As Yan Tuo had anticipated, the moment he opened the car door, Nie Jiuluo woke up immediately.
Yan Tuo sat in the driver’s seat and put the various bags he was carrying in the back. “Would you like something to eat?”
Nie Jiuluo: “No.”
Yan Tuo said: “I bought quite a lot, both Chinese and Western options. It tastes best when fresh. Whether you eat early or late, this or that, you have to eat something. Don’t worry, it’s packaged directly from the shops—I couldn’t have tampered with it.”
True enough, after a night’s exertion, she should replenish her energy. Besides, the various warm, fragrant aromas were quite tempting.
Nie Jiuluo turned slightly to look through the bags Yan Tuo was holding.
There was both Chinese and Western food: coffee, flatbread, tofu pudding, hamburgers, deep-fried dough sticks, spicy soup, and pan-fried crispy bread that was puffy and golden brown.
She reached for the crispy bread but hesitated before touching it, concerned about getting oil on her hands.
Yan Tuo reminded her: “There are small plastic bags on the side.”
Nie Jiuluo opened one, wrapped the crispy bread in it, picked up a cup of soy milk, inserted the straw, and took a sip.
Indeed, it tasted best now—warm with a hint of sweetness, spreading comfort from throat to stomach and throughout her body.
Yan Tuo had wanted to get a bowl of spicy oil-dressed tofu pudding but thought better of it—the flavor would be too strong in the small car space. Better to stick with foods that have more harmonious aromas.
He also took a cup of soy milk and wrapped a fried dough stick in a plastic bag.
Outside the car, people were coming and going, mostly elementary school students. A small boy pulled a girl’s pigtail in front of him; she became furious, swinging her schoolbag to hit him, and then chasing and hitting him halfway down the street.
Yan Tuo ate half his dough stick while watching this scene.
Nie Jiuluo asked him: “Do you know about Nanba Houtou?”
Yan Tuo said: “I’ve been hearing about it these past couple of days, but I’ve never been there and don’t know exactly where it is. They said they’d meet you there to exchange people?”
Nie Jiuluo nodded: “They say they’ll hang people in the trees, and if we don’t go, they’ll just leave them hanging. In this weather, it won’t take more than a few days for people to freeze to death. After they die, they’ll hang up new ones until they’ve gone through everyone they’ve captured.”
Yan Tuo imagined the scene, his scalp tingling.
Nie Jiuluo: “Do you think they would do such a thing? Or are they just saying it?”
After quite a while, Yan Tuo finally said: “They would do it.”
Nie Jiuluo’s last bite of crispy bread caught in her throat, and she had to struggle to swallow it. “Would reporting to the police help?”
Yan Tuo shook his head: “First, I’ve never been to Nanba Houtou, but from the name alone, it’s clear it’s deep in the mountains with no roads—a place that would take a day or two to reach. How would the police even get in there?”
“Second, for police to respond, there needs to be evidence of a crime. You said ‘they say’—what evidence do you have that people are hanging in trees there?”
Nie Jiuluo remained silent. She had experience reporting to the police once before and knew the basic procedures. Currently, they had no evidence at all.
“Finally, even if the police did go, do you believe they’d find anything there? Can’t you see through such a simple logic?”
Nie Jiuluo crumpled the plastic bag in her hand and threw it into the car’s trash bag: “I understand, but hearing someone else say it makes it easier to accept. If it were you, would you go rescue them?”
Yan Tuo stuffed the remaining half of his dough stick into his mouth, chewing quickly, and took a big gulp of soy milk to wash it down: “In principle, no. It’s too obviously a trap. We probably couldn’t save anyone and would just get caught ourselves.”
“And not in principle?”
“Not in principle, it depends on who’s in trouble. If my parents were tied up and hanging there, even knowing there’s a tiger in the mountain, I’d have to climb it.”
At this point, Yan Tuo glanced outside and muttered, “Such cold weather.”
In such cold weather, people’s breath was visible when they spoke. If his parents were suffering in the mountains like this, he couldn’t stand still for even a second.
Nie Jiuluo: “So we just let those people freeze to death one by one?”
Yan Tuo pondered for a moment: “Not necessarily. Those who were going to freeze to death might already be dead. The rest probably won’t freeze to death.”
Nie Jiuluo found this statement incredibly convoluted: “What do you mean?”
Yan Tuo: “Hanging people in trees to freeze to death seems cruel, but it’s essentially a show. The purpose is to provoke you. The more frantic and devastated you become, the more satisfied they are. Right?”
That made sense; Nie Jiuluo had no objection.
“But to keep the show going, you need an audience. It’s like a movie—if no one comes to watch, it has to close quickly. Nanba Houtou is their stage, but they only have motivation if you go there. They might even create more dramatic scenes. But if no one shows up day after day, who are they performing for? Are they just exercising by continuously hanging people in trees?”
“They’re capable of doing such things, but actions must serve a purpose. Their goal isn’t to freeze people to death but to use this method to lure in the rest of you. Once they realize this method isn’t working, they’ll try something else—after all, even idiots know hostages are more valuable alive.”
Nie Jiuluo understood and secretly let out a long breath.
They’d been out long enough. Yan Tuo started the car: “Where should I drop you? I’ll take you somewhere convenient for getting a taxi.”
Nie Jiuluo didn’t answer his question, instead returning to her previous topic: “Won’t you reconsider helping me rescue someone?”
Yan Tuo sighed helplessly: “Miss Nie, it really can’t be done. Since Jiang Baichuan is a leader, he’ll be under the strictest guard. Someone minor like me would have trouble even seeing him, let alone rescuing him.”
Nie Jiuluo: “I can offer compensation.”
Yan Tuo smiled bitterly, not even bothering to respond.
Nie Jiuluo looked at him: “Aren’t you going to ask what the compensation is?”
Yan Tuo: “This isn’t about compensation…”
Nie Jiuluo interrupted him: “You once asked me how to kill Di Xiao.”
Yan Tuo’s heart jolted, his hands unconsciously tightening on the steering wheel. He stared straight ahead, not letting his emotions show on his face: “At that time, you said you didn’t know.”
Nie Jiuluo smiled slightly: “You weren’t listening carefully. I never said I didn’t know. I said ‘I cannot answer’—you were just too disappointed then to think it through.”
Too much time had passed for Yan Tuo to remember Nie Jiuluo’s exact response, but “I cannot answer” indeed wasn’t the same as “I don’t know”—it was a clever play on words.
His throat felt dry: “So you do know?”
Nie Jiuluo made an affirmative sound: “How’s that for compensation?”
Yan Tuo suddenly laughed: “You’ve all been reduced to this state by Di Xiao, with your leader’s fate unknown, and you still think you can kill Di Xiao?”
Nie Jiuluo also laughed: “What does our current state matter? Football has two halves, boxing has three rounds—a bad start doesn’t mean total defeat.”
Yan Tuo turned right at an intersection. He no longer cared where he was driving, as long as there was road ahead: “Di Xiao is different from before, having taken human form. Even the dogs can’t smell them out anymore. Can you guarantee your method would still work?”
“Of course—isn’t Gou Ya still lying down after several months?”
“Gou Ya is different, he’s an omnivore.”
Nie Jiuluo was momentarily speechless.
True enough—she had “killed” Mayi, but Mayi was a traditional Di Xiao; she had also taken down Gou Ya, but he happened to be an omnivore.
She really couldn’t guarantee her method would still work.
Nie Jiuluo said: “If you’re not interested, forget it. Just help look after him for now, try to keep him well-fed and suffering less.”
Then she pointed to the street corner ahead: “Drop me there, it’s good for getting a taxi.”
Yan Tuo slowed down and pulled into the parking lane. Nie Jiuluo unfastened her seatbelt and opened the door. Just as one foot stepped out, she heard Yan Tuo call: “Miss Nie.”
She sat back down and looked at him: “Yes?”
“As long as I can do it, this deal is valid?”
Yes, Nie Jiuluo nodded, adding: “The person has to be alive.”
Yan Tuo paused before saying: “Then I’ll try.”
Nie Jiuluo was both surprised and not surprised. She reminded him: “I can’t guarantee my method will still work.”
Yan Tuo said: “I understand. I’ll contact you if I hear anything.”
Nie Jiuluo got out of the car again and walked some distance when she couldn’t help looking back.
She saw Yan Tuo’s car still there. After a while, he lowered his head to rest on the steering wheel, reminding her of how she had tiredly rested on the steering wheel the night before, feeling cold front and back.
Was her request too much? If it was too dangerous, he didn’t have to do it.
Nie Jiuluo hesitated, then took out her phone and sent him a message: Do what you can. If it’s too dangerous, forget it.
From her line of sight, Yan Tuo heard the message notification. He sat up, took out his phone, paused for a moment, then instinctively looked forward and quickly spotted her.
Then, he typed a message.
Nie Jiuluo looked at her phone.
He had written: If I don’t do it, does that mean the deal is off?
Nie Jiuluo replied: Jiang Baichuan is very important to me.
Yan Tuo responded: I understand. We all have important people—you set a price for yours, and I take risks for mine.
As the message burned away, the car started moving, passing by her with a slight cold breeze.
Nie Jiuluo held her phone, thinking: Jiang Baichuan is still important to me.
***
Nie Jiuluo first met Jiang Baichuan when she was five years old.
At that time, Pei Ke hadn’t encountered any troubles yet and seemed to be on good terms with her father Nie Xihong. At least, she had never seen them argue—perhaps, as Zhan Jing said, parents kept their arguments away from children.
That day, returning from kindergarten, she saw they had a guest—Uncle Jiang, Jiang Baichuan.
Back then, Jiang Baichuan was handsome and dignified, mature and elegant. Though already in his thirties, he looked only in his twenties—Nie Jiuluo had always thought her father was handsome, but seeing Jiang Baichuan made her realize there were even more handsome men out there.
She had an extremely unfilial thought flash through her mind: If only Uncle Jiang were my father.
House rules dictated that when guests came for meals, children didn’t eat at the main table. She happily finished her meal in the small kitchen, then pushed away her bowl and went to ask Pei Ke for money to buy snacks. From experience, she knew the chances of getting money were higher when there were guests, and she might even get thirty or fifty yuan from the guests too.
Just as she approached the door, she heard their conversation—oddly enough, they were talking about her.
She immediately perked up her ears.
Jiang Baichuan excitedly said: “Xixi is really promising material. Have you not considered…”
Pei Ke’s voice was gentle but firm: “No, leave her out of the family business. At least I’ve been in the forest, and hunted rabbits. Xixi grew up in the city, she’s an ordinary person. Let her be an ordinary girl in the future. Brother Jiang, aren’t I enough?”
Nie Xihong: “Is this feasible?”
Pei Ke laughed: “Look at Brother Jiang’s current status. He’ll help us make money—aren’t you happy about that?”
Jiang Baichuan also chuckled: “Brother, the Bashan hunters’ tradition is to share with all who come. It doesn’t matter if you contribute or not, as long as you stick with us through the whole thing, you’ll get your share.”
…
Nie Jiuluo couldn’t make sense of what she heard. That night in bed, she snuggled into Pei Ke’s arms and asked: “Mama, what kind of promising material am I?”
Pei Ke smiled and tapped her little nose: “You’re a treasure. Uncle Jiang wants you to work for him, but we won’t go—we won’t go no matter how much money he offers.”
Nie Jiuluo: “Not even for eight thousand a month?”
Pei Ke turned off the light to sleep: “No. You study well, get into university, then go abroad for a doctorate—that’s much better than eight thousand a month.”
In the darkness, Nie Jiuluo felt very disappointed.
She wanted to work for Jiang Baichuan. Eight thousand a month would have been enough for her. Besides, Jiang Baichuan was so handsome—she would have worked for seven thousand.
The second time she saw Jiang Baichuan was at her father Nie Xihong’s funeral.
She hugged her father’s black and white portrait, wearing a white mourning cap, unable to comprehend how she had suddenly become an orphan. After Pei Ke died, she was afraid Nie Xihong would find her a stepmother—her friends all said stepmothers were terrifying.
Now that was impossible—she couldn’t have a stepmother even if she wanted one. She would have to live with her uncle’s family, and how could that possibly be good for her?
Grief welled up inside her, tears streaming down. Through her blurry vision, a tall figure crouched before her and called out: “Xixi.”
Nie Jiuluo looked up and recognized Jiang Baichuan. If only he were her father—he definitely wouldn’t jump off a building so casually.
She cried even harder.
Jiang Baichuan pressed a roll of money into her hand, along with a note with his phone number: “If you ever need anything in the future, feel free to call Uncle Jiang.”
She nodded through her sobs, clutching both the money and note until they were damp with sweat.
…
To be fair, Nie Dongyang and his wife hadn’t abused her. They hadn’t, as she had imagined, made her wash the family’s clothes in ice water during the coldest days of winter, or fed her their leftover scraps.
But in their household, the scales were never balanced when it came to her.
Once, her aunt called her to eat a sponge cake—soft and fragrant. She savored it, taking tiny bites. After playing outside for a while, she still had more than half left.
Passing by the kitchen, she heard her aunt speaking quietly to Nie Yun: “Her cake doesn’t have cream, yours does—don’t let her see.”
She secretly peeked in. Nie Yun’s cake not only had cream but the cream was even piped into beautiful flowers.
This was outrageous—why wasn’t she worthy of cream? A person could be killed but not humiliated! She threw away the remaining cake and that night wrote: “In this life, I will only eat cakes with cream, or I’m a dog!”
This written declaration became the prototype for her star-folding diary entries.
Another time, she overheard her uncle and aunt discussing their daughter’s education.
Her aunt said: “Both of the younger ones have average grades, but Yun Yun must go to a key school—we’ll spend whatever it takes. Xixi can just study nearby. She’s a girl, a technical school will do. She can find a stable job in the future. I think working at a supermarket would be fine—it’s quite popular now. Then we’ll find her a reliable partner, and we can say we’ve fulfilled our duty to your brother’s family.”
…
Nie Jiuluo stood crying at the doorway. What happened to studying abroad for a doctorate? And why should she have a reliable partner—her partner was supposed to be a prince!
She felt a deep sense of crisis, standing at a bitter crossroads in life, desperately needing salvation.
That night, she dug out Jiang Baichuan’s phone number. After writing “For my happiness in this life, I’ve decided to negotiate with Jiang Baichuan,” she broke a mechanical pencil and drank a glass of watered-down white wine to show her determination to burn her bridges.
She remembered making the call from a public phone at a small shop. When the call connected and she heard Jiang Baichuan’s voice, she started crying.
She said: “Jiang Baichuan… Uncle, I want to negotiate with you.”
She had originally planned to use just his name to show they were equals but worried it might offend him, so she added “Uncle.”
At first, Jiang Baichuan didn’t recognize her and took a while to react: “Xixi? Why are you crying? Don’t cry, speak slowly.”
Nie Jiuluo said: “I want to study in a big city, the kind where I can get a doctorate in the future.”
Jiang Baichuan agreed though he wasn’t clear which big city was associated with “getting a doctorate.”
She continued: “I want a house, my own house, and I need servants to take care of me since I’m still a child. You need to give me money. I don’t have money now, but I can repay you in the future, or I can work for you.”
For each condition, Jiang Baichuan answered “Alright,” while trying to console her: “Don’t cry first.”
Her final condition was: “When you transfer me to a new school, you need to wear the most expensive clothes and hold my hand, pretending to be my father and walk around my school once. I’ve been telling everyone my parents went abroad.”
Jiang Baichuan said: “Alright.”