Que Cha finished folding the clothes and walked to the door, watching Yu Rong and Xing Shen talking from afar. Ever since that time when Da Tou bullied her and Xing Shen remained ambiguous without taking a stance, her feelings for him had instantly cooled.
Thinking back carefully, her initial attraction had been simple—he was young, handsome, and had a mesmerizing smile. But these qualities couldn’t feed hunger or quench thirst. When she needed help, he wouldn’t even spare a few words. What meaning did he hold for her now?
Yu Rong was better—she had immediately pushed Da Tou’s head into the soup pot. That was truly satisfying; even now, thinking about it brought her joy.
Seeing their conversation ended, she quickly retreated into the room.
When Yu Rong entered the room and glimpsed the stack of folded clothes on the bedside, she couldn’t help but feel irritated: “I told you not to fold them. Clothes should either lie there when not worn or be picked up when worn. Why go through the extra trouble of folding them?”
Que Cha explained: “It looks neater this way.”
Yu Rong retorted: “That’s just what you think. The clothes feel comfortable lying around. It’s like people—when people lie down, don’t they sprawl their limbs however they feel comfortable? Have you ever seen anyone fold themselves up square and neat to sleep?”
Que Cha couldn’t argue with her but found her logic amusing.
Yu Rong felt it was impossible to communicate with her and went to take a shower with her towel. She showered faster than men because men had to deal with the hair on their heads—she had it much easier, just a quick rinse and towel dry.
Coming out, she reached for a bottle of mineral water to open, but Que Cha pointed to the table: “I’ve poured you some water already. It’s cooled to room temperature.”
Yu Rong went over to look—the water had a red date and some goji berries in it.
She was exasperated and said: “I’m not an old person.”
She continued to unscrew the mineral water bottle cap and gulped down half the bottle.
Que Cha felt cold just watching her drink the cold water in this weather. After a pause, she asked: “I saw you talking with Xing Shen, was it about Old Jiang?”
Although Xing Shen hadn’t told her the details about Jiang Baichuan, she wasn’t stupid. These days, piecing together bits of information, she could figure out the general situation.
Yu Rong made an affirmative sound: “Still trying to find a way. Hopefully this time we’ll get some results. When Uncle Jiang returns, you’ll have someone to look after you again.”
Que Cha smiled faintly and said: “Oh.”
What kind of reaction was that? Yu Rong glanced at her: “What, you’re not happy about Uncle Jiang’s return?”
Que Cha said: “There’s nothing to be happy or unhappy about. When he returns, life just continues.”
Yu Rong found her attitude puzzling: “What, you mean it doesn’t matter either way?”
Que Cha looked up at Yu Rong, feeling a lump in her throat, wanting to talk: “If I say it, you’ll think I’m being contemptible.”
Yu Rong said: “So be contemptible, it’s not illegal.”
Que Cha felt both angry and amused. After hesitating, she said: “I don’t have feelings for Old Jiang anymore.”
Yu Rong nodded: “I could tell.”
Que Cha was startled: “You could tell?”
Yu Rong sat on the edge of the bed: “The man’s been missing for months, and his family member isn’t crying, worried, or anxious—even a fool could tell there are no feelings there.”
Que Cha bit her lip: “You don’t look down on me?”
Yu Rong laughed: “Do I have that much free time? Looking down on this and that?”
Que Cha spoke gloomily: “I look down on myself. Back then, Old Jiang had looks, manners, and money. I was completely infatuated and followed him. After more than ten years, Old Jiang treated me well, and never wronged me. Now he’s old, and I’ve grown tired of him. What will people say about me?”
Yu Rong: “Back then he had looks, manners, and money, but weren’t you young and beautiful too? If it was true love, forget what I said, but if not, you both had your motives—that’s fair. These past ten years, he treated you well, and you probably treated him well too, right? Never cheated him, never deceived him, got along pleasantly, both contributing. Now that the feelings are gone, go your separate ways. You don’t have to force yourself, and you won’t hold back my Uncle Jiang from finding true love. Isn’t that good?”
Que Cha was stunned, taking a long while before saying: “But if we go our separate ways, what can I do?”
Yu Rong found it amusing: “You’re asking me? I’ve only known you for a few days. You’ve known yourself for over thirty years—what you can do, ask yourself.”
Que Cha felt completely lost: “What about you? After you finish your current business, what will you do?”
Yu Rong lay down on the bed, pulling up the covers: “Back to my old profession, still planning to go abroad.”
Que Cha had heard about Yu Rong’s profession: “Animal training? Isn’t that available domestically too?”
“Domestically… it’s too regulated, not wild enough.”
Que Cha truly couldn’t understand Yu Rong: “You’re a girl, yet you like these things.”
Yu Rong found it both amusing and absurd that someone would use the word “girl” to describe her—it was as bewildering as seeing Feng Dao wearing a little red hat.
She said: “Some people like mountain climbing, some like deep-sea exploration, so I like animal training—what’s so strange about that? Dealing with wild beasts is… much easier than dealing with people.”
***
Jiang Baichuan woke up early and began his physical exercises according to the schedule he had set for himself.
He had been imprisoned for over three months now. His rotted foot, after simple treatment later on, had gradually scabbed over. He felt that if he had the chance to get out, with a prosthetic foot, he could still walk like a normal person.
During this time, they had changed locations, from a cramped and completely dark basement to a slightly more spacious basement with faint light. The soundproofing was too good; it was always very quiet outside, so he couldn’t judge his surroundings at all.
However, he remained optimistic: the change in detention location meant the original place had become unsafe, which also meant Xing Shen and the others were taking action.
…
The sound of unlocking came from the door. Jiang Baichuan found it strange—he had two meals a day, and it was nowhere near mealtime.
He quickly lay prone on the ground, pretending to be spiritless and weak. A fallen person should appear miserable and dejected to suffer less—if they saw he still had the spirit to exercise, he would inevitably get a beating.
Someone entered, more than one person, and then the lights came on.
Jiang Baichuan struggled to prop himself up, bleary-eyed. Before he could see clearly who had come, something round was thrown at him.
What was it?
Jiang Baichuan instinctively caught it. During these days, when people threw water, buns, and various things at him, he always caught them this way.
The moment it touched his hand, his hair stood on end, and he threw it away the next second.
It was a head.
Whether it was a human head wasn’t certain, but it was definitely some creature’s head, with flesh and skin, feeling sticky to the touch, carrying a damp, fishy smell.
Jiang Baichuan felt nauseous, almost vomiting.
Someone walked up to him, kicked his face, and said: “This is for you. Look carefully, look closely.”
It was Lin Xirou.
Jiang Baichuan looked at the head and immediately noticed a knife wound on the crown, with semi-transparent brownish-yellow coagulated around the wound.
Lin Xirou said: “This is Feng Dao’s handiwork, isn’t it? All of you think I’m so easily fooled?”
Jiang Baichuan looked up: besides Lin Xirou, Xiong Hei was there too, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his clenched fist as big as a small vinegar jar—it seemed that if he answered carelessly, Xiong Hei would “converse” with him instead.
He stubbornly refused to yield: “Old Dao is Feng Dao.”
“The three families of Dao, Gou, and Bian—the Bian family has unique skills and techniques, the Gou family has their clan’s innate talents, and the Dao family has their bloodline inheritance. There is only one blade, and every hundred years or so, they test the blade with blood. Whichever branch’s blood is consumed fastest by the blade, that branch gets to keep it.”
“Old Dao is Feng Dao. I don’t understand the current situation either, since I’ve been locked up for so long—perhaps Old Dao’s branch has produced another talented person.”
Lin Xirou said: “Is that so?”
She bent down, her finger reaching toward Jiang Baichuan’s mouth corner: “This mouth of yours, your eloquence is something. Every time I ask you, you babble on with seemingly sound reasoning.”
Jiang Baichuan wanted to dodge but glanced at Xiong Hei and didn’t dare. Lin Xirou’s hand pinching his mouth corner was ice-cold, cold as a corpse, her fingernails thin and sharp, digging into his facial flesh.
“However, no matter how reasonable you sound, if I’m not happy, you’ll still suffer.”
As she finished speaking, her enunciation suddenly became harsh, and her hand used force, viciously tearing to one side.
Jiang Baichuan screamed in agony, covering his left mouth corner as he rolled on the ground. Blood seeped through his fingers. Lin Xirou raised her hand, looked at the blood traces on her thumb and index fingernails, and unhurriedly put them in her mouth to taste.
She added: “It doesn’t matter anymore. Whoever Feng Dao is, we’ll meet soon enough.”
Nie Jiuluo started working early in the morning.
Last night, she had set rules for Yan Tuo, telling him that as a tenant, he couldn’t go upstairs without an invitation, which left him completely puzzled.
The reason was simple—her custom-made miniature courtyard wasn’t finished yet, lying exposed on her workbench, and she didn’t want Yan Tuo to see the work in progress. After all, a half-finished piece couldn’t inspire surprise or amazement.
So she rushed to complete the finishing work. Fortunately, it was mostly detailed work like coloring. Barring any unexpected issues, she could deliver it today.
Working on it this time felt completely different from before. She kept getting distracted, sometimes suddenly smiling, other times feeling her ears burn and her heart racing. She used to think Yan Tuo’s custom order was just a whim, but now looking back, it had deeper meaning—why did he specifically want her courtyard, and insist on including the people in it?
Hmm… suspicious. This man was hiding quite a few thoughts.
It was afternoon when she finished. The courtyard’s buildings, flowers, trees, and figures were all complete and exquisitely detailed. While she couldn’t claim they were lifelike, they had a certain miniature charm and cuteness. Nie Jiuluo rested her chin on the desk, examining it for a long while before a thought occurred to her: maybe she should just give it to Yan Tuo as a gift.
The next moment she immediately scolded herself: No! This took so much time and effort, and he hadn’t even paid for it. She was thinking of giving it to him. How could she let him have all the good fortune!
Feeling annoyed, she took some thin wire and a small piece of cardboard, made a “deadbeat” sign, and hung it around the neck of the miniature figure holding plum blossoms.
The effect was quite comical. As she was laughing, Old Cai called, asking if she’d received the two sets of competition materials he’d sent by courier and what she thought about entering the competitions.
Nie Jiuluo was honest: “That urban sculpture competition focuses more on design, emphasizing conceptual design. That’s beyond my scope.”
Old Cai: “What about the clay sculpture talent competition?”
That one was organized by the Folk Arts and Crafts Association. Old Cai thought it matched Nie Jiuluo’s expertise perfectly.
“That’s a live skills competition with people watching, even open to non-professional audiences. Creation is a very personal thing, requiring non-verbal communication with the work. I can’t accept that kind of technical showing-off.”
So neither was possible? Old Cai heaved a long sigh.
Nie Jiuluo was indifferent: “Actually, winning awards isn’t that important.”
Old Cai said: “A’Luo, it’s not that simple. You’re the type of competitor who’s skilled but lacks natural talent—not quite a master. There are too many skilled artists in this world. At times like these, continuously producing work and winning awards becomes important. You injured your arm and couldn’t produce work for several months, and without awards to support you… this field is very competitive.”
Being business-minded, Old Cai always spoke directly.
After hanging up, Nie Jiuluo’s mood hit rock bottom. After sitting in her chair for a while, she went downstairs to find Yan Tuo.
…
The guest room door was slightly ajar. When Nie Jiuluo pushed it open, she didn’t see anyone at first glance. Looking around, she saw two legs against the wall.
She was startled, then realized what it was and couldn’t help but laugh.
Yan Tuo was practicing handstands.
He saw her too, took a deep breath, pulled in his abdomen, lowered his legs, stood up, and casually grabbed his jacket from the chair to put it on.
He hadn’t just been doing handstands—he’d also done one-handed push-ups and core training.
Nie Jiuluo said: “Already started training?”
Yan Tuo: “It had to happen sooner or later. The earlier I start, the earlier I’ll recover.”
As he spoke, he glanced at her: “What’s wrong?”
Nie Jiuluo lowered her eyes, saying nothing.
Usually, when she felt down, she’d just console herself and move on. But now, with a man around, she might as well make use of him.
Not bad—he’d noticed her mood immediately.
Yan Tuo smiled and walked over: “Who upset you?”
He walked right up to her before stopping, reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him.
Nie Jiuluo smiled, finding men interesting—once a relationship crossed a certain line, it was as if that line had never existed. He’d only held her yesterday, but today he was as practiced as if he’d done it hundreds of times.
She looked down at Yan Tuo’s abs. Under his jacket, he wore a thin T-shirt, slightly damp with sweat from his workout, the muscles of his abdomen visible through the fabric. These past days, she’d been focused on whether his face had filled out, but his body had recovered first.
Nie Jiuluo was very satisfied, feeling she’d gotten a good deal. Who wouldn’t like firm, powerful, well-defined muscles? Especially since she primarily sculpted human figures.
She said: “Just talked to Old Cai. He said I lack natural talent in this field.”
This was rather technical. Yan Tuo thought for a moment: “Heaven is fair. You’re beautiful, smart, and strong—how could you have everything? Everyone has their shortcomings. So what if you lack natural talent? I’m not that smart either, my IQ isn’t great, but I’ve accepted it.”
These words sounded oddly familiar. Nie Jiuluo burst out laughing, then after a pause, pulled him along: “Let’s go upstairs. I have something to give you.”
In a good mood now, she decided to give it to him—after all, she wasn’t hurting for money.
***
Yan Tuo saw the freshly completed miniature courtyard.
When he’d originally commissioned this courtyard, he’d thought he’d never have a chance to return. Now, standing in the actual courtyard and seeing its miniature version, it felt like being in a different lifetime.
Yes, like a different lifetime, like a dream.
There were even Spring Festival couplets on the courtyard gate—”Peace” and “Return”—pasted during the approaching New Year. The miniature Nie Jiuluo was wearing pajamas with her arm in a sling, though only an inch tall, she looked quite spirited.
Yan Tuo couldn’t help smiling and reached out to pick it up, but Nie Jiuluo quickly stopped him: “Don’t! I just finished the coloring. It’s not completely done, just presentable enough to show.”
Yan Tuo withdrew his hand and then looked at the miniature version of himself standing in the courtyard holding a plum blossom branch. The more he looked, the more something seemed off: “What’s this ‘deadbeat’ sign about?”
Nie Jiuluo said: “It means someone who owes money and won’t pay it back.”
Yan Tuo: “How long have I owed you? You’re bullying me now. I gave you tips before without hearing a word of thanks, and now just because I happen to owe some money, you hang a sign on me?”
Nie Jiuluo curled up in her chair and managed to argue back: “Well, that’s just how I am. If you don’t like it, tough luck.”
Yan Tuo leaned against the workbench, looking down at her with a smile. Nie Jiuluo was smiling at first too, but as she smiled, she suddenly felt self-conscious and stopped.
The studio became extremely quiet.
A breeze passed through, making the tall flowering tree’s branches gently brush against the eaves.
In the courtyard, Sister Lu was doing her routine watering of the plants. The spray nozzle’s valve opened and closed, and one could imagine how the water was atomized into invisible droplets, falling like a misty veil.
Nie Jiuluo thought to herself, if you look at me with eyes like that and don’t kiss me, this scene will be very hard to end.