=== Today's second update is delivered; the story is gradually entering ** === Although I found it incredible that such tall Ma Sang trees were planted in front of a Diaojiaolou, I was unexpectedly delighted: the sap from the moss on these Ma Sang trees is an excellent medicine for knife wounds, cuts, and all sorts of abrasions. Anyone with experience knows that after being cut by a blade, the pain is searing. To quickly stop the bleeding and accelerate healing, one only needs to squeeze the sap from the Ma Sang tree moss onto the wound. Immediately, the wound feels cool, the pain vanishes quickly, and new flesh grows back within a few days. I have personal proof: when I was a child staying at my grandpa’s house, I was barefoot and jumped off a walnut tree, accidentally stepping onto a sickle.

A deep gash opened on my sole, making me cry buckets. Grandpa immediately found several sections of Ma Sang tree moss, squeezed out the sap, dripped it onto the wound, and within minutes, the pain was gone—it was truly magical. Before this, I lost my shoes, my feet were covered in countless cuts, and my body bore countless scrapes, causing a burning agony all over not long ago... Here is where the strange thing lies: ever since the tears blurred my eyes, my entire body has been utterly free of pain; that fiery sensation inexplicably vanished. Little did I know, even stranger things were yet to come.

Discovering the absence of pain in my body, I was eager to find out where Qin Ping'er had gone and didn't bother to think too deeply, continuing to run toward the Diaojiaolou. After a few steps, I suddenly realized those few Ma Sang trees possessed another very peculiar, yet indescribable quality. I hesitated and stopped, looking back, and my heart leaped into my throat, unable to settle. There was no other thought in my mind—those towering Ma Sang trees were not rooted in the ground at all; instead, they hung quietly in the air like dandelions, their gnarled root systems suspended two or three meters above the pristine white ground!!! What made my mind even more numb was that the Diaojiaolou behind the trees was also floating in mid-air.

Beneath its dark base was nothing but the empty, snow-white ground, with no supporting pillars or anything else touching the earth. I took a few cautious steps back, standing on my tiptoes to check: there were no ropes or support frames above the roof either! Looking as far as my eyes could see, there was only the boundless darkness and void above my head! Could there be transparent pillars beneath the Diaojiaolou? Since my eyes could only perceive black and white, perhaps I couldn't see them?

Suspiciously, I ran beneath the Diaojiaolou, reaching out to touch the areas I suspected. But my hand met only empty space. Undeterred, I slowly walked straight through under the Diaojiaolou, extending my legs with every step as if sweeping for snakes in the grass, but still encountered no obstruction. After walking for about ten minutes, I reached the back of the structure. Looking around, I saw high walls on three sides with no exits.

In front of the walls stood a row of suspended trees, blooming profusely with snow-white flowers; judging by the look of the petals, they were peach blossoms. The peach trees were quite far from the Diaojiaolou and could not possibly be supporting it in the air. Still unconvinced, I went behind the flanking rooms on either side of the Diaojiaolou; again, I saw no supports whatsoever. I ran back and forth beneath the main structure, spreading my arms wide and scanning the entire base like a television raster sweep. My body met absolutely no resistance; in other words, there were definitely no transparent or invisible pillars underneath the Diaojiaolou.

Even at this point, I was unwilling to believe such a bizarre event. After all, I had studied physics, and I desperately searched my memory for any physical principle that could explain this phenomenon. There was no wind beneath the structure, so it was clearly not being held up by air currents; water was even less likely, as I would certainly see and feel it if water were present. The area beneath was neither cold nor hot, and the base of the Diaojiaolou was a solid, monolithic block, ruling out the effect of thermal energy... —This majestic Diaojiaolou and those few tall Ma Sang trees hung in the air, strangely and eerily suspended, like massive, stationary Kongming lanterns!

Here, I must elaborate on the Diaojiaolou of the Tujia people. The Tujia Diaojiaolou can be traced back to before the Tang Dynasty. During this era, the feudal dynasties held virtually no sway over the Tujia regions, and the Tujia ancestors were still in a semi-primitive state. Production relied on slash-and-burn agriculture; life was characterized by scant clothing and insufficient food, with a significant portion still engaged in primitive hunting. Their "dwellings" were "three-stable sheds," also known as "shit-nest sheds," constructed from branches and leaves, offering poor protection against wind and rain.

If attacked by wolves or leopards, they could only await their fate. At that time, their ability to contend with nature was very weak, with wild beasts and venomous creatures posing the greatest threats. To escape these dangers, the Tujia ancestors built homes high up in the dense forests by binding wood branches and vines around the trunks of large trees. This allowed them to use the foliage above for shelter from wind and rain while being off the ground to evade animal attacks. Because these "houses" hung in mid-air without any ground support, they were named Diaojiaolou (Suspended-Foot Buildings).

From the Tang and Song dynasties through the late Qing, as the feudal dynasties implemented the Jimi Prefecture and Chieftain systems, the Tujia upper classes had opportunities to interact with Han Chinese, absorbing some Han culture, leading to improvements in their living conditions. Especially since successive Chieftains were required to pay tribute to the imperial court annually, they witnessed palace architectural artistry firsthand. Coupled with the continuous development of the ceramic industry at the time, producing small quantities of fired bricks and roof tiles was no longer difficult. Consequently, renovations were made to Chieftain yamen, and wealthy families followed suit. This introduced features like dougong brackets, flying eaves, and carved fish-tail ornaments on the roofs.

However, due to the mountainous terrain and the specific environment of low temperatures and high humidity, the fundamental structure of the pole-and-beam Diaojiaolou remained unchanged. During this period, most lower-class Tujia commoners moved down from the trees to the ground, using bamboo or branches as floorboards and thatch as roofing tiles, leading to the "thousand-pillar-foot-on-the-ground" thatched house style. The Tujia Diaojiaolou should be classified as a "pole-and-beam" or "semi-pole-and-beam" architectural style, and its origin is linked to the harsh survival environment of the Tujia ancestors. Tujia settlements are mostly situated on high or moderately high mountains where the terrain is uneven. To level a foundation under past conditions was an undertaking of unimaginable magnitude.

The living conditions for ordinary commoners were even worse. Due to the prevailing system of private land ownership, good fields and land were occupied by Chieftains or wealthy families, leaving commoners to inhabit the high slopes. A folk song says: "People sit in the curves, ghosts sit in the depressions, and the unfortunate sit upon the narrow ridges." These "unfortunate ones" were the Tujia commoners. Furthermore, the altitude was high, temperatures were consistently low, and the air was moist. Therefore, construction had to conform to the topography, with the rear of the house against the mountain and the front sloping down—hence why the side rooms often took the form of Diaojiaolou.

Balconies extended outward, featuring carved wooden railings of various designs. Even on flat ground, the semi-pole-and-beam style was often adopted. This architecture offered advantages such as moisture resistance, ventilation, and defense against snakes and insects. The railings were convenient for drying clothes and other crops, and keeping livestock beneath the house provided both theft deterrence and an "alarm system" against wild animal attacks. If residents heard a disturbance upstairs, they could immediately check from the Diaojiaolou; if the threat was strong, they retreated; if weak, they drove it off.

Humans and livestock coexisted, relying on each other. Tujia Diaojiaolou styles can generally be divided into five types: Single-Suspension Style. This is the most common type, also known as "one-end suspension" or "key-head." Its characteristic is that only the side rooms on one side of the main house extend into a suspended section, supported by wooden pillars underneath. Double-Suspension Style. Also known as "double-end suspension." This is an evolution of the single-suspension style, featuring suspended side rooms at both ends of the main structure.

Tujia people usually build the main house first, then add side rooms according to family finances and needs. The double-suspension Diaojiaolou is more common. Quad-Convergence Style. This form developed from the double-suspension style. Its characteristic is that the upper parts of the suspended sections on both ends of the main house are connected to form a courtyard complex.

The ground level beneath the two side rooms serves as the main entrance; after entering this courtyard, several steps must be climbed to reach the main house. Two-Story Suspension Style. This style developed from both single and double suspensions and can be applied to either. It involves adding another story atop a standard Diaojiaolou. Flat-Ground Suspension Style.

This style also evolved from the single suspension. Its feature is that it is built on a flat plain where suspension is not necessitated by topography, yet the side rooms are deliberately raised and supported by wooden pillars. The ground where these supporting pillars land is level with the floor of the main house, often making the side rooms higher than the main structure. In summary, the emergence of the Diaojiaolou was a unique creation by the Tujia ancestors to evade wild beasts and venomous creatures. Regardless of the form, a Diaojiaolou is generally divided into upper and lower parts, both supported by trees or pillars underneath; it is absolutely impossible to construct a mere air castle.

Yet, the Diaojiaolou before me utterly defies this tradition—it is a genuine castle in the air! Wait, could it be magnetic attraction? I suddenly thought. If the base of this Diaojiaolou and the bottoms of those Ma Sang trees possess magnetic properties, and the white flagstones beneath also have the same nature, then according to the principle of "like poles repel, opposite poles attract," given such a vast surface area, it is entirely possible that the entire structure and the trees are being "repelled" into the sky. This speculation excited me greatly, but I still needed to find a piece of iron to test it.

This thought was merely a fleeting notion, as I suddenly felt someone behind me!