Lian Shu couldn’t recall any memories related to what happened to Mu Dai.

She only said that before Luo Ren and the others returned, she had visited Uncle Zheng once or twice. Each time, for some reason, her gaze was always drawn to that room at the end of the second floor.

However, she understood the etiquette of not entering without an invitation. Each time, she only looked a bit longer but didn’t overstep. But on the morning of the previous day, as soon as she stepped into the courtyard, it was as if invisible hands were pushing her, making her move involuntarily.

When she stood before the fish tank, the cinnabar amber on her chest became warm and soft, and only one thought circled in her mind.

Luo Ren asked her, “What thought?”

Lian Shu feared Luo Ren’s anger, hesitated, and stammered.

“Wanted to… hang Mu Dai.”

Luo Ren remained silent. “Hang” was the word from the third murder note—it was how that woman died, and also Old Huo’s fate.

Lian Shu wanted to hang Mu Dai. There were strangulation marks on Mu Dai’s neck, but Mu Dai was ultimately hit by a car. Something happened in between that Lian Shu couldn’t remember, but Mu Dai might—if she woke up.

Luo Ren gestured for Huo Zihong to untie Lian Shu.

Lian Shu was confused, rubbing her wrists as she stood in place. Luo Ren shifted slightly and said, “You may go.”

Just like that, he was letting her go? Lian Shu could hardly believe it, but she stumbled out immediately. Yi Wansan opened the door for her. Outside, the bright sunlight stung her eyes.

Cao Yanhua watched Lian Shu’s retreating figure, barely believing Luo Ren would drop the matter: “Brother Luo, that’s it?”

Luo Ren said, “The police will find her.”

The police would find her. She was the last person seen with Mu Dai. The wallpaper shop owner and delivery driver could testify that she was the one who carried the unconscious Mu Dai from the car. She placed the rope around Mu Dai’s neck. She might forget what happened, but the things she did left traces—there might be witnesses, there might be video recordings. All the major suspicions pointed to her.

She was either an attempted murderer or a dangerous person with mental issues. She wouldn’t escape unscathed.

Cao Yanhua was uneasy: “Then… Brother Luo, what if she tells the police you interrogated her…”

“I’m the victim’s boyfriend, acting on impulse. The police can understand that.”

“Then…”

It seemed somewhat selfish to ask, but Cao Yanhua felt he needed to know for his peace of mind: “What if she implicates us too…”

Luo Ren smiled slightly: “Would the police believe her? She still insists she didn’t harm Mu Dai.”

Cao Yanhua stood dazed, feeling a chill crawl up his spine. Luo Ren gave some further instructions, such as returning to the hospital and asking Huo Zihong to help place the last piece of cinnabar amber in position, but he didn’t hear any of it.

Only after Luo Ren had walked away did he shudder, nudging Yi Wansan’s arm, and say, “Brother San, honestly, I’m a bit… intimidated by Brother Luo now.”

Yi Wansan said, “You’d better not provoke him in the future.”

Cao Yanhua didn’t quite understand: “Why? What do you know?”

Yi Wansan remained silent, suddenly recalling the phone call he had inadvertently overheard Luo Ren making on the way to Five Pearl Village.

—”What about the Mindanao Island area?”

He gave Cao Yanhua a vague response: “Anyway, just don’t provoke him.”

By coincidence, when they arrived at the hospital, it was visiting hours.

The hospital allowed one hour for visits, but when someone is unconscious, the result of visiting for an hour or a minute is the same. Zhang Shu sat with Mu Dai for a while, telling her that they had contacted Huo Zihong and that Aunt Hong would come to see her as soon as possible. She must be strong, persevere, and recover soon.

Even he felt these were clichés learned from television—hollow and boring.

The kind nurse beside him reminded: During this time, you can talk more with the patient. Experience has shown that encouragement from family or loved ones can give patients a lot of strength.

Zhang Shu knew clearly that he was neither family nor a loved one.

He knew Luo Ren was waiting outside, so he left, and Luo Ren went in.

Luo Ren sat down beside the hospital bed.

Mu Dai lay quietly, sleeping peacefully, her breathing shallow, eyelashes trembling slightly with each breath. On her fair cheek was an abrasion, possibly from when Lian Shu dragged her to the ground.

Luo Ren reached out, wanting to caress her, but withdrew his hand.

The wound hadn’t healed yet. Touching it would hurt, wouldn’t it?

The nurse beside him reminded: Talk to your girlfriend, perhaps recall sweet memories.

Luo Ren smiled slightly. He didn’t want to speak, feeling it inappropriate to become emotional under the gaze of strangers.

He held Mu Dai’s hand, silently watching her for a long time, recalling so many things.

Such a lovely Little Pocket, his girl, irreplaceable by anyone.

Finally, he lowered his head, his forehead gently resting on their interlaced hands.

After some time, the nurse patted his shoulder, indicating time was up.

As Luo Ren rose, he suddenly thought of something, pulled out the sheathed knife from his pocket, and asked the nurse: “Can I leave this here?”

The nurse took it to inspect, frowned slightly upon seeing it was a knife, but eventually nodded.

As he was leaving, Luo Ren looked back and saw the nurse gently tucking the knife under the bedding.

Zhang Shu sat outside the ward. Seeing Luo Ren emerge, he raised his head woodenly.

Luo Ren sat next to him: “Have you contacted Huo Zihong?”

“Contacted… called her, no response. Sent a text explaining the situation. She saw it, she should reply…”

Zhang Shu’s words were jumbled, his hand hanging by his side, trembling slightly, more nervous than Luo Ren.

Luo Ren thought that, after all, he was elderly and couldn’t withstand the impact of such events.

He comforted Zhang Shu: “Don’t worry too much. I believe Mu Dai will wake up.”

He spoke with certainty, believing that for some things, even if uncertain, you must force them to happen with a compelling mindset. If even you doubt, this emotion will infect the whole world, and perhaps then, Mu Dai really wouldn’t wake up.

He said it again: “She will wake up.”

Zhang Shu said, “Mm.”

He didn’t know if he was listening, his gaze scattered, occasionally showing fear and uncertainty in his eyes, as if afraid to meet Luo Ren’s gaze, uncomfortably turning his face away.

Earlier, in the doctor’s office, he had kept asking: “She hit her head, right? She hit her head? Will something bad happen?”

The doctor countered: “What bad thing are you referring to? For instance, amnesia?”

Zhang Shu seemed a bit confused. He wasn’t sure if that event happening would be good or bad, but if the current situation was satisfactory, people generally wanted to maintain it.

Lian Shu’s piece of cinnabar amber was placed in the water.

As expected, the tense atmosphere around the third murder note gradually subsided. The outline of the bamboo slip became clearer, and the writing began to sharpen. Simultaneously, the phoenix encircling it changed—light colors deepened, and the long phoenix tail spread in all directions.

Cao Yanhua thought it would grow longer, but instead, the spreading blood lines reorganized, strand by strand, like ink brush strokes.

Yi Wansan was the first to realize: “It’s the water shadow!”

The water shadow appeared on its own, no longer requiring him to draw and interpret it stroke by stroke.

Everyone was somewhat tense, hardly daring to breathe. The blood lines forming the image in the water had horizontal and vertical elements, not flat but resembling a 3D structure.

Huo Zihong remembered Luo Ren wasn’t present and quickly took out her phone, switching to video mode, focusing and recording, afraid of missing any tiny clue.

This was another painting, so lifelike that, due to the rippling water, it seemed almost dynamic.

It depicted a courtyard, an old-style residence with carved railings and a pebble-paved path, like an illustration from a Republican-era novel.

In the courtyard stood a flourishing banana plant.

Cao Yanhua blurted out: “This banana plant…”

Yes, in the first water shadow drawn in Five Pearl Village, there was a burning courtyard with a woman struggling almost grotesquely in the flames. At that time, in one corner of the courtyard, there was also such a lush banana plant.

Perhaps it was the same courtyard.

Through the carved lattice window, one could faintly see a man and woman embracing passionately.

And in the shadow beneath the outer window crouched a dog.

This bloodline water shadow lasted for several seconds before dispersing violently, reforming into the phoenix’s brilliant tail surrounding the three murder notes.

But Cao Yanhua felt the scene wouldn’t leave his mind, as if still imprinted on his retina.

He vaguely asked: “What does this mean?”

Huo Zihong also found it strange and replayed the video: “Originally, we weren’t sure if that creature was a wolf or a dog, but now I think it must be a dog. After all, it appeared near people’s homes repeatedly. A wolf wouldn’t make sense; it’s more like a domesticated dog.”

Yi Wansan nodded in agreement and added, “Moreover, this series of water shadows about the dog should be in reverse chronological order.”

Huo Zihong didn’t immediately understand. Yi Wansan explained: “The previous one showed a fire. With such intense flames, if not dead, one would be disfigured and half-dead. It’s impossible that the next scene would jump to such loving affection with the house fully restored. I think, if numbered, this scene should come first.”

Huo Zihong understood—it did seem like reverse order.

Cao Yanhua was puzzled: “If the water shadows are Phoenix Dragon Clasp’s guidance—but we’ve never encountered a dog.”

This was true. They always thought the water shadows related to the next murder case, but now it seemed those related to the dog had little connection with any of the cases that had occurred.

Huo Zihong uploaded the video to the WeChat group and clicked send.

Responses came quickly.

The first to reply was “Gun Bathing in Friends’ Love,” with just one word: Handsome!

No one wanted to engage with him, feeling he wasn’t on the same wavelength as the rest of the group.

The second to reply was Luo Ren. Avoiding Zhang Shu, he watched the video in the hospital stairwell and asked the same question: “Why do the water shadows about the dog seem unrelated to what we’ve experienced?”

Shen Gun said: “There must be a connection, if…”

He thought for a moment, then typed a line.

—”What if the dog-related water shadows aren’t hints about the next murder note, but hints about the Phoenix Dragon Clasp?”

Phoenix Dragon Clasp?

Luo Ren slowly sat down on the stairs.

It made sense. The Phoenix Dragon Clasp was the ultimate weapon to control and seal the murder notes. But with just these ancient-style depictions, how could they proceed?

At the same time, Zhang Shu finally received a call from Huo Zihong. Sitting in the corridor, he was stumbling through an explanation of what had happened when the ward door suddenly flung open and the nurse rushed out, her face somewhat pale.

“That… family member…”

Had something happened to Mu Dai? Zhang Shu’s heart tightened. Ignoring the phone call, he hurried inside.

Mu Dai was sitting on the bed.

Yes, she had suddenly sat up, the blanket pushed aside, sitting cross-legged like in a lotus position during meditation, head lowered, pulling out the IV needle from the back of her hand.

Zhang Shu sensed something wasn’t right and tentatively called: “Little proprietress?”

Mu Dai slowly raised her head.

Her eyes were bright as polished lacquer, the expression on her face extremely unfamiliar.

But this expression, Zhang Shu had seen it eight years ago, and would never forget.

Trembling, he brought the phone to his ear.

On the other end, Huo Zihong asked anxiously: “What happened? How is Mu Dai now?”

Zhang Shu heard his murmuring voice.

He said: “That thing… it happened.”

It happened—the thing he had always feared had finally happened.