Chapter Forty-Six: The Eve of Parting
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Leng Zhiheng’s call was not an attempt to avoid Zhuang Lin; naturally, Zhuang Lin heard everything. With his keen hearing, the voice on the other end was crystal clear, even catching Liu Lei’s uncontrollable excitement in his narration.
It was evident that Liu Hongyu’s position as heir was now secured.
After hanging up, Leng Zhiheng, equally excited, said to Zhuang Lin, “Master Zhuang, Young Master—no, Boss has successfully gained the approval of all major shareholders and board members. From now on, Liu Corporation answers to him! There’s no longer any need to worry about the arrangements for those involved in the plan!”
“I never doubted it,” Zhuang Lin replied calmly, his gaze fixed ahead.
Their footsteps never faltered as they marched near the front of the convoy—a transport team reminiscent of the one used during the early construction phase of Hidden Immortal Valley.
Only this time, the caravan was longer, and all the carts and carriages were empty, because they were carrying people and some essential items back.
Clearly, Liu Hongyu still had many matters to attend to over there—the funeral for his father and corporate affairs—so he couldn’t return immediately. The future of Hidden Immortal Valley would have to rely on his master, Leng Zhiheng, and other trusted individuals.
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Since Liu Hongyu and Zhuang Lin’s departure, the atmosphere in Hidden Immortal Valley had grown complex.
On one hand, many were joyful to finally receive their pay and return to the bustling world. On the other, there remained an undeniable attachment to the valley.
Perhaps there was some worry, too—concerns about the fulfillment of contract payments given Liu Hongyu’s situation.
But such worries were unnecessary. When Leng Zhiheng and Zhuang Lin returned, they had already taken charge of subsequent arrangements, accompanied by leaders from the director and planning teams.
If it weren’t for the funeral proceedings in Zhonghai City—Liu Shihao’s burial had not yet occurred, and Zhou Xianglin was overseeing remotely—he would likely have been present in person.
As the convoy approached Hidden Immortal Valley, passing through a thin mist to reveal rows of orchards along the valley’s edge and the surrounding scenic beauty, many newcomers smiled for the first time.
When Leng Zhiheng and the others reached the high ground overlooking the valley, the breathtaking scenery inside left nearly everyone momentarily spellbound.
“So this is where the boss was treated... no wonder it’s called Hidden Immortal Valley. Truly a paradise on earth,” someone murmured.
“It’s not even the most beautiful season yet,” Zhuang Lin said, leading the way down, followed by the gradually recovering Leng Zhiheng and others.
When Zhuang Lin and Leng Zhiheng’s group arrived and relayed the precise news to everyone, many relaxed. Although the money wasn’t yet in hand, if Master Zhuang said it would be fine, then it surely would be.
Even at such a moment, the people of Hidden Immortal Valley placed profound trust in Zhuang Lin—a trust born from several crises and countless shared moments over time.
Coincidentally, it was the Mid-Autumn Festival, and with Zhuang Lin bringing good news, the valley planned a lively celebration.
The venue was naturally the spacious grain-drying ground in the valley’s center. Attendees were no longer only residents; many from the convoy accompanied them. These visitors wore relatively modern clothes, somewhat out of place in the valley, yet offering a unique experience.
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That night, everyone sat on the ground, bringing out fine wine and delicious dishes. They rejoiced together, knowing that such moments might not come again.
For many newcomers, it was their first taste of the valley’s produce. Whether grains or poultry, their fresh flavors were unmatched by any restaurant outside.
Leng Zhiheng, having sampled many delicacies, praised the valley’s food enthusiastically, nearly swallowing his tongue in his eagerness.
That night, bonfires blazed as people sang and danced. Many in Hidden Immortal Valley reveled, unwilling to leave their seats for sleep.
The stars and moon shone brilliantly, illuminating many corners of the valley.
Children, aware of the impending departure, played boisterously, then ran off in groups, retrieving “treasures” buried with friends beneath trees or in caves...
Unlike the others, Zhuang Lin sat quietly behind a table, accompanied by Leng Zhiheng and Elder Mu. The latter appeared somber, while Leng Zhiheng ate heartily.
“This tastes amazing! Why does this chicken taste so different from outside? So fresh!” Leng Zhiheng exclaimed.
“And the wine—yellow wine tastes this good even without warming? The vegetables are better too. How are they grown?”
“Hey, young friend, chew slowly. Don’t harm your body...” Elder Mu advised, watching Leng Zhiheng devour food like a famished ghost, though Leng Zhiheng paid no heed.
“Don’t worry, Elder. I train hard daily. Back in the army, one of me ate as much as three others. We were all big eaters then. I won’t get sick from this,” Leng Zhiheng assured him.
Elder Mu stroked his beard, shaking his head, then looked at the quietly sipping Zhuang Lin.
“Mr. Zian, do you have plans? I heard from Yan Jun... yes, he said you don’t intend to leave?”
Duan Yonghua might not say such things to others but would certainly tell Elder Mu. Zhuang Lin smiled and nodded.
“Correct. I had that intention. After this trip outside, I’m even less inclined to leave. Elder Tingwen, what about you? And Duan brother?”
Elder Mu pondered before answering.
“Yan Jun is a healer; saving lives is his calling. Though the valley is beautiful, it wastes his talents. Even if he feels attachment, his wife longs to leave. They’re not free to choose. It’s better for him to save more people outside.”
He paused, smiling as he pointed to himself.
“As for me, an old man with few years left, I’m tired. Having taught Yan Jun, the legacy continues. If possible, I’d like to stay in the valley to grow old. If Mr. Zian stays as well, I won’t feel lonely... By the way, if we send Xiao Wen out in two years, would there be any issues?”
Zhuang Lin shook his head.
“None at all. Please rest assured, Elder Tingwen.”
“That’s good, that’s good...”
Though focused on eating and watching the dancing by the fire, Leng Zhiheng’s ears perked up at their conversation. He looked at the two in surprise—they weren’t leaving?
At that moment, a young woman dressed in a simple white silk dress approached. Standing before Zhuang Lin, she seemed to quicken his breath.
“Mr. Zian, everyone is about to leave soon... Can I... may I have a dance with you?”
Both Zhuang Lin and Elder Mu looked at her with mild surprise, and even Leng Zhiheng slowed his chewing. Under the firelight, the girl’s cheeks were flushed crimson.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m not skilled at singing or dancing...” Zhuang Lin’s refusal was clear.
“Oh, I’m sorry to have disturbed you...” she apologized repeatedly before retreating swiftly. Zhuang Lin showed a helpless smile, Elder Mu chuckled, and Leng Zhiheng grinned broadly.
Unexpectedly, her departure seemed to trigger a ripple effect, as if suddenly many women realized: Why not invite Master Zhuang? They might not see him again!
One after another, several young women approached Zhuang Lin.
Some sought just one last dance, while others asked about his plans for settling down.
In the past, Master Zhuang’s scholarly demeanor, blended with authority—being a core figure in the plan and the valley’s pillar—made him intimidating. But now the plan had ended.
For the valley’s women, this was a bold attempt.
Master Zhuang’s reliability was the greatest allure; appearance was secondary. Of course, without that secondary charm, the rest might lose their luster.
Zhuang Lin intended to keep a reserved demeanor, but it had little effect. Eventually, he simply left.
He wasn’t unkind; if it were merely a final Mid-Autumn dance for entertainment, he would have no objection.
But these young women were acting on a burst of courageous impulse. If he agreed, that fleeting impulse might turn into lasting regret, which would do them harm.
In truth, Zhuang Lin knew he was decent-looking but did not consider himself a paragon of beauty.
In all things, there is a tendency to be drawn toward spirit; perhaps the cultivation of the immortal path added some influence, causing some girls to misinterpret feelings in such moments.
As Zhuang Lin departed, Leng Zhiheng continued eating, even making a gesture mimicking writing with a pen. Despite food in his mouth, his lips clearly formed the words “signature,” a playful nod to an earlier joke on the carriage.
That night, the revelry lasted late. Some young men and women confessed their feelings successfully, resolving regrets before departure.
The next day, a message swept through Hidden Immortal Valley:
Everyone did not have to leave; they could choose to stay!