〈The Distant Sound of Logging〉

by Chen Qingyang (Chen Qufei)

Story Synopsis

The novel centers on a young man named Jiusī, portraying a spiritual trial and moral awakening that unfolds deep within Taiwan’s mountain forests. Born into a wealthy family, Jiusī is expected by his father to inherit the family business. Yet from an early age, he is drawn instead to art and nature, unable to reconcile himself with a utilitarian, success-driven life. Torn between familial conflict and inner confusion, he leaves the city and retreats to the Qilan Mountains in Yilan, where he takes a temporary position with the Forestry Bureau, conducting ecological surveys and managing a website. There, he lives a near-hermitic existence.

Immersed in the stillness of the forest, Jiusī repeatedly confronts the fractures within his relationships—with his parents, with love, and with his own sense of purpose. His relationship with his girlfriend, Qingyun, gradually deteriorates. Practical and rational, she longs for stability and a secure future, while Jiusī remains devoted to art and inner freedom. Distance and misunderstanding slowly erode their bond. At this point, another woman, Wenling, enters his life. A gentle and perceptive art teacher, she shares with Jiusī a deep aesthetic and spiritual resonance through their sketching sessions in the mountains. With her, he feels truly understood once more, yet her presence further complicates the emotional entanglement.

The narrative tension shifts toward an ecological crisis. Local criminal syndicates collude with corrupt police and officials to carry out illegal logging in protected national forests. The village chief, Wajiang, and the local patrol team attempt to resist but are overwhelmed by entrenched corruption and violent intimidation. Jiusī, along with Wenling and Dezhu, becomes drawn into the conflict and decides to gather evidence to expose the illegal operations. This undertaking becomes not only an act of environmental protection, but also a profound moral test and spiritual trial.

On the eve of their action, emotional conflicts erupt fully. Qingyun is tormented by fear for Jiusī’s safety, yet cannot truly comprehend his sense of moral使命. Wenling, on the other hand, silently accepts the danger and chooses to stand beside him. Between the three, emotional tensions—woven of restraint, care, and misunderstanding—grow increasingly intense.

On the day of the operation, vehicles belonging to the illegal loggers enter the forest. Jiusī and his companions successfully gather evidence and alert the media, but this also ignites a violent confrontation. Armed gang members open fire, plunging the scene into chaos. While protecting a journalist during the retreat, Jiusī is shot twice and collapses, gravely wounded. Amid the turmoil, the police finally arrive; the criminal network collapses, and the long-entrenched illegal logging operation is dismantled.

In the closing moments, amid bloodshed and rescue, the cost of justice is revealed as both brutal and real. Hovering between life and death, Jiusī undergoes a profound inner transformation. No longer merely an artist fleeing the city, he emerges as someone who has completed a rebirth through trials of nature, ethics, and responsibility. The distant sound of logging becomes not only the forest’s lament, but also an echo of awakened conscience and humanity.

1

Moonlight filtered through the dense branches, forming hundreds, even thousands, of beams. The silvery shafts fell like a meteor shower from the sky, piercing his white shirt. The tiny scattered points of light made Jiusī look like a glowing firefly.

Walking back along the winding forest trail toward the work station, the only sounds were the occasional croak of a strangely toned crow or the intermittent chirping of insects. In Jiusī’s ears, the memory of Richard Clayderman’s Ballade Pour Adeline in a café still lingered—the romantic, elegant melody, the piano notes overlapping with the forest’s chorus of insects. The dual frequencies created a resonance in his ears, like coffee mixed into black tea, giving an odd, unexpected flavor.

A faint floral scent floated on the evening breeze, and the mountain mist thickened. Within the enveloping fog, the moonlight seemed lost. Upon returning to the work station, Jiusī climbed the wooden stairs and passed through the zigzag corridor, where a string of glass wind chimes tinkled softly, as if whispering secrets to the evening wind.

He set up his easel, powered on the computer, connected the digital camera cable, and began transferring images from the film into the hard drive. Opening the color botanical guide on his desk, he cross-referenced each image, assigning codes and noting the scientific names of the plants. Once the work was done, he logged online, opened Outlook, and sifted through dozens of spam emails, finding two meaningful ones: one from his sister, saying their mother missed her son terribly, often shedding tears in front of her, urging Jiusī to find time to visit and clarify his thoughts with his father; the other from his girlfriend, Qingyun, stating she would drive over from Taipei on Saturday morning, and asking him to meet them at the entrance of the Qilan Forest Recreation Area.

Jiusī took a cigarette from his shirt pocket, lit it, and drew in a slow, leisurely puff. With one hand, he cleared the junk emails, then inserted a VCD of Richard Clayderman into the drive and opened his MP3 software. The crisp piano tones immediately filled the room.

It was the piece Souvenirs d’Enfance. Jiusī immersed himself in its poetic, playful rhythm: running across the meadow flying a kite with his father, while his mother and aunt played badminton. His sister, Jiuru, wearing a mini skirt, darted around like a flower butterfly chasing the shuttlecock. Lost in thought, he watched moths repeatedly crash against the glass window, drawn to the light as if seeking warmth. And yet, as he grew, he felt like a skylark escaping a cage, flying far from home. His mind rose and fell with the recollections…

“…

‘Listen carefully,’ his father said, his voice commanding as always, ‘I let you study art as a child only to cultivate your temperament, a hobby for leisure. I never expected you to become a painter or musician. We don’t need you to support us with piano or painting. I only want you to take over my company. Everything else is unnecessary!’

‘Dad, I have no interest in business. I have my own career plans. Why must you force me?’ Jiusī protested.

‘Dear, listen! This is the good son you’ve raised—always thinking of himself, with no sense of family responsibility,’ his father, enraged by the reply, complained to his mother.

‘Sī’er, listen to your mother. Don’t argue with your father. Just go to his company, learn by observing, and take over the business gradually. As we grow older, your father will retire, and I will help you raise your children after you marry,’ his mother gently soothed.

‘You’ve finished your military service. Don’t spend all your time painting and photographing. You are my son, Chen Dongbi—destined to inherit my business. Son! I spent thirty years building this company from scratch. Do you really want it to fall into outsiders’ hands? Starting a business is hard; maintaining it is harder! Son.’ His father exhaled a thick plume of smoke, sighing.

‘Dad, everyone has their own aspirations. Mine lie elsewhere. Let me live the life I want,’ Jiusī pleaded.

‘What? What did you just say? Do you even know what you’re saying?’ His father’s face immediately stretched long, like a donkey’s.

‘Old man, I even followed your wishes and studied business management. Patience brings results. Let me try to persuade him calmly these days,’ interjected the mother.

‘It better be so! This boy doesn’t know what’s good for him. He infuriates me,’ his father snapped, turning to point at Jiusī. ‘Son, whether you are ambitious or not, I have arranged everything. Starting next month, you will work with me.’

‘Why do you two father and son always clash? Were you enemies in a past life? You meet and fight immediately!’ his mother tried to mediate.

‘We weren’t enemies before, but in this life, we can’t get along,’ his father muttered in frustration.

‘You two have the same stubborn temper, like two goats crossing a river, neither yielding,’ his mother concluded helplessly.

‘Sī’er, listen to your mother. Stop carrying cameras and easels everywhere. Focus and go to work with your father. Once you understand the business, we will formally propose to Qingyun’s family.’

‘Mom, I’m not ready to marry yet.’

‘What are you saying? Qingyun has been waiting for you to finish your service. You are not that young anymore. She is gentle and clever, her family influential in construction, friendly with your father’s furniture business. Her father has been a long-term client. Marrying her will strengthen both families.’

‘Mom, stop it,’ Jiusī said impatiently.

‘What? Do you have another girlfriend?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘No, Mom, don’t imagine things!’ he said loudly.

‘Good, good. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know how to explain to Qingyun and her parents!’

After the quarrel with his father that night, Jiusī left home the next day, seeking a quiet place to be alone for a while. He contacted his college friend, Jian Dafa, who had been exempt from military service and was working at Datong Township Farmers’ Association in Yilan for over a year. Through Dafa’s arrangement, Jiusī joined the Qilan Work Station of the Forestry Bureau as a temporary employee, patrolling the mountains while also conducting flora and fauna surveys commissioned by the bureau and managing the station’s website.

A business management graduate, he ended up deep in the mountains, managing vast forests and dealing with beasts and trees that understood no human words. Yet Jiusī found this life pleasant—at least he didn’t have to face his father’s donkey-like face.

Back in college, his choice to enter business school was entirely guided by his father. Four years of study seemed done for him. Though he tried to assert himself, he could not shake his father’s resolute will. Now, after two years of military service, those business terms and concepts felt distant, like antiques, remote from himself.

Outside the window, the fog thickened. The Qilan Forestry Work Station, standing deep in the forest, resembled a forgotten medieval castle…

2

Saturday afternoon, Yunhai Café, Taipingshan Forest Recreation Area.

“This is my cousin, Zhang Wenling. She graduated from the Art Department at Beijing Normal University and returned to her hometown to teach. She now teaches art at Datong Junior High,” Dafa introduced the two sides. “Chen Jiusī, my college classmate, my roommate for four years, my best friend, exceptionally talented—the recognized prince charming of our department.”

“Glad to see you!” Wenling smiled.

“Teacher Zhang, nice to meet you,” Jiusī said, nodding politely.

Dafa laughed. “You two chat for a while; I have to leave for a bit. Cousin, this cup of coffee is on you.” With that, Dafa got up and walked down the mountain.

“Brother Jiusī, I heard from cousin that you can name the scientific names of every plant and animal in this forest. Is that true?” Wenling opened the conversation.

Jiusī smiled. “Dafa really said that?”

“Yes,” Wenling nodded.

“Sometimes you have to discount what Dafa says by twenty percent.”

“I browsed your Qilan Work Station webpage; the content is very rich. Your descriptions of flora and fauna are detailed, giving a professional impression.”

“Teacher Zhang, you flatter me,” Jiusī said, slightly blushing.

“Just call me Wenling—it feels more natural,” she said, lifting her coffee cup.

“Alright, Wenling,” Jiusī smiled.

“This place is high up with a wide view. Drinking coffee while admiring the sea of clouds and mountain scenery is very refreshing,” Wenling said, taking a sip.

“Do you come here often?” Jiusī asked.

“The coffee here is rich and aromatic, so I became a regular. Drinking coffee has been my habit since university,” Wenling said, brushing her long, waterfall-like hair. “Do you like it here, Brother Jiusī?”

“Yes, it feels like a hidden paradise, especially Qilan.”

“Hmm, seems our tastes are similar. Taipingshan feels more artificial; the myriad colorful flowers are like makeup on a noblewoman’s face. Qilan, on the other hand, is like a pure, elegant young maiden, completely untouched by cosmetics,” Wenling said, gently stirring her coffee.

“That’s a fitting metaphor—the noblewoman and the maiden. You’re very articulate, Wenling, indeed an art student. My business-minded brain can’t come up with such beautiful words,” Jiusī praised, feeling that this girl’s temperament and depth were entirely different from Qingyun or Ruohua, who studied business—perhaps this is what people call subtle influence.

“Brother Jiusī, if you praise me like this, I might become conceited. Do you know the origin of the name Qilan?” Wenling looked up, her eyes bright and clear, like Cui Peak Lake in early winter.

Jiusī was momentarily taken aback, realizing he’d been careless, and quickly composed himself, shaking his head.

“Qilan—such a beautiful name—has a poignant love story behind it. Legend has it that long ago, a young Atayal couple lived here. One day, the boy went hunting and was accidentally shot by a companion’s arrow. The girl rushed to him upon hearing, embraced his body, and wept inconsolably, ultimately fainting in grief. Miraculously, a large tree grew where they died, always adorned with fragrant orchids. Since then, the place was called ‘Qilan.’”

“I see. So the name comes from a tragic love story,” Jiusī said with a gentle sigh.

3

A white van drove into Qilan Forest Recreation Area.

A stylishly dressed young woman stepped out—Qingyun. Wearing sunglasses and light makeup, blue lipstick and soft pink blush, a pale blue scarf around her neck, and a pale blue jumpsuit, her tall, slender figure looked ethereal.

“I heard from your sister that you had a serious quarrel with your father. Did you leave home out of anger?” Qingyun teased immediately upon seeing Jiusī.

“It’s nothing. I just wanted some quiet time alone,” Jiusī said, smiling wryly.

“You look fine. Indeed, Qilan is like a hidden paradise, perfect for relaxation,” Qingyun said, removing her sunglasses and holding them in her hand. “I’m not criticizing, but you disappeared silently, even your sister didn’t know where you went. Your family must have been frantic. If I hadn’t considered you might come to Datong to see Dafa, it would have been impossible to find you in the crowd!”

“How have you been recently, Qingyun?” Jiusī gazed at her, momentarily at a loss for words.

“I searched for you so hard, Jiusī,” Qingyun said, lightly biting her lower lip, tears forming in her eyes.

“Sorry, Qingyun,” Jiusī took her hand and gently apologized.

“No next time. If you disappear again without telling me, I won’t forgive you!” Qingyun sobbed, her voice choked.

Jiusī hugged her, wiping the tears from her eyes. Qingyun looked exhausted; beneath her makeup, faint dark circles were visible, moving Jiusī’s heart with concern.

Petals swirled in the wind, rolling along the red-brick path.

× × × × ×

The two enjoyed a low-calorie, lightly flavored mountain specialty meal, as Qingyun feared gaining weight.

Holding hands like two fluttering butterflies, they first shopped at the supermarket, then leisurely walked toward the Qilan Work Station. Qingyun had prepared, wearing light casual shoes. Even so, the winding forest trail left her slightly sweaty, though she didn’t dare complain. The scenery was beautiful, and Jiusī stopped frequently to admire flowers, plants, and birds, without any sense of rushing.

At a quarter past three in the afternoon, they arrived at the work station.

The station had plenty of empty rooms, ample utilities, and Station Chief Old Lu was still hospitalized. Jiusī was the sole occupant, making the place feel lonely. Today, with a charming guest, laughter and cheer filled the space.

“These paintings and photographs, no doubt, are yours,” Qingyun said in the corridor, admiring the watercolors, oils, and photos on the walls. “Three months, and you’ve hung sixty or seventy works—unbelievable!” She stuck out her tongue, looking amazed.

“Half the paintings aren’t even displayed; the photos are just a sample,” Jiusī replied while tuning his guitar, not looking up.

“Truly the prince charming of our business school. Each piece has its own character; even an outsider like me can see the artistry,” Qingyun said.

Over the years, Qingyun knew Jiusī wasn’t easily swayed by beauty. He had always been polite and restrained with her—not because she was unappealing, nor because he lacked charm, but because art was his true obsession. She remembered in senior year, climbing Damujian Mountain, Jiusī relied on just two rappel ropes, suspended in midair for a shot, making everyone sweat nervously—a level of craziness few could endure.

Jiusī could live freely for long periods, but never without his camera and art supplies. Facing such a boyfriend, Qingyun often felt secondary to his cameras or art materials. She didn’t complain because she knew his passion was for beauty: the beauty of landscapes, the beauty of imagery. His life was meant to be that of an artist.

“The more unattainable, the more desired.” Once obsessed, people stop at nothing—and women are no exception. Qingyun sensed over the years a lukewarm love, like the line Jiusī once wrote on her portrait: “Encounter it not deeply, approach it yet rarer; grasping form, the hand already misaligned.” She hoped for a love where a weary bird returns home, and wild clouds circle the mountains.

Jiusī seldom gave away his works; except for Qingyun, friends and classmates never had the chance. His reasoning: “Beautiful works are for good friends to enjoy together.” Hence, he devoted most of his energy to creating beauty.

× × × × ×

A couple, deep in the forest, happily played guitar and sang—from campus folk songs to country ballads. They cooked dinner together only after the sun set and insects and frogs began their chorus.

The meal was abundant but light: boiled fish, fresh vegetables, clams, radish, and tofu soup; meat, shrimp, chrysanthemum greens, and cabbage briefly swished in hot water, eaten plain. Greasy sauces and seasonings were absent, in line with Jiusī’s lifelong dietary habits.

After dinner, Qingyun cleaned the utensils and showered, while Jiusī stayed in the room listening to Richard Clayderman’s piano pieces.

The work station drew water from a mountain spring, cold and crisp. Qingyun used the electric water heater for her bath. When it was Jiusī’s turn, she sat at the computer, browsing the station’s website.

Late at night in the forest, the air was cool and the mist thick; every light seemed drowsy.

Jiusī returned invigorated, as Qingyun knew of his habit of cold showers. She stayed awake to chat, feeling happy just to find him. Their conversation wasn’t about work, but future plans.

“Jiusī, are you going to stay here?” Qingyun asked.

“Yes, until next spring. I need to finish my projects before leaving. Are you in a hurry?” Jiusī replied.

“Okay, but I want you to write me an email every day, can you?” Qingyun said.

“Alright, I’ll write you every day,” Jiusī promised.

At noon after Qingyun left, Wenling appeared at the Qilan Work Station with her easel and camera.

Hearing the wind chimes, Jiusī thought Qingyun had returned. Stepping outside, he saw Wenling at the door.

“I heard there’s a reclusive master here; I came to seek guidance,” Wenling said, beaming.

“It’s you, Wenling. Who told you?” Jiusī smiled, noticing her prepared easel and camera.

“The paintings on your walls spoke to me. How about it, Brother Jiusī? Shall we find a place to sketch?” Wenling asked with a smile.

4

The hunting trail wound and undulated through the forest, with the afternoon sunlight filtering intermittently through the dense branches and drifting mist. The rays, like a cascade of shooting stars, dappled their clothes and sketchpads, giving the impression of a pair of colorful ladybugs.

Seeing the intimate way they supported each other, one might easily mistake them for newlyweds. Yet who would believe that they had only known each other for a few days?

Their destination was a secluded valley, where a stream of clear blue water rushed through, and a waterfall cascaded like a white silk ribbon down the distant cliffside.

They chose a platform and set up their easels, starting with preliminary sketches. First came the outlines of the waterfall, stream, and boulders, followed by the red zhazhi shrubs and green oaks along the bank, and finally the distant mountains and drifting clouds in the background. Wenling sat on a large stone in front, concentrating intently as she rendered the scene, gradually bringing it from nothing to form, capturing its contours and shapes with an aesthetic eye and a heartfelt sensitivity.

Jiusi, on a whim, included Wenling’s side profile in his painting, though she was entirely unaware that she had become part of the scene.

Once the sketch was complete, Jiusi began adding color: the distant mountains and flowing water in pale blue, the streamside grass and multicolored trees in soft greens, the dark gray stones and moss in deep green, and finally Wenling’s side profile. His brush moved across the paper with a mixture of light, flowing strokes and slower, deliberate lines, his heart filled with emotion and awe. He realized that this girl shared his interests, and her artistic temperament deeply captivated him.

When the painting was finished, Jiusi approached Wenling from behind. “Wenling, your watercolor lines are smooth, and your colors fresh and natural. You truly have formal training in art.”

Wenling looked up and smiled. “I’m just humoring an amateur.”

“So that makes me an amateur, then?” Jiusi pretended to speak seriously.

“I misspoke, misspoke. My painting is only at an amateur level. While there may be some sense of mood, my technique isn’t fully refined,” Wenling quickly explained.

“I’m joking. Don’t be serious!” Jiusi’s smile eased the tension. “When I was a child, my dream wasn’t to be a businessman, but a painter.” His expression briefly fell into memory.

“You’re thinking about your childhood?” Wenling asked curiously.

“Yes. I remember an elementary school art teacher saying I had talent. My parents also let me study painting and piano.”

“Big Brother Dafa mentioned that your family is quite well-off.”

“Yes, actually… I was adopted by them.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched on something so sad,” Wenling said apologetically.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t feel forlorn about my past. I’ve considered that my biological parents must have had their reasons for abandoning me.”

“Then, you don’t resent them?” Wenling asked with concern.

“There’s nothing to resent. If my biological parents are still alive, I hope I can do something for them in their later years.”

“You’re very kindhearted, knowing how to forgive,” Wenling concluded.

“Living with hatred… can one really be happy? I don’t think so,” Jiusi answered himself, as if speaking to his own heart.

“Indeed. When the heart can let go, life is unburdened. Most distress is self-inflicted,” Wenling said cheerfully, though she had noticed a hint of unhappiness in Jiusi, especially when he stared silently into the distance.

Being close, affection grows naturally in ordinary interactions. Wenling felt that Jiusi wasn’t the type to be completely absorbed in painting and photography to the point of being insensitive to emotions; it was just that when he was quiet, it seemed his mind was deeply occupied, and she didn’t feel it was her place to pry.

After each sketching trip, Wenling would find moments alone to take Jiusi’s hand, though she knew they hadn’t yet reached the stage of speaking about everything freely.

5

Every Friday afternoon, Jiusi would make a trip to Taiping Village, buying groceries and fresh produce from the amusement area’s supermarket, then pick Wenling up from school and return to the workstation.

One day, after Jiusi had finished shopping and slung his backpack over his shoulder, he walked out of the amusement park gates. From afar, he saw Wenling approaching at a brisk pace.

“Jiusi, I need to see you urgently!” Wenling came running, slightly out of breath, and pulled him into a secluded spot under the shade of a tree.

“What’s the matter?” Seeing Wenling flustered for the first time, Jiusi sensed something serious had happened.

“This morning, one of my students accidentally mentioned that his uncle, along with a group of mountain bandits, plans to boldly raid your managed forest area after the flower season ends and the mist clears,” Wenling said, her expression serious.

“These mountain bandits are really rampant,” Jiusi said, realizing the gravity of the situation but maintaining his composure.

“Jiusi, you need to understand. Earlier this year, our station chief, Old Lu, was injured by these bandits, who cut his Achilles tendon, leaving him disabled. They are armed and extremely ruthless. You, alone, would be no match for them. If they encounter patrollers trying to stop them, they will strike mercilessly,” Wenling explained the situation in detail.

“Then I could notify the higher authorities and the police; there should be a way to deal with them,” Jiusi suggested.

“Absolutely not. That would alert them and give them time to prepare,” Wenling shook her head.

“Are you saying the forestry bureau officials and local police are colluding with these bandits?” Jiusi asked in surprise.

“That’s no secret. Based on past experience, whenever the village patrol sets out, the bandits immediately get wind of it, obviously through the local police and unscrupulous villagers,” Wenling said shockingly.

“These corrupt officers, collecting taxpayers’ salaries while guarding the bandits, are truly a disgrace to the force,” Jiusi clenched his fist and struck a nearby tree, startling Wenling.

“Jiusi, calm down! Don’t hurt yourself,” Wenling said, reaching to hold his elbow.

“So what do we do?” Jiusi asked, momentarily at a loss. He had never encountered such a situation before.

“You’re the first to hear this news. Go back to the workstation; I’ll tell you how to handle it over the phone. Just wait for my instructions,” Wenling said.

After parting, Jiusi felt uneasy. On one hand, he was furious at the collusion between officials, police, and bandits; on the other, he felt inexplicably moved by Wenling’s courage and initiative.

6

Teacher Zhao Dezhu was an Atayal from Taiping Village, and his father had retired from being a forest patroller.

Upon hearing Wenling’s report that the mountain bandits planned to raid Qilan’s national forest after the misty season, Dezhu realized the situation was serious and immediately went to discuss it with the village chief, Wajiang.

“Xiao Zhao, I’ve heard about this too. Tonight, bring the workstation patroller, Xiao Chen, to my house. We’ll discuss strategies together,” the chief said earnestly.

“Dealing with such a powerful bandit group is a major local matter. Why not include our village patrol members as well, Chief?” Dezhu asked.

“There may be traitors among the patrol. Last year we tried and failed, and it even endangered Chief Lu. Sigh…” Wajiang sighed long and heavily, tinged with guilt.

“I’ll go notify Xiao Chen at the Qilan workstation first,” Dezhu said.

× × × × ×

Back at school, Teacher Zhao informed Wenling, who said she would also attend. That evening, after returning to the workstation, Jiusi received a call from Teacher Zhao, arranging to meet at the village chief’s house before 10 p.m. to discuss the matter.

7

At ten o’clock at night, at the village chief’s house, Jiusi, Wenling, and Dezhu were all present.

“Bringing you here so late is mainly to discuss how to deal with these mountain bandits,” Chief Wajiang said.

“Village Chief, you have more experience dealing with mountain bandits. Whatever you decide, we’ll fully cooperate,” Dezhu said.

“The bandits are armed with knives and guns. We cannot confront them head-on. If we act like last year—a large group of people going up the mountain with sticks—they were completely beaten, and many returned injured,” Wajiang explained.

“Even if you send a large group with rifles and bows, it would be easy for the checkpoints to stop you,” Wenling reminded.

“Yes, Teacher Wenling is right. That’s why I called you here tonight—to rely on both of you,” Wajiang said, looking at Jiusi.

“Anything you need me to do, Chief, just tell me. I’ll give my full support,” Jiusi said.

“Village Chief, please instruct us,” Dezhu added.

“Xiao Chen, prepare the digital camera and V8 video camera for evidence. Once the bandits’ truck goes up the mountain, I’ll notify you immediately. Xiao Chen will follow them with the equipment. Dezhu, you will accompany with a rifle and bow for protection. Once the evidence is captured, return to the workstation quickly. I will gather a dozen reliable villagers to form a patrol team for support,” Wajiang instructed.

“Village Chief, this mission is extremely dangerous. Jiusi doesn’t know how to use a rifle. Wouldn’t it be better to send someone else?” Wenling asked anxiously.

“Of course it’s dangerous, which is why Dezhu will accompany for protection. If the bandits spot you, run back to the workstation immediately. Even if a confrontation is necessary, we will fully protect your safety,” Wajiang said, sipping his tea. “Once the evidence is collected, we’ll make copies of the tapes and photos and distribute them to newspapers, cable TV, and the county police inspector, so the matter is exposed in the sunlight,” he said confidently.

“Dezhu, I’ll inform the principal about your school duties so he can find someone to cover your classes,” Wajiang added.

The atmosphere was solemn; Jiusi and the others sensed a storm approaching.

After leaving the chief’s house, Jiusi escorted Wenling back to her dormitory. Wenling asked, “Jiusi, can I go with Teacher Zhao to the workstation?”

“What? You want to come to my workstation?” Jiusi thought he had misheard.

“I want to help at the workstation,” Wenling said softly.

“This is a dangerous period. You know that. How could you possibly help?” Jiusi asked.

“I know there’s danger, but I can answer calls, cook, and do laundry,” Wenling said tactfully.

“There’s no need for you to do that. We can manage ourselves,” Jiusi said without hesitation.

Wenling said nothing more; she had already decided to request a long leave from school the next day.

In fact, Jiusi understood Wenling’s intentions but felt she didn’t need to wade into such dangerous matters.

After dropping Wenling off at the dormitory, Jiusi returned to the nearly closed supermarket to buy extra food and supplies, carrying two large hiking bags, and walked back through the misty evening to the workstation.

Back in his room, Jiusi checked his emails. Qingyun replied that she planned to visit the workstation this weekend. Jiusi immediately emailed back, saying that there were urgent matters at the station and warned her not to come.

Less than half an hour after sending the email, the phone rang. Jiusi had just come out of the shower.

“What’s happening at the workstation?” Qingyun asked anxiously.

“Nothing much. Just don’t come for now,” Jiusi tried to keep her worry at bay.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll be even more worried,” Qingyun said urgently.

“A group of mountain bandits is planning to illegally log my forest, and they may be armed,” Jiusi said helplessly.

“So your life is at risk at any time?” Qingyun asked.

“The village chief has already taken action, gathering villagers to form a patrol team, ready to confront the bandits,” Jiusi deliberately left out the evidence-gathering mission assigned to him.

“No, I can’t let you stay alone at the workstation,” Qingyun insisted.

“I’ll take care of myself, and friends will be there to help. Don’t worry,” Jiusi reassured her.

“No, I can’t just watch if you’re in danger. I’ll go to the workstation the morning after tomorrow,” Qingyun said firmly.

“You won’t be able to help even if you come,” Jiusi said.

“I’ll be there the morning after tomorrow. You meet me at the amusement park entrance,” Qingyun said and hung up.

8

Jiusi rummaged through the warehouse. Among a pile of rusty traps, he found a sack of caltrops and smiled in satisfaction.

These caltrops must have been left by Station Chief Lu, intended to stop the bandits’ vehicles. The timing was perfect for use.

Hearing someone calling outside, Jiusi went out. It was Teacher Zhao, with Wenling behind him.

“Sorry, Xiao Chen. Wenling insisted on coming along,” Dezhu said apologetically.

Jiusi didn’t mind and invited them in. “Come in and rest.” He looked at Wenling, who kept her head down, eyes fixed on the lawn.

The three entered the living room, and Jiusi brought two cups of herbal tea from the kitchen.

“I brewed the tea myself. Take your time,” Jiusi said, then went to the warehouse and brought out the sack.

“You’re busy, huh?” Dezhu asked.

“Look! I struck gold!” Jiusi pulled out a caltrop. “Caltrops—the bane of the mountain bandits!”

“Caltrops?” Dezhu looked puzzled.

“Specifically for their truck convoys,” Jiusi said with a smile.

“Oh… I see! Brilliant!” Dezhu slapped his thigh. “When the bandits’ trucks are loaded with logs, we’ll scatter these caltrops on the mountain road so they can’t move.”

“Right! That’s small forces achieving great results,” Jiusi said. “There are also some old traps in the warehouse we can use.”

“Xiao Chen, you’re quick-witted, just like McGuyver in the TV show,” Dezhu praised.

“We’ll repair the traps today and place them on key paths tomorrow. The bandits will pay the price,” Jiusi said proudly.

“Xiao Chen, won’t this harm passing animals too?” Dezhu asked.

“Big achievements come with small sacrifices. A few animals will have to suffer,” Jiusi said.

“Wenling, why aren’t you saying anything?” Dezhu teased.

Blushing, Wenling said, “I can’t get a word in with all you talking.”

× × × × ×

When Qingyun’s car arrived at the entrance of the Qilan Forest Recreation Area, Jiusi was already there.

“Jiusi, don’t you realize you’re in danger?” Qingyun asked as soon as she saw him.

“I know! Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Jiusi said, appearing relaxed.

“I don’t agree with you taking such risks alone,” Qingyun said, eyes reddened. “Colleagues told me most of these bandits have criminal connections and carry firearms. Just you and a few patrollers won’t be effective.”

“No choice. This is ‘knowing it’s impossible, yet doing it.’ Sigh…” Jiusi sighed deeply.

× × × × ×

Upon arriving at the workstation, Jiusi and Qingyun were greeted by Wenling and Dezhu.

“Zhao Dezhu and Zhang Wenling are both middle school teachers here. Wenling is Dafa’s cousin,” Jiusi introduced for Qingyun. “This is my girlfriend, Luo Qingyun.”

Qingyun rested briefly in the living room, accompanied by Wenling.

“Qingyun, I’ve heard about you from my cousin. You truly are a water girl,” Wenling tried to make conversation.

“Thank you. How’s Dafa recently?” Qingyun politely inquired.

“Very well. My cousin has never mentioned being troubled by anything,” Wenling smiled.

“Don’t you have classes at school?” Qingyun asked, her instincts telling her Wenling wouldn’t leave school without reason.

“I took leave from school,” Wenling said cautiously.

“Oh? Taking leave to help catch mountain bandits? That’s unusual!” Qingyun pretended to be surprised. When a beautiful woman meets another younger, attractive woman, there is often suspicion. Qingyun deliberately probed, suspecting Wenling had ulterior motives.

Wenling was momentarily speechless.

Qingyun stared intently at Wenling, as if trying to see through her, making Wenling slightly uneasy.

Jiusi appeared just in time, unexpectedly saving Wenling from the awkward situation. Wenling got up and slipped away.

“Qingyun, I’ll take you down the mountain tomorrow,” Jiusi said, bringing a cup of iced herbal tea.

“You just got here, and you’re already sending me off!” Qingyun turned away, crossing her arms.

“Don’t be like that. This is a critical period. If you stay here, I’ll be distracted,” Jiusi tried to soothe her.

“You say you’re distracted when I’m here, but you can focus when Dafa’s cousin is here. Is that it?” Qingyun expressed her displeasure clearly.

“Alright, alright. I admit it, Qingyun,” Jiusi said, acknowledging her jealousy.

“You’ve never feared me, Jiusi. I want you to leave this dangerous place early, yet you won’t listen,” Qingyun complained.

“This is my job. I can’t abandon it halfway,” Jiusi said firmly.

“How much does the forestry bureau pay you? Why should you risk yourself against these bandits?” Qingyun pressed.

“You didn’t come all this way just to argue with me, did you?” Jiusi snapped slightly.

“When have I argued with you? I’m here to reason with you,” Qingyun softened her tone slightly.

“Fine, let’s not argue. If you stay, you must follow my instructions—don’t wander alone. There are wild animals and many traps,” Jiusi reluctantly conceded.

“I won’t wander alone—unless I’m with you,” Qingyun finally smiled, satisfied.

9

The calm before the storm.

In the past few days, Dezhu and Jiusi were busy first setting up animal traps and then scouting routes through various forest sections, all secluded little paths. These routes might come in handy for them when entering the forest sections to collect on-site evidence.

Whenever the two men went out, the two women at the station kept a wary eye on each other—appearing busy with their own tasks while secretly observing their opponent’s movements.

When Jiusi was absent, Qingyun took over his room, and Wenling, being perceptive, stayed away.

When Jiusi was present and Dezhu was in the room, Wenling would enter. Most of the time, Jiusi would play the guitar while the others hummed along or chatted casually.

Wenling noticed that Qingyun behaved quite quietly in Jiusi’s presence. Wenling herself felt restrained and awkward, unlike her natural cheerfulness when alone with Jiusi. She knew this was because Qingyun was also there.

Dezhu was very talkative and could carry a conversation on any topic, with Wenling chiming in appropriately. Qingyun, however, often remained a silent listener, nodding or smiling—a subtle, introverted body language that indicated his role as the attentive observer in the group.

× × × × ×

By May, the fog season was drawing to a close. Recently, the mountain mists had thinned, visibility during day and night improved, and General Wa figured that the forest poachers were about to make a move.

Patrol team members disguised themselves as hunters, sending out small squads along forest paths to monitor any suspicious people entering the mountains.

As expected, the poachers sent scouts first. Two jeeps passed the checkpoint, with the police on duty greeting them warmly. Nearby patrolling team members observed this and concluded that the checkpoint officers were colluding with the poachers.

The jeeps entered Forest Path 100, and the patrol team immediately radioed the station and began surveillance, following on foot. They saw the jeeps turn into Path 120 toward Forest Section 15. The village chief deduced that the remote 15-section old-growth cypress forest would be the poachers’ primary target.

That night, the village chief secretly convened an operational meeting at his home, summoning Dezhu. Only about ten people were present, all trusted patrol members filtered by the chief.

“Gathering everyone at this late hour is mainly to discuss how to deal with this batch of forest poachers. Their convoy of large vehicles will be entering soon,” General Wa said.

“Chief, our station is ready and can deploy at any time,” Dezhu replied.

“You’ve done well!” Wa continued, explaining the plan: “Once the poachers’ convoy enters the village, we’ll take our men, split into several groups along mountain paths, bypass the checkpoints, support the station, and protect Xiao Zhao and his team. This time, we will outsmart them rather than confront them head-on.”

“Chief, the station needs manpower to help block the poachers’ convoy,” Dezhu requested.

“No problem. Daru and Bichai, you two go with Xiao Zhao to the station to support the blockade,” Wa instructed.

“Yes, Chief,” they answered in unison.

“For this operation, I’ve only brought about a dozen of you to avoid leaks. You are all people I trust,” Wa said, lighting a cigarette. “Most of the police here are connected to the poachers, so we can’t rely on them. If the evidence collection goes smoothly, we won’t need to fight them directly and can catch the poachers while exposing the corrupt officers.”

“Chief, it’s time to take revenge,” said Bana, the village secretary—a square-jawed, thick-browed, muscular man.

“Yes! Last year, there was a mole in our patrol, giving the poachers an advantage. This year, our operation is secret; everyone must keep tight lips, or our efforts will fail,” Wa continued, ordering them to be on standby at any time.

× × × × ×

Daru and Bichai followed Xiao Zhao back to the station. Jiusi’s task for them was to lay caltrops along several forest paths when the poachers’ convoy, carrying cypress logs, was ready to leave the forest.

Two mornings later, the station received a call. The village chief informed Jiusi that the poachers’ large convoy had set out toward Forest Path 100, with the patrol team tailing them.

The station sprang into action. The men got up, and Qingyun, awakened by the phone, saw them gathering in the living room for a meeting and went to knock on Wenling’s door. The two women hurriedly prepared breakfast for the men: toast, hot milk, coffee, eggs, and ham.

Soon, Jiusi met Qingyun in the hallway. “Something’s up—the big fish has bitten,” Jiusi said with a smile.

After breakfast, Daru and Bichai watched tapes in the living room before heading out in the morning to place the caltrops along the forest paths. Jiusi prepared evidence-gathering equipment and listened to music in his room, while Dezhu checked his hunting rifle. They would set out for evidence collection around ten o’clock.

Time ticked by. At 9:30, the village chief called again, saying the patrol team was splitting up and heading toward the station on foot, expected to arrive around 10:30.

Daru and Bichai left first, heading toward the forest paths. Jiusi and Dezhu then departed, following mountain paths into Section 15, finding a perfect hiding spot to begin photographing and recording evidence. The harsh sound of chainsaws and large cranes roared across the illegal logging site, faintly audible even at the station by Qingyun and Wenling.

By 11, General Wa’s patrol team had fully arrived at the station.

Within an hour, Jiusi and Dezhu completed the evidence collection and quickly withdrew, returning to the station before noon. Daru and Bichai had finished laying the traps and returned as well.

Jiusi connected the digital camera and V8 camcorder to the computer, uploading images and videos. At noon, everyone ate a simple mixed noodle meal.

At 2 p.m., Jiusi wrote a report, attaching images and videos in an email to media outlets and the county police inspection office, followed by several phone calls to ensure receipt.

By mid-afternoon, the poachers’ convoy carrying red cypress logs suffered multiple flat tires on the forest paths, realizing someone had sabotaged them. They assumed it was the village chief and patrol team again and reported to their boss, County Councillor Heiniu.

Heiniu, furious, summoned 20–30 men in five vehicles to confront the chief but found no one at home. They then sought the police chief, who sent officers to accompany them up the mountain.

On Forest Path 100, the lead police cars and Heiniu’s convoy also hit the caltrops, with two vehicles crashing into the mountainside. Heiniu leapt from his vehicle, cursing, and angrily kicked the car door. Realizing the road was booby-trapped, Heiniu and his men, including five officers, had to proceed on foot.

After 40 minutes, at 4:15, they reached the immobilized trucks. Heiniu was furious. Drivers and crew crouched on the road, inspecting the caltrops.

“It must be Wa’s people. That old monkey dares block my profits. Let’s see how I handle him!” Heiniu’s face twisted in rage.

“One of Wa’s patrols was seen leaving the village this morning, heading toward the station,” a driver reported.

“Good, let’s go settle this now. I’ll skin that old monkey alive!” Heiniu ordered, and his men angrily marched toward the station.

By 5 p.m., journalists who received the emails had arrived at the Qilan station to conduct field interviews. They wanted to enter the illegal logging site to photograph, and though Wa initially opposed it for safety, Jiusi volunteered to guide them, believing the poachers wouldn’t act openly with reporters present.

With Jiusi and Dezhu leading and Wa’s patrol guarding, reporters entered Section 15 to document the site. This triggered the first conflict.

The poachers’ on-site foreman refused to cooperate, ordering his guards to brandish guns and advance to seize the reporters’ equipment. Seeing only seven or eight armed men, Wa and his patrol decided to confront them, protecting the reporters while firing back. Gunfire erupted, smoke filled the air, and several were injured.

Unfortunately, Jiusi was shot twice by a guard while protecting the reporters: one bullet shattered the right elbow, another pierced his right arm and entered his chest.

Dezhu returned fire, shouted for cover, and carried the bleeding Jiusi toward the station. Jiusi felt sharp pain in his elbow and chest, his vision blurring as he lost consciousness from blood loss.

At the station, after counting, one reporter had a leg injury, three patrol members were wounded—one seriously hit in the thigh by a shotgun, the chief’s brother-in-law, Ma Lai, a recent military retiree.

The two women, seeing the bloodshed, panicked briefly. Wa remained calm, instructing everyone to bring the injured inside and administer first aid, calling local medical staff and an ambulance.

With Dezhu’s help, Qingyun stabilized Jiusi’s arm with a wooden board and bandages, applied cold compresses to his forehead, trying to keep him conscious. Blood soaked Dezhu’s back. Qingyun’s eyes welled with tears, but she held back from crying.

Wenling, with Wa’s help, cut Ma Lai’s pants and cleaned his shotgun wounds, which were large and honeycombed, bleeding darkly. Ma Lai endured the pain while Wenling treated him.

After treating the injured, the reporters interviewed Wa, Dezhu, and the patrol, photographing the scene.

Meanwhile, Heiniu’s men arrived, guns drawn. Wa and the patrol set up shotguns at the windows, ready for another firefight. Five accompanying officers, to avoid casualties, stepped forward as mediators.

Heiniu’s side was represented by his lieutenant, Hong Guizai, while Wa sent Dezhu to negotiate. The poachers demanded to search the reporters and seize all evidence, which was refused. Negotiations stalled.

Heiniu’s phone rang; after a brief call, his face darkened.

“No more talks! Kill them all! These blue-blooded kids exposed everything,” he growled. His men drew weapons, and the five officers froze.

A senior inspector arrived with a criminal squad, shouting at Heiniu, “Do you want to live or die?” Twenty rifles were aimed at Heiniu’s group.

Seeing this, his men hesitated, unable to escape. The inspector ordered weapons down and hands up, threatening to shoot anyone who tricked them.

Sixty to seventy police reinforcements arrived, surrounding Heiniu’s men. They knew resisting would be suicidal.

The five officers also surrendered; their guns were confiscated and secured. Patrol members applauded. The uninjured reporters photographed and interviewed the inspector, the chief, Wa, and Dezhu. Questions about collusion with poachers went largely unanswered.

The inspector then approached Wa and Dezhu to shake hands.

“Chief, sorry for our delay. Our vehicles were disabled by caltrops on the forest paths, so we had to proceed on foot,” he explained.

Daru and Bichai, standing behind Wa, tried not to laugh.

“Thanks, Inspector. Without you, we’d have missed the second firefight,” Wa said with a smile.

“Any injuries?” the inspector asked, hearing ambulances approaching.

“Yes, two seriously, three minor,” Wa answered.

“Bring stretchers and get them on ambulances immediately,” the inspector ordered, and the officers complied.

“Chief, at 2 p.m., upon receiving your tip and files, I assessed it as a major police misconduct case and assembled my team by 2:30. By 4 p.m., we went to Datong Branch, 5 p.m. to the station, 5:30 to remove checkpoint staff, but then our convoy hit the caltrops,” the inspector explained.

“I didn’t expect Heiniu’s men to openly shoot during the reporters’ coverage, which caused serious injuries. However, some of them were also hurt,” Wa admitted.

“I’ve already dispatched personnel to arrest Heiniu’s subordinates at the illegal logging site,” the inspector added. “He’s likely finished in politics now.”

“Time to celebrate! He cut down countless precious cypress trees over the years. Make sure prosecutors keep him behind bars,” Wa said, laughing.

“I will,” the inspector replied.

“Who sent the email with the evidence?” he asked.

“The sender is on a stretcher—he’s Xiao Chen, a ranger at Qilan Station,” Wa pointed to the departing stretcher.

“He reported the collusion between the local police and Heiniu. He said if the evidence collection hadn’t gone smoothly, risking his life would have been meaningless. He also warned that if I didn’t act decisively, journalists would publicly hold corrupt officers accountable. In twenty years in the police, I’ve never received such a righteous threat!” the inspector laughed.

“I hope to meet this brave young ranger at the hospital,” he added.

“Alas… such courageous young people are rare. Now that he’s seriously injured, I don’t even know how to explain it to his girlfriend!” Wa sighed.

11

From the moment Jiusi was injured and carried back to the workstation by Dezu, Wenling was filled with guilt. She shouldn’t have mentioned the Mountain Rats’ illegal logging plan to Jiusi, which had led to his severe injury.

Wenling followed the ambulance to the hospital. Along the way, she watched Qingyun holding Jiusi’s left hand, gently wiping the sweat from his forehead. This tender care deeply moved Wenling.

Qingyun, however, was most worried about Jiusi’s severely injured right hand. Unless God showed mercy, that bloodied hand might never play the piano, strum the guitar, sketch, paint, or press a shutter again. Such a blow—Qingyun didn’t know if Jiusi could bear it. A perfectionist, he now had to face a disabled limb for the long stretch of life ahead.

× × × × ×

After bandaging Jiusi to stop the bleeding, Qingyun called his family. Shortly after Jiusi arrived at the hospital and was sent into surgery, his parents and younger sister, Jiuru, rushed over.

Mrs. Chen cried continuously, blaming her husband for scolding their son so harshly that he ran away. Mr. Chen could only comfort his wife gently, unable to say much. Jiuru, arm in arm with her mother, also had red eyes.

Wenling, having come to visit, sat silently on the bench opposite the Chens, head lowered, saying nothing. The couple seemed barely aware of her presence.

Qingyun briefly recounted the events at the workstation over the past few days: how they set up traps, outwitted the Mountain Rats, the team’s near encounter with gunfire when surrounded, and finally Jiusi’s injury and how she had tended to him.

“If my brother loses the use of his right hand, Qingyun, what do you think will happen to him?” Jiuru couldn’t help but ask.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know… I don’t know if he can accept it.” Qingyun’s eyes carried a layer of desolate uncertainty.

“Then, will he become a different person?” Jiuru asked.

“Ah… that’s exactly what I fear,” Qingyun sighed deeply.

“Qingyun, if my brother becomes estranged from everyone or sinks into despair, would you still accept him?” Jiuru pressed on.

“Unless he tells me himself that he doesn’t love me, I won’t leave him,” Qingyun said softly.

“That’s so romantic! Qingyun, I’m so moved I almost have a nosebleed!” Jiuru pinched her tiny nose comically.

Wenling heard the entire conversation, her mind in turmoil. If the hand injury permanently altered Jiusi’s future, the one to blame would be her own thoughtless action. She longed for someone to listen to her confession: a boy she had fallen for, now facing a disabled life. If Jiusi allowed her a chance for atonement, she would willingly accompany him without regret—playing the songs he loved, singing the songs he liked, going with him to mountain peaks and oceans, watching sunrises and sunsets, sketching and photographing, witnessing the wind and clouds, rain surging from distant mountains, and walking through rugged ranges together…

The doctor emerged from the operating room, surrounded by a crowd.

The doctor removed his mask: “Where are the patient’s family?”

Mr. and Mrs. Chen answered, “We are his parents.”

“The patient was shot in the right thoracic cavity, causing severe internal bleeding. Two ribs in the right chest are fractured. The bullet has been removed surgically, and he is now out of danger. The right elbow joint was shattered; an artificial joint has been implanted. The right arm suffered a comminuted fracture, now fixed with a steel rod. Due to nerve and ligament damage, the right hand’s function may be affected, and recovery will be difficult.” The doctor explained concisely.

“Thank you, doctor,” Mr. Chen said sorrowfully.

Everyone present understood clearly—Jiusi’s right hand would likely never be able to paint again.

“Now you’re satisfied, huh? Our son’s crippled, he can’t paint anymore,” Mrs. Chen said coldly to her husband.

“What do you mean? I didn’t cause our son’s injury. Don’t you think I feel terrible too?” Mr. Chen snapped.

“Dad, Mom, please stop arguing!” Jiuru pleaded.

“Once his condition stabilizes, I’ll transfer him back to Taipei,” Mrs. Chen said.

12

Jiusi was brave. From the moment he was injured, through surgery, and now lying in the hospital bed, he hadn’t even whimpered once. He had become silent, reluctant to answer questions. He felt lost about the future; his right hand had lost almost all sensation, and he knew this was called “disability.”

Jiusi refused his mother’s suggestion to transfer back to Taipei, leaving his parents helpless.

This change in Jiusi left Qingyun even more unsettled. She instinctively felt his calmness masked his emotions, like a lifeless branch drifting in the river of time. Many old classmates visited him; Wajiang, Dezu, and Dafa came twice, as well as former Director Zeng, Inspector Liu, and several journalists.

Qingyun and Jiusi’s family took turns staying with him in the ward. Wenling often brought fresh flowers but didn’t stay long, sensing Qingyun wasn’t entirely welcoming.

Wenling continued requesting long leaves from school. Alone at the Cilan workstation, she spent her days pruning the garden, organizing Jiusi’s belongings—guitar, CDs, books on flora and fauna, camera—and managing the website.

Wenling’s family didn’t rely on her teaching income. Her parents had advised her otherwise, but they saw their daughter had lost her usual lively smile and seemed heavy-hearted. Only Wenling knew what she was waiting for—she knew Jiusi would return.

Jiusi himself returned to Cilan the day before his scheduled discharge, just after his stitches were removed. At the workstation entrance, he first saw the garden still flourishing, flowers blooming warmly to welcome him back. Then he saw Wenling standing on the veranda, apron tied at her waist. Wenling ran down the stairs like a bolt of lightning and pressed her chest as she caught her breath.

“Welcome home, master,” Wenling said, panting, “these words are from this little wooden house.”

Jiusi removed his cap and smiled, “I don’t recall hiring a female housekeeper.”

Wenling held Jiusi’s right hand and asked tenderly, “Does it still hurt?”

“It hurt a lot at first, but now I feel nothing,” Jiusi replied with a smile.

“Give me your luggage. Come inside and rest.” Wenling was as joyful as a butterfly dusted in pollen.

Everything inside the house remained unchanged. In the bedroom, even the easel and guitar were in their original spots. Jiusi didn’t touch them, instead sitting to open his computer.

“You’ve been staying here all this time?” Jiusi asked.

“Yes,” Wenling nodded.

“Why are you doing this?” Jiusi asked again, dragging the mouse with his left hand to open the workstation page. Richard’s “Mariage d’amour” played crisply in the background.

“Because I like it,” Wenling said, leaving the rest unsaid.

“Don’t be silly. I have Qingyun,” Jiusi said.

“I know,” Wenling replied.

“Then why are you still so stubborn? Why?” Jiusi asked.

“I don’t know,” Wenling answered honestly. She really didn’t know why she persisted.

“I can’t play the piano. I can barely wash a dish. My right hand can’t lift, my fingers won’t spread. I’m half a cripple. What kind of life can I give you?” Jiusi turned to Wenling, asking directly.

“I don’t know,” Wenling said, staring into his eyes, repeating the same answer.

“Next spring, when my projects are done, I’ll leave this place,” Jiusi said, returning his gaze to the screen.

“You’re going where, Jiusi?” Wenling asked curiously.

“To wander… anywhere,” Jiusi smiled bitterly.

“Take me with you! I am serious!” Wenling said calmly, not joking.

“You don’t owe me anything. I never asked you for atonement,” Jiusi said.

“It’s atonement, the salvation of love,” Wenling said meaningfully.

× × × × ×

That night, Qingyun and Jiuru came to the workstation. Qingyun discovered Wenling was also there and felt a surge of anger.

“Come back to Taipei with me. We’ll get married, Jiusi,” Qingyun said, staring at him.

“No, Qingyun, you don’t have to sacrifice yourself,” Jiusi said calmly.

“Say it honestly! Jiusi, I’m asking you!” Qingyun’s tone was mournful.

“Yeah, brother, Yun sincerely cares for you,” Jiuru chimed in.

“Go back, Jiusi,” Wenling said. Qingyun noticed the kindness behind her words.

“Enough. Let me live my life my own way. Stop planning for me, okay?” Jiusi said coldly.

13

Wenling set up the easel under the tree and went to fetch the camera. Jiusi approached, picking up a 6B pencil with his left hand to sketch a base on the paper. Wenling turned around, amazed to see his left hand moving freely across the canvas.

“Ah! Jiusi, your left hand is better than your right! How did I never know?” Wenling’s eyes widened.

“When I paint alone, I usually use my left hand,” Jiusi said with a mysterious smile.

“I see! That’s great, you can paint again.” Wenling hugged him excitedly.

“After my hand was crippled, you stayed by my side without abandoning me. I’m truly touched,” Jiusi said sincerely.

“Are you still going to wander, Jiusi?” Wenling asked, tears forming.

“Yes, of course I want to go out!”

“What about me?” Wenling asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“We’ll go together! First marry, then go to Paris to study painting,” Jiusi kissed her forehead.

“Will your family oppose? What about Qingyun?” Wenling asked with mixed worry and joy.

“My sister will take over our father’s business. She’s always been interested in commerce. As for Qingyun, she’s studying in the U.S. and won’t return soon. We only have this life; we should seize our limited time to travel and broaden our horizons,” Jiusi said calmly.

“Will we come back here?” Wenling asked, wiping her tears.

“Of course. This is our dreamland. We will come back to protect this lush forest,” Jiusi answered with certainty.