The way I am, I was bound to let my imagination run wild with these two questions—a deluge of associations, as the idiom goes. However, Tan Ping'er and Man Niaoniao, still deep in slumber, quickly put an end to that idea. My recent experiences have far surpassed my comprehension; I’ve developed a kind of immunity to the constant barrage of bizarre and outlandish happenings, reaching a point where I’m mostly just unfazed. This "Leizi"—it certainly wasn't merely a decoration for this underground imperial city, nor was it for grinding corn flour. As for whose masterpiece it was or what purpose it served, even if I rack my brain, I might never find the precise answer. The most urgent matter now is figuring out how to escape this accursed, ill-fated pit.

Climbing back up the slope wall was impossible. Although the sheer wall was crisscrossed with countless rough striations, it was overwhelmingly smooth overall, and streams of cool water continually trickled down, soaking the entire surface, leaving absolutely nowhere to gain purchase. Since the wall was entirely stone, there was no hope of finding a thousand snake tails to use as handholds. Hoping against hope, I scanned the area, but found no recess or opening anywhere on the slope. This depressed me immensely; it seemed climbing out of this goddamn pit was out of the question.

If going up was a no-go, then down was the only option. I couldn't just wait here on this crossbeam forever, could I? The problem was, while my eyes could perceive the black and white world, this dark, cold, chilling pit beneath my feet was exhaling gusts of grim wind—who knew what the situation was down there? If I plunged down rashly, wouldn’t it turn into a mess of eels and water snakes? Even taking a step back, assuming the bottom was safer than the stone beam, the space was vast—what then? Was there even an exit in this pit? We weren't going to have the same luck we did in the Anle Cave, where something coincidentally fell and smashed a hole right into the bottom, were we? I doubt even a ghost would believe that thought.

I truly understood what it meant to be in an impossible situation, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Still, my inclination leaned towards descending to the bottom first. This thought wasn't the result of a sudden impulse but was sparked by the plum tree embroidered on that shoe. If this "Leizi" was the second plum blossom, considering the specific placement of the embroidered flowers, there must be a path following this blossom. If we could find that path, we could naturally escape to freedom.

With this in mind, I hesitated no longer. I roused Tan Ping'er and explained the current situation and the decision I had made. Tan Ping'er, still groggy, blinked vaguely in the darkness, looking around for a while before saying, “…Just do as you say!”

I asked, “Going down like this carries some danger. Aren’t you afraid?”

“If you’re not afraid, what do I have to be afraid of? I’ll give it five words!” Tan Ping'er replied sleepily but with firm resolution in her tone.

I was stunned, staring at her speechlessly, and hesitantly asked, “…Do you even know what those five words are? You just blurted them out—aren’t you afraid Man Niaoniao will laugh at you?”

Tan Ping’er waved off the concern. “…I know those five words definitely aren't ‘Serve the People’… I just say it because it feels cathartic… Who cares if he laughs? If he laughs, I’ll give him five words too!”

I remained speechless, agape. What she said was true; when people are frustrated, letting out a few curses sincerely can indeed bring a strange sense of relief. However, hearing this piece of "daily vernacular" taught by Man Niaoniao coming from Tan Ping'er’s delicate mouth gave one a particularly odd sensation.

I couldn’t help but sigh inwardly; this girl Tan Ping’er had changed so much recently!

The atmosphere was a bit awkward; at least, that’s how I felt. After a long silence, I tried to break it, saying, “Man Niaoniao is really something of a talent!”

“Damn it, Man Yingying, you’re the talent!” Man Niaoniao, who had been snoring heavily on the platform, suddenly spoke up.

Hearing that grating voice, my heart soared. I clapped my hands and burst into laughter, “Damn it, I really am a talent! I managed to bring this thing back to life by sheer accident.”

“Yes! You truly are a talent!” Man Niaoniao said, sitting up slowly, heavily emphasizing the word "talent."

Generally, when Man Niaoniao stuck out his rear, I knew what foul business was brewing. Hearing him lay such stress on "talent," I knew there had to be some hidden anecdote. This term of praise, coming from his crow’s beak, was surely far removed from its literal meaning, possibly even turned into something odious. My suspicion proved correct; later, Man Niaoniao told me privately while carrying Tan Ping'er, that the "talent" he used had quite a history. It was about a married woman whose husband had left to work far away for a long time. The wife, long deprived of marital bliss, was terribly starved. Coincidentally, her young brother-in-law, home from university, quickly seduced her, and they engaged in their illicit affair right there in the vegetable garden in broad daylight. When the brother-in-law, lost in the moment, was about to "breach the dam," a stray dog, somehow appearing from nowhere, blundered into the garden. The brother-in-law, being young and inexperienced, panicked, and suddenly ejaculated his highly concentrated "protein" onto his sister-in-law's belly. The sister-in-law remained remarkably calm and sighed magnanimously, “What a pity, all this talent wasted!” The "talent" she referred to was the brother-in-law’s "protein."

Man Niaoniao had picked up this very crude and violent anecdote from some young, simple-minded guys he played cards with.

From then on, if anyone tried to commend me using the word "talent," I would respectfully hand it back, saying I was unworthy, returning it unchanged. But at that time, neither Tan Ping’er nor I knew the story. Hearing Man Niaoniao relentlessly describe me as a "talent," although I sensed something was slightly off, I was mostly basking in self-satisfaction. After all, getting a compliment from Man Niaoniao—a man who usually wished I’d sink into oblivion—in front of Tan Ping’er was a rare achievement. Who knew I’d been so thoroughly duped, suffering such a hidden blow!

Although Tan Ping'er was exceptionally bright, how could she grasp the implied meaning of the ruffian Man Niaoniao? She chimed in artlessly, “Yingying is indeed a talent!” That scoundrel Man Niaoniao just smirked wickedly beside her.

This was just a minor interlude at the time and didn't affect my judgment or grasp of the situation.

Since Man Niaoniao was safe and sound, Tan Ping'er and I felt greatly relieved, and we joked around for a bit. Then Tan Ping’er got serious and asked, “Yingying, there’s something I’ve never understood. Can you explain it to me?”

“What is it?”

“Didn't you lose your glasses? How could you see the surroundings and those shadowy arrows on Niaoniao in the dark?”

I froze. I really hadn't properly explained this to her or Man Niaoniao. Since things had come to this, there was no point in hiding it anymore. So, I sighed and told them the whole story about why I wept and what the result was. After listening, Tan Ping'er seemed stunned, unable to speak for a long time, but Man Niaoniao yelled excitedly, “Where’s Hua'er? I want to try that too!” completely forgetting that rubbing his eyes with the residue of the tears would let him see things he normally couldn't.

It was better not to mention it, but now that it was brought up, I suddenly realized: Where was Hua'er? Why hadn't I heard it make a sound for so long?

As if connected by instinct, just as I thought of Hua'er, its voice drifted over—a continuous series of barks, though the sound seemed rather ethereal. I placed my palm behind my ear and listened closely for a moment, finding it strange: why did Hua’er’s voice sound so close? Where was it?

Tan Ping’er quickly supplied the answer, exclaiming in surprise, “Hua’er is down below!”

Down below? I found that even stranger. When the three of us fell into this pit, Hua'er was clearly up above and hadn't fallen; how could it be below now? And why hadn't it made a sound to say hello all this time?

I leaned over the stone beam and peered down, faintly catching sight of a wriggling dark shadow. Judging from the white flowers that occasionally flashed, I couldn't confirm the shadow was Hua'er, yet its barking was clear and loud, sounding as if it were right next to me. I was deeply puzzled. Damn it, was this pit, which looked somber, dark, and bottomless, not actually very deep?

The only way to find the answer was to test it myself. I prepared to go down. I discovered that the snakeskin bag left by Ji Ye had long been lost in the previous tunnel; there was no way to go back and search for it now. Luckily, my backpack was still there, and the zipper wasn't broken. I patted it and felt the hard, solid presence of the Soul-Shattering Tablet.

I breathed a sigh of relief and told Man Niaoniao and Tan Ping'er, “You two rest here on top for now. I’ll go down and check. If there’s no danger, you can follow.”

Tan Ping’er started to speak, her mouth opening, but she ultimately remained silent. Man Niaoniao, however, stepped forward resolutely and said, “I’ll go…” I felt a brief moment of emotion, but the two words he added at the end puzzled me for a long time, “…talent!” At the time, I thought, one shouldn't just toss those two words around casually. Besides, I have a name; why must he keep calling me "talent"? Something wasn't right! It definitely wasn't right!