As I listened to Qin Bing'er's low-pitched narration, I grew increasingly stunned—could Qin Bing'er actually be that female infant?

When I first met Qin Bing'er alone at the Xidu Hotel, I hadn't paid much heed when she mentioned not knowing her birth parents. Nor did I press for details about how that old monk raised her to adulthood.

My entire focus then was consumed by a host of bewildering questions: why was there a green-furred map showing Tianjiao Mountain and Anle Cave on her back; why did Master Qinghe look so much like my deceased grandfather; what did the four cryptic verses Master Qinghe recited actually mean; and how was the 'Tu' character accidentally formed on my forehead connected to Qin Bing'er? Who had the spare capacity to delve into her specific background? Furthermore, after she gave me that hurried kiss, which instantly conjured up the strange 'sleep paralysis' dream from the sixth day of the sixth lunar month, my mind was already a tangled mess, leaving almost no room for minor details. The string of bizarre events that followed led us to enter Anle Cave seeking answers, but we encountered all manner of hardship and nearly lost our lives. We were already in a constant state of flight, with neither the time nor the inclination to inquire about her true origins.

Hearing Qin Bing'er suddenly recount such a strange and mysterious 'story' of a female infant, how could it not shock and raise suspicion in me?

If that infant was the Qin Bing'er before me now, why did she wait until this point to tell us? Was it intentional concealment, or was there an unspeakable difficulty? Of course, I believed she hadn't meant to hide it from us; something even more incredible must have happened to her, perhaps events she herself couldn't quite believe, and struggled with how to relate to others? Even if she told them, would anyone believe her?

“Bing'er, that female infant, could she be…?” Man Niaoniao, impatient, was the first to voice the question that the three of us men were urgently seeking an answer to.

“…That’s right. That female infant is me,” Qin Bing'er replied softly and quickly, her eyes filled with clear tears.

The three men already harbored suspicions, and hearing Qin Bing'er personally confirm that the infant in her story was herself, they were immediately struck dumb, exchanging glances. They truly could not believe that the delicate Qin Bing'er before them possessed such a bizarre birth and experience. They wanted to say something but didn't know how to begin, completely immersed in the narrative Qin Bing'er had spun, silently piecing together their own conjectures. Man Niaoniao was even more exaggerated; his mouth hung open in an 'O' shape, oblivious to the string of saliva coating his lips…

“So, you… are a test-tube baby?” After a long silence, I asked Qin Bing'er, who was lowering her head in silent distress. “No wonder you said you don’t know your parents!” I had looked up information on test-tube babies online, hence the question. That woman who met a tragic end was merely Qin Bing'er’s surrogate mother.

“…Yes. Given the circumstances back then, I was indeed a ‘test-tube baby’ with unknown biological parents… That unfortunate woman who died might be considered my mother…” Qin Bing'er’s face was pale, her eyes brimming with tears, her expression sorrowful and resigned.

My mind started to feel sluggish again. Test-tube baby, surrogate mother, the high-bridged old man, the old monk, the black hound, Wang Jiu—what was the connection between all these elements? Why would the high-bridged old man want to ‘cultivate’ a test-tube baby? Why was there a green-furred map on the infant’s back at birth? What was the relationship between the black hound, Master Qinghe, and the infant, and why did they try every means to snatch her away? A string of questions made my temples throb faintly once more.

Another issue vexed me even more: who exactly was that old monk, Master Qinghe? When Qin Bing'er first described Master Qinghe’s appearance to me, I was already severely suspicious that he was my grandfather; not only was the resemblance uncanny, but even his mannerisms and his habit of being partial to alcohol were strikingly similar. However, Qin Bing'er said Master Qinghe was the one who raised her, and my grandfather had passed away more than a decade ago—I had seen him buried in the soil with my own eyes. Time simply didn't allow for my grandfather to be Master Qinghe. If Qin Bing'er was telling the truth, then Master Qinghe must be someone else entirely. This Master Qinghe, despite raising Qin Bing'er, brought me immense confusion: everything he did was shrouded in secrecy and mystery, leaving one completely baffled.

I even felt a touch of resentment toward this elusive Master Qinghe.

Seeing me silent and staring downwards, Hua'er stuck out its tongue and licked my cheek. My heart twitched, and I recalled the black hound from Qin Bing'er’s story—could there be any connection between it and Hua'er? But I quickly dismissed the thought. The black hound appeared over twenty years ago, long before Hua'er was even born; how could they be connected?

Hua'er’s interruption snapped me back to two other matters that sent a chill down my spine—the blue figure I saw the night Hua'er killed the giant clam, and the ‘Half-Puppet’ whose cane-tapping guided my escape from the ‘Blood Marriage’—could they perhaps not be my grandfather’s supposed ‘spirit,’ but Master Qinghe himself, alive and well?

This sudden thought startled me. If that were true, Master Qinghe had been hiding near us all along? Then why hadn't he shown himself? Were the series of strange events these past few days all part of a conspiracy orchestrated by him? Was our intrusion into Anle Cave also his deliberate arrangement, aimed at using us to find that Token Stele?

On second thought, this didn't quite fit. Firstly, I had never encountered a monk, let alone Master Qinghe; even I hadn't noticed the 'Tu' character on my forehead, so how would Master Qinghe know to send Qin Bing'er to find me? Secondly, the bizarre dream I had on the sixth day of the sixth month undoubtedly acted as a catalyst; no matter how powerful Master Qinghe was, he couldn't possibly control the dream I had just to manipulate me, could he?

—Things might not be as simple as I imagined!

“Who were those people who… cultivated you?” Man Niaoniao seemed unable to find a suitable term for the viciousness of that group’s actions, finally sputtering out the word ‘cultivated’ after a struggle, breaking the silence.

“…I don’t know. Master Qinghe didn’t tell me.”

“Is Master Qinghe that old monk?” Man Niaoniao seemed to grow increasingly curious.

“Yes.”

“How did he… tell you to find Yingying? Was it merely because of that ugly ‘Tu’ character on your forehead?” Man Niaoniao asked relentlessly, maintaining a serious demeanor while not forgetting to ‘insult’ me.

“…Master Qinghe only told me to find a person with a ‘Tu’ character on their forehead according to the location indicated on the green-furred map. He didn’t directly tell me this person’s name was ‘Man Yingying,’ nor did he tell me what to do next after finding this person…”

“Then…” Man Niaoniao was about to press further, but was impatiently cut off by Master Ji, “Miss Qin, what happened next?” Perhaps the old gentleman found Man Niaoniao’s rambling disruptive to the coherence of his own thoughts.

“Later, what happened next is another story…”

Following this was the ‘other story’ Qin Bing'er recounted—

September 9th was the day Fengcheng University welcomed its new students.

Early in the morning, the usually quiet campus began to buzz with activity.

The handsome young men, who usually wished to sleep until noon every day, were all dressed smartly and elegantly. Ostensibly, they were there to see if any new students needed help, but their intentions were far from charitable; they crowded into the throng, their eyes flickering with hidden anticipation, simultaneously sizing up the groups of new female students while pretending to be casual and mature. The beautiful senior girls, while not as overtly enthusiastic as the young men, betrayed their eagerness with occasional glints in their eyes.

This kind of scene was common, happening once every year at Fengcheng University.

Just as the campus entrance was as lively as a festival, the noisy crowd suddenly turned their heads in unison, as if swept by a Category 10 typhoon, their eyes fixed on a young woman gracefully stepping off a school bus. The girl was breathtakingly stunning. The previously clamorous campus fell silent, as if a speaker system had suddenly lost power.

The handsome young men, who had been affecting maturity and composure, instantly forgot their restraint, abandoned their casual pretense, their mouths gaping like empty caves, their gazes shamelessly glued to the girl, their minds already plotting and formulating feasible next steps.

This had to be a very strange, yet incredibly beautiful, young woman!

She appeared to be of mixed heritage, yet her attire—her clothing and accessories—was that of an ethnic minority. Her face was full and delicate, her skin fair and tender; though not tall, her figure was perfectly proportioned, showcasing what needed to be commanding and concealing what ought to be understated. Of course, what was most captivating were her bewitching blue eyes. One utterly saccharine young man managed to squeeze out two nonsensical, awkward lines of poetry: “Ah! The sky has darkened, yet the person shines…”

The young woman saw the countless ‘hooks’ cast her way, blushed deeply, lowered her gaze, and tried to slip away, pulling her suitcase.

A few young men who thought highly of themselves quickly stepped forward, attempting a gentlemanly gesture.

The young woman had barely taken two steps when she suddenly cried out in sharp pain. She dropped her suitcase, half-kneeling on the ground, bracing herself with her left hand while wildly beating her back with her right. Her face was ashen, her muscles convulsing, her almond eyes narrowed, her expression agonizingly pained.

The young men were startled. After a brief pause, they rushed forward again, surrounding the girl and anxiously asking questions in a chorus. Several tried to reach out and help her, but she waved them away.

The young men froze on the spot, looking at each other. While this was an unprecedented opportunity to strike up a conversation—perhaps laying a solid foundation for future interaction—the girl was dressed in ethnic attire and had clearly rejected them. These worldly young men dared not act rashly; if they carelessly offended an ethnic taboo, forget about sweet nothings, even getting her to spare them a glance might become a distant dream.

The senior girls who had been watching the excitement also sensed that something was wrong. They pushed through the crowd, patting the girl’s shoulder. “Little sister, what’s wrong?”

“Do you need a doctor?”

“Did you twist your waist?”

“Do you want some water?”

…

This was essentially a very common situation: a new student falling ill immediately upon entering the school, solvable by getting her to the infirmary with the help of a few people. However, the girl was too eye-catching, and there were too many idle onlookers at the gate at the time. Her sudden distress acted like a magnet, drawing in everyone entering and leaving the gate. The crowd swelled, encircling the girl like an iron barrel.

The girl seemed oblivious, ignoring the concerned inquiries from the senior sisters, continuing to beat her back frantically. Two streams of clear tears rolled down her cheeks, her lips tightly clenched, and the groans emanating from her nostrils grew louder and more painful.

Everyone was at a loss, looking at each other in horror.

“Amitabha, may all benefactors make way.” The crowd turned back in surprise to see a lean, sprightly old monk standing at the back of the crowd, his expression calm and gentle.

“Where did this old monk come from? Why is he attracting more attention than this beauty?” someone in the crowd mumbled quietly. This was understandable; while the university campus saw many eccentric individuals, a ‘venerable god’ dressed so raggedly with a scraggly beard was a sight entirely out of place among the well-dressed, vibrant youth.

The monk had sharp ears and had clearly heard the whispers. He smiled slightly. “This old monk has come to treat the young lady’s illness…” He pointed to the girl half-kneeling and groaning in the center of the crowd.

“Treating an illness?” Despite the murmurs, the crowd parted to create a gap, allowing the old monk to approach the girl.

“Bing'er, is your back hurting again?”

The girl heard the old monk’s voice, closed her eyes, and nodded with a wronged expression.

“Alas—!” The old monk sighed deeply, reaching into his grayish-white robes and pulling out a glass bottle. He shook it before his eyes, making the shallow, transparent liquid inside slosh audibly. The monk sighed again and called out to the surrounding people, “Can any benefactor please go buy this old monk two bottles of Baijiu [strong white liquor]?”

Baijiu? To cure back pain? Right here, right now? Although the crowd found it bizarre, they anticipated a good show and dared not delay. An enthusiastic young man immediately ran off to buy two bottles of Baijiu and handed them to the old monk.

“Benefactor, I am sorry, this liquor won’t do…” The old monk glanced at the label on the bottle and apologized to the young man who bought it.

“This liquor…?” The buyer looked confused.

“The proof is too low!”

“Then… how high must the proof be?”

“At least fifty proof, something like Erguotou would be fine.”

“…” The young man blinked, shot the monk a suspicious look, and then dashed off to buy two bottles of Erguotou.

The old monk nodded in satisfaction and uncorked the bottles. The crowd stared wide-eyed, anticipating the girl’s modesty being lost.

The old monk brought the bottle to the girl’s lips and whispered, “Bing’er, the liquor is here, drink up! It will stop the pain once you drink it!”

Hearing this, the girl opened her cherry lips and began gulping down the Erguotou as if it were plain boiled water. The young men, initially disappointed, soon looked surprised and uncertain—drinking liquor to cure back pain? It was unheard of, unseen; this spectacle was certainly stimulating and satisfying.

The girl completely forgot about reserve and rapidly downed the fifty-proof Erguotou. The bottle was empty in a flash.

With one bottle of fifty-proof Erguotou down, the girl’s pained expression seemed to ease slightly. She snatched the other bottle from the old monk’s hand, quickly opened it, tilted her head back, and chugged it down furiously…

“Wow—!” The crowd cheered in unison, completely forgetting they were witnessing a medical treatment.

The ‘Wow’ sound attracted even more people, who gathered around, craning their necks to look at the girl in the center, their faces full of curiosity and astonishment.

When the last drop of liquor vanished into the girl’s mouth, the tight frown on her brow gradually smoothed out. Her look of pain completely disappeared, her complexion gradually regained its color, and her mind seemed to clear as if waking from a deep dream. She shyly glanced at the surrounding crowd, avoided everyone’s gaze, punched her back fiercely one more time with her small fist, stood up, hoisted her suitcase, squeezed through the crowd, and hurried away under everyone’s watch.

“Wine Immortal, the peerless Wine Immortal…” mumbled a lovesick young man. The crowd nodded in agreement; the name was certainly well-chosen, but the girl’s drinking skills were even more remarkable.

When the crowd came to their senses and tried to ask the old monk about the girl’s background, they found he had vanished without a trace…

Later, the story of a minority beauty, a minority girl who could drink prodigious amounts, became the focal point of discussion in the male dormitories. The name “Wine Immortal” spread wider and wider…

This “Wine Immortal” was, naturally, Qin Bing'er.

As the saying goes, people fear fame like pigs fear getting fat. After being saddled with the moniker “Wine Immortal,” Qin Bing'er gradually felt a sense of ‘loneliness at the top’ during her university days. No matter where she went or what she was doing, someone would point and whisper, “Look, that beauty is the Wine Immortal!” Some bold ones dared to address her directly as “Wine Immortal” upon meeting her. Even more busybodies launched a “human flesh search” online. But after all the fuss, the final result of the ‘search’ yielded only: Name, Qin Bing’er; Gender, Female; No QQ account, no mobile phone, no boyfriend. This only intensified the curiosity of the ‘wolves,’ who racked their brains trying to uncover Qin Bing'er’s origins, and the name “Peerless Wine Immortal” grew even louder.

Qin Bing'er had grievances she couldn't voice, regretting deeply why she had drunk so much in that situation? But the pain in her back at the time felt like a drill boring into her marrow, leaving her dazed and unclear; could ‘it’ have been playing a trick on her, deliberately making her look foolish?

Qin Bing'er had no choice but to stick to a fixed daily routine: eyes focused on her nose, nose on her mouth, mouth on her heart. She tried to minimize her public appearances, avoided joining any groups, and even maintained a polite, cool distance from her classmates. Towards those young men who offered her excessive attention, she was frosty. If the pain in her back flared up, she would secretly slip into the restroom for a few swigs, then brush her teeth several times and use mouthwash afterward.

Because Qin Bing'er deliberately kept a low profile, and time is the best cleanser to wash everything away, quite a few young men hit countless dead ends, ending up thoroughly discouraged. Eventually, they shifted their focus with the mindset of, "If I can't have the watermelon, picking up a sesame seed isn't bad either." Discussions about the "Wine Immortal" gradually faded. Occasionally mentioned, the nickname was used merely as a weapon to deflate the egos of those who loved drinking and boasting…

Qin Bing'er rejoiced inwardly; she had finally become a normal person.

Then, things were not as simple as she had imagined. The next incident became the turning point in her life and the fundamental reason for her coming to Xidu…