Yan Tuo hesitated to start the car. Nie Jiuluo guessed his thoughts: “You want to go back and rescue her, don’t you?”

“Maybe you could say something to talk me out of it,” Yan Tuo said.

Nie Jiuluo smiled reluctantly, not wanting to speak but forcing herself to be harsh.

“First, she won’t believe you. Wu Xingbang isn’t just a lover to her, but also her benefactor. You won’t be able to convince her in the short term. Second, if you rescue her, where would you keep her? You’re already overwhelmed just dealing with Chen Fu. Third, taking her now would alert our enemies. Don’t forget, Lin Ling is counting on you.”

Beyond Lin Ling, there were also the people on that Excel spreadsheet.

Yan Tuo remained silent for a long while, then let out a deep sigh and slowly started the car.

The moment the car moved, Nie Jiuluo truly felt how heavy the vehicle seemed, how arduously the wheels turned.

The rest of the day was spent on the road. They rarely spoke, only exchanging necessary words like “Want some water?” or “Need the restroom?” during rest stops.

Nie Jiuluo had Yan Tuo throw away the packed meal they’d brought—given Xu Annie’s straightforward personality, she might have spat in it.

They had dinner at a roadside wonton shop—thin-skinned small wontons filled with shepherd’s purse and shrimp, the soup garnished with egg strips, seaweed, and green onions, colorful and steaming hot.

Midway through the meal, Nie Jiuluo called Sister Lu, saying they’d arrive around ten o’clock and asking her to prepare, specifically mentioning to ready the guest room for visitors.

She hadn’t discussed hosting a guest with Yan Tuo beforehand, but since she made the call in front of him and he didn’t object, it seemed fine.

After the call, Yan Tuo asked her, “Any news from Xing Shen’s side?”

Nie Jiuluo checked Weibo and shook her head.

She had just discussed this with Yan Tuo this morning, but his asking again showed his anxiety.

Yan Tuo realized he was being too impatient and smiled self-mockingly. “I regret not developing any allies all these years. But then again, who could I involve? I’d be cursed for dragging others into this mess.”

Now, someone like Xing Shen had become the lifeline he desperately wanted to grasp.

He wondered what kind of people they were and if they’d be easy to work with.

At ten-thirty that night, the car drove into the alley where Nie Jiuluo’s home was located.

Despite the day’s heavy atmosphere, Nie Jiuluo couldn’t contain her excitement as they approached home. From far away, she could see Sister Lu standing at the gate, craning her neck to look out.

Sister Lu didn’t recognize Yan Tuo’s car but suspected it might be them, so she kept watching. Nie Jiuluo giggled and rolled down the window: “Sister Lu!”

Sister Lu came forward smiling: “I was just thinking you should be arriving about now.”

After the car stopped, Sister Lu helped open the door. Her smiling face suddenly changed color when she saw the crutch and the arm in a sling: “What happened to you?”

Nie Jiuluo downplayed it: “You know we were looking at the grottoes, right? I fell from above and broke my arm. Thankfully, Mr. Yan here…” She gestured toward Yan Tuo who had just gotten out: “He took me to the hospital and drove me back home.”

Sister Lu quickly moved to support Nie Jiuluo while smiling gratefully at Yan Tuo: “Thank you so much, Mr. Yan.”

Yan Tuo adapted quickly to his new identity: “You’re welcome.”

He opened the trunk and took out the luggage, helping carry it into the courtyard. As soon as they reached the inner courtyard, he caught a faint sweet fragrance and couldn’t help saying: “It smells wonderful.”

Prompted by his comment, Nie Jiuluo noticed it too: “Did something bloom?”

Sister Lu pointed to a corner of the courtyard: “It started blooming a couple of days ago, blooming beautifully. Old Tang said it’s because of the warm winter this year, so it bloomed early.”

That’s when Yan Tuo saw the plum tree, about two meters tall.

It was a white plum tree, with sparse but vigorous branches that seemed to have bones supporting them. The branches were dotted with flowers, each blossom white-petaled with yellow stamens, every one of them vivid. Of course, there were more buds than blooms, some thin, some full, all caught in the soft light from the house—a tree full of flowers, a tree full of silent excitement.

He was surprised: “You know how to grow flowers?”

Before Nie Jiuluo could answer, Sister Lu laughed: “Miss Nie doesn’t know how! She hired a gardener, Old Tang, who comes every two weeks. He used to work at the city botanical garden before retiring. He’s skilled with flowers and plants.”

“Ah, right,” Yan Tuo remembered that Nie Jiuluo did have a gardener.

He couldn’t help but look at the white plum tree again. It grew so well, both free and magnificent. He couldn’t remember the last time he had looked at flowers.

While lost in thought, he heard Nie Jiuluo ask: “Yan Tuo, are you hungry? Should I have Sister Lu make you some noodles?”

Yan Tuo shook his head: “It’s too late, I won’t be able to sleep if I eat too much.”

Nie Jiuluo instructed Sister Lu: “Make him a bowl, and one for me too. Just small portions.”

Yan Tuo was both annoyed and amused—she didn’t listen to his opinion at all, so why even ask?

But since it was just a “small portion,” he decided to eat some anyway.

The guest room was on the first floor and cleaned thoroughly. Yan Tuo put the suitcase containing Chen Fu in the wardrobe and lay down fully clothed to rest for a while.

After just a short while, he dreamed of the farm and the second basement level.

In the dream, everything was pitch black, surrounded by the heavy, damp smell of earth. A hoarse and sorrowful voice kept mumbling intermittently: “An’an, my dear An’an…”

Yan Tuo tried to follow the voice but couldn’t find anyone.

As he was groping in the darkness, a faint light appeared in the distance, and a small girl’s figure, thin and frail, walked alone in the light.

Yan Tuo shouted: “Xin’xin!”

Then he startled awake.

When he woke, the light was soft, and the window showed the silhouette of white plum blossoms—that plum tree was right outside his window.

Sister Lu’s voice came from outside: “Mr. Yan, the noodles are ready. I’ve taken them upstairs. Since Miss Nie has trouble walking, please go up to eat.”

To be honest, Yan Tuo felt a bit nervous about going up to the second floor—the last time he was here, he had made quite a mess and knocked over a clay statue before leaving.

Coming back now felt like returning to the scene of a crime.

After climbing the last step, the large studio came into full view, and Yan Tuo breathed a sigh of relief. Not so bad after all.

He snuck a glance at the Water Moon Guanyin statue he had knocked over before—had it been repaired? He couldn’t tell through the plastic covering.

Nie Jiuluo suddenly spoke up: “Stop looking, or I’ll make you pay for it.”

Yan Tuo was startled, but since his thoughts had been exposed, he decided to brazen it out. He sat down at the workbench and looked at his small bowl of noodles.

To avoid spilling soup on the workbench, the bowl and chopsticks were placed on a small black lacquer tray with gold designs. It was a tiny bowl, a delicate porcelain bowl with chicken soup-braised dragon beard noodles, garnished with shredded chicken, black fungus, a few wolfberries, green onions, and two slices of water chestnut.

Yan Tuo said: “Well, you bit me too.”

Was she trying to start a battle?

Nie Jiuluo: “Who dunked me in the water?”

Yan Tuo: “Getting dunked… that didn’t break the skin or draw blood, but a bite leaves a scar for life.”

Nie Jiuluo: “Getting dunked leaves psychological trauma for life too.”

At the mention of psychological trauma, Yan Tuo gave up—he didn’t dare comment on psychological matters: “Well, I… I saved you later, didn’t I?”

Nie Jiuluo: “Didn’t I save you too? I even treated you to a bowl of noodles.”

This could go on forever if they kept at it. Yan Tuo offered peace: “Let’s clink bowls and call it even, okay?”

Nie Jiuluo gave him a sidelong glance, posed for a couple of seconds, then pushed her bowl forward to clink with his. She burst into laughter, and thus the accounts were settled.

The noodles really were delicious. Yan Tuo drank every last drop of the soup. The portion was just right, not heavy on the stomach but full of flavor, completely satisfying.

He suddenly remembered something: “Sister Lu always calls you ‘Miss Nie’?”

For a live-in housekeeper, especially one who had been there so long, it was surprisingly formal.

Nie Jiuluo said: “That’s Sister Lu’s insistence. She says it’s still an employment relationship, so there needs to be boundaries. I just let her have her way.”

“Then what do your close friends call you?”

Nie Jiuluo casually replied: “They call me A-Luo.”

“A-Luo.”

Yan Tuo murmured it once softly and said, “Sounds strange.”

Nie Jiuluo asked curiously, “What’s strange about it?”

Old Cai called her that, Xing Shen called her that too, and Jiang Baichuan only used “Nie Er” because he was used to it—otherwise, he’d call her that as well.

Yan Tuo rubbed the side of his nose with a bent finger: “It just feels a bit odd.”

Nie Jiuluo said irritably, “That’s just because you’re not used to it. Say it a few more times and it’ll feel natural.”

Yan Tuo made a sound of acknowledgment and nodded.

Well, he’d call her that from now on.

After eating, Nie Jiuluo pushed the tray aside, picked up a pen, and pulled out a light golden paper strip from the pile of stationery on the desk.

From her posture, she intended to write on the paper, but with one hand incapacitated, she instructed Yan Tuo: “Help me hold down the paper.”

Yan Tuo stood up and went to her side, bending slightly to hold down the edge of the paper.

Nie Jiuluo twirled the pen in her hand for a moment, pondered briefly, then lowered her head to write.

She had changed clothes—now wearing a deep space blue thin silk-satin house robe. As she bent her head, her long hair fell forward on both sides, revealing a patch of fair skin at the nape of her neck and a tiny star embroidered in gold thread at the back of the collar.

Some clothes are flashy on the outside, meant for others to see, while some clothes are beautiful in subtle ways, known only to oneself. Yan Tuo particularly liked this little star—it only showed itself half-hidden when her hair was lifted, and just thinking about it was beautiful.

He watched what Nie Jiuluo wrote.

—1. Met Xu Annie. 2. Yan Tuo took me home.

She thought for a while before writing “3. The noodles were delicious.”

After finishing, she dated it and put down the pen.

Yan Tuo had a vague idea: “Is this a diary? That’s quite lazy.”

Nie Jiuluo handed him the paper strip: “You have working hands, help me fold it into a star.”

Yan Tuo was confused: “Fold it? Won’t that tear the paper?”

Nie Jiuluo almost laughed in exasperation: “Can’t you be more careful? Fold it gently, the kind where you smooth out the creases. And don’t start from the middle—start here, yes, from this edge.”

Yan Tuo followed her instructions and after twofolds, he understood what she wanted—he’d seen this before, in school. Many girls liked to fold these lucky stars, making bottles and bottles of them when they were in the mood, giving them away, and then throwing them away by the bottle when the trend passed.

He quickly finished folding it, pressing the five corners inward to make a plump little star.

Nie Jiuluo took it from his hand, tossed it up, caught it, then handed it back to him, pointing to an old-style double-door cabinet against the wall: “Here, drop it through the mouth of the door god on the right door, the right one, don’t get it wrong.”

Yan Tuo did as told, but couldn’t help asking: “What’s the meaning of throwing it up and catching it?”

“It represents the day passing, the events of the day coming to an end.”

Such a ritualistic person, Yan Tuo thought, pointing at the mouth of the door god Yu Lei: “And dropping it in means your day is being devoured?”

Nie Jiuluo had never seen someone draw such poor conclusions: “It means the door god is keeping my memories safe!”

Yan Tuo seemed half-understanding: “Can I open the cabinet and look?”

Nie Jiuluo waved her hand, meaning “Go ahead.”

Yan Tuo opened the cabinet doors.

There were two large glass jars of stars. The jars appeared custom-made to fit the cabinet, with wide mouths for stars to fall in. The left jar was full, the right one-half full. Looking closer, there were labels on the edges showing time spans.

Nie Jiuluo said: “My ancestors were Bashan hunters. They had a saying: ‘Those who see shall share.’ Since you’ve seen it, I’ll let you fish one out to look at.”

Yan Tuo hesitated: “Is that okay? These are all your memories.”

Nie Jiuluo thought for a moment: “Of course, I’ll unfold it first, and if it’s something I’m willing to share, you can see it.”

That seemed fair. Yan Tuo looked between the jars and reached deep into the left one marked “2002-2012” to retrieve a star. As he withdrew his hand, the surrounding stars shifted to fill the space with a fascinating rustle.

He handed the star to Nie Jiuluo. It was a white star, the paper slightly yellowed with age.

Nie Jiuluo carefully unfolded it with one hand, glanced at it, and then pushed the opened paper toward him.

Yan Tuo picked it up to read. The paper recorded two events:

—Won a prize for my clay figurine, 500 yuan prize money. Keyed that perverted old man’s car, he deserved it. 2011.10.18

Nie Jiuluo explained: “Back then, the city organized activities for National Day celebrations. The art section included painting, calligraphy, and crafts. I made clay figurines and won a prize. The judge said I had talent and urged me to seriously consider this career, saying I would achieve great things.”

She looked around at the various works in her studio with some emotion: “Great things” might be an overstatement, but she had achieved some “small things”—being able to support oneself with a craft was quite fulfilling.

Yan Tuo: “This old man…”

“He was an instructor at a hobby class, teaching basic sculpture. Disgusting—when correcting your hand position, he’d always deliberately brush against you or touch you. Not just me—I asked around, and quite a few female students had been harassed by him. So I waited for him in the underground parking lot, and when I saw him coming, I took out my keys and keyed his car until his face went pale.”

Yan Tuo was startled: “Were there other people in the parking lot?”

“No, luckily no one was there.”

Yan Tuo felt retroactive fear for her: “How did you dare? How old were you then?”

Nie Jiuluo was nonchalant: “I already knew some martial arts by then, but even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been afraid of him. I told him: either fix the car yourself or take me to the police station. I’ll tell the officers that you tried to take advantage of me and I scratched your car while defending myself. I’m so young and pitiful—who do you think they’ll believe… You should have seen his face, it was like a pig’s liver.”

Yan Tuo smiled wryly: “You had quite the imagination.”

He refolded the white star along its creases.

Nie Jiuluo watched him fold: “Well, normal children would run to their parents for protection when bullied, but you didn’t have that option, so of course you had to prepare early.”

Since she was in her early teens, whenever she heard about cases of abuse, she’d imagine what she would do in that situation—how to protect herself and how to take elegant, contemptuous revenge. Whether it was harassment or something else, she always had a plan, a counter for every move.

Keying a car? Hah, that was just a minor trick. She hadn’t even used her real moves—the old man was too cowardly and fell after one strike.

She pulled out a long paper strip and gave it to Yan Tuo: “Want to learn from me and record something too? When you’re old, it’ll be interesting to look back at them, and it helps exercise your memory and fight against dementia.”

Yan Tuo couldn’t help but smile wryly as he took the paper strip and idly wrapped it around his finger: “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

Nie Jiuluo paused, and after a while said: “So soon?”

Thinking about it, it made sense—Yan Tuo wasn’t here for tourism. Tonight, if she hadn’t insisted on him staying, he probably wouldn’t have even stopped for noodles and would have driven straight back.

Yan Tuo said: “Just please help me contact Xing Shen as soon as possible. In the future, if there’s a chance, I’ll come back to borrow your skills again.”

If there’s a chance.

If everything goes well he can come back to ask for her help.

Nie Jiuluo smiled and said, “All right.”

Yan Tuo smiled too. Privately, he wished it could be her continuing with him through what was to come, yet at the same time, he didn’t want that: she had no family vendetta, no blood feud—why dragging her into such dangerous and unsavory business?

He said: “It’s been a long day, you should get some sleep.”

Back in the guest room, Yan Tuo didn’t turn on the light—Sister Lu had already gone to bed, and only one lamp remained lit under the eaves of the courtyard, casting the shadows of plum blossoms on his window.

If he turned on the light, that shadow painting would disappear.

Yan Tuo unfolded the paper strip in his hand; it was light golden, giving off a faint glow in the darkness.

He picked up the pen from the table.

What should he write?

Yan Tuo sat for a long time before writing in the dim light: The plum blossoms are blooming beautifully.

After writing, he gently opened the window and picked a small, delicate bloom from the nearest branch, tucked it into the folded paper, and slowly shaped it into a star.

The plum blossoms are blooming beautifully.

May this little courtyard remain peaceful forever.

Goodbye, A-Luo.