Yan Tuo’s time with Nie Jiuluo hadn’t been long, and regarding her parents, she had only mentioned them briefly once, never elaborating further.
He wanted to inquire about what happened back then, and more importantly, understand Pei Ke’s character: if she was a mother who loved her daughter dearly, he would feel more assured.
But if she was cruel and cold, indifferent to her child, things might not be as optimistic as he hoped.
Early the next morning, Yan Tuo found Nie Dongyang’s contact information in Nie Jiuluo’s phone. Due to his physical condition, he couldn’t travel himself, so he commissioned a long-term partner of his company to send a capable employee—preferably someone in sales who was good at reading people and articulate—to gather information from various sources.
Having arranged this, his heart felt lighter, and his spirits visibly improved.
While waiting for the information to come in, Yan Tuo settled into a period of genuine “recuperation.”
He soon discovered that during his absence, everyone who remained seemed to have changed.
First, between Sister Lu and Liu Chang Xi, there seemed to be some chemistry developing, though the parties involved hadn’t quite noticed it themselves—Yan Tuo had spotted it first.
Liu Chang Xi smiled more than before and talked more too, one moment criticizing Sister Lu’s dumpling-making technique, the next commenting that her sour soup wasn’t authentic. When Sister Lu retorted, he didn’t get angry, just smiled with his hands behind his back, the wrinkles at his eyes forming patterns of joy.
As for Sister Lu, she kept calling him “Old Liu” as if the name had taken root on her lips. Whenever there was heavy work to be done, she’d call out “Old Liu, give me a hand,” whether it was carrying rice bags or moving pickle jars. Liu Chang Xi was eager to show his worth, rolling up his sleeves to help, seeming to quite enjoy it.
Yan Tuo secretly entertained thoughts of matchmaking. Back then, Liu Chang Xi had developed special feelings for his mother, Lin Xirong, and because of that, had missed the best timing for marriage. Being naturally reticent, he had remained single, but when it came to matters of the heart, compatibility mattered more than timing.
As for Sister Lu, he’d heard she had been married before but divorced midway, with a grown son who could support himself and didn’t need her worry.
If this worked out, it would be nice. People were like reeds in the wind—some drifted alone, others preferred to lean on each other. According to Yan Tuo’s observation, both Sister Lu and Uncle Chang Xi belonged to the latter category.
However, he didn’t force things along, only created small opportunities here and there, both directly and indirectly.
Then there was Lin Ling.
That day, while everyone was in the kitchen watching Sister Lu make dumplings, Yan Tuo noticed Lin Ling had a book rolled up in her hand: “Introduction to Sculpture.”
When Lin Ling saw Yan Tuo staring at the book in her hand, she thought he was upset that she had borrowed Nie Jiuluo’s book and wasn’t taking care of it, carelessly rolling it up. She hurriedly adjusted her grip to hold it properly by the spine.
Yan Tuo asked her: “Interested in sculpture?”
Before Lin Ling could respond, Sister Lu answered for her: “Yes, when Mr. Cai came to take two statues to the shop last time, Lin Ling kept asking him all sorts of questions, even asked if she could learn at her age.”
She pinched off another small piece of dough and tossed it to the edge of the cutting board: “When I’m making dumplings, she shapes little figures from the dough, and they look quite good.”
Lin Ling blushed and said: “I was just asking. I don’t have any talent.”
Yan Tuo pointed at the piece of dough: “Then make something for us to see. Can you make a duck?”
Unable to refuse, Lin Ling kneaded that piece of dough for a long time and finally shaped a duck. The dough was different from clay, too soft and lacking plasticity. The duck suffered from the material’s limitations, sagging a bit overall, but looking closely at its form, it was endearing and had charm.
Yan Tuo said: “That’s quite good. If you want to learn, I support you. Don’t worry too much about talent. With great talent, your work can entertain others; with less talent, you can learn to entertain yourself.”
Just like in this world, many people dabble in flowers and plants, in literature and art—not everyone becomes a master, but they can still find joy, enrich their days, and slowly savor life.
Lin Ling’s eyes lit up.
Another time, she seized an opportunity to ask his opinion: “Yan Tuo, I’m thinking of getting thread implants here in my eyes. What do you think?”
Yan Tuo didn’t understand why one would want to implant thread in perfectly good eyes: “Wouldn’t that cause inflammation?”
Hearing this, Lin Ling knew he didn’t understand and had to explain plainly: “It’s for… double eyelids.”
Yan Tuo understood then.
He thought for a moment and said: “Go ahead. It’s your life, your body—you can do with it as you please. You don’t need my opinion, just decide for yourself. Don’t worry about the money; you’re part of the family.”
Lin Ling smiled. Though she didn’t need his opinion, his support made her feel more courageous about taking this step.
She said: “I read online that cosmetic surgery can be addictive, unstoppable—once you do one thing, you want to do another. But it might be good for me to make some changes. If I look different from before and find a way to get a new identity, Aunt Lin… Lin Xirong won’t be able to find me anymore, right?”
Yan Tuo wanted to say that she couldn’t find her now, and would never be able to find her.
But after hesitating, he held back: nothing was finally confirmed yet, and he didn’t want to give premature joy.
Two days later, information about Pei Ke gradually filtered back to Yan Tuo.
Most of it was positive, saying the parent-child relationship had been good, Pei Ke had loved her daughter dearly, and the couple had been devoted to each other—otherwise, the husband wouldn’t have followed his wife in death.
A minority sang a different tune, saying the young couple hadn’t been as harmonious as believed, having had quite a few conflicts.
Yan Tuo thought this was normal—even the tongue occasionally fights with the teeth. Young couples having occasional discord was only human nature.
However, the final piece of information made Yan Tuo’s heart skip a beat.
The salesperson had been directed to someone named Zhan Jing, who had been close with Pei Ke in their youth. They had dated, and the relationship had continued even after Pei Ke’s marriage.
Zhan Jing’s odd temperament naturally made him reject any inquiries, but the top salesperson wasn’t easily deterred, having both the drive to overcome difficulties and the subtle art of persuasion. After half-coaxing and half-pestering, with three rounds of baijiu poured down, Zhan Jing’s tearful confessions emerged.
These confessions were sent to Yan Tuo’s phone as a video, eliminating any distortion from retelling, and preserving the raw content.
In the video, Zhan Jing reeked of alcohol, his old face flushed red, clutching his wine glass and constantly tapping it on the table: “Others don’t know, but I know the real truth. Our Ke’er wasn’t killed in a travel accident. She was murdered by that bastard Nie Xihong, murdered!”
Yan Tuo frowned—this seemed too far-fetched.
Zhan Jing suddenly became nervous and changed his story: “There’s another possibility—Ke’er might not be dead. They never found her body, so she might not be dead at all. She’s been imprisoned, imprisoned!”
The amused top salesperson’s voice came from off-camera: “Nie Xihong has been dead for so many years, how could he keep her imprisoned?”
Zhan Jing stared at the camera with a dazed look: “Imprisoned, in a dungeon. Our Ke’er is suffering in a dungeon…”
By the end, he was weeping.
Yan Tuo turned off the video.
He really couldn’t connect the White-Eyed Ghost woman underground with the Zhan Jing before him.
The salesperson said this Zhan still couldn’t forget Pei Ke to this day.
Yan Tuo thought it would be better if he did forget because he intuited that Pei Ke probably couldn’t even remember who Zhan Jing was anymore.
A week later, Yan Tuo returned to Jin Ren Gate.
Yu Rong hadn’t left yet—taming a person wasn’t a matter of days. She had temporarily stationed herself at Jin Ren Gate for a month or two for Jiang Baichuan’s sake. Que Cha and the others had rented rooms in the nearest town to the mountain entrance, buying all necessary supplies and taking turns going into the mountain—establishing a small-scale, sustainable short-term supply chain.
When Yan Tuo arrived, he caught Que Cha and Sun Li just as they were about to enter the mountain.
This mountain entry was easier than before. Que Cha had found guidance from local villagers, and several families together had managed to assemble a mule team of five animals. They told outsiders they had scientist friends conducting flora and fauna research in the mountains who needed regular supply deliveries.
Mules could carry much more efficiently than humans, traveled faster, and when necessary, could even carry people.
So trip only took one day for Yan Tuo to reach the outer cave where Jin Ren Gate was located.
Several tents had been set up in the outer cave, including the two men who had carried Yan Tuo before. Tomorrow morning, they would leave the mountain with the muleteers and mules, with Que Cha and Sun Li taking their shifts.
Yu Rong was smoking by a tent, and when she saw Yan Tuo, she looked impatient and said: “You’re here again.”
Before coming, Yan Tuo had spoken with Yu Rong on the phone.
Yu Rong hadn’t recommended his visit, reasoning that Qing Ran was now so quiet not even a mouse stirred—what would he come for? Better to spend the time recuperating, and come when there is movement or signs of activity.
Yan Tuo had said: “Going there will put my mind at ease.”
Yu Rong had scoffed—what peace of mind? Just self-deception.
So upon meeting, she couldn’t help but mock him: “I told you everything clearly, but you wouldn’t believe it, had to come to see for yourself. What do you think you are, some big shot? You think something will happen just because you’re here?”
Yan Tuo smiled good-naturedly. Strangely enough, while TV protagonists usually became more irritable after suffering setbacks, their temper had improved. He felt no need to get angry at even the harshest words and could laugh off any offense.
Seeing him so impervious, Yu Rong couldn’t be bothered to say more.
Early the next morning, after seeing off the muleteers and their group, the three of them carried supplies and took the inner cave route straight to Jin Ren Gate.
This time, they entered through the nose of the Jin Ren statue. The passage was still narrow and cramped; their supply bags often got stuck and had to be yanked forcefully to get through.
After much struggle, when they finally stepped onto Qing Ran again, the first thing Yan Tuo saw was Jiang Baichuan.
He wasn’t fully tamed yet, so couldn’t be allowed to roam freely. His ankles were shackled with chains attached to old lock brackets carved into the stone wall.
Jiang Baichuan’s appearance had changed—his face seemed unable to hold flesh, his cheeks sunken, half his face covered in hair, half his hair turned white and disheveled. His eyes seemed smaller than before but more focused, like two eerie points of light floating on the upper half of his face.
Que Cha pulled out a large piece of meat with bone from her bag, but before she could throw it, Jiang Baichuan was already excited and restless, pacing around, making “ang ang” sounds.
Que Cha felt uncomfortable, her arm heavy as if filled with lead, unable to lift it. Yu Rong gave her a strange look, took the meat from her hand, and tossed it out.
The chains rattled as Jiang Baichuan moved with shocking speed, lunging forward until the chains were almost stretched straight. In the next second, he had pounced on the meat bone on the ground, greedily tearing at it with his mouth and scraping with his claws—his talons weren’t fully developed yet, making the tearing somewhat difficult.
Yan Tuo felt a bit nauseated and turned away: watching animal taming was one thing, but human taming he really couldn’t stomach.
Yu Rong handed him the gun and backpack: “Going alone? Don’t want me to come along?”
Yan Tuo: “Alone.”
If there was no danger on the path to the rapids, he could handle it alone. If there was danger, then, well, this was his business—he didn’t want to drag Yu Rong or Que Cha into it.
Yu Rong: “These days have been peaceful, but you never know…”
Yan Tuo spoke lightly: “If I meet ground owls, I have the gun. If I meet White-Eyed Ghosts, they didn’t take me last time, and probably won’t this time either.”
Yu Rong gestured at the backpack: “There’s dried food, water, several flashlights, and luminous paint inside. Earlier when we went to the rapids, we marked the way with luminous paint arrows. Though this stuff doesn’t glow on its own, it needs to store light first—shine your flashlight on it plenty, and it’ll glow when hit. Should keep you from getting lost on the way back.”
Yan Tuo took the gun in hand, nodded, and said: “I’m off.”
Leaving from here was a long passage lit by luminous stones—people could be seen far down it, still visible even at a distance.
Que Cha watched Yan Tuo’s retreating figure and murmured: “A boyfriend like Yan Tuo is pretty rare, isn’t he?”
Yu Rong was dusting off the balls she would use for training later, and looked up at these words: “What do you mean?”
Que Cha sighed: “He’s devoted and righteous, not giving up even at this point. Look at me and Old Jiang—over ten years of friendship, treated like a game.”
Yu Rong said: “He’s not dating me, so I don’t know what kind of boyfriend he’d be. But as a friend, he’s reliable—when danger comes, this person isn’t selfish.”
They both watched Yan Tuo walking further and further away.
Que Cha hesitated, then lowered her voice: “Yu Rong, I didn’t dare mention this in front of him. Even if that female White-Eyed Ghost is Second Nie’s mother, the chances of him finding Miss Nie are very small, right?”
Yu Rong didn’t respond and failed to catch the rebounding ball. It grazed past her hand, bounced up, and fell back to the ground, bouncing further and further, finally rolling along the ground until it was beyond sight.
After a long while, Yu Rong finally said: “Yes.”
Que Cha said softly: “But he looks so full of confidence, so happy.”
Yu Rong: “Let him be. Let him be happy for as long as he can. Whatever happens, we can’t crush his confidence.”