Chapter 49 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Before Departure Day

The dawn of the day of departure dyed the desert sky a rare pale orange color, a gentle light that made even the driest sand dunes look softer than usual, as if this land was also trying to preserve one last beautiful image before sending Diệp Sương away.

She woke up very early, before the first rooster crowed from Diêm Cốc village, not because she was eager to leave but because her heart was in disarray and did not allow her to sleep any longer. She quickly put on her cloak, carried the last portion of food she had saved, and went straight to the familiar rock crevice where the small creature was still waiting.

*

When the animal saw her coming, it no longer cowered in fear as it had during the first days. Instead, it ran closer and rubbed its head against her hand. The wound on its hind leg was now only a faint scar, no longer hindering its steps.

"Today is the day I can truly go home," Diệp Sương said softly, her voice choked with emotion. She caressed the animal one last time, remembering every afternoon secretly bringing food here, every night worrying whether the wound would worsen, and every small but honest moment that had quietly built a bond that had never needed a name.

She led the animal to a clearing farther away, near the edge of the land that was beginning to show signs of life after the rain a few months ago, where scattered wild bushes had sprouted. She sat down, untied the makeshift rope she used to keep the animal near the crevice, then took a step back.

"Go on," she whispered, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Return to your own kind and live a life where you don't have to hide from anyone."

*

The animal stood still for a moment, its big round eyes fixed on her as if hesitant. Then it slowly took a few steps back, stopped, turned to look at her one more time, and sprinted toward the distant rocks, its small figure quickly disappearing in the dawn light.

Diệp Sương stood still for a long time after the animal had gone, a feeling of both relief and emptiness crept into her heart, no different from the feeling she had when she left Tùng Lĩnh Village years ago - knowing that she had done the right thing, but still unable to avoid a sadness that was hard to name when she had to let go.

Little did she know that this private, silent moment—with no witnesses other than herself and the vast desert land—would become part of a distorted story later, when the diary pages recording it fell into the hands of those who only saw what they wanted to see.

She stood a moment longer, looking in the direction the animal had disappeared, then bent down to pick up the makeshift rope, rolled it up and put it in her pocket as a small souvenir, a habit she had kept since childhood - not willing to throw away anything that was once attached to something she cared about, even if it was just an old rope that was no longer of any use. The morning sunlight was now higher, shining across the empty land, and in that moment, Diệp Sương suddenly felt a strange peace, as if this very act of letting go was also a part of what Mrs. Chín Lài had taught her - to save someone, save them well, and sometimes, saving well means knowing the right time to let go, letting the person being saved continue on their own path.

*

Returning to the gate, Diệp Sương saw Little Tơ waiting at the gate, clutching a small package wrapped in a floral cloth, her eyes red even though she tried to look strong.

"Are you really going?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Yes," Diệp Sương replied, kneeling down to her eye level, holding her shaking little hands. "But I promise, I will come back. Maybe not soon, but I will definitely come back."

"I'm afraid that when you leave, there will be no one to teach me how to draw spells anymore," she said, her voice choked up and unable to hide it.

"I've learned a lot," Diệp Sương consoled, smiling even though her eyes were stinging. "I believe you can practice more of what you've learned on your own, and Mr. Vệ Chinh will also help you if needed. The most important thing is not who teaches you, but whether you can keep the heart to help others or not - that, no one can teach for you, you have to keep it yourself."

*

Little Tơ gave her the calico package, her voice mumbling. "Here are some dry cakes that I made with the people in the village for you to eat along the way."

Diệp Sương took it, hugged her tightly for a long time, clearly feeling the small warmth trembling in her arms, a familiar feeling that reminded her of years ago, when she was a child, hugged by Mrs. Chín Lài before leaving Tùng Lĩnh Village.

Mr. Mười Khoan also came, standing quietly behind her, his face carrying a solemn look different from usual. “You gave this land a chance that we thought it had long lost,” he said, his voice choking. "No matter where you go or what you do, Diêm Cốc Village will always be grateful to you."

"I just hope that when I return, I will find this place even more lush," Diệp Sương replied, bowing deeply to him, a gesture of respect she learned not from the sect, but from the way Mrs. Chín Lài still bowed to the elders in the village.

A few other people from Diêm Cốc Village also kept coming, carrying small, simple gifts - a basket of eggs, a few rough woven fabrics, a bunch of dried herbs - and placed them in Diệp Sương's hands even though she tried to refuse because the luggage was quite heavy. "You just accept it," a middle-aged woman said, her voice sincere. "This is the heart of the whole village. It's not much, but it's all we can send with you."

Diệp Sương received it, her heart warmed by that simple but sincere sentiment, recalling the image of the first days coming here, when the villagers' eyes were still cautious and suspicious before a young sect disciple. The journey from that doubt to today's hugs and farewell gifts was much longer than four months if measured by the changes in people's hearts.

*

Sầm Nguyên Trạch and the escorting soldiers were waiting outside the gate, their horses were saddled, and their luggage was neatly stacked. Vệ Chinh stood next to him, trying to force a smile even though his eyes were as red as Little Tơ's.

"Remember to keep in touch," he advised, his voice trying to sound normal. "Don't make me worry about whether you're okay or not."

"I will write a letter as soon as I can," Diệp Sương promised, squeezing his hand.

Thanh Việt walked up to her, and they both turned to look at Tiêu Sa Pass one last time - the once chipped city wall had now been firmly reinforced, the small observation post stood tall, Diêm Cốc Village in the distance with peaceful kitchen smoke rising in the morning sunlight.

"Four months," Thanh Việt said softly. "I never thought a strange place could become a part of my flesh and blood so quickly."

"Me too," Diệp Sương replied, her voice soft.

*

The two climbed on their horses and, along with the escort group, left Tiêu Sa Pass when the sun had already risen. Diệp Sương turned around and looked back one last time, seeing Little Tơ still standing there waving her hands nonstop, Mr. Mười Khoan and Sầm Nguyên Trạch standing quietly behind, Vệ Chinh holding up a short stick as a formal goodbye in his own style.

She tightened her grip on the reins, turned her horse's head towards the distant town of Lam Thủy, where the road back to Tông Vân Các was waiting, carrying in her luggage not only precious documents that had been exchanged for the courage of many people, but also the weight of a land that had learned to trust her, and a promise she made to herself that she would never break, no matter where the road ahead led.

The desert wind blew back behind the group, as if pushing them forward, towards a horizon still covered with fog of unanswered questions.

After walking some distance, Diệp Sương turned back one last time and saw Tiêu Sa Pass reduced to a light-brown dot in the vast sand. The figures of those who had seen them off were no longer distinct, only small streaks of color standing still at the gate. She thought of the first day she had set foot here, when the land was so strange and dry that it hardened people's hearts. Now, as she left, she carried a nostalgia no different from what she had felt when she left Tùng Lĩnh Village the year before.

"Are you okay?" Thanh Việt asked softly, noticing her distant eyes.

"I'm fine," Diệp Sương replied, turning the horse's head around, eyes facing straight ahead. "Just trying to remember this image, in case the day comes when I need something to remember why I'm doing all this," Thanh Việt nodded, did not say more, just urged his horse to move forward side by side with her, the whole group of people gradually disappeared into the mist rolling up from the horse's hooves, heading straight towards the distant town of Lam Thủy.