Yan Tuo spent a week in the hospital.
Lu Xian’s prediction had come true. This injury had sparked a serious illness, multiplying the ailments that had taken root during his time trapped in the mine. When the test results came back, half of his biochemical indicators showed abnormalities. The doctor was so alarmed that he suspected a procedural error and urgently demanded a retest.
Yan Tuo himself felt fine—he could still breathe and walk, which was enough for him to feel grateful.
During this time, he maintained contact with Yu Rong.
Yu Rong was still at Jin Ren Gate, mainly dealing with two matters.
The first was continuing the search.
As days passed without incident, Yu Rong and her companions grew bolder. No longer satisfied with searching just the outskirts, they had once ventured deep into the terracotta warrior formations. However, the results remained the same.
Nothing was found.
Yu Rong complained to Yan Tuo: “I believe Feng Mi’s words now. Those White-Eyed Ghosts and Owl Ghosts never come up here. It’s so strange—how did we manage to encounter them that one time? Why did Xing Shen’s luck have to work against us like that?”
The second matter was taming Jiang Baichuan.
Yan Tuo fell silent when he heard this.
Yu Rong could probably guess what he was thinking. “I don’t want to either.”
Taming Jiang Baichuan was different from taming Sun Zhou—after all, he was a familiar face, an elder.
Yu Rong had considered sending Jiang Baichuan to a mental hospital, but then realized it wouldn’t work. Unlike violent lunatics, Jiang Baichuan was bloodthirsty and cunning. Keeping him in a mental hospital might lead to disaster later.
So they had to tame him, at least to Sun Zhou’s level, where he knew to avoid people and not harm them.
She said: “Back when I was handling Sun Zhou, Second Nie always objected, saying we were treating people like animals, which wasn’t right. But what else could I do? There’s no wilderness to release them into.”
“I’ve thought it through. Qing Ran is vast enough—let Uncle Jiang stay here. At least he’ll have some freedom. There’s always something to catch and eat underground. Worst case, we can come to feed him occasionally.”
After much consideration, this seemed like the only option.
Yan Tuo asked her: “How long do you plan to stay there? I’ll try to come as soon as—”
Knowing his physical condition, Yu Rong bluntly cut him off: “Don’t rush. I know what you’re thinking. Yan Tuo, I can’t control what you do, but please wait until you’re capable before trying anything. Don’t come here gasping for breath, making us carry and drag you around, causing trouble for everyone.”
Yan Tuo was rendered speechless by her sharp words. After a pause, he said: “There’s one more thing…”
He told Yu Rong about the strange sounds he’d heard at midnight when passing by Nan Ba Monkey Head on the mountain path.
“When Lin Xirong first kidnapped Lame Father and the others, their meeting point was Nan Ba Monkey Head. Although you all didn’t go there later, I’ve always felt something was off about that place. Whether it’s Nan Ba Monkey Head or my father’s mine shaft, I feel we need to properly deal with them. If you have the resources, I’ll cover the expenses.”
He didn’t press too hard, knowing Yu Rong’s team was already short-handed.
Yu Rong had no objections, saying: “We’ll handle everything one step at a time.”
A week later, Yan Tuo left the hospital, refusing any escorts and returning to the small courtyard alone.
It was dusk when he arrived. The setting sun hung low, its red-gold rays slanting into the alley leading to the courtyard, creating an absurd, bustling atmosphere that clashed with his quiet heart.
Yan Tuo walked alone through the sunlight, approaching the familiar courtyard gate. As he reached out to knock, he heard laughter from inside.
It seemed to be Sister Lu, laughing so hard she almost choked: “Let Lin Ling be the judge—how do my dumplings look like mantou?”
Uncle Chang Xi was also laughing—in all his memories, he’d never heard Liu Chang Xi laugh so heartily: “Look at these dumplings. After so many days of teaching, you still can’t get it right. You learn everything else instantly—do you have some grudge against dumplings?”
Lin Ling was also giggling, though taking Sister Lu’s side: “As long as they’re edible, it’s fine. If the taste is right, that’s what matters. Once they’re in your stomach, looks don’t matter anyway.”
…
Such a lively scene.
Yan Tuo withdrew his hand from the gate and sat down on the threshold.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t want to go in. He felt out of place as if his presence would spoil the atmosphere.
He sat there until darkness fell and the night air grew cool. Then the door behind him creaked open.
It was Sister Lu taking out the trash. Suddenly seeing a dark figure crouched by the door, she let out a startled “Ah!” and stepped back several paces.
Yan Tuo finally came to his senses, stood up, and called out: “Sister Lu.”
There was a light under the eaves. Sister Lu recognized him and smiled, patting her chest to calm herself: “Oh my, why are you sitting at the door? You’re back so soon—I thought we’d have to wait a few more days.”
When Nie Jiuluo left, she’d told Sister Lu she’d be back in half a month and would test her then. Sister Lu had been counting the days, feeling quite pressured.
Soon? Yan Tuo managed a weak smile. These past few days, his heart had felt so desolate, as if half a lifetime had passed.
Sister Lu looked behind him and made a puzzled sound: “Where’s Miss Nie? She hasn’t arrived yet?”
Yan Tuo’s mind buzzed faintly.
Not yet arrived—he didn’t know when she would arrive.
He said: “Luo went to see some cave temples on the way. I came back first.”
Sister Lu didn’t doubt him at all. Nie Jiuluo was often like this, fond of stone caves, statues, and various temples and pavilions. When the mood struck, she could be away from home for months.
She ushered Yan Tuo inside, asking: “Have you eaten? What would you like me to make? I made lots of dumplings…”
Yan Tuo interrupted her: “Make me some noodles, like the chicken soup noodles you made last time, with shredded chicken, black fungus, and sprinkled with goji berries.”
The description was unusually detailed. Sister Lu found it strange and looked up at him, suddenly feeling an indescribable unease.
“Master Yan, you don’t look well. Are you sick?”
She had wanted to tease him by asking “Did you get tricked into mining again?” but swallowed the words, not being close enough to joke like that.
Yan Tuo smiled and said: “Yes, I’m a bit under the weather, so I came back to rest.”
Like Sister Lu, Lin Ling, and Liu Chang Xi also hit a wall with Yan Tuo: they happily came up to greet him, only to be dismissed with “I’m a bit tired, I’ll head upstairs first,” and that was the end of it.
Yan Tuo knew he wasn’t acting well enough, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to smile, nor did he have the energy to care about others.
The second floor had perfectly maintained its state from when Nie Jiuluo left: Sister Lu kept it clean as usual, while Lin Ling and Liu Chang Xi were courteous guests, mostly staying downstairs and rarely coming up to disturb.
Yan Tuo turned on the lights and sat on the workbench. Once seated, it felt as if his legs were filled with lead and his skeleton had collapsed—he had no strength left to get up and move.
Sister Lu was good at reading the atmosphere. After bringing up the noodles, she went downstairs without a word, even stopping Lin Ling and Liu Chang Xi who tried to go up and inquire, advising them: “It’s obvious he wants some quiet time. Going up to ask won’t help.”
Yan Tuo bent over his noodles. Honestly, they were just as delicious as last time, but when one’s heart is too full of worries, the stomach feels stuffed too, making it hard to eat.
He only managed a few bites before setting it aside, his gaze falling on the model of the small courtyard beside him.
What a beautiful courtyard, with plum blossoms in full bloom, time is frozen in the past: Nie Jiuluo wearing pajamas with her arm in a sling, him smiling and holding a plum blossom, wearing a “deadbeat” sign around his neck…
The couplet on the courtyard gate was still bright red, one side reading “Peace,” the other “Return.”
Yan Tuo reached out and gently traced the couplet.
Once, this small courtyard had waited for his return.
In the future, would it also wait for Nie Jiuluo’s return?
…
That night, after a brief wash-up, Yan Tuo slept in Nie Jiuluo’s room.
He found it hard to sleep now. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Qing Ran and Black-White Rapids. Even when he did sleep, nightmares plagued him—the previous night, he’d dreamed of the White-Eyed Ghost carrying Nie Jiuluo’s corpse across the rapids. The scene was like a silent film, without any sound, and he couldn’t move or make a sound either, just watching helplessly.
Tonight, he hoped the dream would continue like a serial, letting him see where they took Nie Jiuluo.
Sure enough, he had another dream around midnight.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a continuation of the previous night’s story.
He dreamed he turned over, opened his eyes, and through the thin curtains hanging from the bed canopy, saw Nie Jiuluo sitting at her dressing table, humming while slowly applying lotions.
Yan Tuo was both shocked and delighted. He sat up and said: “Luo, you’re back?”
Nie Jiuluo replied softly: “Yes.”
Then she turned her head toward him.
In her face were a pair of terrifying white eyes.
…
Yan Tuo jolted awake, cold sweat pouring down, his heart contracting painfully.
He turned on the bedside lamp. There was indeed a thin curtain hanging from the bed canopy, but the dressing table was empty.
There was no way he could sleep now. Yan Tuo grabbed at his racing heart, took a long while to calm down, then opened the door and went out.
Outside the bedroom was the large studio, full of statues casting eerie shadows. Yan Tuo wiped the sweat from his forehead and fumbled his way to the reading area, turned on the reading lamp, and sat down on the couch.
The night was truly quiet. The light falling from the lampshade steadily enveloped him like a warm, caring bubble.
Yan Tuo sat for a long time before leaning toward the bookshelf, wanting to find a book to pass the rest of the night.
Nie Jiuluo had many books. Besides professional ones, there were plenty of leisure reads and novels. However, as his eyes scanned down the row of book spines, Yan Tuo couldn’t muster any interest.
His gaze gradually drifted to the lower shelf.
There was one book with nothing printed on its spine, its contents unknown.
Yan Tuo curiously pulled it out and discovered it was a photo album.
Nie Jiuluo’s photo album? He paused, noting that this kind of album was rather old-fashioned—young people mostly used digital albums, and specially printed ones were uncommon.
He hesitantly opened it.
Sister Lu woke up in the middle of the night to thunderous knocking on her door. At first, she thought something had happened and felt startled, then heard Yan Tuo’s voice: “Sister Lu, please open the door, I need to ask you something.”
Oh, it’s Yan Tuo.
Sister Lu sighed in relief, then frowned: what could be so urgent that it warranted knocking at midnight? Couldn’t it wait until morning?
She put on a coat and opened the door.
Strange—Yan Tuo looked off, his chest heaving heavily, clutching a photo album. As soon as he saw her, he hurriedly opened it: “Sister Lu, have you seen this photo album? There’s no text label, I’m not very sure, so I need to ask you.”
As it happened, the page he opened showed wedding photos, which Sister Lu had seen before.
She said: “This is Miss Nie’s family album. Those are her parents, and the child is Miss Nie when she was little.”
Yan Tuo’s heart was nearly jumping out of his chest as he pointed to the bride in the wedding photo: “This is her mother, Pei Ke?”
He had previously researched Nie Jiuluo’s information and knew her parents’ names, but had never seen their photos—in her interviews, she mostly showcased herself, and there was no reason to publish her parents’ photos.
Sister Lu nodded: “The man is her father, Nie Xihong.”
Yan Tuo was too excited to speak. After a long while, he continued asking: “Do you know what happened to her parents back then?”
Sister Lu looked troubled: “I don’t know about that. It wouldn’t be right for me to pry into my employer’s private matters. Miss Nie did mention once that her mother died in an accident, and her father was so heartbroken he couldn’t move on, so he jumped from a building.”
Right, it was normal that Sister Lu didn’t know. But he could ask people from that time.
Yan Tuo: “Are there any old friends of her parents…”
Sister Lu thought for a moment, then shook her head: “You’d have to look in her hometown for that. Miss Nie went back to her hometown a while ago for her father’s death anniversary and mentioned something about an uncle or elder uncle… you should ask Miss Nie.”
Did she go back to her hometown? That’s good then—Nie Jiuluo’s phone was with him, he could surely find someone by going through her contacts.
Yan Tuo looked at Sister Lu gratefully: “Alright then, Sister Lu, go back to sleep. Sorry to disturb you.”
Sister Lu was left bewildered as he ushered her back to her room, thinking to herself: It wasn’t such a big deal, why did he have to ask in the middle of the night? These young people are… so impetuous.
Yan Tuo clutched the photo album, intending to return to his room, but when he reached the flowering tree, he unconsciously sat down on the stone stool.
Pei Ke, that White-Eyed Ghost leader, was Nie Jiuluo’s mother, Pei Ke.
In many of her photos, she wore that jade and platinum necklace. That necklace originally belonged to Pei Ke—which made sense, a mother’s things should be passed down to her daughter.
That’s why Luo always wore it.
No wonder after that final strike, that woman kept looking at the necklace in her hand and asked him Nie Jiuluo’s name and if her father was Nie Xihong—she had recognized it! Pei Ke had recognized it!
No wonder she spared him. In that situation, she could probably guess his relationship with Nie Jiuluo. Sparing him was for Luo’s sake.
Since she was her birth mother, surely she wouldn’t watch her daughter die, wouldn’t bear to see her daughter become a White-Eyed Ghost. She would try everything—Pei Ke had four Nüwa statues in her possession. Luo would come back to life, she definitely would!
Yan Tuo lowered his head, his forehead pressing heavily against the hardcover of the photo album as his eyes gradually filled with hot tears.
He felt he was getting better.