After deliberation, the group decided to stay in Nantian for a few more days, partly to wait for Xiang Shilan’s full recovery and partly to handle the aftermath.

Ma Chao was still unconscious, but Song Tie had been brought to the police station once more.

Luo Ren contacted Chen Xiangrong, whom he had previously been in touch with, to inquire about the situation. After confirming this wasn’t “leaking confidential information,” Chen Xiangrong excitedly told Luo Ren: “The police are furious too. They slammed the table and shouted at Song Tie, ‘Didn’t you say you saw that woman? How can you now say you’ve never seen her? Are you playing games with us?”

The situation seemed promising. Luo Ren decided to strike while the iron was hot, instructing Yan Hongsha to send another letter. This time, the letter included a statement from the renowned psychological expert Dr. He Ruihua about a patient’s condition.

It mentioned a patient named Mu Dai who “has extensive martial arts training” but “does not possess aggressive tendencies” and “chooses to flee for self-protection when under great stress.”

It also casually suggested: “If you want to know the truth, wouldn’t it be more appropriate to ask Ma Chao?”

The letter was again signed: “An informed source who wishes to remain anonymous.”

As for Xiang Shilan, they took turns visiting her daily, half monitoring, half caring for her. She seemed unable to recover fully—when walking, she always needed to drag a stool, hunching over, becoming short of breath after just a few steps. Most of the time, she simply sat alone, clearing her throat and speaking indistinctly, making inarticulate sounds.

Only Mu Dai didn’t visit. When asked, she said stiffly: “I’ll wait until she can speak properly.”

Regarding this issue, Luo Ren felt it was like the “chicken and egg” dilemma, impossible to untangle.

Sometimes, he thought that Xiang Shilan sending Mu Dai away was good, sparing her from harm by unsavory characters.

But then again, a mother who, weighing her customers and livelihood against her daughter, chose to abandon her child to a distant place, even if it produced good results in the end, what did that say?

He asked Mu Dai, “When she can speak properly, what do you want to talk about with her?”

“Nothing special, just going through the motions.”

Going through the motions, saying goodbye—this was indeed Mu Dai’s character. She disliked stories without endings. Even if she left quietly, she would always leave a note saying: “Don’t look for me; you won’t find me anyway.”

“Do you want to ask your mother about your father?”

She shook her head: “Not anymore.”

Everyone has parents, and parents have parents. Separations always happen for various reasons—either money, love, family pressure, or coincidence. Under the sun, there is nothing new; it’s always one of those few reasons.

Her time was precious too, and she didn’t want to waste it digging up other people’s stories.

Luo Ren carefully examined her expression: “You don’t want to know?”

Mu Dai countered: “What difference would it make if I found him?”

She had even less impression of her father. If he were to suddenly appear before her, would they magically develop a father-daughter bond?

Luo Ren smiled slightly, saying, “That’s good then.”

He felt that Mu Dai’s personality had changed somewhat recently.

Perhaps her emotions were unstable because of the matter with Xiang Shilan.

Xiang Shilan began speaking again about three days later.

Her voice was harsh and hoarse, but at least communication was possible.

Luo Ren happened to be present at the time.

He asked her: “How many people have you harmed?”

Hunched over, she replied: “I can’t remember clearly.”

Luo Ren didn’t believe her.

Xiang Shilan said, “I truly don’t remember. I made many people say many things, but I didn’t necessarily see the outcome of each case.”

Understood. Over the years, she had continuously made specific people utter baseless falsehoods, but not all were aimed at taking lives. Sometimes, she just lightly dropped words, letting them expand and grow on others’ tongues, inciting, damaging, estranging, and creating minor conflicts.

Whether these minor conflicts dissipated or escalated further depended on each individual’s fate.

“Why did you choose the Tengma Sculpture Platform?”

“I didn’t choose it. It chose it.”

It?

Xiang Shilan’s voice dropped to a whisper: “I liked that place.”

Why did you like that place? Because it was abandoned and desolate? On nights without lights, there was only the sound of wind and the rustling of bowing rice plants, with the half-headed Tengma silhouette hidden in the encompassing darkness.

Yi Wansan had remarked that it resembled an ancient sacrificial altar.

“Why did you harm those people?”

“It did it.”

It did it—she merely cooperated, watched coldly from the sidelines, fueled the flames, even derived a vengeful satisfaction.

“Do you know what it is?”

“No.”

She looked down at her chest: “But I just knew there was something there, humming and telling me what to do.”

“Can it control people to do anything?”

She slowly shook her head, her lips revealing a cunning smile: “It only makes people say certain things, but sometimes the effects are surprisingly good.”

Many tragedies that escalate beyond control often begin with a contemptuous glance or an unpleasant remark.

Luo Ren found it somewhat absurd.

Unlike previous people possessed by Murder Slips who became killers, Xiang Shilan may not have killed anyone in these twenty years.

She had merely walked by indifferently, not even speaking. If the entire matter were brought to court, would the law find her guilty?

Luo Ren asked his final question.

“Why did you abandon your daughter in the first place?”

Xiang Shilan chuckled, but as her laughter grew stronger, her chest contracted in pain. She hunched over further, looking from the side like a rolled-up gong.

Before, her heart had been exceptionally strong, with all organs and bones making way for it. Now, the situation was reversed—she had to use her entire upper body, hunched and curved inward, to protect it.

She said, “Is it that girl?”

Then she murmured, “She’s grown up. What is her name?”

Luo Ren called Yan Hongsha’s phone, who then passed it to Mu Dai.

Over the phone, Luo Ren asked her if she wanted to come see Xiang Shilan, who was now awake.

Mu Dai said, “Alright.”

Yan Hongsha wanted to accompany her, but she said, “Let me go alone.”

Her tone was gentle, but her attitude brooked no argument. Cao Yanhua came over and tugged at Yan Hongsha, indicating: This is their family matter.

Mu Dai went out without wearing a hat or mask. With her hands in her pockets, she walked through the twilight streets, across Nantian’s iconic bridge. Looking back from the bridge, she saw only new buildings, with no trace of anything from her memory.

Nantian wasn’t her hometown—it was just a city called Nantian.

Luo Ren waited for her at the door and asked: “Do you want me to accompany you?”

“I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Then I’ll wait for you outside.”

After a pause, he added: “She has already guessed that you’re her daughter.”

Mu Dai finally sat across from Xiang Shilan.

Xiang Shilan curled up on the bed, her body bent, both hands protecting her chest, guarding that fragile heart.

Mu Dai asked: “When I told you your daughter died of illness in the orphanage, how did you feel?”

Xiang Shilan gave her an indifferent glance.

Mu Dai smiled self-mockingly: Indeed, after sending her away and forgetting her for twenty years, did it matter how she felt hearing the bad news? If she felt sad, would that comfort Mu Dai?

Changing the subject, she asked: “How do you plan to live from now on?”

Xiang Shilan answered: “I need money.”

As she spoke, her gaze fixed intently on Mu Dai, seemingly hopeful.

Mu Dai laughed: “You think I’ll support you?”

Xiang Shilan said, “I sent you away.”

“Look at you now, so clean and pretty. Sitting across from me, holding your head high as you speak.”

Her voice lowered: “If I hadn’t sent you away, what would have become of you? You would have been mixing with unsavory characters at a young age, and soon would have had a daughter yourself, unwanted, not wanting to raise her, yet unable to send her away.”

“This is much better. You’re respectable now, with a man who loves you.”

Mu Dai laughed coldly: “You make it sound like it’s all your accomplishment.”

Xiang Shilan shifted her body with difficulty: “Before, I didn’t feel hungry even without eating, and I didn’t get sick. But now it’s different. Walking is difficult, I can’t straighten my back, and my heart beats irregularly—sometimes feeling like it might stop.”

She was aware of her changed situation and immediately assessed her circumstances, as realistic as she had been twenty years ago.

Mu Dai smiled: “Unfortunately, I don’t have money for you.”

“You should give me money.”

Mu Dai found it amusing: “On what grounds?”

“Because you’re not my birth child.”

Mu Dai froze.

Xiang Shilan shrank back on the bed: “I picked you up from the bridge. You know Nantian’s bridge, right? Back then, the river didn’t have a new bridge; it was a wooden one. One night, I was passing by and heard a child crying underneath.”

“It was you, tiny as a kitten, crying until your face was red, wrapped in a towel. I picked you up and brought you home.”

Mu Dai looked at her: “You were that kind-hearted? You could barely support yourself.”

Xiang Shilan laughed: “Because at that time, the police were conducting strict checks, and single women from outside were primary suspects. I thought having a child would be better.”

She continued: “Do you think I would spend money to buy milk powder to feed you? Don’t assume raising you was difficult. Some rice soaked in hot water, vegetable broth—you slurped it down just fine.”

“Later, I didn’t want you anymore, but I couldn’t send you away—you weren’t a boy. So I kept you with me, raising you casually.”

She finished and looked at Mu Dai, asking: “Shouldn’t you give me money? I picked you up, raised you, and then sent you away. A little compensation is only fair.”

It seemed reasonable—a little compensation was indeed fair.

Mu Dai didn’t know how to respond. Just then, Luo Ren’s soft laughter came from the doorway: “Extortion, is it?”

He entered step by step, looking at Xiang Shilan, then turning to Mu Dai, saying, “Go wait for me in the car.”

Mu Dai said, “Luo Ren, this matter…”

She didn’t know how much Luo Ren had heard or where to begin explaining.

Luo Ren interrupted her: “Go wait in the car. I’ll be there shortly.”

After ensuring Mu Dai had left, Luo Ren sighed deeply, sat down across from Xiang Shilan, and after a moment, reached into his coat and pulled out a thick envelope.

Xiang Shilan reached out to take it, but Luo Ren suddenly withdrew his hand, leaving her grasping at air.

Xiang Shilan was somewhat surprised. After a moment, she understood and said, “I keep my word.”

“You’d better keep your word. You know what I’m buying with this money.”

Xiang Shilan said, “I know. Buying my silence and my promise not to appear before her again.”

Luo Ren threw the envelope onto the bed: “Buying your guarantee that you will never be her mother again in this lifetime.”

Mu Dai leaned against the car, waiting for Luo Ren, her toe writing aimlessly on the ground—she didn’t even know what she was writing.

Luo Ren strode over and, meeting her questioning gaze, said: “Get in the car.”

As he spoke, he walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door. After getting in, he realized Mu Dai hadn’t followed. She was still standing there, looking toward Xiang Shilan’s house, then back at him.

She asked: “What about her?”

Luo Ren said, “We don’t need to come back to this place ever again.”

“But she just told me she wanted money…”

Luo Ren interrupted her, enunciating each word: “I’ve already resolved it. She’s very satisfied, and I’m not at a disadvantage.”

Mu Dai got into the car, somewhat dubiously.

As she bent to fasten her seatbelt, the buckle wouldn’t align properly. Luo Ren leaned over to help her secure it.

His chin brushed against her hair, creating a slight tickling sensation.

Mu Dai turned her head away, looking down at him for a while.

“Luo Ren?”

“Mm?”

“She said I’m not her biological child—she found me.”

Luo Ren’s movements paused briefly, but he quickly resumed as normal. He looked up at Mu Dai: “And what do you think about that?”

Mu Dai sighed: “Luo Xiaodao, you are something—never showing much surprise.”

Luo Ren teased her: “What does being very surprised look like? Show me.”

Mu Dai smiled, then, after a pause, said: “But what’s strange is that I feel happy about it.”

She looked up at him: “Why is that? Is it because I hadn’t noticed that I was disgusted by her?”

Luo Ren said, “It’s because some injuries are easier to forgive when they don’t come from those closest to us.”

Mu Dai fell silent.

Perhaps that was it. When she heard Xiang Shilan say she had merely been picked up, for a moment, she felt relieved.