Heaven never seals off all paths for mankind.

What a natural prison this was!

Zhao Liang could not help but cry out in despair; truly, the heavens had left him without a path. From yesterday until now, he had not eaten a morsel, and hunger gnawed relentlessly at his belly. The most pressing issue before him was to fill his stomach and tend to his wounds; as for whether he could escape, and how, those were matters for another day.

Staggering, Zhao Liang made his way to the stream, knelt down, and drank his fill, gulp after gulp. The water was icy and refreshing, leaving a sweet, crisp aftertaste in his mouth. He wiped the corners of his lips with his sleeve, feeling considerably more invigorated.

He then undressed, carefully cleansed his wounds in the stream, and, exploring the valley, gathered herbs that would reduce bruising and swelling, and heal external injuries. He crushed them with a stone, and though the pain was sharp, he gently applied them to his wounds.

After all this, he felt his spirits lift. Zhao Liang foraged further, picking wild fruits to stave off his hunger. The valley floor was abundant with such bounty—each fruit crisp and juicy, bursting with flavor. He ate to his heart’s content, delighting in the feast.

By the time he had eaten, drunk, and dressed his wounds, more than two hours had passed, and the sun had slanted westward. Evening approached, and Zhao Liang began to consider how he would sleep through the night. If he were to camp in the open, a rainstorm might fall, and with the valley’s heavy dampness and the chill of night, he risked catching cold.

He searched the valley for shelter and finally discovered a natural cave deep within a tangle of grass. To check for beasts, he tossed in several pebbles and listened. Nothing stirred. Crawling inside, he found the cave was empty, with no trace of any animal. The space was considerable, though the stench was strong and foul—some wild beast must have dwelled here before.

He scoured the valley for a suitable vessel to carry water but found none. In the end, he tore a strip from the hem of his shirt, dipped it in the stream, and returned to the cave to scrub the floor, bit by bit. More than an hour passed before the worst of the odor was gone.

By then, night had fallen, and a bright moon hung in the sky. Elsewhere, families were likely enjoying the warmth of home, while Zhao Liang sat alone on the grass before his cave, forlornly regarding his own shadow. The moonlight, cold as frost and white as snow, cast an extra layer of solitude upon him.

A mountain breeze made him shiver; he hugged his knees for warmth. Fireflies drifted past like floating lanterns, stars scattered across the dark. Such a beautiful night, yet Zhao Liang found no joy in it—only a sudden urge to weep.

As night deepened, fatigue overcame him. Unable to resist his exhaustion, he soon fell into a deep sleep.

It was not until mid-morning that he was awakened by the clear, piping song of birds. A thrush circled above his head, chirping as if to ask where he came from.

Zhao Liang waved cheerfully at the bird. “Hello there, I’m your new neighbor. I’ll be staying in this cave from now on—please look after me.”

The thrush chirped a reply, as if welcoming him, circled twice more, and flew away.

Zhao Liang inspected the cave—the floor was still damp. Though a night had passed and it was beginning to dry, at this rate he would have to sleep outside for several days. He frowned, reasoning that he must dry the cave with fire. Otherwise, if he caught a chill in this desolate place, with no doctor or medicine, his life could truly be in danger.

He set about searching the valley for dry branches. It was midsummer, but the valley’s dampness made finding dry wood difficult. After a morning’s labor, he had gathered only a small pile.

At noon, he ate wild fruits until he was satisfied, then continued working. By mid-afternoon, he finally amassed a stack of branches half his height.

Next, he found two sharp-edged stones by the stream and, with persistent strikes, finally produced a spark after more than half an hour. When the fire caught, he carefully moved it inside the cave. By early evening, a roaring blaze illuminated the cave.

The red flames leapt and danced like a band of joyful spirits, and Zhao Liang, warming himself by the fire, felt comforted at last.

That night, Zhao Liang slept soundly. In his dreams, he saw Jiang Ran standing beside him, smiling, and then dreamt that Tian Yi had come to rescue him.

Upon waking, he realized it had all been a fleeting dream, and disappointment crept in.

Three days passed, and Zhao Liang’s wounds had healed considerably. Surviving in the valley was no longer an issue, and he began to consider how he might escape.

He surveyed the sheer cliffs surrounding him. For about thirty yards up from the valley floor, trees and vines grew in abundance, but above that, the mountain was bare—even a sapling could not take root.

His initial plan to braid a rope and climb out was rendered useless—there was nowhere to secure the rope. Unless he could hang it from the sky itself, escape was impossible. If he had such abilities, he would not be trapped here in the first place.

With a sigh, Zhao Liang rubbed his aching neck, gazing upwards until it grew sore.

“Fill your belly first,” he thought, “then seek a way out.”