing past stones, sometimes slipping and falling...
She didn't slip; it was a sound unique to the other side.
Meng Yan's extraordinary hearing allowed her to quickly determine that the sound was coming from her direction, or rather, it was coming towards her behind the tree.
There are no roads in this wild forest, and no trace of human habitation or footsteps. It wouldn't be surprising if there were any wild beasts inside, but they certainly wouldn't be human.
Since the other party has already noticed us and we are so close, getting up and running away in this situation is no different from throwing our lives away. It's better to wait for an opportunity to strike unexpectedly.
She simply rummaged through her pouch and pulled out a mechanical needle, which she had coated with anesthetic. Even if it couldn't put the thing to sleep, it could at least stop its attack and buy her some time to escape.
Holding his breath and adjusting his posture, Meng Yan silently counted in his mind.
three.
two.
one.
She threw three mechanical needles behind the tree, and as if that wasn't enough, she immediately threw three more, then quickly turned back and walked away into the tidal stream.
"What the hell?"
She heard what sounded like human voices coming from behind her. She paused, couldn't help but turn around, and met the person's gaze.
"What are you doing here?" Yue Lang asked, bewildered.
"Why are you here?" Meng Yan cried out in his heart.
Yue Lang turned to the side, pulled four mechanical needles from the tree beside him, picked up two more from the ground, and walked towards her with a smile and a wave.
He wasn't wearing his usual all-black outfit today; instead, he had changed into a white robe, its long sleeves flowing and the hem fluttering, making him look quite like a Taoist priest. His gait was relaxed yet not unrestrained, and combined with his clothing, it gave him a dignified air, making his face appear much more pleasing to the eye than before.
The only drawback was that the snow-white robe was stained with various colors, some from sap splashed from plants, some from mud from rolling around on the ground, and some from the hem and cuffs that were wet and drooping.
As he approached step by step, Meng Yan inexplicably looked down at himself.
Well, I'm dressed similarly to him, so let's just say heroes wear similar clothes.
The person opposite him appeared in front of him in the blink of an eye, obediently extending his hand and returning the mechanical needle in his hand to its rightful owner.
Meng Yan accepted the gift, nodded his thanks, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and mentally prepared himself to wait for him to speak, bringing an extraordinary liveliness to this forest.
The expected rambling failed to impress her ears; more accurately, for a moment she doubted her hearing, wondering why she couldn't hear the expected sounds.
A snap of fingers struck her ear, and Meng Yan opened her eyes, meeting another pair of eyes almost touching hers. Before she could react, the large face opposite her suddenly receded, returning to the distance between the two people in front of her.
Meng Yan: "?"
Before her confusion could even show on her face, the actions of the person opposite her puzzled her even more.
After successfully prying open Meng Yan's eyelids, Yue Lang flashed back to his original position, coughed, and enthusiastically showed her his achievement of the past few days—sign language.
He spoke fluently, constantly changing his speaking speed and gestures. When he got to the key points, he would even excitedly raise his head and laugh. After he finished speaking, he stared intently at Meng Yan.
Meng Yan frowned and remained silent for a moment, then slowly raised his hand and made a few gestures in response: "You, speak, I, can hear you."
I'm just mute, not deaf!
Yue Lang seemed a little disappointed. He nodded at her and asked, "Oh, what about this sentence?"
He then quickly gestured to indicate a group of things.
Meng Yan shook his head and replied, "I don't understand."
It's not that she can't understand it at all, it's just that it's hard to connect his actions into a coherent sentence. For example, the sentence just now, in her view, is: You, unclear action, very, I, very, like.
But the person opposite him only showed sadness for a moment, and when he looked up again, he had a familiar smiling face. He said cheerfully, "It's okay. I must have accidentally learned some dialect sign language."
Meng Yan: "..." Maybe what I learned was the dialect.
"Don't panic, I've prepared two plans." Yue Lang rummaged through his waistband, not forgetting to enthusiastically introduce them to her, "I wasn't originally planning to bring these, but I always felt that we were destined to meet again, who knows where we might run into each other again. Look, we can still meet here in the deep mountains and forests where you can't even see a hair!"
After speaking, he took out a piece of paper with a wet corner from his pocket, looked around, and then led Meng Yan to the side of several huge rocks.
With a rustling sound, he used the hem of his white robe to wipe the surface of the stones. His movements were swift and efficient, and in no time he had swept away all the moss from the three stones. He jumped onto the last stone he had wiped and sat down cross-legged, beckoning Meng Yan to come and sit down with his right hand.
She no longer knew what to call the white robe.
Seeing that she had sat down opposite him, Yue Lang spread the paper between the two of them, and then took out a pen and a small box of cinnabar from his pocket.
He handed the pen to Meng Yan, then turned around and searched for something. Finally, he sighed helplessly, casually plucked a blade of grass and threw it into the small box. With the help of some pebbles, he stirred it around, and the cinnabar gradually dissolved, turning into an ink-like liquid.
Meng Yan was shocked by what he saw when he suddenly felt his hand go empty; Yue Lang had snatched the pen away.
He wrote casually on the paper, and unlike his appearance and personality, his handwriting was extremely neat, like a model used in books.
After writing in a few strokes, he handed the paper and ink to Meng Yan.
"Miss Meng Yan, I apologize for my previous rudeness. I am Yue Lang, unaware that you are unable to speak, and thus... I said many things I shouldn't have, and I was unaware that I had angered you. During this time, I have deeply reflected on my actions and hoped to meet you soon to resolve the conflict. You are so magnanimous that you will not hold a grudge against such a petty person as me, and you even brought me an umbrella in the rain without holding a grudge. I will never forget this kindness. I write this in the hope that you will not take the past to heart. Since we are friends, if you need any help in the future, or if I have done anything wrong, please just say the word."
The final "口" character was crossed out, and a "手" character was added next to it.
After reading it, Meng Yan simply nodded, picked up his pen, twirled it once, and then put it down again, without even writing a "good" on it.
Yue Lang couldn't help but ask, "Isn't there anything you want to say to me, young lady?"
Meng Yan pushed the paper back and checked it in every corner. Yue Lang followed her finger and scratched his head sheepishly before pulling out a new sheet of paper from his pocket and spreading it out.
"I'm sorry, miss. I got so excited that I wrote too much and forgot to leave a space for you to reply."
Meng Yan handed over the new paper, picked up the pen, and handed it back, just as Yue Lang exclaimed in confusion, "Huh?"
The paper, though small in size, bore the words: "It's okay."
That's it?
He scanned Meng Yan's face and the paper in disbelief. The girl opposite him looked at him calmly, her meaning clear: it really was gone.
Since she had no intention of speaking, Yue Lang seized the opportunity. He wrote another long and detailed piece on the paper, then rested his chin on his hand and leaned on a rock to wait for a reply.
Yellow paper with red characters usually evokes a sense of shock and alarm, but Yue Lang's work loses that feeling, as if it were just an ordinary microcosm of life.
Perhaps all Taoist priests are like this.
Amidst the rambling text, Meng Yan gleaned a few slightly useful sentences.
He said he learned her name from his senior brother, and that everyone in his sect was a Taoist priest, and that if he lied, he would be struck by lightning.
Meng Yan looked up at him, somewhat puzzled. He was in a daze, but when he saw her looking at him, he quickly put on a smiling face. Meng Yan hurriedly pressed her head back to the paper.
He also asked her how she found the old woman's letter on the ground and the purpose of her trip to the remote wilderness.
With just a few words, he spread cinnabar across the entire sheet of paper.
This time, without Meng Yan's prompting, Yue Lang consciously took out a new piece of paper and poked it little by little with his finger from his side.
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