Vol 3 – Chapter 1

At ten in the evening, Nie Jiuluo finished reading “Contemporary Western Sculpture.”

Truth be told, her life wasn’t nearly as exciting as Yan Tuo imagined: her outings were mostly for gathering artistic inspiration, and when she wasn’t out, she was either working with clay or reading books. A few days ago, Old Cai had given her some advice, suggesting she should interact with all sorts of people and embrace life more fully. He insisted that sculpture wasn’t simply about copying others or working in isolation—one must inject life experience into it. That way, viewers could sense the complex layers of her life even in a simple lump of clay.

It all seemed too abstract, and besides, she was only in her twenties—how “complex” could her life be?

Nie Jiuluo set aside her book and suddenly thought of Yan Tuo. Living among a group of earth owls that appeared human while pretending not to notice—now that life had texture, light and shadow, excitement, and layers. Her own life seemed rather thin in comparison; she was just an ordinary person after all.

Just as she was pondering this, her phone rang. The caller ID showed “Nie Dongyang.” Nie Jiuluo took a moment to recall who this was, then answered calmly.

Nie Dongyang laughed on the other end, “Xixi, you’re still awake at this hour?”

Nie Jiuluo considered addressing him as “Uncle,” but couldn’t bring herself to say it. Though indeed, Nie Dongyang was her father Nie Xihong’s older brother—her biological uncle.

She made a sound of acknowledgment: “Something wrong?”

Nie Dongyang said, “Well, Xixi, you’ve been working away from home for many years and haven’t returned. But this year is different. Next week marks your father’s nineteenth death anniversary. According to our customs here, we observe the ninth year more than the tenth. The nineteenth anniversary is even more important than the twentieth. Shouldn’t you come back to pay your respects?”

It had already been nineteen years. She should indeed perform her filial duties. “Alright.”

Nie Dongyang cleared his throat. “Well, for the nineteenth anniversary, we naturally need to make it grand, which will cost quite a bit. I was thinking, wouldn’t it be more appropriate if you covered the expenses?”

Nie Jiuluo remained silent, feeling somewhat amused.

After her father’s suicide over a lost love, she became effectively “parentless,” though she didn’t need to go to an orphanage. While there were no relatives on her mother’s side, she still had her uncle—Nie Dongyang taken possession of their house, all their money, and custody of her, promising to treat her better than his children and even give her a grand wedding in the future.

But in the end, she never needed his care. He had already taken everything from her family, and now he was asking her for this small sum.

Nie Dongyang seemed to sense her mood. “Originally, if you weren’t around, I would have handled everything myself. He was my brother, after all. But you know, the father-daughter relationship is closer than that between brothers. It wouldn’t be proper for me to bypass you—it would show disrespect. Besides, your father wouldn’t have liked that, right?”

He was quite eloquent, making himself sound completely reasonable. Nie Jiuluo couldn’t be bothered to argue over this small amount of money. “Fine.”

Nie Dongyang was delighted. “Don’t worry, Xixi. I’ll list all the expenses and purchases for you, and try to get receipts whenever possible.”

Even with receipts, she had nowhere to claim them. Nie Jiuluo initially wanted to say it wasn’t necessary, but then changed her mind and replied, “Sure.”

Let Nie Dongyang make his profit margin from all this fuss—he seemed to enjoy it anyway.

After hanging up, Nie Jiuluo stood still for a moment before walking to the bookshelf and pulling out a photo album from the bottom shelf.

This album was dedicated to her father Nie Xihong and mother Pei Ke, with only a few photos including her—this wasn’t out of neglect, as she had her album, starting from her hundred-day celebration photo to when she was six years old, the year Nie Xihong jumped to his death.

Nie Jiuluo opened the album.

The photos were from the 90s, already in color, though not as vivid as modern photos. They spanned from her parents’ courtship through their marriage, and in almost every photo, Pei Ke wore a white gold necklace with a jade pendant.

Nie Jiuluo remembered this necklace well. As a child, she loved holding the jade up to the sky, watching it transform the heavens into flowing green waters. The white gold chain fascinated her too—back then, she thought gold was the most expensive material in the world, but Pei Ke told her white gold cost even more.

Later, after her mother’s accident, the necklace became a memento stored in the dressing table drawer. When her father would drink and cry in memory of her mother, she would climb onto the dressing stool, take out the necklace, and imagine how beautiful she would look wearing it. She dreamed of handsome princes falling for her, of being carried away to a wealthy kingdom on a white elephant (she looked down on white horses—their narrow backs were uncomfortable to sit on, while white elephants had broad, cushioned backs), where she would live happily ever after.

Eventually, the necklace, along with the house, money, and herself, were all taken over by her uncle’s family.

Nie Jiuluo slammed the photo album shut with a “bang.”

***

At midnight.

In the basement kitchen, Datou was wielding his cleaver again, this time with Shan Qiang assisting him: a pot of water boiled on the stove as Shan Qiang carefully used chopsticks to drop pieces of liver into it.

Datou complained, “Little beast, eating it cooked, making me go through the trouble of blanching it.”

Shan Qiang hushed him, gesturing with his eyes toward the innermost bedroom, warning him to keep his voice down and not say anything suspicious that might make Sun Zhou wonder.

Datou understood and lowered his voice: “Hey, isn’t it time for Sun Zhou’s whipping?”

Shan Qiang made an affirmative sound.

Datou: “Got the whip?”

“Yes,” Shan Qiang eagerly put down his chopsticks and took out his phone to show Datou his Taobao order. “Look, premium grade, cowhide whip, traditionally handcrafted.”

Datou: “You’ll do it?”

Shan Qiang: “I’m the closest, so of course it’s me.”

Datou seemed skeptical: “Can you handle it?”

Shan Qiang was displeased: “Watch your words. Aren’t we all whip masters here? I may not be the best, but I can handle basic ‘initiation whipping.’ When it gets more advanced later, we can hand it over to that girl Yu Rong.”

At the mention of “Yu Rong,” Datou’s mouth twitched: “Now that’s a twisted one.”

Shan Qiang shrugged: “That’s why she’s at the top. Nie Er, Xing Shen, Yu Rong—which one of them isn’t twisted?”

He nudged Datou with his elbow: “Hey, who do you think is the most twisted among them?”

Datou dramatically squeezed his eyes shut, creating countless wrinkles at the corners: “Do you even need to ask?”

Shan Qiang nodded in agreement: “I think it’s him too.”

With Jiang Baichuan as the master and Xing Shen as the honored guest, the task of delivering midnight meals fell to Datou and Shan Qiang, and tonight they had two portions to deliver to different locations.

Datou picked up the bowl of cooked meat: “I’ll go attend to the little beast in the garage. You spend some time with Sun Zhou, build rapport—it’ll make the future work easier.”

Shan Qiang agreed this was appropriate. He packed the remaining raw meat from the chopping board into a bowl and hummed a tune as he headed to the inner room. Just as he reached the doorway, he heard Sun Zhou calling out eagerly: “Brother Qiang, quick, they’re kissing!”

To help Sun Zhou through his boring “treatment period,” Datou downloaded some action films from the internet, each one quite intense.

Shan Qiang quickened his pace while musing: Sun Zhou had a big heart—even at death’s door, he could still find joy. Well, might as well let him enjoy what little time he had left.

He hurriedly pushed open the door: “What kind of movie is it, domestic or foreign?”

“Domestic, domestic, quick!”

Hearing it was domestic, Shan Qiang’s eyebrows rose in delight. Truthfully, he didn’t get much feeling from foreign action films—different races made it harder to relate. Domestic films were different; they were all compatriots, making it easier for him to get immersed.

As soon as he entered, he set down the bowl and immediately sat at the foot of the bed, eyes fixed on the screen: “Is this a period piece?”

“No, it’s Republican era.”

Republican era—that was fine too, not too far from modern times, easy to empathize with. Shan Qiang shifted backward to find a more comfortable position for his bottom. Just as he was about to tell Sun Zhou to eat, something struck the back of his head heavily.

The blow made Shan Qiang’s vision go dark, with rectangular shapes expanding and contracting in his sight. Incredibly, he managed to stay conscious and turned to look at Sun Zhou in disbelief.

How could it be Sun Zhou? This waste, this fool, this idiot who had been so easily manipulated by Jiang Baichuan’s words, who had been happily watching movies with him and discussing them all day…

How was it possible?

But it was Sun Zhou, holding the pot stand from the room’s tiger orchid plant, glaring at him fiercely. Seeing that Shan Qiang hadn’t fallen, he raised the stand high again and brought it down toward his head.

This time Shan Qiang couldn’t withstand it. He collapsed limply, his mind managing only one thought: “Holy f*ck…”

Seeing Shan Qiang fall, Sun Zhou sprang into action. First, he pocketed Shan Qiang’s phone (after days of watching videos and playing games together, he had memorized the password), then dumped the bowl of raw meat into the trash bin, placed the empty bowl in a conspicuous spot in the living room, dragged Shan Qiang back to his room and onto the bed, positioned him facing the wall and covered him with a blanket. Finally, he turned off the lights, came out, and locked the padlock on his own room’s door.

Good, everything was done according to plan, and nothing was missed.

Sun Zhou wiped the sweat from his palms on his clothes and, trembling, pressed himself against the wall as he quickly made his way toward the exit.

When Datou meandered back inside, he immediately noticed the empty bowl.

Couldn’t even bother to wash it! He looked toward the bedrooms in displeasure, first noting Sun Zhou’s locked door, then seeing that Shan Qiang’s door was also closed.

Damn, they were both so eager to sleep. Datou tossed the empty bowl he’d brought back onto the table and returned to his room after turning off the lights.

I’m not washing it either, I’ll make Sun Zhou do it tomorrow morning.

***

Like a thief, Sun Zhou skulked through the villa district, ducking and hiding until he finally climbed over the outer wall. Only then did he break into a run, finally stopping, out of breath, at the entrance of a busy commercial street.

Safe now—seeing people meant safety. He sniffled and walked to a less crowded spot to call his girlfriend Qiao Ya.

On the other end, Qiao Ya recognized his voice and was extremely surprised: “Why did you change your number? Weren’t you supposed to be in Guangzhou looking at some business opportunity with friends?”

Sun Zhou said, “Ah, that was all lies to keep you all from worrying. It’s too complicated—I’ll explain when we meet. I’ll send you a location screenshot soon. Quick, drive over to pick me up. I’m currently in…”

He walked up to a real estate agency’s display window to check the property addresses, then told Qiao Ya the city and county name.

Qiao Ya was startled: “That’s almost out of the province—such a long trip! Can’t you just take the high-speed rail back?”

Sun Zhou replied irritably: “I told you it’s complicated. Those people… they’re not right, even scarier than falling into a pyramid scheme. Taking the train… what if they ambush me at the station? Just hurry! And if anyone asks about me, don’t say anything. I’m afraid they might come looking for me.”

***

Six in the morning.

Almost four hours had passed since Lin Xirou went into the small room to “talk” with Lame Father.

Yan Tuo and Xiong Hei waited in the restroom. At first, they chatted about Lame Father’s stubbornness and how Lin’s Auntie might extract information from him, but eventually, they grew tired and fell silent.

Especially Yan Tuo—he had already been driving for a long stretch, only to be summoned by Lin Xirou for this task. He was exhausted. He wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up on the sofa.

Just as he was drifting off, he suddenly heard Lin Xirou’s voice: “Is Little Tuo asleep?”

She had… come out?

Yan Tuo instantly became alert, but before he could react, he heard Xiong Hei reply: “Yes, he’s young and couldn’t hold up—passed out ages ago.”

As he spoke, he pushed Yan Tuo’s shoulder.

Yan Tuo decided to continue “sleeping deeply,” not responding to the pushes.

Lin Xirou: “Don’t disturb him, let him sleep. He’s been exhausted these past few days. Xiong Hei, come out.”

Xiong Hei acknowledged, and footsteps headed outside, followed by a “click” as the door closed.

Yan Tuo’s heart was pounding. After waiting a few seconds, he gently lifted the blanket and got up.

The underground space before dawn was frighteningly quiet, where even the slightest scraping sound seemed significant. The voices floating in the corridor were as thin as silk, almost ethereal.

Yan Tuo held his breath as he approached the door, then with extreme caution, slowly turned the handle to open it just a crack.

He heard their discontinuous voices, with long silences between exchanges.

Lin Xirou: “All those legends were true.”

Xiong Hei: “There are… them?”

Lin Xirou: “As soon as I saw Dog Tooth’s wound, I knew this wasn’t simple. The placement of the cut—it was done by a professional. Then Little Tuo said someone smelled the stench in the car…”

Xiong Hei: “There shouldn’t have been any smell.”

Lin Xirou: “No, there shouldn’t have been. That bastard Dog Tooth must have given in and eaten mixed food. Little Tuo suffered this time all because of him. When he wakes up, I’ll tear him apart!”

Yan Tuo’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he quickly processed the information: There shouldn’t have been a smell—mixed food caused the smell—meaning if Dog Tooth hadn’t eaten “mixed food,” his asking for directions in Board Tooth Village should have been uneventful? But what was “mixed food”? What had Dog Tooth eaten?

There was silence for a moment.

Xiong Hei: “Sister Lin, did the old man reveal anything about your son?”

Son? Yan Tuo’s lips went dry, afraid of missing Lin Xirou’s answer.

Lin Xirou seemed to shake her head.

Xiong Hei said bitterly: “How can he be so tight-lipped? Sister Lin, let me try. I don’t believe it—how long can an old man hold out?”

Lin Xirou: “He said the fire you set killed his wife, and he has nothing left to live for. Take his life if you want, but don’t even think about getting information about the others from him—people who have nothing left to lose are the hardest to deal with.”

Xiong Hei was silent, then after a while, a loud slap rang out—he had struck himself: “Sister Lin, I ruined everything.”

Lin Xirou: “Forget it, what’s done is done. Learn from this in the future. Now that you’re human, you need to think like one, not act like a beast in everything.”

Xiong Hei: “Sister Lin, are we… in danger now?”

Lin Xirou laughed coldly: “How are we in danger? This person—find a way to keep interrogating him. I’ve heard some drugs can cloud people’s minds; in that state, they might answer questions unconsciously. Whatever method you use, try to find out who Mad Blade is.”

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