The ancient return was exposed by his sister's live stream.

Chen Siyao immediately adjusted the live stream angle: "Family members! We've arrived at the sacred site of Tantric Buddhism! Immerse yourself in the Tibetan culture of Northern Xinjiang!"

Chen Hao slowly pressed the brake, his gaze sweeping over the distant, mist-shrouded sacred mountain.

The group parked their car and walked along the stone path into the sacred site. Vermilion walls stood tall, golden Dharma wheels adorned the walls, and lamas in saffron robes walked slowly by, their chanting carried on the wind—a scene both solemn and serene.

Cai Jingwen walked beside Chen Hao, her beige dress brushing the ground. Sunlight fell on her smooth profile, making her look like a painting. She asked softly, "Mr. Chen, are you also familiar with Tantric Buddhism?"

"I know a little bit," Chen Hao replied casually, his steps unwavering as he kept his eyes on the flow of spiritual energy around him. "The cultivators here mostly focus on physical cultivation and mental power, and they have their own unique methods."

Li Li clasped her hands together and bowed to the main hall: "No matter what, I'll pray for peace, and also... pray that things will go smoothly for me in the future."

Yang Wanqing skipped and hopped around taking photos, while Chen Siyao held up her phone to livestream, drawing a flurry of curious comments in the chat.

[I am Ying Zheng: This place looks sacred, and Master Chen even knows about Tantric Buddhism?]

[Dongmen Chuixue: The Tantric Buddhist techniques are powerful and domineering. My grandfather once mentioned them, but unfortunately, I never had the chance to see them.]

[Travel Guide: This is the most famous Tantric Buddhist holy site in Northern Xinjiang, said to be very efficacious!]

Chen Hao held his sister's hand and stepped through the faded vermilion wooden door. The door hinges made a very soft "creak" as they turned, like the unconscious murmur of a temple in its sleep.

The courtyard was very quiet. So quiet that you could hear the sunlight falling on the soil.

A white, dome-shaped stupa stands in the center of the courtyard, its bronze crescent-shaped spire reflecting a cold light in the sunlight. The stupa is coated with white ash, and after countless years of wind and rain, its surface has developed fine cracks, like the skin of an old man.

Yao Yao looked up at it for a long time, then whispered, "Brother, this tower... is chubby."

Chen Hao smiled but didn't speak. He sensed a faint aura remaining inside the tower—not spiritual energy, but something more ancient and simple, like a "wish" that had settled after countless recitations of mantras.

This aura was faint and elusive, not rejecting his senses, but simply existing quietly, like a mountain, like a stone.

After passing the tower, the door to the prayer hall was ajar.

Pushing open the door, the light suddenly dimmed. The air was filled with the rich, mellow aroma of ghee, mixed with the medicinal scent of saffron and the aged fragrance of sandalwood.

Deep within the prayer hall, rows of butter lamps form a sea of ​​flames, their flickering lightly casting the Buddha's shadow onto the murals, which in turn seem to come alive, swaying gently.

Yao Yao gripped his fingers tightly, her eyes wide open.

The murals stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and the pigments used were minerals and gemstones—Chen Hao could tell that the blue was clearly crushed lapis lazuli, the red was cinnabar, and the gold was real gold powder.

The Buddha Mother in the painting has her eyelids lowered, her posture is so gentle that it is unbelievable, but she has eight arms on her body, each holding a different ritual implement: vajra, lotus, bow and arrow, skull bowl... Ferocity and compassion are strangely blended together, as if telling him: the anger of subduing demons and the gentleness of saving the world are one.

My younger sister pointed at the mural and asked, "Why does that Bodhisattva have so many hands?"

"Because I have to hug a lot of people," Chen Hao replied casually.

The light from the butter lamp shone on his face, flickering uncertainly.

Further inside, the light grew dimmer. Neatly stacked scrolls were arranged on wooden shelves against the wall. They weren't the usual thread-bound books, but rather loose palm-leaf manuscripts wrapped in red cloth, their edges already yellowed and brittle.

Chen Hao bent down to examine them closely. The characters were crooked and twisted, like tadpoles swimming or flames—he knew they were Sanskrit, but he didn't recognize a single word.

But he could vaguely "hear" the voices emanating from these scriptures in silence, echoes left on the paper after countless hands turned the pages and countless eyes read them over thousands of years.

His younger sister tugged at his sleeve: "Brother, it smells so good here."

"Um."

"Is there a Bodhisattva here?"

Chen Hao thought for a moment, then pointed to his chest and then to his sister's heart.

Yao Yao nodded as if she understood, let go of his hand, and imitated the Buddha Mother in the mural, raising both her little hands. She gestured for a while, counted them, and then put them down, muttering, "I only have two hands, I can't hug many people."

After browsing for about half an hour, the group prepared to leave.

As the car entered the heart of the Kunlun Mountains, the temperature suddenly dropped, and all that could be seen outside the window were snow-capped peaks and icy cliffs; the air was so cold that one could exhale white breath.

"Brother, there's a viewing platform up ahead, can we stop here?" Chen Siyao pointed ahead, "I want to take some pictures."

Chen Hao responded and turned on his turn signal to pull over.

The viewing platform wasn't large, and there were already two or three cars parked there. Several tourists were taking pictures, and a newlywed couple was having their wedding photos taken. The bride's white veil was blowing in the wind, looking especially beautiful against the backdrop of blue sky and green grass.

"Wow, so beautiful!" Chen Siyao rushed downstairs with her phone in hand. "Family, let me show you a wedding photo shoot in northern Xinjiang!"

Chen Siyao pulled Cai Jingwen along, saying, "Jingwen, please take a picture for us!"

Cai Jingwen smiled and took the phone, helping them find the right angle.

Chen Hao leaned against the car, holding the wolf cub in his arms, his gaze fixed on the distant snow-capped mountains. The wolf cub woke up, tilted its little head back, and looked in the same direction, its eyes seemingly filled with an innate wildness and longing.

"It wants to go back to the mountains," a voice whispered in my ear.

Chen Hao turned his head and saw Cai Jingwen. She had walked over at some point and was standing beside him, also looking at the snow-capped mountains in the distance.

"Its roots are in the mountains, but its mother entrusted it to me." Chen Hao looked down at the wolf cub. "I will give it better."

Cai Jingwen looked at his profile. In the sunlight, his features were exceptionally clear, and there was an indescribable calmness between his brows and eyes, like the mountains of the northern frontier, which have endured wind and frost yet remain steadfast.

"You are a very special person," she said softly.

Chen Hao smiled faintly: "Everyone is special."

"It's different." Cai Jingwen shook her head. "Lili's husband's situation has made me see through a lot. Most people in this world live in the mundane details of daily life, worrying, arguing, and hurting each other over houses, cars, and children. But you're different. You seem to be... standing on a different level, looking at these things with detachment."

Chen Hao did not answer, but just looked into the distance.

Cai Jingwen continued, "That wolf king just now entrusted its cubs to you before it died. Why did it trust you? Because it could sense that you are not an ordinary person, that you have the ability to protect its children."

"You're very observant," Chen Hao said, turning his head to look at her.

Cai Jingwen blushed slightly and lowered her eyelashes: "I studied psychology and I'm used to observing people. But you're the first person I can't see through at all."

In the live stream, Chen Siyao secretly pointed the camera this way:

[Wow, something's up! Master Chen is chatting with a beautiful woman!]

[Yaoyao's Little Red Riding Hood: Sister Jingwen is blushing! Brother, hurry up!]

[Dongmen Chuixue: It's normal for young people to have feelings for their loved ones.]

[Yongheng: This woman's eyes are strange; she's clearly interested in Chen Hao.]

[Hongyun: Hurry up and go eavesdrop in the late Qing Dynasty! We want to see what's going on!]

Just as Yang Wanqing was about to go over, Chen Siyao grabbed her and said, "Don't disturb them."

"But I want to watch the live stream..."

"Let them wait." Chen Siyao rolled her eyes. "It's rare for my brother to chat with girls, don't ruin the atmosphere."

The live stream chat was filled with wails of despair:

[Two bottles of beer: Well done, sister! You created an opportunity for Master Chen!]

Why I don't dare: This younger sister is sensible.

Just then, a commotion arose in the distance. Several tourists were gathered together, seemingly arguing about something.

"It really is! I saw it with my own eyes!"

"Impossible, such a thing doesn't exist these days!"

"Don't believe me? Look at the photos yourself!"

Curiosity piqued, Chen Siyao pulled Yang Wanqing closer.

In the center of the crowd, a young man wearing a baseball cap held up his camera and excitedly said, "When I was taking pictures of the snow-capped mountains just now, I captured a golden light descending from the sky and landing directly in that mountain valley over there! Look!"

He pulled out the photo, and in it, on the distant snow-capped mountain peak, there was indeed a golden light, as if something had fallen from the sky.

"Is it photoshopped?" someone questioned.