Que Cha lived in a two-story house.
The exterior was tiled, with faded Spring Festival couplets on the main door. Though it looked rustic from every angle, in this rural setting, it qualified as a “mansion.”
She went straight upstairs, in good spirits, even humming a tune. Once inside, she smoothly unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor, kicked off her high heels, grabbed a towel, and headed to the bathroom.
Soon, the sound of running water filled the space.
Using the cover of the water noise, Yan Tuo inspected the house inside and out.
The house seemed unoccupied most of the time, showing no signs of daily life, but it was very clean—likely cleaned recently, with visible wipe marks still clear on the windows. In a corner of the bedroom sat two suitcases: a 26-inch black men’s case standing against the wall, and a 22-inch floral one sprawled open, filled with carelessly tossed women’s clothing.
The bedding was also in disarray, with two pillows—one had fallen to the floor, the other centered at the head of the bed.
Que Cha probably wasn’t a local villager but had arrived recently. She had an intimate male companion who hadn’t been staying here these past few days.
The room was heavy with feminine fragrance, a sweet, soft scent. Yan Tuo opened a window for ventilation, picked up a jacket from the open suitcase, and then sat on the bed with his gun ready.
The water stopped, and faint humming could be heard again. Then the door opened, and Que Cha walked out barefoot, adjusting her hair wrap. After just two steps, she screamed and froze in place.
She wore a large towel wrapped around her body, tucked between her breasts, the hair wraps not properly adjusted with several strands hanging down, water dripping from their tips. On this September night, the temperature was low, and the cold air invaded through the open window, striking her exposed skin and raising goosebumps.
Her voice trembled: “Who are you?”
But gradually, she calmed down, her body shifting from tense to relaxed: before she was a man, and she had plenty of experience dealing with men.
She smiled, quickly guessing Yan Tuo’s identity: “You’re the man who came during the day, aren’t you?”
Yan Tuo threw the jacket at her: “Put on some clothes before we talk.”
She didn’t catch it, watching the jacket fall at her feet, and said: “I’m not cold.”
As she spoke, she gracefully removed her hair wrap, letting her wet hair fall over her shoulders while walking toward the dressing table.
Yan Tuo said coldly: “Stay right where you are, don’t touch anything, don’t lean on anything. And don’t think you can seduce me just because you’re pretty. I don’t fall for that.”
Que Cha’s face flushed with embarrassment for a moment. After a pause, she figured since pretenses were dropped, she didn’t need to act anymore.
She grabbed the towel’s knot to prevent it from falling, then smiled sweetly: “Then what do you want? You men had a misunderstanding, got stuck with a needle, and now you’re taking it out on a woman? That’s not right, especially ambushing someone while they’re bathing.”
Her tone carried a hint of coquettish complaint toward the end.
Yan Tuo sneered: “I was just driving through here peacefully, didn’t steal or rob anything, why stick me with a needle right away?”
Que Cha’s smile took on an odd meaning: “Alright, handsome, let’s be honest with each other. ‘Just driving through’—who’d believe that? Let’s be straightforward: are you here to join us or to do business?”
Yan Tuo didn’t understand but still responded: “What do you mean by joining, and what about doing business?”
“Joining isn’t up to us to decide, that’s for the boss. As for business, naturally, you’d have to discuss that with him too.”
“The boss—that’s the one surnamed Jiang? Where did he go, when will he be back?”
Que Cha thought to herself, of course, it wasn’t just “driving through”—he even knew the boss’s surname. This was someone who came to Ban Ya with a clear purpose.
“He’s away on important business. When he’ll return depends on how smoothly things go… at least seven or eight days, I’d say. If you don’t mind, you could stay here and wait—the village has plenty of empty houses. Or you could come back in a few days.”
Toward the end, feeling the cold floor, she lifted one foot to rub against her other calf for warmth, her toenails gleaming from the bath.
Perhaps because they were now talking, she became more talkative: “Handsome, are you working solo or with partners?”
“With partners.”
Que Cha made an “oh” sound, showing some disappointment: working solo would be better—they could take him down now, and taking down one meant taking down the whole family, convenient. With partners, they couldn’t act rashly.
“Can you contact this Jiang now?”
“Handsome, you don’t understand—he contacts us, we can’t contact him. Don’t worry, when he calls, I’ll tell him about you.”
Yan Tuo remained noncommittal. After a while, he changed the subject: “What smell was in my car? I couldn’t smell anything.”
Que Cha giggled: “Of course you can’t smell it, I can’t either. I’m quite curious what smell it is.”
“But Big Head can smell it?”
Que Cha realized she’d slipped up and didn’t respond, changing the topic instead: “Handsome, let me ask, how much goods do you have?”
“That depends on how much you want.”
Que Cha froze for a moment, her throat bobbing slightly, her voice changing: “And the price—how much?”
Any more questions and answers might expose something, so Yan Tuo cut it off here: “Details, I’ll only discuss with Jiang.”
Ban Ya was a surprise. He had two choices: one was to extract information from Que Cha, but she was just a minor player with limited knowledge; two was to play along and cast a longer line, taking a bigger risk to meet this Old Jiang.
He was willing to take that risk.
He stood up: “I’ll come back in a few days.”
Que Cha was somewhat surprised but understood that haste makes waste: “That’s fine. What should I call you, handsome? So I can tell Old Jiang your name when he returns. And if possible, leave a phone number.”
This information would be discovered sooner or later, so there was no point in hiding it. Yan Tuo told the truth: “Yan Tuo, ‘Yan’ as in double fire, ‘Tuo’ as in pioneer.”
He gave his phone number to Que Cha. With no pen in sight and her phone missing, in urgency, Que Cha opened an eyebrow pencil and wrote the number on her dressing mirror, writing quickly with slightly trembling hands.
This detail made Yan Tuo understand that the persona he’d created for himself was quite important to them.
It seemed he wouldn’t have to wait many days to meet this Jiang.
He had reached the door when he turned back: “One more question, what do you call that thing in my car?”
Que Cha said: “The Lucky Cat.”
Yan Tuo felt this answer was false, but her expression didn’t seem dishonest.
He left the building, and after walking about ten meters, heard a whistle from behind. Looking back, he saw Que Cha leaning against the second-floor window, smiling sweetly and seductively. Her naturally fair skin seemed to glow in the light.
In her hands was a leopard-print folding three-way crossbow, already loaded with a stainless steel arrow, its tip gleaming coldly, aimed at him.
Yan Tuo said: “Put on some clothes, you’ll catch a cold.”
After speaking, he turned and continued walking, deliberately exposing his entire back to her.
Que Cha tilted her head slightly to look through the crossbow’s scope, seeing Yan Tuo’s back perfectly framed in the crosshairs.
Her index finger moved to the trigger, rested there for a moment, then released.
***
Back in his car, Yan Tuo felt his whole body burning hot, his forehead feverish, his palms drenched in sweat.
He rested his forehead against the steering wheel, slowly calming himself.
After a while, he straightened up, took out his phone, and opened his recent call history.
Dense records, all from one person: Lin Xirou.
Yan Tuo stared at this name for a good while before taking a deep breath and dialing.
The other end answered quickly, the voice unhurried and gentle: “Little Tuo.”
The hair on the back of Yan Tuo’s neck stood up—after all these years, it had become a conditioned reflex.
He steadied himself: “Aunt Lin.”
Lin Xirou laughed: “Where are you? You should be home in a day or two, right?”
“No, Aunt Lin, I wanted to let you know I’ll be back later,” he tried to make his tone sound casual, “I met a friend here, haven’t seen them in many years, want to catch up.”
“That’s nice, it’s rare for you to have close friends,” her voice lowered here, “but be careful with Gou Ya around.”
Yan Tuo looked at the central rearview mirror, his expression cold as iron in the reflection: “I understand.”
“Has everything been smooth so far?”
“Smooth.”
“If someone sees something they shouldn’t, you know what to do?”
“I know.”
Lin Xirou made an “mm” sound: “Aunt Lin knows you’re a soft-hearted child. If you can’t do it yourself, let Gou Ya handle it.”
“Understood.”
After hanging up, Yan Tuo sat silently in the car for a while before starting it and heading back to the hotel.
For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, leaving Nie Jiuluo and Gou Ya in the same room made him uneasy.
***
Meanwhile, with Nie Jiuluo.
As soon as Yan Tuo left, Gou Ya’s previous cowardly demeanor changed. He spat twice outside the suitcase, muttering curses—Nie Jiuluo vaguely heard something about “favored son” and “pretty boy,” though she didn’t quite understand the meaning.
Then, Gou Ya turned off the lights—when he crawled out of the suitcase, Nie Jiuluo was startled, thinking he had recognized her and wanted revenge for his blinded eye.
Unexpectedly, he just walked to the door to turn off the lights, then fumbled back in the dark and crawled into the suitcase.
Why? A thought occurred to Nie Jiuluo: could it be he disliked light?
Though her hands were cuffed behind her, her fingers could still move freely. Her right index finger deftly hooked the bracelet on her left wrist.
To others, this bracelet appeared merely “extremely thin, multi-layered, threaded”—fashionable and pretty with its bling, but only by taking it apart would one know its secret: it wasn’t actually multi-layered, just a single thread coiled several times, with strong elasticity. Even if forcibly straightened, it would return to its coiled state when released.
She fingered the bracelet for a while, then gave up. After a moment, she began grinding the handcuffs against the water pipe.
Metal scraping against metal produced an unbearably harsh sound. Soon, Gou Ya couldn’t stand it anymore and bellowed from the darkness: “Stop making noise!”
Nie Jiuluo pretended not to hear. She was certain Gou Ya wouldn’t dare touch her, given Yan Tuo’s previous instructions.
Gou Ya exploded in rage, leaping out of the box, smashing the light switch on with one punch, and shouting at her: “Can’t understand human speech?”
Nie Jiuluo tilted her face up, indicating she had something to say.
Gou Ya, furious, raised his hand to tear off the tape, but just as he was about to touch her face, he suddenly stopped, then carefully and slowly pinched the edge of the tape.
Why did he suddenly become so gentle with women? Nie Jiuluo was greatly surprised, but the next second, with a sharp rip, the tape was violently torn off.
Nie Jiuluo sucked in a cold breath of pain, her face burning—she truly wondered if a layer of skin had been torn off.
Birds of a feather do flock together; this Gou Ya was just like Yan Tuo, both perverts.
She gritted her teeth through the pain, raised her head, and asked with concern: “Your wound, shouldn’t you bandage it?”
Gou Ya: ??
“I mean your eye. Such a severe injury, leaving it completely untreated—it could get infected.”
Gou Ya finally reacted, responding viciously: “Don’t need to.”
“You might not understand how serious this is,” Nie Jiuluo persisted undaunted. “I can see your wound is quite deep. How long was that wire? Could it have reached your brain? You might be able to hold on for now, but if bacteria get into your brain, you’ll be finished. And this environment is so dirty…”
Gou Ya, thoroughly annoyed, cut her off abruptly: “Don’t need to! Don’t need to! Shut up!”
Damn! Nie Jiuluo had never met someone so stubborn, who didn’t care about losing an eye and letting blood and pus flow freely from the socket: “Are you even human?”
This was actually said without thinking—her thought was “Any human would know to bandage it, not treating it at all, are you even human?”
Unexpectedly, this casual remark greatly disturbed Gou Ya. He stiffened, his face turning yellow, then burst out: “Who’s not human?”
Nie Jiuluo’s mind stirred. Gou Ya’s response, though seemingly normal at first, felt off upon closer examination: in normal arguments, people usually say “You’re not human,” “You’re the one who’s not human,” “Your whole family’s not human,” escalating to eight generations of ancestors and distant relatives being stripped of their human status, but rarely would someone counter with “who’s not human?”
Although some of Gou Ya’s actions, especially the night window climbing incident, had once made her tell Xing Shen “I don’t think any human could do that,” that was just a figure of speech. After all, in this vast world, having one or two extraordinary talents who could leap across roofs wasn’t particularly strange.
She stared at Gou Ya. His chest heaved violently, and in his remaining eye, her stare brought out traces of panic. The blind eye had formed black scabs among the blood and pus.
Nie Jiuluo spoke slowly and gently, word by word: “You’re not human, are you?”