A person leapt out from within the tree.

Xie Wuji had just lost his job, and now, to make matters worse, his girlfriend had left him as well. The reason was simple: Xie Wuji could no longer afford to support her.

For the past few years, Xie Wuji had stretched his modest salary to fulfill his girlfriend’s every desire. He tiptoed through their fragile relationship, constantly anxious that she would become upset and stop talking to him.

He was as humble as a dog.

But a sycophant is doomed to end up with nothing.

Now, without a job and without love, Xie Wuji's world was emptier than ever. Not long ago, he had even planned to borrow some money from his parents to make a down payment on a secondhand apartment beyond Beijing’s Fifth Ring Road, preparing for marriage.

But before his bright plans had even begun, they had been dashed in an instant.

Packing his belongings, Xie Wuji prepared to leave Beijing. Like so many other dream-chasers in the city, he had struggled to pursue his ambitions, but they remained hopelessly out of reach. Now twenty-eight, the son of a working-class family, he reflected that in his hometown, a man his age would likely already be married with children.

His parents often urged him to settle down; after all, what parent doesn’t long to hold a grandchild?

Xie Wuji had once believed his ex-girlfriend would be his lifelong companion, but now that notion seemed laughable.

“Enough. It’s time to go. I’ll find some work with the old man at a construction site—at least I’ll be able to feed myself,” he muttered, patting the train ticket and the last two thousand yuan in his pocket with a bitter smile.

Just as he was about to shoulder his bag and leave the rented room, a mirror fell out. It was a bronze mirror—one he had gotten while working at an antique shop during his job hunt in Beijing.

The shop’s owner, a man from Shandong, came from a family of tomb raiders. But after the economic reforms made tomb raiding illegal, the owner had switched to dealing in antiques. Unfortunately, genuine artifacts were hard to come by, and the shop soon went under.

When the owner left Beijing, he had a meal with Xie Wuji and gave him the bronze mirror as a memento. He had sorted out the valuable antiques when closing the shop but couldn’t determine the age of the mirror on the shelf, so he dismissed it as a fake and gifted it to Xie Wuji.

Xie Wuji cherished the gesture, particularly since the owner had been so generous. Knowing Xie Wuji’s humble background and struggles in Beijing, the man had even given him two months’ extra salary before departing.

Looking at the ancient mirror, Xie Wuji gave a self-mocking smile. “Old pal, I just saw you off back home, and now, not even two months later, I’m following in your footsteps. Clearly, fate has brought us together.”

Every year, countless dreamers flock to cities like Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou, but most eventually choose to return home. These metropolises are arenas where talent alone isn’t enough; one must be a silver-tongued negotiator.

Though Xie Wuji was diligent in his work, he was not quick-witted. In his previous advertising job, he could have defended himself and shifted blame onto others, but he chose to silently bear the consequences instead.

But the boss in advertising had no patience for his principles and promptly fired him.

Just as he was about to stow the bronze mirror away, it suddenly emitted a blinding light, so intense that Xie Wuji couldn’t open his eyes.

When he finally adjusted to the glare, he found that the room had vanished. In its place was a mysterious downward staircase!

Beyond this sloping stairway, everything else was engulfed in darkness.

Stunned, Xie Wuji looked behind and ahead, realizing he was in a tunnel.

“Well, since I’m going home anyway, why not see what’s in here first?” he murmured, stepping forward.

Heart pounding with anxiety, he ventured down the tunnel and soon emerged in a remote, desolate village.

The villagers wore tattered clothes; all were emaciated and gazed at him with hollow eyes.

Clutching his chest, Xie Wuji muttered, “This must be a hallucination! How could a village suddenly appear in my rental room? I must have watched too much TV or played too many games. I’m just exhausted.”

But as he thought it through, something didn’t add up—he had just seen all those eyes staring at him.

The villagers gathered around, inspecting him from head to toe. Suddenly, the crowd formed a large circle around him, and, as if worshipping a deity, they all dropped to their knees!

“The Tree God has descended! The Tree God has come!” they cried out in joy.

Amazed, Xie Wuji turned to look behind him—and saw a massive tree, the largest he had ever seen in his life, soaring straight up into the clouds.

Holding the bronze mirror, Xie Wuji glanced at his reflection, and his heart sank. Suddenly, he found himself back in the tunnel, realizing one end led to the real world and the other to this strange village.

He returned to the village, where the villagers were now thoroughly bewildered.

“The great deity appeared, vanished, and now appears again—what a miracle!” they exclaimed.

“Well, isn’t that what gods do—appear and disappear at will?” the villagers marveled, their voices filled with excitement.

Before Xie Wuji could process what was happening, a wail came from afar.

“Uncle Zhong, Uncle Zhong, come quickly! My father!” cried a woman. The villagers were still reeling from Xie Wuji’s sudden arrival, but her cry broke the spell.

“What’s happened?” Xie Wuji was curious and followed, entering a thatched hut where a gaunt middle-aged man lay burning with fever.

“The Tree God has come!” The crowd made way for Xie Wuji.

“What are you doing?” he began, but before he could finish, the young woman fell to her knees before him.

“Great Tree God, our village has prayed day and night, hoping you would come to save us. After years of prayers, our wish has finally come true. Great Tree God, please save my father! Save the people of this village!”

The girl was about eighteen or nineteen—thin, yet her beauty shone through. Her features were delicate, her skin pale and luminous, and her tall figure graceful.

She wore rough homespun clothing, her hair neatly coiled at the back of her head. She struck Xie Wuji as pure as a blank sheet of paper—clean and unblemished.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Xie Wuji said, “Let me have a look.”

The girl hesitated, but an elderly woman beside her whispered, “He is the Tree God, sprung forth from the ancient tree at the village entrance.”

She stressed the word “sprung,” describing it in vivid detail, which left Xie Wuji somewhat embarrassed. Still, saving a life was more urgent than minding his pride. He stepped forward; his frequent visits to online forums had given him a smattering of medical knowledge. Right now, the mystery of how he had arrived here seemed less important than helping someone in need.

“It’s just a fever. Do you have any amoxicillin?” Xie Wuji asked.

“Amoxi? Who’s that?” the girl replied, puzzled.

He pressed on, “You don’t know amoxicillin? What about Day and Night Cold Medicine?”

She shook her head again.

A sense of strangeness crept over Xie Wuji. He looked at their clothes and faces, and suddenly noticed that many had pointed ears!

Without thinking, he pinched the girl’s ear. She nearly collapsed, letting out a melodious cry, her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Mm-hmm… ahh…”

“The Tree God is doing this to Xiaoyu—could it be… does he require an offering before saving someone?” the villagers whispered, their eyes darting back and forth as they stole glances at Xie Wuji. Hastily, he withdrew his hand, realizing he might have crossed a line.

“Ah… ah…” The girl clutched her chest, gasping for breath, sweat beading on her brow as if she had undergone some extraordinary ordeal.

She whimpered softly, biting her lip to stop herself from making strange noises.

Blushing, Xie Wuji quickly let go of her ear.