At this hour, it would be inappropriate to disturb anyone. Mu Dai went to bed with a mind full of thoughts, reminding herself to do two things in the morning.
First, she needed to tell Luo Ren and the others about what she had seen. Indeed, she had seen it from wood, but what were those rows of little figures?
No matter, they could have Yi Wansan post online to ask, just like last time with the “Song of Strings.” Wasn’t the answer found with just one inquiry?
Second, she needed to talk with Luo Ren. She would be neither humble nor arrogant, polite but proper, and ask him: what exactly did he mean? She had to clarify his position. In matters of the heart, black is black, white is white—there’s no room for ambiguity.
If Luo Ren hemmed and hawed, trying to keep his options open, she would proudly lift her chin and tell him that she would overlook the hand-holding this time, as a martial artist doesn’t mind such things. But if he dared touch her again, she would chop off his dog paws!
Yes, that’s how it should be. As her master had taught her, you may lose to someone, but never lose your stance.
So she fell asleep again and had many chaotic dreams. The last one was particularly bizarre. One moment, Luo Ren was tenderly kissing her cheek; the next, he was excitedly building walls with mahjong tiles while she, in tattered clothes, held a child and cried beside him: “We haven’t had rice for three days, and all you do is gamble!”
She looked down sadly: “Child, what a bitter fate we mother and son have…”
The chubby face of the little one came into view—goodness! It was the spitting image of Cao Yanhua.
Mu Dai dropped the swaddled infant and was startled awake.
The dawn was just breaking outside the window. Mu Dai sat up, holding her heavy head. After a long while, she sighed: she was overthinking things.
After quickly wolfing down breakfast, Mu Dai reported to Uncle Zhang: “I’m going to see Luo Ren. He just moved in yesterday, as you know. I’ll check if he needs any help.”
Yi Wansan promptly joined in: “When we went over last night, Uncle Zheng was already asleep. I should go pay my respects. When we were at Xiaoshang River, Uncle Zheng was so hospitable, even treating me to lamb leg.”
Cao Yanhua said, “I need to go with my little master…”
Halfway through, seeing Uncle Zhang’s gloomy face, he quickly changed his excuse: “My sister Pin Ting had surgery, so I should go visit her.”
After Huo Zihong left, the bar was shorthanded. Uncle Zhang had conveniently kept Cao Yanhua on. His smooth talk was excellent for persuading customers to buy drinks and order items, but being the least “senior,” he always lacked confidence when asking for time off, unlike Yi Wansan, who spoke of a lamb leg as if it were a life-saving grace.
Uncle Zhang grew angry: “Go, go, all of you go! I might as well hire new people instead of feeding young masters and mistresses like you…”
Before he could finish, the table was already empty.
Uncle Zhang shouted at their retreating backs: “I’m not done yet! Be back within an hour!”
When they arrived, Uncle Zheng was in the courtyard with Pin Ting, helping her “exercise.” The doctor had said she needed appropriate movement to lift her spirits. What they feared most was prolonged sitting or lying down—over time, her eyes would become like dead fish, unable to turn.
Cao Yanhua carried a bag of apples and bananas bought on the way, in the typical manner of visiting a patient, which made him seem polite but distant. Yi Wansan was much more casual. After greeting Uncle Zheng, he turned his attention to Pin Ting. Uncle Zheng said, “Her condition is much better than before, but I don’t know…”
At this point, he couldn’t help sighing. Was madness a disease? When would this madness end? Would she be mad for a lifetime?
Yi Wansan looked toward Pin Ting. In the courtyard was a small fish pond shaped like a treasure vase. A stone-carved lotus extended its stem from the bottom, showing its lifelike pointed tip on the water’s surface. Several small carp, red in color, swam around the lotus, swaying back and forth.
Pin Ting held a bamboo branch with leaves, patiently waiting. She waited until the small fish were content, then used the branch to chase them, occasionally breaking into a gentle smile. For her, this also counted as “exercise.”
She was as quiet and beautiful as a painting. Yi Wansan didn’t even want to use the word “mad.” How could she be mad? Perhaps her spirit had simply lost its way and couldn’t, for the moment, find the direction back to her body.
He crouched down on the opposite side of the fish pond and stirred the water with his hand, driving the small fish toward Pin Ting. The little fish scattered in panic.
Pin Ting giggled.
A thought occurred to Uncle Zheng, and he tentatively said, “Since you live nearby, if you have time, you could come often. The doctor says having company would be better…”
He didn’t say the rest—Luo Ren was good to Pin Ting, but he wouldn’t play with her like a child.
Yi Wansan casually responded: “Sure.”
Mu Dai looked left and right but didn’t see Luo Ren. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked Uncle Zheng: “Is Luo Ren not here?”
Uncle Zheng jerked his chin upward: “There he is.”
Looking in that direction, they saw Luo Ren on the second floor. He had come out at some point and was leaning against the railing, looking down at them with interest, holding…
A phone!
Luo Ren was responding to Mu Dai’s WeChat message with nine characters:
—”It means exactly what you think it means.”
But seeing Mu Dai look up, he suddenly changed his mind. He pressed the delete key and erased it character by character.
Confessing one’s feelings should be done in person, not entrusted to a phone. The cold electronic components, the Chinese characters typed on a nine-square grid, the cold horizontal and vertical strokes—no matter how you looked at it, it seemed insincere. Looking back on it in the future, there would be no sense of romance.
He put away his phone, with the appearance of having nothing to do, and watched to see how Mu Dai would respond.
Mu Dai stared at him resentfully, then suddenly shouted: “Meeting!”
The room where the box was kept served as their meeting room.
Mu Dai carefully described what she had seen in her dream the previous night.
Cao Yanhua listened with his mouth agape. This was too far removed from reality. Laozi riding an ox was at least a historical legend, and Laozi himself was not a fabrication. But the so-called immortal riding a phoenix, dragons, phoenixes, and monkeys with wings were too bizarre.
Yi Wansan lowered his eyes, a flicker of complex emotions passing through them, while his face showed only impatience, as if saying: I don’t understand, I don’t know.
Luo Ren, however, seemed thoughtful: “This kind of thing, I think I’ve seen before.”
“You’ve seen it?” Mu Dai’s eyes widened. Was this a common occurrence?
Luo Ren pointed upward: “Actually, I hadn’t paid much attention before, but after renting this house, because it’s quite old with many old decorations, I took note. Have you noticed that on many eaves in Lijiang, there are roof cats placed to drive away ghosts and evil spirits?”
Mu Dai nodded. The roof cats on old houses seemed as natural to her as leaves growing on trees.
“But they’re different everywhere. In ancient Chinese architecture, rooftops were categorized. Large temples or important buildings used hip roofs or gabled roofs…”
The audience looked around with blank expressions.
Alright, Luo Ren switched to a simpler explanation: “The corner of the eaves, the part that turns upward, is generally called the corner ridge. For aesthetic purposes or to make a statement, a series of three-dimensional sculptures is usually decorated on the corner ridge.”
As he spoke, he took out his phone, searched for a while, then enlarged a picture and passed it around to Mu Dai and the others.
It showed the glazed tile beasts on the corner ridge of the Hall of Supreme Harmony in the Forbidden City in Beijing.
The image included an introduction: The figure at the front was an immortal riding a phoenix, also called “The Immortal Shows the Way.” Behind it followed a long line of beasts in a fixed order: dragon, phoenix, lion, celestial horse, sea horse, xuan ni (pronounced suan ni), ya yu (pressing fish), xie zhi (pronounced xie zhi), fighting bull, and xing shi (pronounced hang shi).
And the final figure, Xing Shi, with its solemn and dignified appearance, did indeed resemble a monkey with wings.
Scrolling down further, there was an annotation: Depending on the building’s rank and the size of the roof slope, the number of beasts varied, but they were usually in odd numbers like three, five, seven, or nine. Some had only one. Only the Hall of Supreme Harmony in the Forbidden City had ten glazed tile beasts on its corner ridge, the highest rank.
Cao Yanhua excitedly slapped the table: “Knowledge truly is power! It instantly clears away the clouds to reveal the blue sky, pointing directly to the Hall of Supreme Harmony in the Forbidden City! This is serious—stealing national treasures!”
Yi Wansan, leaning against the window, made an extremely disdainful expression.
Luo Ren and Mu Dai both wore “what do you mean?” expressions.
Cao Yanhua clicked his tongue repeatedly: “Didn’t my sister Mu Dai see a hand that swiftly grabbed the monkey? It must be criminals trying to steal our national treasures—the Forbidden City!”
Who knew he would be so concerned about the nation: “I suggest we call the Palace Museum immediately, at least to give them a heads-up.”
Yi Wansan yawned toward the ceiling.
Luo Ren instinctively felt it wasn’t the Forbidden City. The rank was too high, and if it truly involved the Forbidden City, it wouldn’t be something they could handle. There would naturally be more professional people to worry about it.
He shook his head pensively: “It’s probably not the Forbidden City.”
“In ancient society, imperial power was strict, and etiquette was rigorously regulated. For instance, only the emperor could wear bright yellow dragon robes, and details like how many scales, how many claws, and how many inner courtyards were all precisely stipulated. But after entering modern times…”
Indeed, modern times emphasized individuality and freedom. If one wished, even toilet paper could be printed with emperors without much interference, though many would find it unhygienic.
“If it’s a formal, large-scale building, it would consult expert opinions and follow regulations. What’s concerning is private constructions, which follow personal whims completely. Unless you have more specific information, you can’t possibly know where a building with such corner ridges is located.”
Cao Yanhua struggled in his dying moments: “Really not the Hall of Supreme Harmony in the Forbidden City?”
Yi Wansan encouraged him in a light tone: “Why don’t you call and ask? Maybe the state will reward you.”
Once again, they were at an impasse.
Yi Wansan shrugged and was the first to open the door and leave. Cao Yanhua followed reluctantly. Watching Yi Wansan’s retreating figure, Luo Ren suddenly felt a trace of doubt.
Yi Wansan’s current attitude was too detached compared to his aggressive oil-pouring and fire-lighting in Xiaoshang River—they seemed like two completely different people.
“Luo Ren!”
Mu Dai’s voice brought Luo Ren back to reality. Huh, she hadn’t left?
After thinking about it, he found it reasonable: of course, she wouldn’t leave.
Luo Ren laughed inwardly but maintained a composed expression, lightly coughing twice: “Do you need something?”
The more indifferent he appeared, the more nervous Mu Dai became. She should have been righteous and confident, but when she spoke, she had not a shred of assurance: “You… why did you touch… hold my hand last night?”
The word “touch” always carried a hint of frivolity, so Mu Dai, truly considerate of his dignity, changed it to “hold.”
“Hold… hand?” Luo Ren frowned, as if he couldn’t remember. After a moment, he seemed to understand. “Oh, you’re talking about holding your hand.”
He seemed somewhat hesitant: “How should I put this…”
Mu Dai said: “However, you should… put it…”
Her heart was pounding, and her voice grew increasingly small.
Luo Ren “sincerely” explained: “Mainly, I’m a coward. I wasn’t sure if those arrangements could contain the deadly simple. When I got close to look, I was nervous and didn’t know whose hand was beside me, so I quickly grabbed it for courage.”
W-what?
Mu Dai was dumbfounded. Even with three more heads, she couldn’t have imagined such an answer.
Luo Ren’s voice continued in her ears: “No wonder I couldn’t understand the message you sent. So that’s what you were asking about… Mu Dai, you haven’t been overthinking, have you?”