Another noisy day began.
Qiao Ya, sporting dark circles under her eyes, waited yawning at a street-side shop for the steamed buns to be ready.
Soon, the bamboo steamer lid was lifted, releasing fragrant white steam. Qiao Ya took a bag of meat buns and hurried back to the car in quick strides.
Sun Zhou lay slouched in the passenger seat, sleeping soundly under a blanket.
Qiao Ya pushed him: “Food’s here, your favorite—pork with green onions.”
Sun Zhou barely opened his eyes to a slit, responding indifferently: “I’m not hungry.”
Qiao Ya got angry: “I’ve been driving all night, I’m the tired one. Why are you playing dead? Get up and eat!”
Sun Zhou had to sit up, grumbling.
Qiao Ya was cautious and drove slowly, and with Sun Zhou’s wariness making her take detours—even after driving all night, they were still on the road.
He took the plastic bag from Qiao Ya’s hand: “You have the key to your great-uncle’s house, right?”
Qiao Ya nodded: “Yes.”
Her great-uncle was an empty-nester who had returned to his rural hometown for retirement, leaving his city house keys with Qiao Ya so she could check on it and clean occasionally.
“I’ll stay at your great-uncle’s place first, it’s safer.”
“Is that necessary?” Qiao Ya thought he was being too dramatic. “Can pyramid schemes chase people to their homes?”
Sun Zhou glared at her: “How many times do I have to tell you, it wasn’t a pyramid scheme? They didn’t ask for money or try to sell me anything, just said they wanted to treat my injuries.”
Qiao Ya retorted: “How kind of them! Then why didn’t you stay for treatment? Why run away? And you even knocked someone out—if something serious happened to them, you could be charged with assault.”
Sun Zhou snorted, reaching into the bag for a bun: “Ah Ya, this just shows your lack of social experience. People can be treacherous. One needs to stay vigilant. I acted cooperative, but I was always observing the details. I don’t think these people are legitimate—they act suspiciously, whisper behind my back, speaking softly so I can’t hear. Their treatment methods are disgusting and unsanitary. And why did they lock my door at night? If it’s just treatment, why lock people up like prisoners? Sure, they’re being nice to me now, but pig farmers are also very attentive to their pigs—worried about them getting cold, hungry, or sick. But in the end, what happens? They still get slaughtered!”
“Considering all this, the more I thought about it, the more I felt running was the best option! If they dare accuse me of assault, I’ll accuse them of illegal detention,” Sun Zhou said while breaking open a bun. “Besides, if An’s hospital isn’t good enough, we can go to Xi’an, or even Beijing or Shanghai if needed. Why insist on folk remedies… Oh shit, why does this bun smell rotten?”
Qiao Ya was startled: “No way?”
She took the half-opened bun from Sun Zhou and sniffed it—the aroma of fresh meat mingled with oil, salt, and green onions was absolutely delicious.
“Are you trying to cause trouble, Sun Zhou? What smell?”
Sun Zhou genuinely couldn’t stand the smell; even a moment more would make him nauseous. He pinched his nose and threw the bag back to Qiao Ya: “Take it away, keep it far from me.”
“What nonsense!” Qiao Ya said angrily. “Eaten so much raw meat you can’t even stand normal food anymore?”
She was thoroughly annoyed: A perfectly good boyfriend who used to make her proud to show off, now his face was covered in scars, and he looked gloomy and downcast—ugly no matter how you looked at him.
When they got back, she’d have to make him use plenty of face masks, and if necessary, get some medical cosmetic treatment for the scars. After all, she cared about appearances.
Nie Dongyang’s phone call had indeed stirred up Nie Jiuluo’s homesickness.
Thinking about it, she had been away from home for a long time. After successfully negotiating with Jiang Baichuan, she focused entirely on herself, forging ahead like a ship breaking through waves. She didn’t remember her parents’ death anniversaries, only burning incense during the Qingming Festival and having her housekeeper add two extra bowls of dumplings during Chinese New Year’s Eve dinner.
These ritual acts of “filial piety” like death anniversaries should be observed—being an ordinary person meant following some social customs. Besides, her hometown was where she had spent her childhood.
That night, she dreamed of home.
She dreamed of the trees lining the street in front of her house. It was summer, and the city was spraying the trees with pesticides. Countless caterpillar corpses lay under the trees, flattened by passing cars—disgusting.
She wore a little dress, leaning against the wall retching, saying between heaves: “Disgusting.”
Then she looked up, her gaze passing through the treetops to see her father, Nie Xihong, standing alone on the six-story department store roof in the distance, his body swaying like a lightning rod about to be toppled by the wind.
…
She booked a high-speed train ticket for three mornings later, but since her hometown wasn’t connected to the high-speed rail network, she would need to stay overnight in a transfer city before taking an intercity bus home.
The night before departure, she went to Old Cai’s house for dinner and to pick up the cheap replica of her mother’s jade necklace that she had asked Old Cai to make. Old Cai focused on discussing two matters with her.
The first was about frequently submitting works to competitions to win awards. Nie Jiuluo wasn’t keen on such opportunistic approaches, but Old Cai advised her: “Ah Luo, I can see your career path isn’t going to be the instantly globally famous type. Those kinds of geniuses only appear once every few decades. You should be content being talented, climbing the ladder step by step. What are awards? They’re boosters that let you skip three rungs at once. Once you win awards, your value changes and your work’s prices immediately rise with the tide.”
It didn’t sound bad, and Nie Jiuluo’s final response was: “You arrange it as you see fit.”
The second matter was introducing her to a potential boyfriend.
The man was the son of Old Cai’s business partner, who selected art pieces for home decoration at a commercial firm. He had bought two of Nie Jiuluo’s pieces, making Old Cai happy enough to praise her extensively and proudly show her photos from his phone.
So the man had first fallen for her work, then for its creator, and asked Old Cai to play matchmaker.
Old Cai’s words made it hard to refuse: “Ah Luo, good men are rare in this world, so you need to meet several. It’s like buying melons—don’t you need to tap several to find a good one? Only by meeting them can you know if they’re unsuitable, and then by summarizing these experiences of unsuitability, your success rate will be higher next time, right?”
Nie Jiuluo was confused, unsure whether Old Cai was trying to make this match happen or sabotage it. Finally, she gave an ambiguous response: “I need to visit my hometown first, we’ll talk when I get back.”
Old Cai’s home wasn’t far from Nie Jiuluo’s place—a five-minute drive or about twenty minutes on foot.
Usually, Nie Jiuluo would take a taxi both ways, but this night she had accidentally stayed too long, eaten too much, and decided to walk home to aid digestion. Old Cai didn’t insist on seeing her off—after all, they lived in the city center, well-lit and busy, with security posts along the way.
On the way, Nie Jiuluo thought about the “boyfriend” matter.
She didn’t really have an ideal type, and she could meet Old Cai’s suggested person later: if he only liked her face, she would think him shallow; but liking her work first was different—that showed taste.
Without realizing it, she had reached the entrance of her alley. From a distance, she saw a man leaning against the wall by her door, head down, seemingly waiting for someone. Something like a dog crouched at his feet.
Is someone walking their dog? They’d better not treat her doorway as a toilet.
A few steps closer, her mind buzzed, and she suddenly stopped, her expression turning ugly.
Xing Shen heard the movement and looked up at her, straightening his posture: “Ah Luo.”
Nie Jiuluo held back repeatedly, but finally couldn’t contain herself. After checking that no one was around, she took several quick steps forward and spoke in a lowered voice, not hiding her anger: “I made it very clear to Jiang Baichuan that I’m not like you. We should keep our distance and mind our own business. What do you mean by showing up at my door? And bringing this…”
Her fingers curved like claws as she suddenly reached down.
From the moment she appeared, Grasshopper had been trembling and hiding behind Xing Shen. Seeing her move, she was terrified and yelped, leaping toward the high wall. Its hands were fine, sharp claws allowing it to grip the wall, but its feet were troublesome in shoes. After several slips, it finally kicked off its shoes and instantly scaled to the top of the wall, crouching there trembling like a huge wild cat.
Xing Shen urgently said: “Ah Luo, don’t scare it!”
Nie Jiuluo didn’t move, coldly watching as two white platform children’s shoes fell to the ground one after another. How ironic—they were even branded shoes.
“Xing Shen, you don’t understand the rules. How dare you bring such a thing among people.”
Xing Shen reached up toward the wall, and after a moment’s hesitation, Grasshopper tremblingly crept down, crawling at Xing Shen’s feet, afraid to even tremble too noticeably.
Xing Shen sighed: “Ah Luo, listen to me first. Sister Hua is dead, and Lame Father has disappeared. You’re in great danger now, and you won’t accept Uncle Jiang’s arrangements. I thought I could help—the opponent might be Grasshopper’s kind, and having Grasshopper and me around would make things easier…”
Nie Jiuluo interrupted him: “I don’t need it.”
“Xing Shen, the rules were set by everyone, and once set, must be followed. I refused Uncle Jiang’s arrangements, I know what to do, and I’ll bear all consequences myself. As for you, before trying to be kind, shouldn’t you ask the other person’s opinion first, rather than…”
As she spoke, a passerby walked by, and Nie Jiuluo stopped talking, even shifting slightly to better hide Grasshopper.
The person was probably curious why someone wore sunglasses so late at night, focusing all attention on Xing Shen, not noticing the “thing” at his feet at all.
After the person walked away, Nie Jiuluo spoke decisively: “Take it away immediately. I’m serious—if I see this thing again where it shouldn’t be, be prepared to collect its corpse.”
After saying this, she walked to the door and pressed the doorbell.
Soon, Sister Lu’s voice came from inside: “Ah, coming!”
Xing Shen stood motionless for a moment before saying softly: “Ah Luo if it weren’t for our past unpleasantness, would you… accept my help?”
Nie Jiuluo turned to look at him.
Xing Shen appeared completely dejected, his head slightly bowed, shoulders slumped, looking quite pitiful.
She said: “Xing Shen, we’re all living the lives we chose. No one forced anyone, and no one owed anyone. I’m quite happy with my life, I hope you are too.”
The door opened, and Sister Lu smiled: “You messaged earlier saying you ate too much and wanted to walk home, so I made you some hawthorn digestive tea.”
Nie Jiuluo was delighted: “Really? I should drink some, my stomach feels uncomfortable.”
She stepped across the threshold.
The door quickly closed, and the light that had just spilled out from inside, like an elusive sprite, suddenly vanished.
Xing Shen stood in the darkness for a while. Hawthorn digestive tea—he wondered if it was strong or weak, surely very weak, unable to penetrate the thick earth-owl smell beside him, so he couldn’t smell it.
Grasshopper finally dared to stand up, limping a few steps to retrieve and put on its shoes.
Xing Shen called to it quietly: “Let’s go.”
Yan Tuo stayed with Lin Xirou at the plantation temporarily.
Nominally, Lin Xirou said she was tired of city living and wanted to enjoy some rural scenery for a few days, but Yan Tuo knew she was waiting for Xiong Hei to extract more information from Lame Father.
Every morning, he would see workers hurriedly punching in, the area inside and outside the plantation presenting a peaceful scene—so peaceful it was boring as if there were no secrets at all. Sometimes, he really admired Lin Xirou’s ability to perfectly conceal so many shadowy matters.
In his free time, he would constantly review what he had overheard that day, breaking it down and analyzing it repeatedly.
Nie Jiuluo had said Dog Tooth wasn’t an earth owl, likely a close relative or variant because earth owls were beasts, not humans.
The matter could be simplified: Dog Tooth, Lin Xirou, and their kind were earth-owls. The question was, how did they manage to look exactly like humans?
Lin Xirou must have done something.
In the second basement level of this plantation, he and Lin Ling had together seen that woman with sticky threads growing from her back in the mini plastic greenhouse. What was that woman for? Where did she go afterward?
His Excel spreadsheet with numbers and personnel records was initially stolen from Lin Xirou’s computer by Lin Ling. It was currently updated to No. 017 Zhu Changyi, but notably, the spreadsheet didn’t list from 001 to 017 in order. It started from 003, and for every two or three numbers, a code was missing.
No. 003 was named Sun Xiong, also known as Xiong Hei.
He and Lin Ling had been studying this sheet and one day, Lin Ling suddenly discovered that the surnames in the sheet perfectly matched the order of surnames in the “Hundred Family Surnames.”
For example, “Zhao Qian Sun Li, Zhou Wu Zheng Wang”—”Sun” ranked third, so 003 was Sun Xiong; “Wu” ranked sixth, so 006 was Wu Xingbang.
Similarly, 014 was Shen Lizhu, and 017 was Zhu Changyi.
Could these all be earth-owls who had achieved perfect human appearances? Lin Xirou gave them codes and names. But why scatter them across the country? To reduce risk, not putting all eggs in one basket?
Dog Tooth currently had no name, just a crude nickname. After “Zhu” came “Qin” in the surname rankings—could Dog Tooth be the future No. 018, surnamed Qin?
…
As dusk approached, Yan Tuo’s head ached from all the thinking. He stood up, brushed off his hands, and used his foot to erase the analysis he had scratched in the dirt with small stones.
In the distance, someone was running toward him—it was Xiong Hei.
When he got close, Xiong Hei was panting, and if Yan Tuo wasn’t mistaken, his face showed traces of embarrassed panic: “Yan Tuo, where’s Sister Lin?”
“She didn’t sleep well last night, said she had a headache and is taking a nap.”
Xiong Hei made an “oh” sound, but his distracted tone made it clear his true purpose wasn’t finding Lin Xirou.
Yan Tuo: “What’s wrong?”
Ever since that night when Yan Tuo had “revealed his feelings” to him, Xiong Hei had grown considerably more fond of and close to Yan Tuo. After much hesitation, he lowered his voice: “Yan Tuo, I’ve messed up again… I gave the old man too much of the drug.”