Three weeks had passed since Li Yuan left the Tianshan Kingdom. His journey took him past towering mountains and through dense, untouched forests, eventually leading him down into a hidden valley nestled between two great mountain ranges.
This valley wasn't on any map he'd ever seen—if maps even existed in this world. Access was so concealed, and the path so overgrown, that only those who knew the precise way could find it. Or those, like Li Yuan, who let their Understanding of Water listen to the whispers of a river flowing from a secret place.
As he descended through a narrow gap in the cliffs, the sight that opened before him was so breathtaking that even a being who had lived for fifteen thousand years paused in awe. The valley was a lush green oasis fed by mountain springs. Terraced rice fields climbed the hillsides, orchards dotted the plains, and in the center stood a village of simple houses built from wood and stone.
But what truly captivated Li Yuan wasn't the physical beauty; it was what he heard through his Wenjing Realm: an almost perfect harmony in the collective intentions of the villagers.
How interesting, he thought, his curiosity piqued. No sharp conflicts, no clashing ambitions, no paralyzing fears. Only... a peaceful tranquility.
Li Yuan walked calmly toward the village. As he neared, a few villagers working in the fields looked up, but their faces held no suspicion or fear—only a friendly curiosity. An old man with long white hair and a face etched with wisdom walked toward him. He moved slowly but with a steady gait, leaning on a wooden staff that was clearly more for balance than necessity.
"Welcome, wanderer," the old man said in a soft, clear voice. "It is rare for anyone to find their way to Qingxi Valley. You must have been guided by more than just luck."
Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the man's genuine curiosity, warm hospitality, and, most notably, a lack of hidden agendas or political calculations. Just simple honesty.
"I was guided by water," Li Yuan replied with matching simplicity. "Your river whispered tales of a peaceful place, and I wanted to know what made that peace possible."
The old man's smile reached his eyes, illuminating his entire face with warmth. "Ah, someone who listens to the water. That's a sign of deep understanding." He motioned Li Yuan forward. "My name is Bai Shen, head of Qingxi village. You must be hungry from your long journey. Allow us to offer you food and a place to rest."
Li Yuan followed Bai Shen, observing everything. The houses were simple yet solid, showing good craftsmanship without unnecessary luxury. Children played freely in the streets, with no shadows of fear. Farmers worked in the fields with a regular, unhurried rhythm. Most striking of all, there was no clear hierarchy. No house was grander than another, no clothing indicated social status, and no one held a posture of dominance or submission.
It's as if everyone here is... equal, Li Yuan realized with growing fascination. Not identical, but no one considers themselves higher or lower than anyone else.
They arrived at the largest house, which was not luxurious but had a spacious room clearly used for community meetings. Bai Shen welcomed Li Yuan inside and had a villager bring food. The table was soon filled with simple but delicious dishes: perfectly steamed rice, fresh vegetables, river fish, and ripe fruit.
"Please, eat," Bai Shen said. "We don't have much, but what we have, we share sincerely."
Li Yuan accepted gracefully and began to eat. The food tasted simple yet extraordinary, made with a care that imbued it with more meaning.
"Qingxi Valley," Li Yuan began after a comfortable silence. "I sense something different about this place. There's a harmony here I rarely find elsewhere. How did you achieve this?"
Bai Shen set down his chopsticks, his expression turning serious. "That's a long story," he said. "But perhaps it is a story you need to hear, if you're interested."
"I am," Li Yuan confirmed.
Bai Shen nodded and began to tell his tale. "Qingxi Valley was not always this way. A hundred years ago, this place was part of the Kingdom of Liang—a great kingdom with a rigid caste system. My great-grandfather was a farmer living in poverty and oppression under that system."
"Then, a civil war erupted. Princes fought for the throne, willing to sacrifice thousands of lives for their ambition. Our village, then named Liangcun, was on a strategic route between two warring factions. War came with terrible cruelty. Both sides took our food, burned our homes, and killed anyone they suspected of helping the enemy. In two years, more than half our population died."
Bai Shen looked out the window, as if seeing the past. "My great-grandfather was a survivor. When the war finally ended—not because one side won, but because both factions had destroyed each other—he led the remaining villagers in a radical decision. They decided to leave and find a place to live beyond the reach of any power. They found this valley—hidden, isolated, but fertile. And here, they built something new."
"What did they build?" Li Yuan asked, even though he was beginning to understand.
"A community with no hierarchy," Bai Shen answered with philosophical simplicity. "No king, no nobles, no caste. Just people who agreed to live with simple principles: share what they have, make decisions collectively, and treat everyone with equal dignity."
Li Yuan nodded. "And this has lasted for a hundred years?"
"With some difficulties," Bai Shen admitted honestly. "It hasn't always been easy. Sometimes there are conflicts about how to allocate resources or how to handle those who break community rules. But we learned to resolve them through dialogue, not violence. Through compromise, not domination. We acknowledge that none of us are perfect and that forgiveness is a necessary part of community life."
Li Yuan felt something rare—the discovery of something truly special. In his millennia of travel, he had seen countless communities, but few had lasted a century without becoming rigid or collapsing into chaos.
"How do you make decisions without a single leader?" Li Yuan asked respectfully. "How do you prevent chaos?"
Bai Shen smiled knowingly. "For small decisions, each family or work group makes their own. For larger ones, we gather as a whole village. My role as village head is to facilitate discussion and ensure all voices are heard. I have no power to make decisions on my own; I just ensure we reach a consensus or, if not, a strong majority."
"And if you violate that trust?" Li Yuan asked.
"Then the village would choose a new head," Bai Shen replied simply. "It has happened three times in the last century. Not because a head became a tyrant, but because they lost the community's trust due to bad decisions or became too old or sick to serve effectively."
Li Yuan heard the truth in every word. There was no deception, just an honest description of a system that worked.
"Is there no temptation for power?" he asked.
"Of course there is," Bai Shen replied with a soft laugh. "We are human. But we have learned to overcome this not by punishing ambition, but by reminding one another of our principles. We ask, 'Does this desire serve the community, or only the ego?' We show that true happiness comes not from having more than others, but from contributing to the common good."
Li Yuan sat in silence, absorbing this wisdom born of a century of practical experience.
"I've seen many communities start with idealism," he said, "but most eventually collapse. What makes Qingxi Valley different? Why have you endured where so many others have failed?"
Bai Shen contemplated the question. "I think there are a few reasons," he finally answered. "First, our isolation. We are so hard to find that we face no pressure from outside kingdoms. Second, our size. We are small enough that everyone knows each other. It's difficult to exploit or ignore someone when you know them personally. Third, and perhaps most important, is that we have never forgotten where we came from. Every year, we hold a ceremony to remember those who died in the war and the suffering under the old system. We remind ourselves why our ancestors chose to build something different."
Bai Shen looked at Li Yuan with a gaze that held the depth of understanding. "Most communities fail because they forget. They forget the suffering that brought them there. They forget their founding principles. And slowly, without realizing it, they begin to repeat the mistakes of the past. But we do not forget. And that is what has allowed us to endure."
Li Yuan nodded slowly, feeling the profound truth of the words. In all his travels and observations of history, he had seen this pattern repeatedly: idealistic communities forgetting their principles, allowing power and injustice to creep back in. But here, in the hidden Qingxi Valley, was a community that had found a way to resist that forgetting.
And in that discovery, there was a valuable lesson to carry on the long journey ahead.