When Yan Tuo returned to the villa that day, he had a conversation with Lin Ling. He didn’t dare reveal the crucial details, after all, everyone still needed to stay around Lin Xirou for a while—Lin Ling wasn’t good at hiding her emotions, and it would be problematic if her eyes or behavior revealed any tells.
He only told Lin Ling that things were being prepared, and for the sake of stability, they needed more time. During this period, she had acted obediently in front of Lin Xirou, verbally agreeing to whatever was asked of her.
The next day, Lin Xirou and Xiong Hei returned.
Both wore troubled expressions. Yan Tuo guessed it was due to Chen Fu and Han Guan’s matter. This was good—the more chaotic things were on their end, the more harmonious his side needed to appear. Yan Tuo pretended not to notice and continued going to work at the company, signing a stack of backlogged documents.
That day, just before getting off work, Lin Ling sent him a message.
—Aunt Lin just scolded Xiong Hei.
Yan Tuo replied instantly: Did you hear what they said?
Lin Ling sent a voice message.
“I went downstairs to get a delivery and passed by the small living room. I only caught fragments. Aunt Lin was saying, ‘If you can’t find the people, then find the car. Doesn’t the car have GPS tracking? And there are so many traffic cameras, none of them caught the car?'”
They must have been discussing Chen Fu and Han Guan’s matter.
Chen Fu’s car did have GPS tracking, which he had disabled.
There were many traffic cameras, but when he moved the vehicle, it was at night, and he specifically chose routes that weren’t on navigation systems.
The second voice message came through, and Yan Tuo played it.
“Xiong Hei seemed quite helpless and said, ‘Sister Lin if the GPS tracking is turned off or disconnected from the network, it can’t send the latest location. Traffic cameras are only set up on main roads—if the car went through rural farmland, which camera could have caught it? In short, shortly after leaving Shihe County, it’s like they vanished.'”
The third voice message followed immediately.
“Aunt Lin flew into a rage, saying Xiong Hei was brainless, such a major incident, and he didn’t take it seriously from the start. She also said don’t just focus on after the disappearance—what about before? Who did they meet, and where did they go? Shouldn’t all that be investigated?”
Yan Tuo sent a voice message: “Just now?”
Lin Ling replied: “Yeah, about ten minutes ago. Later, I sensed Xiong Hei was about to come out, so I quickly left. As I was walking away, I heard them mention Lü Xian something, but couldn’t make it out clearly.”
When she mentioned “Lü Xian,” her voice carried a tone of aversion.
Yan Tuo initially wanted to remind her to play her part thoroughly—since she had “agreed” to interact with Lü Xian, she shouldn’t show such obvious discomfort. But his mind was preoccupied, and his thoughts were quickly consumed by other matters.
—Lin Xirou told Xiong Hei not to focus on after the disappearance, but to pay attention to what before it: who they met, and where they went.
Before the disappearance, Nie Jiuluo was inevitably implicated, as she had appeared quite obviously in at least two places.
First was at the hotel front desk, where she had encountered Han Guan. This was manageable—she had been checking out at the time and didn’t know Han Guan, plus she had left before him.
Second was at the restaurant where she had eavesdropped. This was also manageable because after they had exchanged information at Liu Changxi’s house, he had called the restaurant to inquire. Due to the numerous security cameras taking up memory space, the surveillance footage was overwritten every seven days, so it was impossible to retrieve now.
The worry was if Xiong Hei and his people investigated too thoroughly, such as checking road surveillance or diagonal store cameras—that would be beyond his control.
Also, Lin Ling’s mention of “Lü Xian” reminded him that he still owed Lü Xian a phone.
***
After leaving the company, Yan Tuo went to his usual phone store. As both a regular and wealthy customer, he received one-on-one service from the store owner immediately.
Yan Tuo wasn’t particularly interested in the latest models or folding screens, but it was still entertaining to watch the owner demonstrate the features. When scanning to make the payment, a thought suddenly occurred to him. He held off on paying, looked around, and moved closer to the owner, lowering his voice: “Can you install a listening device in the phone?”
The owner was startled and quickly ushered him into a small room.
Seemed promising. Yan Tuo understood immediately.
Sure enough, once in the small room, the owner put on a mysterious expression: “Mr. Yan, you’re not planning corporate espionage, are you? That’s too risky—we don’t dare do that. At most, out of sympathy and justice, we help wives catch mistresses or monitor cheating men, that sort of thing.”
The man was quite shrewd. Yan Tuo smiled: “What corporate espionage? I just got a new girlfriend, and something feels off. I suspect she’s using my money to keep another man on the side. So, you know, I’m buying her a phone as a birthday gift and just thought to ask.”
The owner expressed understanding and sympathy: “Sounds like you’ve met a gold digger. Rich folks, men and women alike, all have these troubles.”
He then gave Yan Tuo a detailed introduction.
Apparently, with current technology, listening devices aren’t popular anymore. The latest trend was installing spy software. The owner strongly recommended a two-thousand-yuan program to Yan Tuo: “After installing this, you’ll need to prepare a special number. We’ll set up the numbers as a pair. The special number can’t make calls to this phone, but when you dial, if their screen flashes once, that means the signal is connected. After that, even if they’re not on a call, you can hear the sounds around them—in other words, with this software, the phone doesn’t need a listening device, the phone itself becomes a listening device.”
This exactly met his needs. Yan Tuo paid for everything without hesitation and handed over his phone for the owner to check, just in case it had similar software installed. He felt somewhat rueful: here he was, unwilling to be “installed on” while secretly planning to “install” on Lü Xian.
On second thought, he consoled himself: after all, it was necessary to deal with Di Xiao. As for the rest, he couldn’t afford to worry about it too much.
***
When he returned to the villa, it was already dark. Just as he entered, he saw Xiong Hei making a phone call at the bottom of the stairs, quite agitated: “What do you mean the video is too big to send by email? Haven’t you heard of cloud storage? All you know is fighting and killing, right? If you don’t keep up with the times, society will leave you behind, understand?”
Yan Tuo’s expression turned cold, pretending not to see him as he walked past.
Sure enough, he hadn’t gone two steps when he heard Xiong Hei’s exasperated shout: “Yan Tuo, stop right there!”
Yan Tuo halted, and after a moment, turned around with an irritating, casual expression: “What’s up?”
Xiong Hei was fuming: “Look at your attitude. Such big eyes, didn’t you see me? Didn’t you see I’m in a bad mood? Couldn’t even come over to show some concern?”
In the past, he would have already rushed over with “Brother Xiong this” and “Brother Xiong that.”
Yan Tuo said: “I saw you, but since I’m not included in things anymore, why should I care?”
Xiong Hei was momentarily speechless at his retort.
To be honest, he had looked down on Yan Tuo before, but ever since Yan Tuo “bared his heart” to him at the farm, his opinion had somewhat improved. He thought that while Yan Tuo might be opportunistic and fawning, at least he was “sincere.”
He slapped Yan Tuo on the back: “A real man shouldn’t be so petty. Don’t act like this when you’re needed or not needed.”
This slap left Yan Tuo momentarily unsure of what to say.
Xiong Hei must have his own “blood pouch” to have survived this long, and over the years, he must have done plenty of dirty work. Yet after dealing with him more, seeing the “human” side of Xiong Hei, even the friendly side, it was hard not to feel conflicted—for instance, from childhood, Lin Xirou had indeed shown him great care. This kind of daily interaction easily corroded one’s resolve, to the point where sometimes he had to specifically go read his mother’s diary, drawing and reinforcing hatred from its words.
He steadied himself: “Brother Xiong, what’s troubling you so much?”
Xiong Hei remained silent.
Yan Tuo sneered: “You complained I didn’t come show concern, now I’m showing concern, and you’re treating me like an outsider. Fine, I’m not worthy. The moon’s out, go tell your troubles to it.”
Xiong Hei was both annoyed and amused: “What nonsense are you spouting? Ah, it’s what I mentioned before—two brothers who disappeared in Shihe.”
As he spoke, he picked out a cigarette and lit it.
Yan Tuo feigned surprise: “Still haven’t found them?”
Xiong Hei didn’t respond, slowly exhaling a cloud of white smoke, as if saying, now you see how worried your brother is.
Yan Tuo: “These two brothers, they’re from your bloodline, right?”
Xiong Hei grunted in affirmation.
Yan Tuo: “Don’t worry too much. With cameras everywhere these days, they should be easy to find.”
Xiong Hei sighed: “We’ve looked. They disappeared on their way from Shihe to Nanba. You know how it is—plenty of surveillance in the city, but not in the countryside, especially in the mountain areas.”
Yan Tuo pondered for a moment: “If that’s the case, I suggest you look backward. Don’t fixate too much on where they went after disappearing, look at what happened before.”
Xiong Hei froze, raised his eyes, and stared at him for a long while.
Yan Tuo asked curiously: “What is it?”
Xiong Hei gave him a thumbs up: “Not bad, you’ve got some insight. Sister Lin said the same thing. Shows you’re really trying to help me think this through.”
Yan Tuo smiled: “Just… is it easy to get the surveillance footage?”
Xiong Hei waved dismissively: “Small matter. We’ve got connections in Shihe. Hotels, street corners—we’ve got copies of everything from that period. It’s just that there’s so damn much of it…”
He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration at the end.
Yan Tuo maintained his composure: “You could get more people to watch it. That would speed things up.”
“Already did. Probably won’t get any sleep tonight.”
Yan Tuo: “Need help? I’m free anyway. How about I order some late-night snacks and get some beer?”
***
Xiong Hei brought Yan Tuo along, partly for the food and drink, and partly because watching such boring footage alone was too tedious—he had recruited several people, but they were Li Yueying, Feng Mi, and Yang Zheng, all still at the farm.
The footage was divided into several parts, distributed to different cloud drives: Han Guan’s hotel (Xiong Hei), Chen Fu’s bathhouse (Yang Zheng), Chen Fu’s car in Shihe County (Feng Mi), Chen Fu’s car outside Shihe County (Li Yueying).
Yan Tuo understood the general picture: Han Guan and Chen Fu had arrived in Shihe separately. Han Guan stayed at a hotel, Chen Fu spent the night getting a massage at a bathhouse, and they met up the next afternoon, planning to go to Nanba together.
He’d expected to watch on a computer, but Xiong Hei complained that the figures were too small on computer screens and hurt his eyes. Instead, he projected it onto a wall in the villa’s entertainment room, and turned off the main lights—it was like watching a movie in a theater.
Since they were looking backward, Xiong Hei started from the day Han Guan checked out.
The 720p HD camera footage took up over 30GB per day, and for easier uploading, it had been split into hundreds of 200MB video files. Opening the folder revealed an overwhelming number of files that couldn’t fit on one computer screen—no wonder Xiong Hei had said “There’s so damn much of it.”
Yan Tuo slowly sipped his beer, watching Xiong Hei open videos, fast-forward through them, and move to the next after determining there was nothing substantial.
Suddenly, Xiong Hei said: “Here he is.”
He paused the frame and pointed Han Guan’s face out to Yan Tuo: “Look, this is him.”
In the footage, Han Guan was pulling a suitcase, presumably going to check out.
Yan Tuo nodded, put down his beer, and sat up straight.
Nie Jiuluo should appear soon.
Xiong Hei pressed play.
On-screen, it showed normal check-out queuing. The camera was incredibly clear, and with it being projected…
Yan Tuo felt tense.
Sure enough, soon he saw a familiar figure. Back then, she hadn’t been injured yet…
Thinking of how she now had to rely on supporting herself against things to move around, Yan Tuo smiled unconsciously.
Xiong Hei suddenly made a sound of surprise: “Han Guan spoke to this woman.”
Yan Tuo’s heart tightened, but he said casually: “Ladies first, probably just letting her go ahead.”
Xiong Hei’s “oh” hadn’t even finished when he suddenly exclaimed: “Wait! This woman!”
He paused the video as he spoke.
Yan Tuo’s scalp tingled.
Xiong Hei stared for a while, trying hard to remember, then suddenly realized, pointing at Yan Tuo: “Isn’t this your… lover, the one you spent the night with and left in the mountains?”
Back when Yan Tuo had disappeared without a trace, Lin Xirou’s side had found the driver Old Qian through a reward, and the next step would have been investigating Nie Jiuluo—so Xiong Hei remembered her. Besides, Nie Jiuluo’s appearance was hard to forget.
Yan Tuo swallowed slightly: “Yes, she’s gone again.”
Xiong Hei didn’t understand: “Gone where?”
Yan Tuo replied casually: “Didn’t I tell you? She’s a sculptor and regularly travels to provinces like Shanxi and Shaanxi where there are lots of historical sites and clay sculptures. These past few months, she’s been moving around southern Shaanxi.”
Xiong Hei leaned forward, looking at Nie Jiuluo for a while: “Not bad looking. Not thinking about getting back together? Even if not for marriage, a few nights would be good.”
He finished with a lewd laugh.
Yan Tuo chided him: “Brother Xiong, if you’re like this, I won’t stay up with you anymore. We agreed to focus on the important matter.”
Xiong Hei chuckled: “Alright, alright, back to business.”
Because of this interlude, Xiong Hei’s mood inexplicably lightened. As he continued looking through videos, he started humming and complaining to Yan Tuo: “Han Guan met up with Chen Fu the next day, which means nothing happened at the hotel, right?”
Yan Tuo was eager for him to end the search: “Yeah, I think if anything happened, it’s more likely to be in Feng Mi and the others’ footage.”
Xiong Hei hesitated, still uncomfortable with being perfunctory: “Sister Lin gave instructions. I should finish watching.”
Whatever, let him watch. Nie Jiuluo’s part had been covered up anyway. A great weight lifted from Yan Tuo’s heart, and he finally had the appetite for the late-night snacks. He even downed two cans of beer with the food.
Who knows how much longer they watched? Just as he was lowering his head to pull the tab on his third can, the sound and movement suddenly stopped.
It was paused—no more sound, no more moving images. Xiong Hei sat beside him, completely still.
A strange pressure rose in his heart, and Yan Tuo raised his head.
On the projection wall, it was still the front desk scene. Han Guan was pulling his suitcase, checking in—this should have been the previous evening.
But these weren’t the important points. What was important was that someone was walking through the lobby, heading out.
Xiong Hei finally spoke.
He said: “Yan Tuo, isn’t this you?”