Nie Jiuluo’s assailant stumbled back two steps, clutching his eyes with an agonized cry. She ignored him, rolling toward the bedside to switch on the room light.
The moment the light came on, there was a shattering crash at the window. When she whirled around to look, the man had already burst through the open window with such force that he broke the adjacent pane of glass as well.
Nie Jiuluo rushed to the window and looked down first—after all, someone jumping from a window would normally crash to the ground below.
However, apart from the scattered tinkling of broken glass, there was no expected thud of a heavy impact. Her mind quickly shifted gears and she looked up, barely catching a glimpse of a dark shadow flitting across the edge of the rooftop before it disappeared completely.
The entire sequence, from chaotic noise to dead silence, took less than two minutes. Though the shattering glass had been jarring, it was so late that the nearby guests remained in deep sleep, with no one stirred awake by the midnight disturbance.
Standing at the window, Nie Jiuluo felt the wind gusting through the broken panes, gradually cooling her sweat-dampened skin. Coming to her senses, she quickly went to turn off the bedside light—she felt safer wrapped in darkness, as the bright room light made her too easily visible, exposing her every movement.
Then, with her back to the wall facing the window, she sat down on the floor and opened the “burn after reading” app on her phone to message “that side.”
Nie Jiuluo: Something happened here, call me.
As always, there was a ten-second self-destruct countdown at the end of the message. She stared at the screen, watching each character get consumed by flames and smoke. It was the middle of the night; she wasn’t expecting an immediate response.
Yet in less than a minute, her phone rang. When she answered, Xing Shen’s gentle yet steady voice came through: “A’Luo.”
Nie Jiuluo explained the situation as concisely as possible: “Someone with injuries that severe would need hospital treatment. Since you’re often in Southern Shaanxi, could you have people ask around about which hospital might have treated such a patient, and who they might be?”
Xing Shen said, “Stay on the line, let me arrange that first.”
Only then did Nie Jiuluo let out a long breath. Her eyes had mostly adjusted to the darkness now. She got up and went to the cabinet to open a bottle of mineral water, gulping down half of it.
After a while, Xing Shen’s voice came through the receiver again: “A’Luo?”
Nie Jiuluo put down the water bottle: “Go ahead.”
“Bursting through a window without falling, then immediately climbing to the rooftop… an ordinary person… couldn’t do that, right?”
That was quite an understatement. Nie Jiuluo said, “I don’t think any human could do that.”
Xing Shen was methodical: “That’s not necessarily true—a martial arts master with special training could. Do you have any suspicions about who it might be?”
“No.”
After a pause, she added: “I’m an ordinary person. My profession shouldn’t attract any lethal enemies.”
She emphasized the words “ordinary person.”
Xing Shen: “Have you offended anyone recently?”
How could she have offended anyone? She was so mild-mannered in her dealings with others. Even if she wasn’t particularly warm, she was never discourteous. Nie Jiuluo replied irritably, “I filed a complaint with the travel agency, but I doubt they’d go this far over something like that.”
It could also be related to the sketch she’d drawn for the police. But Nie Jiuluo couldn’t be bothered to explain that whole situation to Xing Shen. Besides, if the sketch hadn’t been released yet, killing her might make sense, but if it had already been handed over, what would be the point of targeting her now?
Xing Shen was still puzzled: “You just let him into your room like that—it was too dangerous.”
“If this person wants to kill me, and this attempt failed, there will be a next time. Better to resolve it once and for all than drag it out.”
Xing Shen still found it bewildering that someone would suddenly appear wanting to kill her: “Could it have been a random attack? You just happened to be chosen?”
Just happened to be chosen…
Nie Jiuluo gave a cold laugh: “Then I must be incredibly unlucky.”
Why couldn’t she have this kind of luck with lottery tickets instead?
Xing Shen laughed: “He’s the unlucky one, picking the wrong target. But A’Luo, blinding someone’s eye—that’s made quite an enemy. I’m worried you’ll have trouble later.”
Nie Jiuluo said: “It was self-defense.”
She didn’t regret at all that the pencil had found its mark: the attacker had come for her life, so why should she show any courtesy?
Besides, it was frightening to think about—what if she hadn’t happened to be awake at the time…
Xing Shen said: “It’s pointless to speculate now, let’s wait and see what we can find out.”
Nie Jiuluo made a sound of agreement and was about to hang up when another thought occurred: “You responded so quickly—you’re still up this late?”
Xing Shen: “We were just discussing something… it’s quite strange, we’ve found two empty tents in the mountains this time.”
Nie Jiuluo didn’t think this was unusual: “Isn’t it normal to find empty tents in the mountains?”
Some hikers and campers would leave their tents behind when breaking camp if they found it too troublesome to pack up. Apart from being environmentally unfriendly, it wasn’t a big deal. Looking on the bright side, it was convenient for those who came after—rather like “previous generations plant trees for later generations to enjoy the shade.”
Xing Shen explained: “No, you misunderstand—by empty, I mean there were no people. All the equipment, supplies, and even spare clothes were there, neatly arranged in the tents. But the people have been missing for some days, judging by various signs.”
Nie Jiuluo thought for a moment: “Either they were dragged away by wild animals, or a serial killer is roaming the mountains?”
Though said in jest, it wasn’t entirely impossible. Xing Shen said: “We were discussing various possibilities too, that’s why we’re still up so late. Tonight… are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s been a long time. These past few years, you…”
He didn’t continue, as the line went dead.
Nie Jiuluo had already hung up.
After such a bizarre incident, plus having to guard a broken window, Nie Jiuluo couldn’t fall asleep for the rest of the night.
At dawn, she received a message from “that side”: They had inquired at all major hospitals and clinics in Shihecheng County and neighboring counties, but no one with an eye injury had sought treatment.
Such a severe injury—not seeking treatment at a proper hospital was practically suicide, unless the person happened to have a friend who could perform such surgery and treated them privately. But what were the chances of that?
Nie Jiuluo called the front desk, saying she had accidentally broken the window glass and was willing to pay full compensation, requesting either quick repairs or a room change.
…
At nine in the morning, the travel service called to inform her that starting today, Old Qian would take over the itinerary, and both driver and vehicle were already waiting in the parking lot.
Nie Jiuluo quickly finished washing up and went downstairs. After she got in the car, Old Qian didn’t rush to depart, first giving a formal self-introduction emphasizing his extensive experience and a strong sense of responsibility. He then commented sympathetically about Sun Zhou’s situation, saying Sun Zhou’s family still couldn’t contact him and were planning to file a police report that morning.
Filing a report was good—double reporting would make the police take it more seriously.
After the introduction, the day’s itinerary began. Old Qian started the car while passing some single-page documents to the back: “Miss Nie, please take a look at today’s itinerary.”
Just a single day’s itinerary, yet they still made separate pages for it.
Nie Jiuluo took them—these were printed by the travel agency themselves, very simple route maps marking only roads, rivers, main landmarks, and destinations.
Tour guides usually had a set routine, like starting with local legends or introducing interesting cultural points along the way. Old Qian had memorized his script and was clearing his throat to begin when a car ahead started backing up, forcing him to stop.
Nie Jiuluo instinctively looked up, but her attention was drawn to Yan Tuo’s white SUV not far ahead and to the side: Yan Tuo was there, opening his car door to load that large wheeled suitcase she had seen before into the back seat.
With so little activity in the parking lot, Old Qian noticed too. “Huh,” he exclaimed, “there must be something valuable in that suitcase.”
Nie Jiuluo was curious: “How do you know?”
Old Qian’s answer made sense: “His car is so big, the trunk could fit any amount of luggage—normally people put luggage in the trunk, right? Who puts it in the back seat? If it wasn’t valuable, why would he be so protective of it?”
…
As they got on the road, Old Qian continued his work: “Miss Nie, we’re going to the neighboring county today, taking the provincial road. It’s over a hundred kilometers round trip, with two Taoist temples and one Buddhist temple. Look at that route map, the one showing the roads.”
Nie Jiuluo found the one he mentioned.
“Did you notice there’s a village by the provincial road with an unusual name?”
Nie Jiuluo glanced at it: “It’s ‘Banya Village,’ right?”
Compared to surrounding place names like “Seven Li Bridge,” “Li Family Gully,” and “Wang Family Camp,” the name “Banya Village” (Plate Tooth Village) stood out like a clear stream.
Old Qian asked enthusiastically: “Do you know why it’s called ‘Banya’?”
To be honest, Old Qian’s transitions were quite stiff, very much like reciting lines. Nie Jiuluo wanted to laugh, but seeing his enthusiasm and effort, she didn’t want to discourage him: “Why?”
Good, the tourist was engaging—the worst was when clients wouldn’t participate and he had to perform a monologue.
Old Qian said: “This name has a history, two explanations actually. One is that the village’s well water was bad and ruined people’s teeth, making everyone grow plate teeth.”
Nie Jiuluo laughed: “That seems… too far-fetched.”
Bad water could ruin teeth, but it would affect all teeth, not specifically targeting the plate teeth.
“The other explanation is that since we have many mountains here, Banya Village backs onto a mountain. That mountain has a vertical flat face with a straight split down the middle, looking like the gap between two big teeth, so they called it Banya Village.”
Nie Jiuluo asked him: “Have you been there?”
“Most people don’t go there, it’s just an interesting name. Small village, not much scenery…” At this point, Old Qian had a thought, “Miss Nie, do you want to go see it? If you’re interested, we can make a detour on the way, it’s not much trouble.”
Nie Jiuluo shook her head: “Not interested, and you’d better not go either—it sounds inauspicious.”
Old Qian became curious: “Why?”
“Didn’t you say the village backs onto a mountain that looks like two big teeth? Teeth are connected to a mouth, so the village sitting at the edge of the mouth is like it’s about to be swallowed. Bad feng shui, unlucky.”
Old Qian clicked his tongue: “Hmm, that makes sense.”
But he thought to himself: This Miss Nie, so young yet believing in such things, quite superstitious.
Yan Tuo drove onto the provincial road.
This wasn’t a highway, no toll stations. As he drove, he kept glancing at the large suitcase lying awkwardly on the back seat through the rearview mirror.
After driving for a while, strange sounds came from the trunk—rustling, occasional thumping, no particular pattern.
Yan Tuo frowned slightly, focusing on the road ahead: the provincial road’s dividing barriers weren’t complete, and there were intersections leading to county and township roads.
Soon, he turned onto a county road, then onto the nearest township road, basically driving wherever was most remote as long as the road was passable, finally stopping the car beside a quiet grove.
Yan Tuo sat in the car for a while, not rushing to get out: in this season, the leaves were between green and yellow, already showing signs of desolation. In the distance was a village backed by mountains, very peaceful.
After confirming the surroundings were “clean,” he got out and opened the trunk. Inside was a canvas bag that was moving vigorously, clearly containing something alive.
Yan Tuo unzipped the bag.
Sun Zhou, who had been struggling hard, froze and looked up at Yan Tuo. His mouth was sealed with wide tape, unable to make a sound, only desperately blinking and shaking his head, his eyes full of pleading.
Yan Tuo took out the car’s first aid kit and retrieved a neatly folded piece of gauze. He poured some liquid from an unlabeled plastic bottle onto it and pressed it against Sun Zhou’s nose.
Sun Zhou struggled more violently, but like a fish on a chopping block, completely at others’ mercy, his struggles quickly weakened. In less than half a minute, he was completely still.
Yan Tuo put the bottle back, closed the trunk lid, and casually dusted off his hands while habitually scanning the surroundings. His gaze moved from near to far, low to high, then suddenly stopped at the ridge several dozen meters away.
Due to the sunlight, there was a glint of lens reflection there—from experience, it had to be either eyeglass lenses or binocular lenses.
Someone was there.
How unfortunate—he had specifically chosen a remote location with no people for this unsavory business, yet someone still witnessed it.