“What kind of herb have you taken?” Gray asked.

“In fact, it’s an ordinary herb. It’s the big blood vine, which I gathered in the mountains. There’s something special about this vine, though. Sometimes a special growing environment can change an herb’s medicinal property completely and produce unexpected results.”

“Grandpa Onion, can you pass your experiences on to me?”

“I can’t. You have to learn from your own experience.”

“I hope I’ll have the opportunity!”

“You’ll have many opportunities.”

Gray walked with his head bent, a little depressed. It had been more than two years since he started practicing medicine, but he hadn’t made much progress. What would Mrs. Yi think of his work? His faltering had wasted a lot of time. What kind of man would he turn out to be? Suddenly he heard Tauber talking to him.

“Gray, you really are somebody now. Incredible. Now those roses are blooming for you!”

He looked around but saw no one. He smiled, and his mood brightened. At the end of the road the weasel hurried by. He said to himself, “I’ll go on gathering herbs and making medicines, and I’ll plant herbs. I’m happy to be an herb farmer.” Even the dead Tauber could see his happiness. His happiness was related to his father. He’d never known what kind of person his father was; he had only known he was Yun Village’s accountant. Today, he had been overwhelmed by the story of Father and his illness. His parents were so remarkable, and it was under their subtle influence that he had become interested in herbs. Just then, he thought of something: This was work that he could enjoy for a lifetime. What was this work? The work that he had just spoken of—being an herb farmer.

Ginger walked up and said loudly, “You look great, Gray!”

“Did Tauber come just now, Ginger?” asked Gray.

“Yes, but he’s already returned to the mountains.”

“Yun Village is wonderful: the quick and the dead live together!”

“I only found that out this year. It seems that you knew it before I did!”

“No, I just found out.”

There were footsteps all around, and they looked at each other in silence.

After saying good-bye to Ginger, Gray went to Mrs. Yi’s house. On the way he met another person.

It was the black-clad guard of Blue Mountain, but he was wearing the clothes of an ordinary farmer. He wasn’t wearing a black hood, either. Even so, Gray recognized him.

“Where are you going, sir?” Gray asked.

“I’ve been waiting for you. Here you are. I’m leaving.”

“Why? Since you were waiting for me, you must have something to say to me.”

“No, I never talk much.”

The guard left hurriedly. Looking at his figure receding into the distance, Gray shed tears. He thought of the first time he had seen the guard: when the guard bent to tie his shoelaces in a crowd of people, the men behind him pushed him down and stepped on him. Gray still remembered his pained expression. Today the guard had waited for him on the road. What did this mean? He looked around and saw wild roses by the side of the road where the guard had been standing. Many buds were slowly opening, one after another . . . Gray was dumbfounded. Obviously, it was not he but the guard who made the roses blossom—for him, Gray! He crouched down, pressed his left cheek against the flowers, and then he heard the footsteps again. He looked up and saw a group of black-clad guards heading toward Niulan Mountain. One of them seemed familiar.