Nie Jiuluo raised her knee to strike at his groin while her left hand slashed downward to grab the gun. Yan Tuo’s reaction wasn’t slow—his left hand shot down to forcefully press her rising knee back down while his fingers slid along her knee to the back of her calf, gripping it completely and throwing her outward with force.
This thwarted Nie Jiuluo’s plan to grab the gun. Her fingertips had barely touched the gun’s body when she was thrown off-balance—there was no way she could withstand Yan Tuo’s strength.
Fortunately, her advantages lay in quick thinking and agility. Catching sight of Yan Tuo’s belt, she didn’t hesitate—her hand shot out to grab the belt buckle at his waist, using this grip to halt her momentum. In the same motion, her body rose like an agile monkey, instantly wrapping her arms around Yan Tuo’s neck and clinging to his back.
Knowing the opportunity would be fleeting, her fingers found and gripped the Dazhui point behind his neck. She whispered near his ear: “Time to die.”
Then she twisted with all her might.
The moment she clung to his back, Yan Tuo knew he was in trouble. The Dazhui point was vulnerable—it couldn’t withstand such force, potentially causing unconsciousness or worse. Almost simultaneous with Nie Jiuluo’s words, his hands shot up to grip her shoulders and yank downward as he shouted, “Get off!”
In an instant, Nie Jiuluo’s world turned upside down. She lost her grip and leverage, and her second killing move failed. But as before, if she was going down, he wouldn’t remain standing—though inverted, while Yan Tuo still gripped her shoulders, Nie Jiuluo’s arms wound like vines, instantly entangling his arms. Simultaneously, her lower leg hooked around his neck: “You come down too!”
They crashed to the ground together with considerable force: the sofa shifted, the reading lamp tilted, and even the small round tea table flipped and rolled away.
Due to the twisted position and lack of time to protect herself, plus the awkward fall, Nie Jiuluo’s entire body screamed in pain. Stars flashed before her eyes, and in her daze, she saw Yan Tuo’s Adam’s apple right by her mouth—in high-level combat, every move and second counted. Without time to think, she bit down.
Yan Tuo naturally didn’t know she was going to bite, but seeing her movement from the corner of his eye, he knew it wasn’t good and instinctively turned his head. Nie Jiuluo’s bite landed squarely on his neck—the flesh there being more tender than arms or legs, and the pain was particularly sharp. Yan Tuo felt blood rush to his head as his hand at her waist clenched forcefully, throwing her entire body away.
Nie Jiuluo slammed hard into the bookshelf, with a hundred or so books cascading down onto her. That was bad enough, but her waist had nearly been broken—the pain made her break out in cold sweat. Her first attempt to get up failed; on her second try, she managed to grab the bookshelf’s shelf and rise, gasping for breath.
When Yan Tuo stood, he wasn’t steady either, staggering back several steps until the workbench stopped him. The skeletal framework on top swayed several times before tremulously steadying itself.
They faced each other from several meters apart, their gazes watchful and cold.
In the west wing room on the first floor of the courtyard house, Sister Lu sat up anxiously in her bed, fumbling to turn on her bedside lamp.
Yan Tuo touched where she had bitten him—the skin and flesh were already swelling. He brought his fingers before his eyes: there was blood.
Nie Jiuluo’s mouth corner felt numb. She licked it and tasted a salty tang—her lip had split and was bleeding. She deliberately licked it clean; it was her blood, she’d swallow it herself, pretending it never bled.
Round one: neither victory nor defeat.
Looking down, she noticed her sash had loosened, leaving her chest somewhat exposed.
Nie Jiuluo covered her neckline with one hand while the other tightened her sash. Her eyes fixed on Yan Tuo, full of challenge: “Yan, can’t beat me? I’m barely dressed, fighting bare-handed—if you’re man enough, don’t use a gun. What kind of man are you?”
Yan Tuo smiled: “You don’t have a gun, but you have teeth.”
Nie Jiuluo smiled back: “Don’t you have teeth?”
Yan Tuo watched her for several seconds, then his hand loosened. The gun spun halfway around his trigger finger before he tucked it into his lower back: “Even without a gun, I can still knock your teeth out.”
Round two.
Neither rushed to move, each assessing distance and position, contemplating how to land an effective strike.
Trading thousands of moves over three days and nights was fantasy novel nonsense—Nie Jiuluo lacked that stamina. Such intense physical combat exhausted her after just two or three minutes. She excelled at clever lightning strikes; whether taking down Dog Tooth or Yan Tuo before, she’d relied on surprise attacks and ten-second kills. The longer the fight dragged on, the more disadvantaged she became.
She needed to speed things up.
Nie Jiuluo stepped forward quickly, one-foot landing on the overturned round table. Using it as a springboard, she launched herself at Yan Tuo while her arm reached out to grab a cushion from the sofa, hurling it at his face.
A cushion wouldn’t cause much damage even if it hit, but Yan Tuo played it safe, stepping aside swiftly to dodge both the cushion and Nie Jiuluo’s flying attack.
Missing her target, Nie Jiuluo’s body flew onto the workbench—but this was part of her plan. Her left hand braced to stop her momentum while her right hand grabbed a hand axe from the surface. Without looking, using her shoulder as a pivot, she swung it backward in a vicious arc.
Caught off guard, Yan Tuo only saw a cold flash of light suddenly arcing toward his face and throat. Though he jerked backward, he was still a step too slow. His shoulder felt a chill as his sleeve split open, followed by warmth.
But there was no time to check the wound—Nie Jiuluo had spun around, and the second axe strike was already coming.
Yan Tuo was both shocked and angry: perfect—he’d put away his gun, and now she was wielding an axe.
He steeled himself and, instead of dodging, moved to meet her. Just before contact, he ducked and shifted sideways, his left arm wrapping around Nie Jiuluo’s waist, pinning her left arm in the process. His body moved behind her, effectively trapping her in his embrace, while his right hand grabbed her axe-wielding wrist, applying force to gradually press and twist her arm downward.
Once again, it became a contest of strength. Nie Jiuluo felt like she was trapped in an iron band, unable to exert any force, helplessly watching as Yan Tuo forced her hand down. As the axe blade lowered, Yan Tuo’s grip tightened again. Nie Jiuluo’s whole body trembled with pain, her fingers spasmed, and the hand axe clattered to the ground.
In her desperate fury, a wild idea struck. Using every ounce of strength she had, she jerked her head back and up violently.
Yan Tuo was taller than her, his jaw right above her head. The sudden impact made his teeth clamp down on his tongue, his vision filling with dark spots, and his grip naturally loosened.
Nie Jiuluo seized the opportunity to break free, stumbling forward several steps.
But she wasn’t much better off—her head wasn’t made of iron, and Yan Tuo’s jaw wasn’t soft. This move might have hurt him badly, but it had hurt her just as much if not more. She swayed unsteadily, her head alternately heavy on both sides, turning back while gasping for breath just in time to see Yan Tuo spit out a mouthful of bloody saliva.
The impact must have made him bite his tongue.
Strike while the iron is hot—after two failed killing moves, it was time for her ultimate move. Red-eyed with fury, Nie Jiuluo charged forward with a fierce cry. Yan Tuo raised his arms to block, but she targeted his lower body, legs sweeping in to grab him, sending them both rolling on the ground again.
This tumble was even more violent, hitting the workbench hard enough to move it half a meter. Saws, hammers, sculpting knives, and chisels crashed down, and the skeletal framework finally lost its balance, toppling toward them.
Seizing the moment, Nie Jiuluo ignored everything else, rolling to straddle Yan Tuo. Her right hand yanked at her left wrist, transforming the bracelet into a gleaming silver wire that she moved to loop around Yan Tuo’s neck.
The bracelet was familiar to Yan Tuo, but he never imagined it could become a lethal weapon.
Such a thin wire—if it caught his neck, it would be disastrous.
He jerked his head aside, grabbing the fallen skeletal framework to block. There was a sharp “swish” as the wire wrapped around the skull of the framework. The force couldn’t be withdrawn, and with the wood at the neck joint being relatively weak, the next second saw the wooden head carved off by the wire’s force, rolling away.
Nie Jiuluo’s hand didn’t stop, coiling for another strike.
Seeing the silver wire approach again, Yan Tuo realized his oversight: unlike a knife that needs to be pulled back for another strike, a wire at full tension forms a straight line, allowing for seamless follow-up attacks.
He raised his hand to grab something, feeling something smooth and soft, with something hard at the wrist. A thought flashed through his mind, and his hand quickly moved up Nie Jiuluo’s leg, pulling out the dagger. Just as the wire began to tighten around his neck, he pressed the dagger’s tip against her heart.
Nie Jiuluo’s body froze.
The dagger tip was extremely sharp, already breaking the skin. Blood slowly seeped through the torn nightgown, and beneath its cover, a crimson drop slowly rolled down her stomach.
The wire had already cut into the outer layer of skin on Yan Tuo’s neck. He smiled at Nie Jiuluo: “Bare-handed? Miss Nie, you’ve got quite a collection of hidden weapons.”
Neither moved, neither daring to risk provoking the other. The throat and heart, unlike the appendix, were not expendable parts of the human body.
At that moment, Sister Lu’s trembling voice came from the stairs: “Miss Nie, is everything alright?”
Nie Jiuluo’s heart jumped, and she shouted: “It’s nothing! I’m dismantling things—come clean up in the morning!”
“Oh, oh, alright then,” Sister Lu replied.
This wasn’t due to Sister Lu being careless—their housekeeping company had a special group chat for staff serving writers, artists, designers, and the like. This clientele had a high proportion of eccentric behavior and incidents, from self-isolation to self-harm to drug use. One client, suddenly struck by inspiration in the middle of the night, had painted a bloody heart on their white wall using their blood, giving the housekeeper nightmares for a week straight.
So, Nie Jiuluo dismantling things, even though it was midnight and rather noisy, was still within normal bounds.
Yan Tuo waited for Sister Lu’s footsteps to fade: “Miss Nie, are we going to stay like this… until dawn?”
Nie Jiuluo swallowed but didn’t respond. The hand holding the bracelet’s end showed an almost imperceptible tremor—maintaining one position for too long would do that.
Yan Tuo spoke: “I value my life, and with all your work and pursuits here, you must cherish life too. Look, rather than both dying here, why don’t we each take a step back and stay alive, how about that?”
Nie Jiuluo took the offered descent: “Fine, you first.”
Yan Tuo laughed coldly: “Me first? Someone as practiced in lying as you has no right to demand I go first. You first.”
The phrase “practiced in lying” wasn’t unfair to her.
Nie Jiuluo said: “Fine, I’ll go first.”
She kept her eyes on Yan Tuo as she released one end of the bracelet. With its return spring, it quickly coiled back around her wrist, resuming its original form. She raised both hands to show she posed no threat, then slowly stood and backed away.
Yan Tuo kept his eyes fixed on her as he released the dagger, pushing himself up with his arms. As he stood, he kicked the dagger far away.
Round two: no win, no loss, reset to zero.
Nie Jiuluo spat through clenched teeth: “Again.”
Yan Tuo had no intention of continuing to grapple with her: “Miss Nie, I came to discuss matters with you, but you’re a bit too frenzied right now. It’s not appropriate—another day, perhaps.”
He turned toward the stairs, the gun at his back gleaming as it pointed at her.
Another day? Such matters couldn’t wait—who could bear living with constant anxiety, waiting for the final blow? Nie Jiuluo shouted: “Come back!”
As she spoke, she rushed forward, reaching for the gun.
Yan Tuo had let the gun remain visible precisely because he was confident she couldn’t get it. As she called out, he lunged diagonally forward and upward, pushing down a plastic-wrapped sculpture from the high display shelf near the wall.
He had noticed this sculpture earlier—a Water Moon Guanyin, its craftsmanship evident even through the plastic wrap. The statue’s face had long, gently closed eyes gazing downward, with intricately detailed clothing folds.
He was certain that someone who treasured their work would never watch it be destroyed.
Seeing the sculpture fall, Nie Jiuluo’s mind buzzed her scalp tingling. Professional instinct won out—she abandoned her pursuit of Yan Tuo and dove forward to save it.
This statue was the one Old Cai had referred to when saying “It’s been three years, how can you keep delaying?” Its progress had been exceptionally slow because she demanded perfection. She treasured it, and seeing that catching it forcefully would certainly cause major damage, in her desperation she slid along the ground, using her body as a cushion for the sculpture, finally managing to stabilize it in the last moment of its fall.
Face to face with the merciful visage of Guanyin through the transparent wrap, Nie Jiuluo gasped violently, her heart pounding, her back soaked with cold sweat.
The sound of breaking tiles reached her ears—Yan Tuo hadn’t taken the stairs; that had been a feint. He had gone through the window, breaking several roof tiles. The end of the eaves met the courtyard wall; once over the wall, he would be gone—and he was.
Nie Jiuluo lay on the ground for a while before painfully sitting up, carefully steadying the sculpture.
Despite the utmost care, the fall still caused damage. Even with the plastic cover, some small pieces had broken off—she recognized the thumb from the lowered hand, a piece from the pearl necklace, and a corner of the crown.
Though easily repaired, each fallen piece felt like losing a piece of herself—heartbreaking.
After a while, she gritted her teeth and stood, walking to the open window.
A faint floral fragrance hung in the air, broken tiles scattered on the ground. Sister Lu’s light was still on until it wasn’t.
From the looks of it, at least for tonight, he wouldn’t return. Hatred was useless, waiting would be futile.
Nie Jiuluo latched the window, picked up the dagger Yan Tuo had kicked away, and stepped through the chaos of scattered nails and chisels. Halfway across, she suddenly remembered something and returned to the sofa, lifting the cushion.
No bomb at all—just a steel clip that made a clicking sound when weight was applied.
She gripped the clip and walked unsteadily to her bedroom, her head still fuzzy—that impact had truly scrambled her brain.
Nie Jiuluo’s hand tightened on the clip.
The next time they met, she would stuff this thing in Yan Tuo’s mouth and make him swallow it whole.