That evening’s gathering and parting followed fate’s course, with unsettling emotions deliberately suppressed beneath the surface.

News of Luo Ren’s injury had spread, but like Mu Dai’s kidnapping, it needed to be kept from Huo Zihong and the others. Qingmu had not returned, and Zheng Mingshan had taken his place at the bar. When meeting Huo Zihong, he politely explained: “Master Meihua Jiuniang has fallen gravely ill, but she intends to pass some of her ‘hidden treasures’ skills to Mu Dai. That’s why she’s taken Mu Dai into seclusion these days, forbidding any disturbances or outside contact.”

Is that so? Huo Zihong felt somewhat reassured. That old lady Mei did have a stubborn personality and seemed capable of doing such things. No wonder they couldn’t reach Mu Dai these past few days.

Still, her heart remained unsettled. In private, she only confided in Zhang Shu.

“Lately, I’ve been feeling uneasy, like something’s happened. Ever since Luo Ren let that Japanese person stay here, it’s not that I’m being stingy about accommodations, but that person is Luo Ren’s friend. Why wouldn’t they stay at Luo Ren’s place, which is so empty, instead of moving into the bar? Don’t you find that strange?”

Zhang Shu replied, “It is a bit odd. And that old man Zheng, his Phoenix Pavilion was running perfectly fine, then he closed it without a word. No one knows where he went, and he can’t be reached at all.”

Huo Zihong worried, “At first, I thought Luo Ren seemed good, but now he seems off—if he continues like this, I won’t feel comfortable leaving Mu Dai with him.”

She sighed again, “It’s not just them, even our people are acting strange. Yi Wansan has been running in and out more than ten times tonight. What’s he up to?”

As she spoke, Yi Wansan dashed out the door again.

What was he doing? The story traces back to Cao Jiefang.

After learning from Zhang Shu that the fake act had become real, Yi Wansan became as anxious as an ant on a hot pan. A small part of his anxiety came from genuine concern—having spent so much time with Cao Jiefang, he had developed some feelings. The greater part came from fear that Cao Yanhua would come after him, since the idea had been his in the first place.

So, before the news spread, he quickly tried to remedy the situation.

The previous lost chicken notice was completely inadequate. He drew a new one, made dozens of copies to post everywhere, and left his phone number. He increased the reward to eight hundred yuan. To make it clear that the pheasant itself had no inherent value worth coveting, he deliberately added a line to the notice: “My elderly mother is advanced in years, and this chicken has been her daily companion, serving as essential emotional support. We kindly request that good-hearted people return it.”

The implication was clear: we’re willing to pay eight hundred yuan for its “emotional value,” not because the pheasant is worth that much.

Where there’s a generous reward, brave people will come forward. That night, people hoping to claim the reward came in an endless stream—truly, all sorts of strange characters appeared.

Some brought large roosters, and after being refused, complained: “Aren’t they all chickens? Yours is lost anyway, why not make do with this one?”

Some brought pheasants, and after being told it wasn’t the right one, asked him to wait, then returned shortly with a cage full of pheasants: “Take a look, which one looks like yours? I’ll sell cheap—five hundred! Three hundred, is three hundred okay?”

Yi Wansan was so angry that he wanted to kick the cage.

Fortunately, so much had happened that evening that both Cao Yanhua and Yan Hongsha temporarily forgot about Cao Jiefang.

The two sat beside Zheng Mingshan in an extremely oppressive atmosphere.

When Yan Hongsha spoke, her eyes were red: “That Leopard is so vicious. If she could shoot Luo Ren, she certainly wouldn’t be kind to Mu Dai.”

She wiped away a tear, imagining that Mu Dai had already been whipped hundreds of times and branded with red-hot irons.

Zheng Mingshan remained silent. He hadn’t anticipated things developing to this point. After investigating the three houses with bamboo, he had called Luo Ren, but no one answered. Finally, Qingmu called and briefly explained the situation.

After years of experience, having seen all kinds of situations, he ended up being tricked by a barely grown girl.

Zheng Mingshan smiled bitterly, carefully recalling the circumstances, feeling a chill down his spine: that young girl must have been brainwashed.

He had returned to that residence, but it was already empty. They must have left in a hurry—a book still lay on the tea table, its pages fluttering in the wind, as if mocking his rare misstep.

Suddenly, Cao Yanhua flared up: “My little master has been kidnapped for so many days, and now Brother Luo has been taken down too. You capable ones, you fighters, won’t let us join in, but now you just want us to sit here doing nothing? No way!”

He slapped the table and headed for the door. Zheng Mingshan rebuked him: “Cao Yanhua, where are you going?”

Cao Yanhua stiffened his neck: “Cats have cat ways, mice have mouse ways—I’m going to find my solution!”

By the time dawn was breaking, Mu Dai heard the door opening.

She groggily got up from the floor, feeling so weak that even opening her eyes took effort. Leopard must have mixed dizziness-inducing drugs into her food. Of course, a woman like her wouldn’t risk letting Mu Dai eat and drink well enough to regain strength.

The door pushed open, and Leopard entered. From Mu Dai’s angle, she could see her straight, slender legs and shiny, high leather boots.

Mu Dai didn’t bother to glare at her—glaring also required energy, and now her energy was as precious as fine steel, best saved for crucial moments.

Leopard knelt before her: “I’ve seen Luo. He’s not dead. I delivered your message too.”

Mu Dai didn’t respond. She propped herself up on her arms and leaned her back against the wall, finding a more comfortable position. “What do you want?”

She spoke weakly: “Anyway, you seem so confident, what’s the harm in telling me?”

Leopard giggled: “I’ve never hidden it from you. I told you, I want to break Luo’s spirit.”

“What else?” Mu Dai extended her hand, pointing to the eye that Leopard kept covered with an eye patch. “Is it unrelated to the Xiong Simple?”

Her mentioning the Xiong Simple first somewhat surprised Leopard, who didn’t deny it: “I know you have five Star Simples in your possession.”

“Then why are you dawdling?” Mu Dai smiled. “Kill Luo Xiaodao, take the Xiong Simple, and be done with it.”

Leopard smiled too: “That would be so boring.”

Mu Dai sighed: “Just like in television shows.”

“What?”

Mu Dai kindly reminded her: “Those villains, bad people, they generally die because they talk too much, dawdle, and try to play unusual tricks. I think you’ll end up the same way.”

“I’m different.”

Mu Dai tilted her head up and smiled at her: “Many people think they’re special. And then, they die.”

After speaking, she lay back down on the ground, curling up with her head resting on her arm.

Suddenly, she heard a soft thud—Leopard had thrown something down that landed near her cheek.

Mu Dai opened her eyes and saw a hardcover nursery rhyme book, a Chinese-English bilingual edition. The open page showed the English title “Hey Diddle Diddle,” translated in Chinese as “Qi Qi Qi Zhen Qi Qi” (Strange, Strange, Truly Strange).

This must be a nursery rhyme for children.

The little violin and the cat,

The cow jumped over the moon,

The little dog laughed to see such sport,

And exercise is wonderful.

There was an illustration beside it: a cat playing the violin with a little dog laughing heartily nearby.

“I promised Luo that if he could find you quickly, I’d give you a chance at the wheel.”

In the Philippines, she had specially made different wheels, intricately crafted like exquisite works of art, but here, everything had to be simplified.

She pointed at the adorable animals in the illustration: “Come, choose one.”

Mu Dai didn’t move: “What does this represent?”

“It represents your fate. I told you, you’re a powerful ingredient. I just haven’t decided in what form to present you to the world.”

“Don’t you want to brainwash me?”

A mysterious smile appeared on Leopard’s face: “That’s too cliché. I have newer, more interesting methods.”

She leaned down, her voice dropping to a whisper: “Although, they’re somewhat cruel. Even someone like me feels a bit reluctant.”

“So, I’m letting you choose, to see what fate intends. If you pick it, I won’t hesitate anymore.”

Is that so?

Mu Dai looked again at the illustration: the cat playing the violin and the dog laughing heartily. Behind them hid unfathomable faces, two destinies, neither good, only bad and worse.

—Even someone like me feels a bit reluctant.

Which one to choose?

Mu Dai extended her finger, pointing to the cat playing the violin: “This one.”

For a moment, she noticed that Leopard seemed somewhat displeased.

Your displeasure reassures me.

Mu Dai said nothing more, pushed the book aside, and closed her eyes again. Dawn had not fully broken yet—according to her usual routine, it was still early to get up. She wanted to sleep a bit more.

After quite a while, she heard Leopard ask: “Why didn’t you choose the little dog?”

Mu Dai smiled slightly and said, “People always have their quirks. I don’t particularly like dogs.”