Lin Xirou pondered, “What’s this about Old Qian saying you had a car crash and were unconscious? And what about some syringes? What happened?”
Yan Tuo spoke casually, deliberately blurring the timeline: “That was before the incident. I was exhausted after driving for several days straight. I crashed near the roadbed and decided to take a nap there. I must have been sleeping deeply, so he thought I was unconscious. As for the syringe, I had it ready for Sun Zhou—the one I mentioned who was scratched by the Dog Tooth—didn’t you say that anyone injured by Dog Tooth, even just a scratch, needs to be brought back?”
She had indeed instructed this, saying specifically that such wounds couldn’t be treated by outside physicians and must be brought back for their methods.
“The Board Tooth group wouldn’t attack you without reason. Did you perhaps do something without realizing it?”
Yan Tuo shook his head. “No, during their interrogation, I vaguely heard them mention something about… a strange odor in my car.”
As he spoke, he carefully observed Lin Xirou’s expression. Sure enough, her face changed slightly at his last words.
“Aunt Lin, you know my car is always clean. How could there be any strange smell? Besides, I didn’t notice anything myself.”
Lin Xirou maintained her smile, brushing it off lightly: “Don’t mind their nonsense. They just have dirty mouths.”
Yan Tuo thought for a moment. “Well, from what they were saying, not everyone could smell it. Only the one called Big Head had a keen nose.”
Lin Xirou’s hand suddenly clenched at her side. “A keen nose?”
Realizing her slip, she quickly changed the subject: “How many of them were there? Do you remember what they looked like, the ones you saw?”
“I only saw the ones who attacked me. Since we met face-to-face, they didn’t hide their appearances. There was Big Head, Shan Qiang, Madam Hua, an old man with a limp, and a woman called Que Cha, though that’s probably not her real name. The others were completely covered up—I could only tell their general build.”
“As for their appearances… Aunt Lin, I’m not great at literature or art. I can’t describe them precisely or draw them. I can only give basic details like ‘big eyes’ or ‘short stature,’ which probably isn’t very helpful.”
Visible disappointment flashed across Lin Xirou’s eyes. After a pause, she said, “That’s alright. Later, tell Xiong Hei everything you can about their build, appearance, and characteristics. Any information is better than none. He’ll find a way to track them down.”
Yan Tuo nodded. “Aunt Lin, is something wrong? You seem particularly concerned about this matter?”
Lin Xirou froze momentarily, then smiled again. “Of course I am. You were hurt so badly for no apparent reason—how could I not care? We can’t let this go… Xiao Tuo, you should rest now. Getting better is the most important thing. If you remember anything else, be sure to tell me.”
She stood up as she spoke.
With Lin Xirou signaling for him to “rest,” the others naturally couldn’t stay either. Lin Ling rose again, and Xiong Hei reached for the door.
Yan Tuo internally let out a long breath, only now realizing his palms had become sweaty during their exchange.
He hoped Dog Tooth would wake up later rather than sooner.
Lin Xirou had almost reached the door when she suddenly remembered something and turned back with a smile. “Oh right, when you told me about meeting an old friend for a gathering, that friend was Miss Nie, wasn’t it?”
Yan Tuo’s heart tightened, though his face remained unchanged. He even managed an embarrassed smile. “Yes, though she’s not an old friend. Just someone I met on the road. There was a spark, you know what I mean, Aunt Lin.”
Lin Xirou’s smile grew gentler. “I thought so. You young people know how to have fun. You’re all grown up now, and that Miss Nie is quite beautiful.”
Beside them, Lin Ling shot Yan Tuo a glance before lowering her head to look at her hands.
“But why did you leave her on the mountain road?”
Yan Tuo sneered. “Some people look nice but turn out to be completely different when you get to know them. Calling her ‘all show and no substance’ would be too kind. I couldn’t stand another moment with her. Leaving her on the mountain road was already being polite. Aunt Lin, let’s not talk about her—it’s irritating.”
Lin Xirou had never heard Yan Tuo criticize someone so harshly before. After a few seconds of surprise, she couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “This Miss Nie must have been quite terrible then.”
***
After speaking with Jiang Baichuan on the phone, Nie Jiuluo remained tense and vigilant for several days. But half a month passed, and nothing happened. The osmanthus trees went from blooming to dropping their flowers, Sister Lu had already made and stored her osmanthus preserves in the refrigerator, and everything remained peaceful.
While there might be thieves who could steal for a thousand years, no one could guard against theft for a thousand years. If Yan Tuo was planning revenge after a year or more, should she spend that entire time living in fear?
Once she figured this out, Nie Jiuluo relaxed, though she did take a dagger from one of her clay sculptures, keeping it by her side during the day and under her pillow at night.
Both the clay sculpture and the dagger deserve mention.
The sculpture depicted a flying apsara playing a pipa, with an elegant pose and flowing garments. It wasn’t life-sized, standing about a meter tall. The dagger was hidden inside the pipa the apsara was playing—completely invisible from the outside, it utilized ancient mechanical craftsmanship. By plucking certain strings on the sound box in a specific sequence, a thin compartment containing the weapon would automatically emerge.
The dagger wasn’t large, appearing quite ordinary at first glance. Less than twenty centimeters long, under an inch wide, and of medium thickness, it was convenient for concealment. It was a “sword within a sword,” with a smaller blade inside—the whole piece had no decorative patterns, only seal script characters on the handle: the outer one read “Life” and the inner one “Death.”
On this day, the autumn air was crisp and clear—an auspicious day for beginning work and breaking ground. After numerous revisions, Nie Jiuluo’s Witch illustration was approaching its final form, and it was time to begin.
After breakfast and burning incense to pay respects to Nüwa, the ancestor of clay sculpture, she began hammering and nailing, creating the skeletal framework for her new piece.
Most people misunderstand clay sculpture, thinking it’s just a matter of grabbing some clay, adding water, and molding it as desired. In reality, clay alone lacks the strength to support its weight. Even miniatures like “Clay Man Zhang” require repeated kneading and the addition of cotton fiber to create “mature clay.” Large-scale clay sculptures are even more complex. First, an armature must be created using iron wire, nails, and wooden strips—called “establishing the dragon bones.” Then straw must be bound and bran husks applied, followed by coarse clay and then fine clay. After that comes the application of gelatin, paper backing, and texturing powder, layer by layer, in an intricate process before a human form emerges.
Though, thinking carefully, a person stripped of makeup and clothing, skin and flesh removed, leaving only a skeletal frame, is in some ways very similar to a clay sculpture.
No wonder the ancestor of this craft is Nüwa.
Nie Jiuluo reminded herself that sculpting must be done with the same reverence as creating humans, with each limb and bone demanding careful attention.
So for just this “dragon bone” phase, she built it up and took it down, took it down and built it up, with hammer sounds ringing continuously.
At noon, Sister Lu brought up lunch and, seeing Nie Jiuluo perched high on her workbench with a hammer in her left hand and nail in her right, couldn’t help but sigh, saying that without context, passersby would think a carpenter lived here.
In a way, Sister Lu had hit upon a truth: most artists in other fields carried an ethereal air, but sculptors, with their hammering and chopping, wielding hammers and axes, were jokingly called the “civil engineers” of the art world. So despite Nie Jiuluo’s slender frame, her arms and hands possessed strength far beyond that of most women. Several times, Sister Lu had been unable to open jar lids that Nie Jiuluo managed easily.
She continued working as a carpenter all day, building and rebuilding until evening before finally achieving a satisfactory framework. Of course, in Sister Lu’s eyes, the skeleton had no claim to beauty—it was, in three words, absolutely hideous.
Having exceeded her usual physical exertion that day, Nie Jiuluo turned off the lights and went to bed before eleven—in the past, such bodily exhaustion would have guaranteed sweet sleep until dawn, but today, for unclear reasons, she suddenly awoke around two in the morning.
The room was pitch black, though not to the point where one couldn’t see their hand before their face. Nie Jiuluo’s bed had a canopy, the semi-transparent kind that filtered the night’s darkness even further.
A strange sense of danger stirred in the silence.
Nie Jiuluo sat up silently, reaching under her pillow for the dagger, then found her leg strap and quietly secured the blade against her thigh, covering it with the hem of her nightgown before getting out of bed.
She didn’t put on shoes, walking barefoot to the door and gently opening it.
The workspace lay beyond her bedroom, and at night it was somewhat frightening because of her many sculptures. While their features were clear enough in daylight, at night they became clusters of crouching or reclining human-shaped shadows, and it was impossible to tell what was a person, what was clay sculpture, and what might be something else entirely.
Nie Jiuluo held her breath and took two steps into the workspace.
The light came on.
Not the main light, but the floor reading lamp in the far corner, casting a yellow glow. There was a wall of bookshelves there, with two single armchairs facing each other across a small round tea table. Sometimes she would brew tea and curl up in one of those chairs to read.
In the chair nearest the reading lamp sat Yan Tuo, both hands resting on the armrests, his right hand holding a gun that he tapped rhythmically against the armrest, its barrel pointed at her.
Finally, he had come.
Nie Jiuluo relaxed, standing still and letting out a light breath. The patch of skin against the knife blade should have been cold, but now it felt slightly warm.
Yan Tuo spoke first: “Miss Nie, I didn’t expect to see you again.”
Indeed unexpected—this meeting wouldn’t have happened if Jiang Baichuan hadn’t been so useless.
He gestured toward the opposite chair: “Don’t just stand there, sit down and let’s talk.”
Very well then, let’s talk—in those movies and TV shows, there’s always a war of words before the actual fighting begins. The verbal sparring is important; whoever loses their composure first or flies into a rage has a higher chance of ultimate defeat.
Nie Jiuluo walked over normally, gripped the armrests, and sat down gracefully. Just as she was about to adjust to a more comfortable position, she heard a faint “click” from beneath her.
Her scalp tingled as her gaze involuntarily dropped: she sat in this chair often, but it had never made such a sound before.
Yan Tuo spoke again: “Miss Nie, now that you’re seated, don’t move around. It would be unsightly to be blown to pieces. Especially since…”
He leaned back: “…I specially changed into new clothes to see you. I’d rather not get them splattered with blood and flesh on the first day—they’re hard to wash.”
The numbness from Nie Jiuluo’s scalp spread to her neck. From his tone, he had placed something under the cushion, but what could she do now that she was already seated?
She made a sound of acknowledgment and continued adjusting her position: “Oh? You specially changed into new clothes? Then I’m afraid I’m underdressed.”
Yan Tuo looked her over.
She wore a pearl-white heavy silk satin nightgown, cinched at the waist with a buckled belt. The gown was long, appearing to reach her ankles when standing, so even seated, it didn’t reveal much—just a section of the fair calf, and her feet were beautiful, delicate, and curved, with what seemed like a pearly glow on the instep—they say women with beautiful feet are rarer than those with beautiful faces.
Heaven had indeed favored her with care.
Yan Tuo’s gaze finally settled on Nie Jiuluo’s face: “Miss Nie, you played me quite badly.”
Nie Jiuluo smiled: “‘Played’ isn’t the right word. When a hunter sets a trap to catch prey, that’s called hunting. What beast, once caught, would say the hunter ‘played’ with him?”
Yan Tuo didn’t engage in wordplay: “I have some questions for you.”
Nie Jiuluo nodded indifferently: “Go ahead and ask.”
“What kind of thing is Dog Tooth? What’s its origin? What did Sun Zhou mean by ‘taking root and sprouting,’ and how did you treat it? And what are Chang ghosts?”
Nie Jiuluo asked with surprise: “You don’t know?”
Then she smiled: “I know.”
But then her tone shifted: “However, I won’t tell you.”
Yan Tuo had guessed she wouldn’t cooperate: “So, Miss Nie, you’ve lived long enough and wish to die?”
Nie Jiuluo replied coolly: “What guarantee do you offer for my safety? If I don’t talk, I’ll die by explosion; if I do talk, I’ll probably die anyway. Since death is inevitable, I might as well not talk and leave you frustrated.”
Yan Tuo didn’t mince words: “Then farewell, Miss Nie.”
He pushed against the armrests to stand and walked around the tea table toward the exit: they were now in the psychological warfare stage—some people acted noble and unyielding on their way to the guillotine but cowered when the blade rose—Nie Jiuluo talked tough, but he bet she still valued her life and would call out to stop him within three steps.
Sure enough, as he passed by her side, she spoke.
“Yan Tuo.”
Yan Tuo stopped.
Nie Jiuluo maintained her inscrutable tone: “When I was young, watching TV, I’d see good people killed by bad people, just dying like that—what a waste.”
“I easily put myself in their shoes, thinking, if it were me, I couldn’t just let someone kill me for nothing. If I was unfortunate enough to die, I’d have to at least drag down the person who harmed me.”
Before she finished speaking, her body tensed, and with a push of her hands, she lunged forward and grabbed Yan Tuo, twisting her body to turn his back toward the chair she had been sitting in.
She was making her gamble: either there was no bomb under the cushion, or if there was, Yan Tuo would be her human shield—and even if the explosion was too powerful and killed them both, at least she’d have dragged Yan Tuo down with her.
A seemingly endless second passed.
No explosion.
The prelude was over; now it was time for the real fight to begin.
They moved almost simultaneously.