Yan Tuo’s guess was correct – once Nie Jiuluo had something to keep her busy, the probability of her causing trouble decreased dramatically. Not only did she not leave the courtyard, but she practically grew roots by her workbench, with trips downstairs being countable on one hand.
Yan Tuo took up residence in a first-floor guest room. Though there wasn’t much requiring his attention, he dared not leave, given Nie Jiuluo’s unstable condition – while she seemed peaceful, any disruption could lead to major incidents.
Old Cai visited every few days. After all, they were “preparing for an exhibition,” so they needed to maintain the appearance of being busy and show Nie Jiuluo’s progress to make it seem real. Since he no longer needed to worry about expenses, he felt obligated to at least be diligent in maintaining the pretense.
During his second visit, he arrived just as Nie Jiuluo had completed her first batch of sketches. Old Cai casually picked up one to look at, his heart suddenly skipping a beat. He gathered the remaining sheets and moved to the window to examine them in natural light.
Afterward, he went downstairs to find Yan Tuo.
Yan Tuo was in the kitchen peeling fava beans, a task Sister Lu had given him to keep him occupied when she saw him getting restless.
Old Cai asked Yan Tuo: “Where did Ah Luo go for her period of isolation and study?”
Yan Tuo’s knowledge of sculpture was limited, so he answered vaguely: “Places like Dunhuang, Longmen, and Maijishan.”
Old Cai made a thoughtful sound, then asked: “Did she take on a master?”
The “taking on a master” he referred to didn’t require formal ceremonies – it simply meant having someone provide guidance.
Yan Tuo looked at Old Cai, then at the sketches in his hand: “What’s wrong?”
Old Cai handed him the sketches, then pulled up an image on his phone: “This is what Ah Luo drew last year. Do you see any differences?”
Yan Tuo looked back and forth: “They both look good.”
Truly an amateur’s perspective. Old Cai took back the sketches, not bothering to explain further: “It just seems… more fluid than before.”
This description was too general.
What Old Cai felt was: that Nie Jiuluo’s previous sketches were “drawn” stroke by stroke – no matter how precise and delicate, they were just sketches. But these new ones flowed seamlessly, without a hint of hesitation, as if they grew directly from the pen tip. Even after completion, they maintained their vitality, seemingly still growing.
It seemed these months of isolation, even to the point of obsession, had yielded some results.
In the following days, Old Cai’s visits to the courtyard became noticeably more frequent – not pretense anymore, but genuine dedication.
Nie Jiuluo’s temper was fierce, and she disliked having people around while working – even silent movements would earn her rebuke. So Old Cai set up cameras near the workbench for remote observation.
He watched her sketching technique – sometimes, it seemed completely chaotic, yet produced immediately usable drafts.
He observed her mastery of skeletal structure – no longer the methodical framework building of before. Sometimes, he thought the framework looked wrong, but once the clay was added, the form would emerge instantaneously.
He studied her modeling technique – though technique had become almost secondary to the results themselves.
Once, when the camera was focused on a sculpture’s face, Sister Lu passed by Old Cai while cleaning and let out a startled cry, then laughed it off, saying she thought it was a real person pressing against the screen.
Old Cai couldn’t sit still any longer and specifically sought out Yan Tuo again, returning to their previous topic.
“Has someone been systematically training Nie Jiuluo these past few months?”
Yan Tuo wasn’t slow: “Do you think Ah Luo’s skill level has improved significantly?”
Old Cai didn’t answer directly, but his true thoughts showed through: “I think if this exhibition were real, it might be feasible.”
This statement stirred something in Yan Tuo’s mind.
It was generally believed that people were born with certain talents – some excelled at painting, some at composing, some had extraordinary sensitivity to numbers, and some grasped coding instantly. Unable to explain the reason, people simply called it “talent.”
Nie Jiuluo’s original skill level hadn’t seemed exceptional to Old Cai, but now she had earned such high praise, even qualifying for a “solo exhibition.” Was this because her “second birth” had brought forth new talents?
Moreover, Nie Jiuluo was a sculptor, and Nüwa was acknowledged as the patron deity of sculpture. If one were to draw connections, could this be considered Nüwa’s “direct output”?
Old Cai grew increasingly excited: “I’ll keep observing. If her performance remains stable, we could make something of this exhibition. Since the industry has no expectations of her, it would be easy to make a shocking debut and establish her name…”
Yan Tuo hadn’t expected this accidental success – their completely fabricated “exhibition” was getting on track.
But this development made him feel even more isolated.
Sister Lu could go upstairs during morning, evening, and meal times because she was responsible for cleaning and meal service.
Old Cai could go upstairs during arranged times because he needed to discuss exhibition themes, venues, and arrangements with Nie Jiuluo.
Only Yan Tuo, having no connection to Nie Jiuluo’s life or career, had no legitimate reason to see her, becoming the courtyard’s only superfluous person.
The company had dedicated staff handling affairs, with few matters requiring Yan Tuo’s attention. His main daily activities included helping Sister Lu – peeling fava beans, trimming shrimp whiskers, sorting vegetables, and peeling potatoes.
He had transformed himself into a housekeeper.
About half a month later, Yu Rong called Yan Tuo to ask about progress.
Yan Tuo was soaking clams to let them purge sand, responding listlessly: “No progress.”
Then he explained the situation to Yu Rong.
Yu Rong was surprised: “This isn’t good for Second Nie’s recovery, is it? You need to talk with her more, help her…”
Yu Rong didn’t know how to phrase it, since Nie Jiuluo hadn’t lost her memory.
Help her… rebuild her previous emotional framework and normal worldview. That would require pushing her back into the mundane world, constantly communicating with various people, rather than immersing herself in the world of sculpture, which was far too detached from reality.
Yan Tuo sighed helplessly: “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
He had tried seizing opportunities to speak with Nie Jiuluo during her breaks, but when she finally had free time, she only wanted to rest, not listen to the chatter. She would either snap at him harshly or roll her eyes.
People need a face, trees need bark – everyone has their pride. After several attempts, Yan Tuo stopped putting himself in awkward positions, even actively avoiding her to prevent being unwelcome.
Yu Rong said: “This won’t do. From a child-rearing perspective…”
They both fell silent for a moment.
After a pause, Yu Rong continued: “I’m just making a comparison, don’t take it the wrong way. Think about it – don’t children become closest to whoever spends the most time with them? You want her to remember you, yet you keep your distance. How many lifetimes will it take for her to recover that way? You can’t indulge in this. You need to intervene early.”
Yan Tuo had a headache: “She’s different from others. When she’s unhappy, she gets physical…”
Yu Rong spoke decisively: “Let her hit you. As long as she doesn’t kill you, you need to keep stirring things up.”
That wasn’t all – Que Cha’s voice squeezed through the receiver: “So what if she hits you? Are you, a grown man, afraid of taking a beating or two?”
This was… impossible to continue.
Yan Tuo changed the subject: “How’s your visa application going?”
Earlier, Yu Rong had mentioned to Yan Tuo about wanting to return to Thailand, saying Que Cha also wanted to go abroad to broaden her horizons.
Yu Rong replied: “Given the current situation, abroad isn’t necessarily better. We haven’t made a final decision. Que Cha has set up an archery range near the port, working as a private instructor and training partner. She’s earning quite well and is delighted about it.”
Delighted because it was her first time earning money in her life, saying the feeling of spending her own money was amazing, and that it turned out not having a man to support her wasn’t a problem after all.
Yan Tuo fell silent for a while. Sometimes it was truly hard to judge good from bad: if Jiang Baichuan hadn’t met with misfortune, Que Cha might have remained forever his caged bird, resigned to her fate despite her discontent.
Who could have guessed that Jiang Baichuan’s misfortune would prompt her to look up at the sky, then seek it out and spread her wings?
Yu Rong concluded: “I think staying in the country is fine for now, it’s more convenient to return to Golden Man Gate. First, Uncle Jiang is there, we should visit every year or so; second, with Xing Shen and his people still unaccounted for, I won’t feel at ease until we meet face to face.”
Yan Tuo shared this sentiment.
He had a feeling Nie Jiuluo would return there as well.
After hanging up the phone, Yan Tuo carefully analyzed the current situation.
He certainly had patience and endurance, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed this state of affairs. Yu Rong had a point – he needed to stir things up appropriately and make his presence known to Nie Jiuluo.
Without breaking, there’s no establishing; without wind, how can there be waves?
That evening, he took over Sister Lu’s meal delivery duty.
Nie Jiuluo had good hearing, and different people had different footsteps – it was easy to distinguish the differences.
When she turned and saw Yan Tuo coming up the stairs, Nie Jiuluo was displeased: “Why is it you?”
Yan Tuo explained: “Sister Lu just twisted her ankle, it’s inconvenient for her to climb stairs.”
This was reasonable enough that Nie Jiuluo couldn’t find fault. She came to sit at the dining table and began eating as usual.
Yan Tuo stood to the side, his gaze inevitably drawn to the workbench.
The bench was large and chaotic, tools scattered everywhere, with clay still being kneaded, skeletal frameworks freshly assembled, and sketches strewn about – every corner displaying busy dedication.
Yan Tuo felt a touch of envy.
How wonderful.
So many people worked merely to make a living, doing it reluctantly, while she could truly love and immerse herself in her work – how wonderful.
Nie Jiuluo looked up at him: “Why are you still standing there? How can I eat with you watching?”
Like when working, she disliked having people nearby while eating.
Yan Tuo smiled good-naturedly: “I’ll come back later to collect the dishes.”
As he turned to leave, he suddenly remembered something: “Ah Luo, let’s go to the hospital for a checkup tomorrow.”
Nie Jiuluo frowned: “What checkup? No time.”
Yan Tuo grew increasingly calm: “Your arm was injured before and never properly healed. Now with the exhibition coming up, there’ll be physical work involved. We should get it checked early. Otherwise, if your arm gives out halfway through preparations, wouldn’t all the effort be wasted?”
It sounded reasonable, and Nie Jiuluo had to nod: “Fine.”
Yan Tuo confirmed the time: “So tomorrow morning, I’ll take you?”
Without looking up, Nie Jiuluo replied: “Alright.”
As Yan Tuo went downstairs, his steps were lighter.
Very good – his plan was off to a smooth start.
Medical checkups were already tedious affairs, and to help Nie Jiuluo reconnect with reality, Yan Tuo had arranged the most common type.
Nie Jiuluo was irritated almost every moment – unhappy about queuing, unhappy about running between different departments, unhappy about the various examination requirements. Yan Tuo exercised the utmost patience, always speaking gently and soothingly, without the slightest displeasure, winning sympathy from medical staff and fellow patients alike. Eventually, even Nie Jiuluo felt that continuing to lose her temper would be unreasonable.
After completing the whole process, Yan Tuo took Nie Jiuluo to consult a doctor about her X-rays.
The doctor looked at the images repeatedly, puzzled, and asked Yan Tuo: “What exactly are you looking to check with these?”
Yan Tuo explained: “Well… there was a previous fracture, we wanted to see how well it’s healed.”
For clarity, he gestured to the injury location on his arm.
Nie Jiuluo glanced at where Yan Tuo was pointing, clearly impatient.
The doctor looked confused: “There’s nothing there. Are you sure these are the right images?”
It was impossible to have the wrong images. Yan Tuo thought the doctor might have looked too hastily: “Could you please check again?”
The doctor examined them carefully once more, confident in his assessment: “There’s absolutely nothing wrong here. I can’t see any sign of previous fracture in the area you mentioned.”
Yan Tuo: “Maybe it’s healed so well you can’t see it?”
Another amateur trying to teach a professional – the doctor was weary but remained patient: “Even when fully healed, we can still see bone structure changes in the X-rays. Please double-check yourselves?”
Yan Tuo froze for a few seconds, then suddenly understood. He thanked the doctor and led Nie Jiuluo away.
Nie Jiuluo was extremely impatient, yanking her hand free midway, complaining: “Are we leaving or not?”
Yan Tuo held the X-rays, genuinely happy for her: “Ah Luo, your arm is completely fine now.”
He understood – her arm’s recovery leaving no trace on the X-rays must be related to her months of being sealed within Nüwa’s flesh.
He had originally thought the Golden Man Gate incident was a catastrophe for Nie Jiuluo, but now it could be seen as a blessing: she was unharmed, her old injuries healed, and even her professional skills had greatly improved.
Nie Jiuluo rolled her eyes at him: “I was fine to begin with. You’re the one wasting my time.”
…
For the next two weeks, Yan Tuo continued taking over Sister Lu’s meal delivery duties, regularly enduring Nie Jiuluo’s cold words and eye rolls. He wasn’t angry at all; on the contrary, he was quite pleased.
Two weeks later, Yan Tuo tidied his guest room and moved his luggage and belongings to the small guest room next to Sister Lu’s room.
This small guest room was barely noticeable, usually kept locked and only used when there were extra guests. When Liu Changxi and Lin Ling had stayed here before, Lin Ling had occupied this room.
Yan Tuo instructed Sister Lu that he would stay in this guest room for three full days, trying to make no sound, not even turning on lights at night. If Nie Jiuluo asked about him, she should say he went out to have fun.
Sister Lu was puzzled: “If you want to go have fun, just go. Why pretend?”
Yan Tuo couldn’t explain his difficulties. He’d like to go out, but he didn’t dare. If he left and she started tearing things apart here, who could stop her?
That evening, Sister Lu resumed meal delivery duty.
Just like before, Nie Jiuluo recognized the change in footsteps coming up the stairs.
Seeing Sister Lu, she casually asked: “Where’s Yan Tuo?”
Sister Lu replied: “He went out to have fun.”
Went out to have fun?
Nie Jiuluo was stunned for a while, then suddenly flared up: “Who gave him permission to go have fun?”
After all this time, Sister Lu had figured out Nie Jiuluo’s temperament and knew how to avoid her sharp edges: “I don’t know. When he returns, you can ask him.”
…
Yan Tuo stayed in his room the whole time, passing time easily enough by handling some emails and watching shows.
The next evening, while playing Ludo, he suddenly heard Nie Jiuluo’s voice outside the window: “Why hasn’t Yan Tuo returned yet?”
Had she come down for a walk?
Yan Tuo quietly lifted a corner of the curtain.
He saw Nie Jiuluo standing with her back to him, and though he couldn’t see her face, he could guess it was probably as black as a pot bottom. Sister Lu, following Yan Tuo’s previous instructions, answered honestly: “I don’t know, he didn’t say where he was going.”
Nie Jiuluo: “Call him!”
Sister Lu: “Can’t get through, his phone’s off.”
…
On the third evening, Yan Tuo finally emerged.
He wheeled his luggage noisily through the courtyard. When Sister Lu saw him, she called out loudly: “Oh, Yan Tuo’s back?”
Yan Tuo responded matter-of-factly: “Yes.”
After returning to his previous guest room, he made a lot of noise unpacking, but disappointingly, Nie Jiuluo didn’t come down.
Yan Tuo felt dejected, thinking his first battle would likely fail.
Before bed, he took his usual shower. As he absent-mindedly walked out of the bathroom toweling his hair, he suddenly saw Nie Jiuluo sitting at the table in the center of the room, her face dark as water.
Yan Tuo was startled, nearly dropping his towel, but quickly composed himself and gave Nie Jiuluo a lukewarm greeting: “Need something?”
Nie Jiuluo’s tone was hostile: “Where did you go?”
Yan Tuo said: “Out having fun.”
Then he turned to make his bed, even humming a tune to show his post-vacation good mood.
Nie Jiuluo grew angry: “Who said you could go out? You didn’t even tell me!”
Yan Tuo’s humming stopped abruptly. Then he turned around, giving her a sidelong glance with a punchable expression.
“Why should I tell you? Did you hire me? Did you sign a contract with me? Have you ever paid me even a penny?”
Nie Jiuluo was stunned.
Thinking back, she realized she hadn’t.
Yan Tuo continued: “Everything I’ve done for you before was just helping out, voluntary service. I don’t answer to you, so of course I can come and go as I please…”
Before he could finish, Nie Jiuluo shot to her feet and slammed her palm on the table.
Yan Tuo’s scalp tingled in fear, instinctively feeling he was about to get hit.
After a moment, Nie Jiuluo glared at him fiercely and spoke word by word: “How much do you want per month?”
Yan Tuo stared back at her, then after a while, he lightly tapped his fingers on the table and said: “Sit down, let’s discuss this properly.”