Yan Tuo walked quite far from the hotel before turning on his phone to call Xiong Hei. By all accounts, he had been “missing” for nearly a day and night. He had expected Xiong Hei to answer the phone frantically, but instead, it took quite a while before Xiong Hei picked up, though his voice wasn’t without excitement: “Yan Tuo?”
“It’s me. Where should I go now?” Yan Tuo asked.
He carefully tried to make out the unclear background noise coming through the receiver. Xiong Hei probably wasn’t indoors—there was some commotion on the other end, and he could hear dogs barking.
“Hold on…” Xiong Hei said, “I’ll send you the address. Go directly to A-Peng’s place… Damn, this stupid dog, shoo, shoo!”
The latter part was directed at someone nearby.
Yan Tuo had a bad feeling: he had deliberately answered with just “It’s me, where should I go now,” avoiding any mention of his previous whereabouts, assuming Xiong Hei would certainly question him and drive over to pick him up—but neither happened.
This wasn’t normal, unless Xiong Hei had something more urgent to deal with and couldn’t attend to him at the moment.
“Where are you right now?” he pressed.
Xiong Hei chuckled twice: “Taking care of something. Good to have you back, Yan Tuo. We’ll talk when I return, bye.”
Yan Tuo wanted to ask more, but the line had already gone dead.
The address Xiong Hei provided was in a residential complex at the junction between the county and the countryside, quite remote. Not far to the west was wilderness. Phase one had been completed less than a year ago, phase two had just been handed over, and phase three was still under construction. Most owners were either in the midst of renovation or hadn’t even started yet. The occupancy rate was remarkably low—in a building of over ten floors, only two or three units had lights on.
According to the building and unit numbers, it was in the furthest corner of the complex. As Yan Tuo made his way there, he felt like a wandering ghost in a garden—forget people, he hadn’t even seen a stray cat.
After finding the right building, he took the elevator straight to the third floor. The elevator car still had its protective wooden panels installed, with a few renovation advertisements scattered on them.
Exiting the elevator, Yan Tuo looked left and right. The layout had two units per floor served by two elevators. Both doorways were piled with renovation materials, and the security doors were covered in dust, their protective plastic film still intact.
Xiong Hei hadn’t given a unit number, only saying “third floor.” Which one was it?
As Yan Tuo hesitated, one of the doors opened, and Lü Xian’s head popped out: “I heard the elevator and knew it must be you. This building has no residents yet.”
He opened the door wide while speaking, welcoming Yan Tuo inside.
The apartment was a large flat with four bedrooms, two living rooms, and bathrooms. The contrast between outside and inside was quite stark—while the exterior looked uninhabited, the interior was fully renovated, albeit messy. There were takeout boxes and instant food packages everywhere, and more than ten pairs of identical plastic slippers were scattered haphazardly by the entrance.
“Just you here? Where are the others?” Yan Tuo asked as he changed his shoes.
The apartment seemed quite quiet.
Lü Xian pointed across the hall: “This whole floor is ours. A-Peng’s Fourth Brother and Seventh Brother are playing cards in that unit. I got tired of their noise. The others were called away by Brother Xiong when it got dark.”
“Did they say what for?”
Lü Xian shrugged and spread his hands to show he didn’t know, then asked, “Have you eaten? Want me to cook you some noodles? We can’t order takeout here, by the way—too many people coming and going might get people talking.”
Yan Tuo glanced at him: “Do you come here often?”
“Not really. This place hasn’t been built long. I came last year, then in August, and now this time.”
Last year—that was when Lin Xiru was handling private matters and wouldn’t bring him along.
In August—that was the trip to Qinba Mountain. Though he was finally included, he was only tasked with picking people up.
So it turned out they had brought Lü Xian along those times, making this place apparently a fixed base of operations.
“Do you always stay here when you come?”
Lü Xian made an affirmative sound.
“What about Madam Lin? Doesn’t she stay here?”
“This dump isn’t worthy of my goddess,” Lü Xian said. “Oh right, your luggage—Brother Xiong brought it over yesterday, it’s in the master bedroom.”
Yan Tuo nodded. “Nice renovation. Mind if I look around? Nothing off-limits, right?”
Lü Xian was completely unconcerned, gesturing with his arm as if to say “Please.”
Though the apartment had many rooms and could accommodate people, that wasn’t its main purpose.
Yan Tuo stopped at the door of the largest room and looked for quite a while.
The setup was… well, Yan Tuo didn’t know much about medical equipment, but from his familiarity with Lü Xian, he recognized some things: an electric comprehensive operating table, shadowless lamps, UV tubes for sterilization, and various other instruments. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that except for highly sophisticated surgeries like bypass or brain surgery, this place could handle everything from minor injuries to childbirth and operations.
Yan Tuo swallowed slightly.
Although he was quite close with Lü Xian and they got along well, you can never truly know another’s heart, and there were certain topics they never discussed. So he couldn’t be too direct, nor could his stance be too obvious.
He said, “Lü Xian, after studying medicine for so long, this is what you’re doing now?”
Lü Xian replied, “Well, once you figure it out, it’s all the same. It’s all about healing people, doesn’t matter where. When someone’s brought in bleeding, how can I just stand by and do nothing? A doctor should have a parent’s heart. As for what they’ve done, whether they’re good or bad, that’s not my concern. I just take care of what’s on this table. Besides, without your father’s scholarship, would I be where I am today? The goddess has treated me well too—one must show gratitude.”
Yan Tuo pretended to understand everything: “How is it, not too busy? Our people coming here…” He gestured toward the operating table: “Shouldn’t be many, right?”
Lü Xian shook his head: “Not many, just broken fingers and scratches. Though that one brought in at the beginning of September…”
He glanced toward the main door, then lowered his voice, as if afraid the people in the opposite unit might hear: “Almost died—broken ribs nearly punctured the lung. Although they weren’t our people…” Lü Xian chose his words carefully: “I know business is like warfare, and secret bloodshed isn’t rare… but when you have a chance, talk to Sister Lin about reining in Xiong Hei and the others. If things get out of hand, it’ll be too much trouble. We’re talking about human lives after all.”
Yan Tuo quickly organized the information in his mind: In early September, someone (not from their side) almost died but was saved.
It seemed Lin Xiru and her group’s last trip to Qinba Mountain hadn’t been peaceful.
As he was pondering this, Lü Xian suddenly remembered something and shared it like an amusing story: “Oh right, Brother Xiong came last night too, had a cut on his lower back. Good thing he’s robust and well-padded—even injured, he could still move around. An ordinary person would’ve been bedridden. He asked me to make it look ‘more serious.’ I didn’t understand at first.”
Yan Tuo didn’t understand either: “Make it look more serious?”
“Yeah, like, how should I put it—make it look pretty bad. There wasn’t even a scratch on his head, but he insisted I wrap half his skull in bandages. What’s the deal, I thought—make it look worse, and you’ll get some kind of year-end merit award?”
Lü Xian found himself hilarious and burst out laughing.
But Yan Tuo had guessed something: Xiong Hei, who feared nothing except Lin Xiru to some degree, had lost track of someone. He was probably afraid of being scolded by Lin Xiru, so he deliberately made himself look pitiful as if to say, “Look, I messed up, but I’m in such bad shape—maybe go easy on the scolding?”
“Then what?”
“Then he left, all excited.”
“Excited?”
Surely not worried? Even if Xiong Hei was dim-witted, he wouldn’t be “excited” in that situation, right?
“Yeah, like he’d accomplished something great.”
Yan Tuo made a sound of acknowledgment, annoyed by Lü Xian hovering around and disrupting his thoughts: “Go cook me those noodles, I’m hungry.”
…
After sending Lü Xian to the kitchen, Yan Tuo sat down on the sofa.
Something felt off.
Accomplished something great—had Xiong Hei discovered something? Surely severely injuring Lao Dao wouldn’t count as an accomplishment?
Left excitedly last night, and as soon as it got dark today, called everyone away on some business, even hastily hanging up when he called.
He checked the time—past eight.
After careful consideration, Yan Tuo sent a message to Nie Jiuluo:
—Be careful these next few days. They might make a move.
…
Meanwhile, Nie Jiuluo was soaking in the bath with her hair wrapped in a towel. She hadn’t slept well last night, and after being busy all day, she desperately needed to relax.
The disposable bathtub liner she’d bought was slightly too large and kept bunching up. She was trying to smooth it out with her feet when she heard a message come in. She shook her hands in the air and picked up her phone with wet hands. After reading the message, she thought it might as well have gone unsaid.
—From kidnapping Queye to losing contact with the three-person team, to Lao Dao’s injury last night—hadn’t they been making moves all along? Besides, today was the eighth, and they had broken their appointment with Nanba Houtou on the eighth. Anyone with half a brain would know they would make new moves.
Everyone was waiting for these new moves.
She put her phone back on the side table and suddenly had the urge to challenge herself. After a moment’s hesitation, she took a deep breath, tilted her head back, closed her mouth and nose, and slowly sank into the bathtub.
Just as the water was about to cover her ears and reach her chin, she frantically grabbed the sides of the tub and sat up abruptly.
Never mind, never mind. Too scary, too scary.
In the countryside, darkness fell early, and there wasn’t much entertainment. Jiang Baichuan had already washed up and gone to bed, making a video call to Que Cha.
Que Cha, left behind this time, was already unhappy, and these past few days had made it worse. She kept a cold face, staring straight ahead, refusing to look at him: “We’ve been together for over ten years, and you still treat me like an outsider. Yu Rong only stayed here one night before Da Tou picked her up. You won’t tell me where they went, and when I wanted to go along, I wasn’t welcome. Jiang, what’s the point of being so guarded with me? Do you think I’d go around spreading your business?”
Jiang Baichuan chuckled: “You have money and free time, getting beauty treatments, having tea with your sisters—isn’t that nice? Why bother with my affairs? Why is everyone so curious?”
Among his people, only Nie Er seemed to lack curiosity, which Jiang Baichuan considered a sign of intelligence—curiosity killed the cat, and cats had nine lives. If curiosity could waste all nine, what chance did humans have with just one? Why rush to get involved in such matters?
Que Cha wouldn’t listen: “That Sun Zhou, I brought him in, at least let me see how he’s doing.”
Jiang Baichuan deflected: “There’ll be a chance, there’ll be a chance.”
Hearing his evasion, Que Cha knew the further discussion was pointless. After a few listless words, she hung up.
Jiang Baichuan turned off the lights to sleep.
Today had been very unsatisfying. After the morning’s deadlock with Xing Shen, his mood had remained poor, and thinking about Queye and the others’ unknown whereabouts, he couldn’t even find the appetite to eat.
…
When Xing Shen pounded on the door, Jiang Baichuan was dreaming. He dreamed of Queye kneeling on the ground with his head hanging low, while someone with an unclear face held a gun to Queye’s head, saying: “It’s the eighth, and your people haven’t come to get you. No point keeping you around anymore.”
Then the trigger was pulled repeatedly, “bang bang bang.” Jiang Baichuan sat up covered in cold sweat, unable to distinguish between the door pounding and gunshots for a moment.
As he was fumbling to turn on the light, Xing Shen’s voice came through: “Uncle Jiang, are you awake? Don’t turn on the lights.”
What was going on? Jiang Baichuan felt his heart race. Not even bothering with shoes, he rushed to open the door in a few strides.
It was pitch black outside. Xing Shen hushed him and grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the window. The curtains were drawn tight, but Xing Shen lifted a small gap at the edge: “Look.”
Look at what?
It was midnight, and the village had no all-night streetlights. Jiang Baichuan might as well have been blind. Even with snow on the ground casting a faint glow, it felt like an ink screen blocked his vision completely.
But he knew Xing Shen was different—his night vision was better than any equipment.
Xing Shen said: “Six facing south, three west and four east, three on the north side. They’ve surrounded us—sixteen people in total.”
Jiang Baichuan’s mind buzzed: “Is it… them? Can you smell them?”
How had these people found this place?
In the darkness, Xing Shen’s lips tightened: “No. I was sound asleep too, but Mayi suddenly got restless and started scratching at the bed, that’s why I got up.”
Sixteen—Jiang Baichuan anxiously counted their numbers.
This time, not counting Nie Er, including himself, they had fifteen people total. Subtract three from Nanba Houtou’s group, subtract Lao Dao, one car following Lao Dao to Xi’an for medical treatment, and subtract two more who went with the car—that left nine.
Nine—they were already at a numerical disadvantage. And what if the attackers were Di Xiao?
Despite the cold weather, Jiang Baichuan’s forehead was covered in sweat. He lowered his voice: “Should we wake everyone up? We have several guns, maybe we could…”
Before he could finish, Xing Shen’s expression changed: “They’re charging in.”
Jiang Baichuan was about to ask what he meant by “charging in” when he understood in the next second: there was a muffled crash of doors being broken down below. This was a lightning attack, taking advantage of the dead of night when people were asleep.
Xing Shen spoke rapidly: “Uncle Jiang, we’ll climb out the north window. There are fewer people there. Give me the gun—I can take them down.”
As he spoke, the sound of tables being overturned and doors being kicked in echoed from below. Thankfully, they were on the third floor, so it would take some time before the attackers reached them.
With so little time, there was no better plan, so they had to follow Xing Shen’s suggestion. Jiang Baichuan quickly retrieved the gun from under his pillow.
The north window opened onto the stairwell between the second and third floors. Xing Shen took the gun, whistled once, and bounded down the stairs in two quick steps. Jiang Baichuan only saw a dark shadow flash past, followed by Mayi.
He hurried to follow. By the time he reached them, Xing Shen had already opened the window and was bracing himself on the sill, ready to jump.
The third floor wasn’t exactly low, and getting down safely would be tough. Xing Shen spotted an air conditioner unit below at an angle, steeled himself, and lunged for it. He was lucky—the unit couldn’t bear his weight and partially came loose with a screech, but he managed to hold on.
This made things easier. Xing Shen let go and rolled to the ground. Though his feet stung from the impact, at least he had solid footing.
Looking up, he saw Mayi already leaping down, more gracefully than any cat—truly a beast.
Xing Shen urged Jiang Baichuan: “Uncle Jiang, hurry!”
As he called out, he glanced behind him: the house they’d rented was at the northwest corner of the village for easy access, with wasteland to the west and north. The three people on the north side had heard the commotion and were on alert.
Xing Shen wasn’t worried—with the cover of night and a gun in hand, even facing three-to-one odds wasn’t too concerning.
Jiang Baichuan steeled himself, climbed out the window, and hung from the sill, looking down for the air conditioner unit.
At that moment, lights began switching on inside the building floor by floor. Xing Shen’s heart jumped, and he quickly darted into the darkness. Almost simultaneously, someone above shouted: “Hey, look, an old man is hanging here!”
Jiang Baichuan’s mind went blank. He let go, prepared to drop straight down, but before his hands could leave the windowsill, two people reached out and grabbed him from either side. One of them said, “Come on back up!”