The snows and winds of Changbai Mountain drift into the cooking smoke above Yucun. Zhang Qiling is no longer the taciturn bottle carried through tomb passages, and Wu Xie has set aside the burden of the Nine Gates to live as an ordinary man, keeping watch over a small courtyard. They pick vegetables in the morning mist and brew tea beneath the evening glow. Sometimes the Fat One calls for West Lake vinegar fish, and the trio crowd around the stove, laughing and carrying on. No sinister traps, no life-or-death choices, just the small routines of daily life and the quiet comfort in a shared smile. The hands they once gripped tight in the depths of tombs now hold each other as they walk along Yucun's fields. Time has worn down the sharp edges of their perilous journey, and made their bond all the warmer. This is their ordinary life among the living, the everyday warmth beyond the Bronze Gate, and a tenderness that flows on like a gentle stream.
