Western Hunan, Mount Wuling.
It was nearly midnight, with torrential rain pouring down. Rolling thunder brushed against the eaves, one wave pushing after another. The street-facing door of the Yunmeng Peak Inn was half-open on the first floor. Inside the dimly lit lobby, a long table stood in the center with a large chopping board on top, piled with countless fresh red chili peppers.
The inn’s owner, Liu Guanguo, wielded a shiny kitchen knife in one hand, chopping away with a continuous “dock, dock, dock.” His face mask was already splattered with chili seeds and juice. The humid air of the heavy rain mixed with the spicy aroma of the chilies, rising and dispersing, making Liu Guanguo squint, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes extending deep into his temples.
Another flash of lightning illuminated everything inside and outside the door with a glossy silver light. Liu Guanguo instinctively looked up, but the brightness disappeared instantly, and he only managed to glimpse the dim, shadowy mountain silhouette in the distance.
Mount Wuling was located in Wuling County, a newly developed scenic area. Living off the mountain, the county residents had flocked to two types of businesses: tourist shuttle services and accommodation.
The street where Yunmeng Peak Inn was located wasn’t far from the scenic area, nestled at the foot of the mountain like a strip hugging its base. Every door and window faced the mountain—even the kitchen and bathroom had mountain views. That’s why every household built small buildings to open inns. Unable to expand their homesteads horizontally, they developed vertically instead—buildings of varying heights, narrow and slender, crowded together to form a street with quite a distinctive character.
The consequence of supply exceeding demand was that business was slow for everyone.
However, on this particular night, Yunmeng Peak Inn had only three guests, not because there was a shortage of customers in the off-season. A week ago, Liu Guanguo had already stopped accepting bookings on online reservation platforms like Ctrip and Qunar. He had hired help for a thorough cleaning, spraying for cockroaches, changing light bulbs, and upgrading the internet speed, all for one purpose.
To welcome the Big Boss.
At this thought, Liu Guanguo unconsciously looked up at the ceiling, and the sound of his chopping decreased by several degrees, afraid that the noise might disturb the honored guest.
In reality, the guest was staying on the third floor, separated from the lobby by an entire floor, and with the thunderstorm raging outside, they probably couldn’t hear anything at all.
After chopping for a bit longer, the phone in his pocket rang as messages came in one after another.
Taking the opportunity for a break, Liu Guanguo put down his knife, removed his mask, and wiped his hands on his pants to clean off the spicy, burning chili juice. Using two fingers, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
The screen was filled with messages from a group called “Wuling Mountain Residents.” Liu Guanguo scrolled through them unhurriedly from the beginning.
Shen Wangu: @Liu Guanguo, has the Big Boss arrived?
Qiu Dong: Should be here by now. I heard this afternoon that a black SUV drove to the entrance of Yunmeng Peak.
Liu Sheng: Is she beautiful?
Shen Bang: Must be!
Liu Sheng: @Shen Bang, you’ve seen her?
Shen Bang: I haven’t seen her, but the Big Boss is the face of the Mountain Ghost. How could she be ugly? If she were too ugly, would the Ancestral Grandmothers approve?
This comment triggered a cascade of image posts about the Ancestral Grandmothers—ink paintings, meticulous brush paintings, oil paintings, and even hand-crafted clay figurines, presumably hastily searched for online.
Liu Guanguo squinted as he looked at them one by one.
The Ancestral Grandmothers, also known as Mountain Ghosts.
The Mountain Ghost originated from “Nine Songs” in the “Songs of Chu,” where the great minister Qu Yuan used romantic prose to outline a strangely alluring and inherently seductive female spirit of the mountains. Legend had it that she was graceful in demeanor, draped in vines, riding a black leopard through the deep mountains. Wherever she went, all beasts were subdued. Hence, later artistic depictions of the Mountain Ghost almost invariably featured a beauty and a beast: the beauty was invariably delicate and charming, dressed in revealing attire—in short, nothing like a proper housewife’s attire—while the beast was either a leopard or a tiger, depicted as ferocious as possible, intending to create a stark contrast in the image to stimulate the viewer.
Liu Guanguo measured his contribution to the chat.
Liu Guanguo: Meng Qianzi has quite a grand style, like a celebrity, with an assistant and even a makeup artist.
The group was already discussing enthusiastically, but his comment stirred up an even bigger commotion.
Shen Wangu: The Big Boss is quite modest. These days, which celebrity doesn’t travel with five or six assistants? I’ve heard some even bring personal trainers and nutritionists.
Shen Bang: Exactly, it’s not like the Big Boss doesn’t have money. With seventy-seven mountain mines, if it weren’t for the socialist country advocating for low-key behavior, the Big Boss could fly here in a private jet.
Qiu Dong: @Shen Bang, don’t mention mine unnecessarily. I’ve heard that online chats are monitored.
Liu Sheng: It’s fine, it’s not a sensitive word.
…
Liu Guanguo didn’t comment. Having been designated as the host for this visit, he was quite proud and inflated, speaking sparingly, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being eagerly pursued after just dropping a hint.
Meng Qianzi and her entourage had arrived in the afternoon.
At that time, there had been no sign of the weather turning, no indication that a torrential rain would fall that night. The setting sun had melted like gold into the clouds, mountaintops, rooftops, and streets, perfectly setting the atmosphere for welcoming an important figure.
Liu Guanguo had clutched his phone, waiting expectantly at the entrance of Yunmeng Peak. After mistakenly seeing several cars and having his palms sweaty several times, he finally saw a large black SUV drive up.
The car stopped, and the first to get out was Meng Qianzi’s assistant, Meng Jinsong.
Meng Jinsong was in his thirties, with darker skin, tall and thin, with slightly downturned eyes. Most of the time, he looked lethargic, but as soon as he raised his gaze, his eyes were exceptionally sharp, keen, cold, and stern.
Liu Guanguo held his breath in excitement: if even the assistant had such presence, then when the Big Boss appeared, surely heaven and earth would lose their color in comparison.
…
During this moment of distraction, messages in the group chat began scrolling rapidly again.
Shen Bang: Is the Big Boss treating us tomorrow? Can we join the table?
Shen Wangu: Dreaming too much, are you worthy? Besides, the treatment is just a formality. The essence is for various friends from Western Hunan to pay respects to the Big Boss and strengthen friendships.
Liu Sheng: The good friends will have to bleed a bit, right?
Shen Bang: Of course! Would you feel comfortable visiting empty-handed and freeloading?
Liu Sheng: This gift is hard to choose, after all, the Big Boss lacks nothing. Just don’t send gold or jade—too vulgar!
Shen Wangu: Unbearably vulgar! If anyone dares to send that, we’ll return it tenfold, humiliating them!
Liu Sheng: Damn, I want that kind of humiliation too!
Qiu Dong: 1
Shen Bang: 10086…