Nie Jiuluo shared the same thought.

If Di Xiao could turn people into revenants at will, given Lin Xirou’s twenty years of careful planning, the world should have been crawling with revenants by now.

Yet in reality, Lin Xirou hadn’t even managed to control Yan Tuo. This could only mean that the process of creating revenants wasn’t so straightforward.

She spoke softly, “But in that case, isn’t Lü Xian in danger?”

The thought jolted through Yan Tuo’s mind, and he instinctively reached for his phone.

Nie Jiuluo stopped him. “Don’t. At this point, he won’t be able to escape just because you tell him to.”

—He’s already inside the farm, and there are probably people watching his every move.

—If he tries to run, he’ll need a reason. Even if you tell him the truth, would he believe it?

—And even if by some miracle he manages to escape, he won’t get far before being caught and brought back.

She had a sudden idea: “What if he tells Lin Xirou he has weak essence syndrome, or that he’s impotent?”

Yan Tuo couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s had three girlfriends before. Besides, since Sister Lin chose him, wouldn’t she have investigated his background?”

Nie Jiuluo suggested, “What about making an anonymous call to report illegal detention at the farm?”

Yan Tuo sighed. “That farm isn’t just a major taxpayer in that township—it’s one of the biggest in the entire county. They’ve got connections everywhere. Want to bet that the moment you make that report, someone will tip off the farm?”

Unable to think of a better solution, Nie Jiuluo asked, “You’re not thinking of going back to rescue him, are you?”

Yan Tuo gave a bitter smile. “You’re overestimating me. Without a viable plan, what would be the point of going back to save him, other than sharing his fate?”

After sitting in silence for a while, he opened the car door to throw away some trash.

Nie Jiuluo felt melancholic as she watched him through the car window. She saw him walk to the garbage bin at the street corner, forcefully pushing the trash bag in. She noticed the Longmen Grottoes advertisement board standing at the corner, its Buddha statue looking majestic yet compassionate. Beyond the billboard stretched the increasingly high, distant, and serene blue sky.

Perhaps this was why she always wanted to be an ordinary person, dealing with ordinary troubles.

After the incident with Lü Xian, the afternoon drive became more sluggish than the morning’s journey. Nie Jiuluo even took a nap. When Yan Tuo woke her, she remained dazed for quite a while, only seeing a deep red sunset sinking in the distance ahead of the car, dyeing half the sky in its hue.

Yan Tuo announced, “We’ve reached the hotel.”

“Oh,” Nie Jiuluo responded groggily, gathering her “delivery” from lunch as she got out of the car.

…

Yan Tuo had chosen a five-star hotel with a family suite, allowing them to stay together but with separate bedrooms. This arrangement provided both immediate support and privacy.

After settling Nie Jiuluo in, he still needed to meet with his business partners. Though called a “meeting,” it coincided with a company event, so he probably wouldn’t return quickly. Yan Tuo left the dedicated phone with Nie Jiuluo, asking her to monitor the situation with Lü Xian.

Before leaving, he asked, “Anything else? Tell me now so I can take care of it—once I’m gone, you’ll be on your own.”

Now equipped with her four-legged walker, Nie Jiuluo felt more confident. After some thought, she said, “Don’t drink too much, okay? I won’t be able to handle you if you come back drunk and making a scene.”

Yan Tuo replied, “Either I won’t drink at all, or if I drink too much, I just won’t come back.”

After Yan Tuo left, Nie Jiuluo spent a long time getting ready for bed. She was quite happy he wasn’t around—the awkwardness and inconvenience of having someone help with personal tasks could be more uncomfortable than doing them alone. When alone, you see your clumsiness and deal with it; besides being more difficult, nothing else really matters.

After finishing her routine, she settled comfortably in bed, leaving only the bedside lamp on. She first dialed the dedicated connection to confirm she could hear activity from Lü Xian’s end, then opened her delivery bag to begin her “work.”

She had indeed bought “professional materials,” mostly odorless modeling clay, commonly known as “rubber clay”—having been away from her workbench for so long, her hands had grown rusty, and though it wasn’t real clay, practicing with a substitute was better than nothing.

Nie Jiuluo pinched off a piece and began kneading it slowly: when sculpting, newly handled clay is called raw clay, and like kneading dough, it must be continuously worked to familiarize both hands with clay and clay with hand, until both enter a state of harmony, allowing mind and hands to work as one.

In the earpiece, Lü Xian was doing something, moving around, drinking water, dragging chairs, and humming tunes to himself.

In the past, Nie Jiuluo would have found this annoying, but now she only felt sympathy—this melancholy spread through her body and transferred through her palms to the clay, making even the modeling clay seem filled with heavy emotions.

Once the clay reached the right consistency, she opened her phone’s photo gallery to look for reference images for practice.

…

By 10:30 PM, Yan Tuo still hadn’t returned, but there was significant activity from Lü Xian—he had gone out for a night run, panting and gasping for breath.

After about fifteen minutes, the running sounds changed to walking, and Nie Jiuluo heard Lü Xian muttering between heavy breaths: “I’d… I’d rather die fat… no more running… working out… isn’t meant for humans…”

Soon after, the background noise changed, indicating he had moved from outdoors to indoors.

Nie Jiuluo had heard Yan Tuo describe the farm hotel’s layout—it was only two stories tall, with no elevator, so Lü Xian would have to climb stairs.

Sure enough, the muttering continued: “Damn, still have to climb stairs.”

Several seconds later, very abruptly, Xiong Hei’s voice came through the earpiece, accompanied by urgent knocking: “Sister Lin, Sister Lin, something’s happened!”

Nie Jiuluo froze, immediately stopping her work and holding her breath to listen carefully to the activity on the other end.

She estimated that Lü Xian had reached the second floor just as Xiong Hei was knocking on Lin Xirou’s door.

Footsteps grew louder as Lü Xian jogged over: “Brother Xiong, what happened?”

Xiong Hei’s voice was irritated and rough: “None of your business, go about your affairs.”

Almost simultaneously, a door opened, and Lin Xirou asked, “What’s the matter?”

Nie Jiuluo couldn’t hear what the matter was—presumably, Xiong Hei and Lin Xirou either communicated through gestures or whispered. When Lin Xirou spoke again, her tone had changed: “I’ll go take a look.”

…

The footsteps gradually faded away, and Lü Xian gave a disgruntled grunt before entering his room.

This round of surveillance came to an end.

Only then did Nie Jiuluo dare to exhale deeply, feeling her hands had grown stiff, with both the clay sculpture in her palm and her fingertips turning cold.

Something had happened on Lin Xirou’s end—but what? Was it related to Yan Tuo? Had he been exposed?

Probably not, she thought, closing her eyes to carefully recall what she’d just heard.

Lin Xirou had asked “What’s the matter?” and then said “I’ll go take a look,” which suggested the incident had occurred nearby, most likely at the farm itself.

What could have happened at the farm? What kind of incident could it be?

Was it something with Jiang Baichuan’s group? Unlikely—even if Jiang Baichuan died, Lin Xirou would only say “Serve him right,” she wouldn’t get upset about it.

Dog Tooth? No, no, no—Dog Tooth was already dead.

That only left…

Like a bolt of lightning, a term flashed through Nie Jiuluo’s mind.

—Root Severance!

Xiong Hei had mentioned, “The root severance is tomorrow, whether the quality is good depends on what happens after,” and they’d even arranged for Lü Xian to wait at the farm. Everyone was waiting for the “root severance” to occur.

Nie Jiuluo’s heart began to race: Could they be so fortunate? Had heaven truly opened its eyes, had Buddha shown his divine power—had something gone wrong with their “root severance”?

As she was lost in thought, she heard the outer door of the suite open—Yan Tuo had returned.

Nie Jiuluo called out: “Yan Tuo?”

Yan Tuo responded with a mumble, his footsteps unsteady and heavy as he headed straight for the bathroom, immediately followed by the sound of intense vomiting.

Nie Jiuluo instinctively moved to get out of bed, pulling back the covers before stopping herself. After a while, she heard the toilet flush, and then silence.

Hadn’t he said he wouldn’t drink?

Nie Jiuluo felt somewhat angry: She had warned him earlier—if he got drunk, she wouldn’t be able to handle him.

Fortunately, she had her four-legged walker. Nie Jiuluo used it to support herself against the wall, moving step by step into the outer room.

When she had gone to bed, she had turned off all the outer room lights, so it was still dark, with only yellow light spilling from the bathroom.

Nie Jiuluo made her way to the bathroom door.

The toilet lid was down, and Yan Tuo sat on the floor, leaning against the vanity cabinet, one leg bent and one stretched out—the family suite had two bathrooms, she had the main bedroom’s en-suite, and this one in the living area was smaller. With Yan Tuo’s long limbs taking up space as he sat, it seemed even smaller, leaving barely any room to step inside.

Nie Jiuluo asked him: “Did you drive back?”

Yan Tuo shook his head: “Designated driver.”

As he spoke, he grabbed the edge of the sink to stand up, swaying unsteadily.

At least he knew to get a designated driver—he wasn’t completely drunk.

Nie Jiuluo felt awkward about saying anything, after all, what business was it of hers if he got drunk? She had no proper standing to comment: “Just now, at Lü Xian’s end…”

“Something happened at Aunt Lin’s place, right? I know.”

Nie Jiuluo was startled: “How do you know?”

Yan Tuo smiled: “Lü Xian called me, thinking he could get inside information from me, but how would I know? Though at a time like this, trouble on Aunt Lin’s end is a good thing, right…”

He walked unsteadily toward the door, forgetting to avoid her. He was right in front of Nie Jiuluo before realizing he needed to move aside. As he tried to lift his foot, his head drooped, body tilting forward, nearly colliding with her. Fortunately, his reactions were still quick enough to grab the doorframe.

Nie Jiuluo looked up at Yan Tuo. He not only smelled of alcohol but also had a faint scent of cigarettes.

It proved the old saying about social obligations—left hand holding cigarettes, right hand holding alcohol.

She said: “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t drink?”

Yan Tuo raised his eyes to look at her, then lowered his head with a self-mocking smile, his head growing increasingly heavy: “I wasn’t going to drink, but they kept toasting, kept toasting. I refused them all, but then there was this little boy, bringing his tiny sister to make a toast…”

He held out one hand to show her the height: “Just this tall, this high, a little sister, so I drank…”

…

The event Yan Tuo attended today was this company’s informal annual gathering.

It was called an “informal annual gathering” because it wasn’t the official annual meeting, but rather a family day dinner for core employees. With Yan Tuo’s presence as a major investor, the atmosphere had reached new heights, and people were offering toasts before he’d taken three bites of food.

Yan Tuo kept making excuses, like needing to drive and not being able to drink, or claiming he couldn’t handle alcohol. Eventually, the partner company’s boss became stubborn about it and announced on the spot that whoever could get him to drink would receive a personal reward of 2,000 yuan.

Well, how could he escape after that? The whole venue became restless, and even those who hadn’t planned to offer toasts lined up to try.

Yan Tuo had resigned himself to losing some money, planning to subsidize a few 2,000 yuan prizes to keep everyone happy when he felt a tug at his clothes and heard a timid voice call: “Uncle.”

Looking down, he saw a little boy, about four or five years old, pretty and shy, holding a glass of wine in one hand and his sister’s hand in the other.

The sister was only about two years old, tightly gripping her brother’s hand, sucking on her finger while looking up at him curiously, moving closer to her brother as she stared.

The crowd burst into laughter—adults wouldn’t compete with children for this opportunity, naturally making way for the siblings while teasing that if he didn’t drink now, he’d leave a shadow on the children’s fragile young hearts.

Yan Tuo found himself accepting and drinking without thinking.

Once you open that door, one leads to another, and eventually, he lost count of how many drinks he’d had. At least he knew to stop before passing out completely and had asked his neighbor for a cigarette.

He lit it and laid it across the wine glass. Despite the lively atmosphere, the wine and cigarette on the table remained quiet and lonely, the thin wine rippling slightly, the cigarette smoke curling upward, offering solace to those who had left and those who would never wake.

Yan Tuo had originally thought he was truly at peace when he learned of Yan Xin’s whereabouts.

Now he realized he wasn’t.

It was like having a nail lodged in his heart for over twenty years—the nail and heart tissue had grown accustomed to rubbing against each other, neither painful nor itchy. The initial sorrow had been diluted year by year, layer by layer, infinitely thinned, leaving only a few root fibers still wrapped around the nail.

But today, that sorrow gradually returned. His earlier calm had been because those distant feelings hadn’t yet made their way back—they were still on their journey home.

His mother had written in her diary: “My foolish son, tricked by just a little duckling.”

For just one little duckling, his sister had disappeared forever.

…

Yan Tuo explained to Nie Jiuluo: “Just this tall, this high… a little girl, wouldn’t it be wrong not to drink? When she saw me refusing her brother’s toast, her lips started trembling, about to cry…”

He kept smiling, unaware that his eyes had reddened: “I just thought, they’re children, and she’s a little girl, I should be accommodating, so I drank… drank too much.”

He fell silent.

The light was a soft yellow, falling cool upon their bodies.

Yan Tuo looked into Nie Jiuluo’s eyes.

These eyes were more gentle and more captivating than ever before. Gradually, the noise drifting from outside faded away, the electrical hum from the pipes disappeared, and the world fell silent.

This was a world quiet to the point of solitude, but fortunately, there was still another breath within arm’s reach.

Yan Tuo couldn’t help but lower his head, moving closer to her lips.

Just before they could touch, Nie Jiuluo turned her face slightly and said softly, “You’re drunk.”