Mu Qingchen thinks the biggest mistake of his life was believing the old man who sold steamed buns.
“Young man, there’s an ancient ruin on the back side of Qingming Mountain, packed with treasures!” The old man took his money while winking conspiratorially. “I can tell you’ve got a remarkable build, so I’m letting you in on it. I wouldn’t tell just anyone!”
Mu Qingchen should have realized then: what sane person would casually share a secret like that with a stranger buying steamed buns?
But he believed him anyway.
And now here he was, dangling halfway down a cliff on the back side of Qingming Mountain, both hands gripping a withered vine growing out of the rock. Beneath him was an abyss thousands of feet deep; above him, a sheer cliff face stretching beyond sight.
