Chapter Thirteen: The Phantom in the Void

Outside, the phone inside the car rang again. Vuan Feng trudged out dejectedly to answer it, his steps heavy with obvious disappointment.

Ding Jun reached out to splash water on his face, temporarily letting go of Vuan Feng’s strange encounter, hoping the cold water would clear his mind and sharpen his senses.

The moment his fingers touched the surface, ripples spread outward in rhythmic circles. Suddenly, a subtle sound caught his ear—ding dong.

It was that sound! His heart skipped a beat. Instantly, he held his breath and listened intently.

After about half a minute, the ding dong sound came again. Following the sound, he realized it was coming from the hidden cave beneath the cold spring.

Could the true mystery be concealed inside? Vuan Feng hadn’t lied; there was indeed a cave at the source of the cold spring. He hurried to the cave entrance in quick strides, but inside was pitch dark, nothing visible.

In such a situation, he took a deep breath on the spot to calm his nerves, then stood up and started to walk out, planning to regroup with Vuan Feng before making any decisions. Yet, as he passed the spot where he had just splashed water, out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly saw a delicate figure reflected on the water’s surface.

The girl sat sideways on a silvery-white stone, her neck slightly twisted as she gazed upward at an angle, presenting to Ding Jun a breathtaking profile. Her facial contours were exquisitely three-dimensional: a full, rounded forehead, slightly sunken eye sockets, long black eyelashes stretching straight forward. Most striking were her slender nose tip and pointed chin—smooth and pale, with an enchanting, perfectly balanced curve.

She wore a flowing white garment, her long black hair cascading like a waterfall down her back.

Seeing her, countless words describing a peerless beauty flooded Ding Jun’s mind, yet only two fit best: coldly elegant, otherworldly. She left a profound shock upon him.

But that figure had materialized out of thin air—there was absolutely no one inside the cave.

Even someone as well-traveled and knowledgeable as Ding Jun was deeply startled. He couldn’t fathom the origin of that shadow. Leaning forward, he peered into the water, guessing the image was linked to the underwater cave. Then, he saw his own stunned face reflected on the surface, but the pool’s bottom was empty, just clean, brown sandstone, without even a single fish.

It couldn't be... yet the shadow clearly existed. What was going on? What was going on? He tapped his forehead, hoping for a sudden spark of insight to provide a logical answer. But no matter how thoroughly he searched his mental knowledge bank, no reasonable explanation came.

Vuan Feng returned, phone in hand, shouting loudly, “Ding Jun, guess who’s calling? It’s an old acquaintance of yours—”

Ding Jun looked up, raised a finger to his lips in a hush gesture, then pointed toward the water before him.

Vuan Feng was brilliant and immediately understood everything. Without hesitation, he lightly leapt and landed beside Ding Jun.

“It’s her. It’s her!” After a glance, he seized Ding Jun’s forearm nervously, shaking it hard, his face contorted as if electrocuted.

Two grown men stood side by side, silently staring at the water’s surface. After a while, the ripples faded, leaving the water as smooth as a vast mercury mirror, faithfully reflecting the surrounding scenery. Except for the girl, every stone, cave wall, protrusion, crevice, and variation in color and terrain in the reflection matched the real world. Only the girl was a phantom conjured from nothing—a divine apparition.

“The only explanation is the so-called ‘mirage’ phenomenon,” Ding Jun said.

Vuan Feng shook his head immediately, eyes fixed forward. “A mirage can’t appear here, much less underwater. No matter how strong the sunlight outside, it can’t create an illusion through a cave. If it were a mirage, it would only appear in the other cave outside.”

Both men were highly knowledgeable; when one presented a viewpoint, the other could instantly respond, analyze, and elaborate.

Ding Jun smiled wryly. “I understand the principle of a mirage perfectly well. So, can you give me a reasonable explanation?”

They were modern experts living in the twenty-first century, educated in applied physics at a high level. They could not, like witches or shamans, resort to shallow theories of ghosts and spirits to explain what lay before them.

Vuan Feng sighed deeply. “It’s precisely because I can’t explain it that I went to such great lengths to bring you here. Qing Long said you were the smartest and most extraordinary expert he had ever met, with intelligence and skills far surpassing his own. He rarely exaggerates, so I trust him—and therefore, I trust you.”

Ding Jun also sighed. “I’m sorry, but this time, I’m afraid I have to disappoint you.”

They stood for a long while until the girl’s image vanished, then retreated with a sense of melancholy and slumped down at the junction of the two caves.

Checking his watch, Ding Jun noted the apparition had lasted over twenty minutes. This time, neither of them thought to take a photo—it would have no real significance.

“Well? How do you feel?” Vuan Feng murmured.

Ding Jun was at a loss for words, for the magical phantom of that girl stirred memories from his past. Yet those were secrets he had never shared with anyone, certainly not with Vuan Feng, locking them deep within his heart.

“That girl is beautiful, like a celestial being from another world,” Ding Jun said.

Vuan Feng softly recited:

“On Mount Biagu She dwells a divine spirit,
Skin like ice and snow, graceful as a maiden.
She forgoes grains of five kinds, drinks wind and dew,
Rides clouds, commands flying dragons,
And roams beyond the four seas.
Her divine presence brings health and bountiful harvests.”

It was a verse from the “Zhuangzi: Free and Easy Wandering,” describing a legendary immortal of unparalleled charm.

“I’m not worthy of her, yet fate cruelly teased me by letting me see her,” Vuan Feng agonized, clutching his head, curling up like a boiled shrimp.

He was a man both proud and insecure—such is the nature of unrequited love. By worldly standards, he was nothing remarkable in appearance, just an ordinary, mediocre man. To anyone, he was a poor match for that girl.

“Enough, Vuan Feng. You don’t even know her name or where she lives, so why worry about whether you’re compatible? Tell me seriously—who was on the phone?” Ding Jun changed the subject, hoping to pull Vuan Feng out of his gloom.

“It was Qing Long,” Vuan Feng replied.

Qing Long was a figure designated “red danger” by the Pentagon’s evaluation system, long entrenched in Southeast Asia, with wealth rivaling entire nations and immense influence. If he wished, the forces of both the underworld and legitimate power at his command would surpass those of many smaller countries’ presidents. His wealth exceeded half of all Southeast Asian countries combined.

To be respected by such a person was a great honor for Ding Jun.

“Don’t believe his words. Compared to him, I’m like a firefly beneath the bright moon—insignificant and trivial,” Ding Jun said modestly.

Gradually, Vuan Feng’s scattered spirit and rigid features returned to normal.

“It’s not just that Qing Long mentioned your name. Even Mrs. Lan from Singapore—do you know why I tracked those four young girls last time? I wanted to steal their jewelry to sell to Mrs. Lan. I was lucky to receive a call from her recently; she knows I’m in the Ali region and asked me to help find a peculiarly shaped snow mountain. She also said that if she meets you, I must assist and look after you. She promised she wouldn’t treat me badly if I could help. Ding Jun, I’m really curious about your background...” Vuan Feng looked at him, his expression a mixture of wild admiration and deep envy. “Who exactly are you? Even the kings of both the underworld and legitimate power in Southeast Asia and Singapore treat you with such respect. And Hong Kong tycoon Lei Zhendong too... Forget it. For a golden child like you, I, Vuan Feng, have always kept my distance.”

Mrs. Lan was Singapore’s unparalleled female tycoon, whose economic and political standing rivaled the Prime Minister’s office.

Ding Jun smiled and shook his head. “They are who they are. I am who I am.”

Vuan Feng jumped up, eyes wide. “What a ‘they are they and I am I’! This world is so damn unfair. Someone like you is surrounded by beauties on all sides, your bank card overflowing with money, effortlessly handling business, always backed by a legion of loyal underlings. All the good, fun, easy, and beautiful things belong to you. And me? I work hard crawling around like a dog, exhausted and risking my life. God, it’s so unfair, so unfair! You’re tall, handsome, and popular; I’m short, skinny, friendless, and end up like a rat scurrying across the street, hated by all...”

After he vented his rage, Ding Jun pointed to the satellite phone with a smile and asked, “What did Qing Long say?”

Vuan Feng gritted his teeth and tossed the phone into Ding Jun’s arms. “You know him. He respects you. Just call and ask yourself—why waste time teasing me?”

Ding Jun picked up the phone and walked out of the cave alone, sitting in the jeep.

He never complained, seeing it as a sign of weakness. Instead, such deep frustration fueled his drive because he always believed in what his father Ding Xiaotian used to say: “In life, there’s no mountain of fire you cannot cross.”

It was this right attitude toward life that enabled him to remain champion of individual combat, shooting, and strategic tactics in the elite Delta Force, earning the title of the finest lone soldier over the past decade. He was awarded the President of the United States’ personally presented pure gold Hunter’s Badge—an honor bestowed only twice before, the previous recipient being the real-life inspiration for the protagonist of the “First Blood” film series, Delta Force Viper Team leader Kenderson.

Problems must be solved, even if it means starting over ten thousand times. He looked up at the nearly translucent blue sky, calm and unruffled in the face of the coming battle.

Ahead lay the world-renowned ruins of the ancient Kingdom of Guge, the sole proof of the Guge people’s dominance over the Ali region—those broken walls and ruins exposed to the Tibetan winds and snow.

To Ding Jun, time was a massive millstone, capable of grinding everything down, reducing countless heroes to nothingness.

Two hours later, Vuan Feng emerged from the cave, his expression of frustration and gloom somewhat eased.

He opened the car’s rear door and dragged out a cardboard box filled with vacuum-packed beef jerky, grilled fish slices, and beer.

“Hey, have a drink?” he called out.

Ding Jun waved him off. “No, thanks.”

Disappointed, Vuan Feng opened a can of beer, gulped it down, belched loudly, then suddenly burst into song:

“How quiet is the beautiful night,
On the grassland only my zither remains.
I wish to write a letter to the girl afar,
But alas, no postman comes to deliver my feelings.
When the thousand-mile ice and snow melt away,
When spring breezes blow over the grassland,
Kokdala has changed its face...”

“Nice,” Ding Jun applauded gently when the song ended.

“Do you know what song that is?” Vuan Feng asked, tilting his head back.

“It’s ‘Grassland Night,’ with lyrics by Zhang Jiayi of the Bayi Film Studio on the mainland, composed by Tian Ge. The song was born in the Kokdala Farm of the Ili region in Xinjiang. In 1990, UNESCO named it the ‘—’ but this place is neither Xinjiang nor grassland; it’s the Ali region. Don’t go crazy over a girl who doesn’t even exist—that’s meaningless,” Ding Jun replied with a smile.

In truth, Vuan Feng’s singing was off-key and unpleasant, but as long as one could still sing, their mind had not collapsed.

“I’ve never loved any girl before, but this time, I fell for such a girl. The ancients said, ‘Flowers in the mirror, moon in the water—all is emptiness.’ I guess they meant someone like me,” Vuan Feng said bitterly.