I am not Ximen Qing.

Huang Yumin, dead, dead soul, his dead soul, nothing! nothing! nothing! What an irony of Gogol's dead soul! Only his sister, Huang Yuhuan, could give Huang Yumin a proper burial, because Huang Yumin's dead soul was utterly worthless. The precious son of Huang Jinshan, a complete spendthrift. At least he was incredibly lucky to be buried alongside his brother-in-law, Zhang Sirui, high in the mountains, in the forests of Changbai Mountain. This was a stroke of good fortune amidst misfortune. How ironic! At least the dead soul has its own space and time in this world. He was an incorrigible person, still living in Ximen Qing's world as a dead soul. Let him take his favorite Wanli-era novel, *Jin Ping Mei*, to his grave to enjoy. May the Buddha Dipankara, Shakyamuni Buddha, Maitreya Buddha, the Eighteen Arhats, the Dragon-Taming Tiger-Subduing, Green Tara, and White Tara bless his soul, so that he can at least be reborn in the human world again, like Ximen Qing, whether in the next life or several lifetimes. People are forgetful; that's human nature.

No one cares whether he ever existed in this world. Humanity is so cold-hearted. At least his soul is still in the high mountains and forests, in that coniferous forest, where no one will disturb him for at least 100 years. This is the highest honor for a dead soul! Youth, adolescence, old age—this is everyone's destiny. Zhang Sheng knew that Huang Yuming wanted to live like Ximen Qing, but living like Ximen Qing was too extravagant. Even Jia Baoyu was so humble compared to Ximen Qing. Jia Baoyu was at best a playboy. His love life was too contrived, almost entirely grafted and transplanted false love and affection. Ximen Qing's love and romance are vividly portrayed, like the real-life figures of Pan Jinlian, Li Ping'er, Meng Yulou, Wu Yueniang, Li Jiao, his grandchildren Xue'e, and Pang Chunmei—they seem alive and close at hand, unlike the empty, ornate language of *Dream of the Red Chamber*, where love and romance are artificially piled up. Huang Yumin dies in a widow's house, making him far more realistic than Jia Baoyu in this respect. Baoyu, after all, is like the stone Nuwa used to mend the sky—he comes from somewhere and returns to where he came from, which feels somewhat eerie. Old Gou, over 60, what could he possibly be looking for at the film studio gate? Old Gou, in his old age, is also going mad, unwilling to accept his life as it is. The magic of film lies in its pure art of fantasy; he fantasizes about experiencing what the old man he once despised longed for—the ability to buy back youth with money, fulfilling the regretful fantasies of love and romance from his youth.

"old dog"

"Boss"

"If I gave you a chance,"

"What opportunities are there, boss?"

"Do you want to become Ximen Qing?"

"Boss, you're not joking,"

"Whether it's appropriate or not,"

"Boss, I know I can't play Ximen Qing."

"Let me ask you a question,"

"what is the problem?"

Is the man a problem with Ximen Qing?

"The boss's words are grand and insightful; he's clearly a cultured person."

"Answer my question,"

"This is a difficult question, anyway, I'm not Ximen Qing,"

"I feel relieved now."

"But I have to tell you the truth: I don't care if it's Ximen Qing or not, but I will love until I die." "Old Gou, that's because you never had the chance."

"Yes, yes, I admit it's true that there's no chance."

Those distant mountains, the high mountains, the Kunlun Mountains, the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, and the Shangri-La Mountains—they possess a kind of magic. These magical mountains are a haven for restless and clamorous souls. Would reaching the mountains make even the sick forget their homes? Everywhere you look, there are mountains, so close yet we forget them. On these mountains are trees, all kinds of trees. Autumn is the season for ripe fruit—plums, crabapples, and astringent hawthorns. Wild peaches are both sour and astringent, and there are also green strawberries. The seasons on these mountains are chaotic, a jumble of spring, summer, and autumn. Perhaps it's better to avoid the snow-capped mountains, with their blizzards and freezing winds. The owner of the mountain lodge is exceptionally hospitable, preparing multi-person rooms for the gentlemen.

"Where are you from, young lady? I like pretty girls like you."

"Auntie, judging from the accent, it's from the North,"

"northeast"

"I also speak with a Northeastern accent,"

"Fellow villager, this is your private room, the best one with a shower. Everyone else has to use the communal bathroom."

"Auntie, I really don't know what to say,"

"Stop talking. Does the girl have a boyfriend? I'm just being nosy, but someone as pretty and elegant as you must have a lot of guys chasing after her, right?"

I really don't.

"Auntie, she's our goddess!"

"Don't worry, Auntie won't..."

That's not what I meant.

"Auntie understands, I just miss the girl,"

"Auntie, is your daughter with you now?"

"I only have one son, and he's desperately wanting a daughter. He even served in the army."

"You used to be a veteran,"

"Isn't it similar?"

"Okay, that's enough. A guest is calling me."

"Auntie's room fee,"

"A single room costs over 200 yuan, and a double room costs 150 yuan."

"Sure, it's pretty cheap."

"These are all repeat customers. Families get tired of the hustle and bustle of the city and come here on holidays to relax and rejuvenate."

"Is Old Dog married?"

"I got married and divorced. For the sake of my beloved movies, I've had a dream of becoming an actor since I was a child. If it weren't for my mother's opposition, I'm sure I could have gotten into the Beijing Film Academy or the Central Academy of Drama."

Are you living alone now?

"If it weren't for my lover being an old maid, I almost worked myself to death. I asked him to give me a son, but he refused."

"Old Gou, you can't do that. If that old maid gives you another son, who will help her raise the son when you get old?"

"Look, this is a picture of my lover, a spinster in her forties. I take her all over the place; this is Taihang Mountain, this is Wudang Mountain,"

"They really have a lot of free time."

"What time is there? We're making a movie, and we're also showing her around the world."

"Besides making movies, what else do you do?"

"Teaching English, English training classes,"

"Old Gou, you can speak English too?"

"No, this is specifically for teaching children the pronunciation of the 26 letters, absolutely British and American pronunciation. Let me demonstrate with these ten fingers: abcdEf."

"Great, Old Gou is quite talented,"

"Boss, what about the salary?"

"Don't worry, Lao Gou's money is never lacking."

"Boss, I'm not worried. You're clearly an artsy type."

Cao Cao, Guo Jia, and Cao Cao's wife wore glasses; it's a pity we couldn't see her eyes. Gathering on the Magic Mountain is a dream for city dwellers; the mountain seems so far away, yet so close. But being able to gather on the mountain is truly a rare and precious opportunity. The auntie, born into a working-class family, is a seasoned veteran; her words are full of warmth, making it impossible to refuse her service. This warm sentiment is perhaps only found in mountain dwellers. Indeed, she too is lonely. The mountain's clientele is seasonal; in winter, no one comes to the cold mountain to breathe the chill. On holidays, Saturdays and Sundays (excluding Sundays), guests often drive up the mountain on Friday and leave on Sunday.

Up on the mountain, the vegetable garden was full of tomatoes, eggplants, green beans, rapeseed, and bok choy. Free-range hens and a few mischievous roosters stood with their combs raised, looking quite majestic. The fruit trees on the mountain were laden with fruit, all green and sour they would make your teeth ache, unlike the glossy, fresh fruit in supermarkets. The cucumbers, eggplants, and tomatoes all bore traces of insect bites. The auntie kept boasting, "Don't let their unappealing appearance fool you. Because they haven't been sprayed with pesticides, they're purely organic and don't need fertilizer. They rely entirely on the nutrients from the mountain soil, making them truly organic fruits and vegetables." There were also mushrooms, fungi, wood ear mushrooms, and eggs from the field hens.

"Auntie, I want the crowing rooster."

"Caught"

A large net descended from the sky, turning the majestic rooster into a stewed rooster with mushrooms in a short while. Zhuangzi was truly wise; the rooster was a fool. How could the guests, who had spent the whole day playing, possibly see the rooster's majesty? What they saw was actually an American Thanksgiving turkey.

"Thanksgiving! It must be so delicious to eat a big rooster!"

Cao Cao and Guo Jia were having a lively conversation with our protagonist.

"Fatty, order from Auntie."

"Fellow villager"

"Aunt"

"What would you like to eat? Auntie has some recommendations."

"Is there a menu?"

"Don't exceed the budget,"

"Auntie, I'll cover all the expenses for this film crew's food, drinks, accommodation, and everything else. Ideally, it should be good quality at a low price for a large group. Uh, no more than 600 yuan per table plus a case of beer."

"Brother, no problem. The food at our resort is affordable and definitely won't exceed your budget."

"Thank you, Auntie. I'll definitely come again next time."

The pavilion was surrounded by lush, green trees, and as evening approached, the setting sun cast its golden rays upon it. Everyone was tired, so beer was served first. We were all thirsty, so we drank it like water, gulping down a whole bottle in no time – so refreshing!

"Don't drink too much,"

"Six or eight bottles are no problem, what's one bottle?"

"If you drink too much and wander around in the woods, be careful not to run into mountain spirits."

"I'd be happy to run into a female ghost; I haven't smelled flowers in half a year."

"What fragrance represents a girl's love and affection?"

"Don't talk nonsense, there are two girls here."

That's right, Cao Cao's wife, and the quiet, unassuming makeup artist, didn't seem to mind the lewd talk; they even chuckled secretly. Lewd thoughts aren't just found in men; girls have them too. They're better at hiding them than men, and in bed, they're not necessarily inferior to men.

"Who can recite poetry? Fatty, you compose a poem."

"Haha, bro, stop fooling around,"

"Cao Cao, the fat man is a poet."

"Who is the poet? Do we have writer Tong here?"

"Writer Tong shares his thoughts on the official start of filming for Virgo,"

"Brother, I'll do it. No more words needed. My brother is my eternal benefactor."

"Cheers then."

The writer, Tong, never stops using his Apple iPad. Whenever he has free time, he writes non-stop. This is what a writer's life is like—writing wherever he goes.

"Writer Tong, stop pretending. This is the time to celebrate. Stop pretending."

"Don't mess with me,"

"Dear friends in front, friends behind, friends in the middle, ladies and gentlemen, we are here on the great magic mountain. Thank you for our gathering on this distant mountain. What a coincidence! It is all thanks to Writer Tong's excellent script that we have the opportunity to make this online movie."

"You're too kind, you're too kind. It's all thanks to your support that I had this opportunity,"

"Don't interrupt my opening remarks,"

"What's wrong with interrupting? Writer Tong has already published his works on Baidu."

"Let him finish speaking quietly."

The makeup artist raised her glass.

"I don't drink,"

"Auntie, do you have any Coke?"

"I don't drink Coke,"

Do you have fruit tea?

"Girl, Auntie has some green apple juice here, it's delicious!"

This pavilion became the gathering hall of Liangshan. The auntie's kitchen was incredibly efficient, with three large round wooden tables. Large platters of dishes: three roosters stewed with wild mushrooms, smelling delicious and whetting my appetite; scrambled eggs with scallions, potatoes, green peppers, and eggplant—a typical mountain village dish, wafting with the flavors of the mountains; the auntie's homemade white tofu, Mapo tofu; shredded pork with cucumber salad; boiled green beans and peanuts; and a cold tomato salad. One principle prevailed: all the ingredients were sourced from the mountains themselves.

"What's the staple food, Auntie?"

"Cornbread, the corn I grow is all from the mountains."