Chapter 100: The Fragrance of Flowers

The owner explained that the person Yan Bo mentioned had a profound impact. The village was small, with a population so limited that everyone knew each other, or at least had heard of one another.

Moreover, He Yulong was an outsider who had come from a distant metropolis to settle here, making him all the more conspicuous.

He came alone, without family, to this remote Jinyan Village. With some savings, he set up a large greenhouse just outside the village and engaged in livestock farming, running a business that was doing fairly well.

Yet, he was a very peculiar individual. Many local villagers found him baffling. Though he was in livestock farming, he rarely mingled much with others. Even when villagers came to buy poultry or livestock from him, he was taciturn and reclusive.

Those who knew him described him as expressionless, like someone with facial paralysis—always with a fixed, somber face, no matter when or where he was seen.

Logically, since he was an outsider who had settled here to do business, he should be part of the village community. Why was he so solitary? He had no friends, lived alone in his small livestock farm, and rarely went out unless necessary.

But no one probed too deeply. After all, his animals were good quality—pigs were well-fed, and chickens, ducks, and geese were lively and healthy, unlike some unscrupulous merchants.

Though his farm wasn’t large, it still housed dozens of pigs and hundreds of chickens. He never hired anyone, managing everything himself.

Livestock farming is grueling work, and despite being in his fifties and appearing somewhat melancholy, he was remarkably energetic and never seemed tired when working.

It was said that city folks often lose their vigor when moving to the countryside, but Old He didn’t seem like he came from a metropolis at all; he was tough and hardworking.

He lived there for over a year, then disappeared—not on a trip, not for other reasons—just vanished.

His livestock remained, unattended, after he left, which was strange. Why would the owner abandon his entire farm and disappear?

To this day, he hasn’t appeared in the villagers’ sight. His farm has long since become an empty shell, unmanaged. According to the innkeeper, this happened roughly three years ago—meaning that even before Qi Yan and the others arrived, this man was already gone and his whereabouts unknown, as if he had vanished into thin air.

Of course, such a remote village doesn’t see the constant flow of people like a city does, so missing persons are harder to track. Since he lived alone without any helpers, it would be difficult for anyone to discover him if he died in some hidden valley. Whether any family pursued the matter or not, it eventually faded away—after such a long time.

No sign of life, no trace of death. His disappearance, like his appearance, remains baffling.

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Now this was troublesome... They had thought that since the village was small, asking around would easily reveal his situation—but the information they gathered led to this: no one knew if he was alive or dead. This meant that the trail Yan Bo had was completely broken. If it had happened recently, it might be manageable, but it had been nearly three years.

Everyone’s expressions grew gloomy. Yan Bo put down his chopsticks and pondered for a moment, then handed a cigarette to the innkeeper. “It’s like this—I’m a fellow townsman of Old He, also from Lushi City, and I came specifically to find him. Could you do us the favor of taking us to where he used to live in the village?”

The innkeeper, hearing this, had no objection. Since Yan Bo claimed to be an old acquaintance and had come all this way, even if the man was gone, what harm was there in showing them his old residence? Villagers tended to think simply and didn’t suspect anything more.

After everyone finished their meal, as dusk approached, they each returned to their rooms to change into more comfortable, casual clothes, then followed the innkeeper out.

It must be said, though Jinyan Village was surrounded on three sides by mountains, as the sun set, the last rays streamed through a large gap in the west, bathing the entire village in a warm, orange glow. The scent of villagers cooking dinner drifted through the air, evoking a strong sense of nostalgia and rural charm.

Jinyan Village was laid out along a winding road at the mountain’s foot. The road, which led from the highway they had arrived on, extended just over a mile to the village’s eastern exit, lined on both sides with houses.

To the west was the Bangmin River, which would rise rapidly during the rainy season, so no one lived near its banks.

To the south loomed a majestic mountain—broad and not steep, but a massive section of it had collapsed, exposing a rocky face.

The innkeeper, as if recalling something, explained as they walked: about ten years ago, a landslide buried most of the old village site there. That disaster had drawn the government’s attention; during relief efforts, funds were allocated to build the new village site, so in a way, misfortune brought a blessing.

Hao Dalong stared at the sunken mountain section, clicking his tongue. “Wow... how many must have died when that whole chunk came crashing down?”

At the mention of this, the innkeeper’s expression darkened and he fell silent, perhaps because that calamity remained a painful memory for the villagers.

Once they passed the village’s eastern exit, the road grew rougher—no paved highway here, just a muddy trail.

Ding Lingzi could no longer walk unaided and was supported by Xuanxuan as they moved slowly forward.

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Upon arrival, they looked southward and indeed saw a cluster of old, dark blue-brick houses—lower and more dilapidated than the new village, mostly ruins now.

Ding Lingzi suddenly paused, turning her head slightly toward the direction of the old village while wearing sunglasses, but said nothing.

At this moment, Qi Yan, walking at the back, casually remarked, “Phew... that’s a pleasant scent. Whose flowers are blooming? Or is it from the mountain?”

Hao Dalong sniffed beside him. “Really?”

“Yeah, a faint, light fragrance—not strong, but quite nice,” Qi Yan nodded.

Xuanxuan glanced back at them. “I have rhinitis, so I can’t smell it.”

The innkeeper and Yan Bo, walking ahead and chatting, didn’t notice their conversation.

Perhaps because Ding Lingzi’s eyesight was poor, her other senses were sharper; she was the only one, besides Qi Yan, to respond, saying, “I smell it too... it’s coming from over there.” She pointed toward the ruins of the old village and the southern mountain.

Among so many people, only Qi Yan and Ding Lingzi noticed the faint scent, which was subtle and mingled with the earthy smell, making it hardly perceptible.

There were no colorful flowers in sight, but no one paid the scent much attention.

Even Qi Yan didn’t realize that after smelling the fragrance, his body felt slightly warm; he thought it was just from exertion.

Soon, Hao Dalong also vaguely caught the scent. “Hey? There is a bit of it... such a delicate fragrance. Ah, the countryside is truly wonderful; the air is so much better than in the city.”