Halfway through the meal, Chen Fu went to the restroom, instructing Han Guan: “Order more dishes, eat your fill while you can. Once we’re in the mountains, we won’t have such luxuries.”
So these two were heading to Nan Ba Monkey Head as reinforcements. Reasoning backward: did this mean there were no Dixiao at Nan Ba Monkey Head currently? If so, wouldn’t that mean if she took care of these two, the trap set at Nan Ba Monkey Head would become less threatening?
Thinking further, Nie Jiuluo sighed to herself: she didn’t even know where Nan Ba Monkey Head was, and she had no one to call upon—before, she could send a message to “that side” and someone would handle everything, but now…
No wonder they say a single tree doesn’t make a forest; things are easier with more people.
As for Chen Fu in the restroom, he had only intended to take a quick leak, but midway through, his stomach rumbled. He cursed the restaurant’s unclean cooking, rushed into a stall, and after relieving himself, reached for toilet paper.
Just then, the outer door opened, and two people came in to use the urinals. Their conversation carried over the sound of running water.
One said: “What time is it, and they’re still ordering? I just managed to catch a nap after finishing up, and now I’m called back.”
The other replied: “Tell me about it. I just got back from a delivery, and now they’re saying there’s another takeout order.”
They sounded like staff—one from the kitchen, one a delivery person.
The first one said: “These marriage-scamming gays are getting too brazen nowadays, insisting on dragging women into marriage. What’s the point?”
The other responded irritably: “Don’t you think he’s blind? Such a pretty woman—why not give her to me instead of going after someone so much bigger and uglier, with a nose more hooked than an eagle’s?”
Chen Fu’s heart skipped a beat, and his ears perked up.
Honestly, most of their chatter had gone in one ear and out the other, seeming irrelevant.
Except for one detail.
He had an eagle-hook nose.
The first one asked: “Has the pretty lady left yet?”
The other replied: “Not yet. If you ask me, she should record this as evidence. If there’s any dispute when they break up, she can play the recording to expose him, make him…”
Chen Fu pulled up his pants and shoved the door open.
***
Two minutes later, Chen Fu stuffed the two unconscious men into the furthest stall, locked it from inside, and then climbed out over the top by stepping on the toilet. He returned to the private room as if nothing had happened.
Han Guan was already impatient: “I was worried you’d fallen in.”
Chen Fu gave him a meaningful look: “Had the runs. The food here isn’t good—looks nice but isn’t sanitary.”
Han Guan was confused, not catching on yet. Chen Fu mouthed words to him while continuing to speak.
Then he took off his shoes.
Han Guan began to understand, his heart pounding. He tapped his chopsticks against the dishes and picked up and put down his teacup: “Brother, your stomach’s weak. How come I’m fine?”
Chen Fu stepped onto the bench and slowly straightened up: the bench was attached to the partition, made of wood—wood material would make slight creaking sounds under too much pressure, so he had to remove his shoes and move as lightly and slowly as possible.
Han Guan slammed his chopsticks on the table: “Brother Chen, Sister Lin assigned me because she trusts me. At Nan Ba Monkey Head, anyone who comes up against us won’t be leaving…”
He saw Chen Fu’s head peek over the top of the partition, then silently withdraw.
Their eyes met, and Chen Fu pointed next door.
Han Guan’s mind buzzed, and he mouthed: “Someone there?”
Chen Fu suddenly shouted: “Damn it, taking forever to bring more dishes and giving me the runs. I’m done! Let’s go.”
***
Nie Jiuluo cracked open her door slightly, waiting for them to finish paying, and once she saw them leave the restaurant, she hurried out, calling the driver while walking to have him bring the car around immediately.
The cashier girl called out to her: “Hey, hey!”
Nie Jiuluo had no time for her, afraid of losing track of the two men. The young girl, growing desperate, ducked under the counter and ran a few steps to grab her arm: “Hey!”
What new trouble was this? Nie Jiuluo was getting annoyed when the girl lowered her voice: “They saw you!”
What did she mean?
Nie Jiuluo felt a chill and stopped abruptly.
The young girl pointed toward the private rooms: “Just now while I was settling the bill, I looked up and saw a head peeking over the top of the partition, looking down. It disappeared in a blink. My goodness, it scared me half to death—I almost screamed. I kept calling you but you wouldn’t stop.”
Nie Jiuluo’s mind went blank, unsure how to respond, and stiffly said: “Really?”
The young girl took her reaction as normal: “These men are so cunning. You definitely shouldn’t marry him.”
Nie Jiuluo couldn’t remember what she replied, her mind echoing with one phrase.
—They saw you.
And from above, no less. It was truly spine-chilling. Thinking back, she realized she had never once looked up the entire time.
Nie Jiuluo instinctively pulled out a mask from her bag and put it on.
Outside the restaurant, the car had arrived. The sky wasn’t as bright as before, the sunlight weaker, bringing out a desolate chill. Nie Jiuluo looked around but didn’t see the two men.
But without a doubt, they were watching from somewhere in the shadows. In just moments, she had transformed from hunter to prey.
Nie Jiuluo got into the car.
As they started moving, the driver asked: “Miss, still heading to the station?”
Nie Jiuluo gave a sound of agreement, then immediately changed her mind: “No.”
She gathered her thoughts: “Driver, do you know the direction to the countryside where there’s a reed marsh?”
The driver was a local who frequently drove between the city and the countryside, and knew immediately: “Yes, that’s Li Keng Village, right? No one lives there anymore. Heard there was an accident a few days ago, a car drove into the pond and is still submerged there.”
Nie Jiuluo: “Let’s go there.”
This needed to be settled quickly. A deserted place would make it convenient for them to make their move, and convenient for her too.
Her suitcase was in the trunk, but fortunately, her most crucial backpack was with her. Nie Jiuluo draped her coat over the front seat and bent down to change clothes. When her hand touched her skin, her skin was warm, but her hands were ice cold.
The driver found it a bit strange, glanced in the rearview mirror, then tactfully looked away.
***
Two Dixiao.
And they came prepared.
Nie Jiuluo took a deep breath. This was her first time facing such a situation. Before, no matter what happened, Jiang Baichuan would always notify, arrange, and support her.
Xing Shen had left, and now she had no one around who could help.
After changing clothes, Nie Jiuluo sat up straight. The car had left the urban area. Looking through the rear windshield, there were many cars behind them, and it was impossible to tell which one contained the demons.
But it didn’t matter. She would know after driving a bit further.
Nie Jiuluo regulated her breathing, and for some reason, she couldn’t quite explain, she took out her phone and sent Yan Tuo a message.
—Have you left yet?
***
Yan Tuo received the message while he was on the road.
His mind was completely focused on getting to the farm, and although he didn’t have an excuse yet, the journey back would take a full day by car, giving him plenty of time to think of one.
After lunch, he packed his bags and borrowed a car from Lu Xian—for safety during this period, he had been using other people’s cars. Although Lu Xian was reluctant, Yan Tuo’s promise of “If I wreck it, I’ll replace it with an even more expensive one” resolved everything.
Privately, Lu Xian almost hoped he would wreck it—after all, people are better old, but cars are better now.
…
Yan Tuo steered with one hand as he replied: Already left.
After a moment, Nie Jiuluo responded: Are you far?
Yan Tuo glanced at his navigation, then at the road signs ahead. He hadn’t been out of the city long, so it wasn’t particularly far, but her question seemed odd.
He replied with two words: Need something?
***
Those two words—”Need something?”—gave Nie Jiuluo pause. She felt she was being impulsive: after all, Yan Tuo was officially aligned with the Dixiao side, and besides, he was the one who had sent her those two men’s photos. What would be the point of calling him here?
She put on her coat, slipped her knife into her sleeve, and looked back again: there were fewer cars behind now, but a gray-white Volkswagen Tiguan had been consistently following.
Nie Jiuluo transferred money to the driver and instructed: “Step on it, drive faster.”
When she looked back again, sure enough, that car had also accelerated.
The situation was becoming clear. Nie Jiuluo told the driver: “When we get there, let me out immediately. Keep driving forward, and don’t take the same route back to the city. Please keep my luggage for now—I have your number and will contact you later to collect it.”
The driver vaguely sensed this was different from the usual stalking-mistress scenarios, and as they drove faster, he too noticed the persistently following car. His legs began to tremble: surely he hadn’t stumbled into some underworld vendetta with car chases?
As a common citizen, he couldn’t afford damages from a wrecked car or injured people. At this point, he ignored traffic safety and speed limits, driving the latter half of the journey like a rocket. When the reed marsh came into view, he slammed on the brakes. Nie Jiuluo jumped out, and before she could even properly close the door, the car roared away.
Fearing they might think she was still in the car, Nie Jiuluo deliberately stood by the roadside for two seconds, until the Tiguan slowed down, before running into the grain field.
It was just as desolate and quiet as it had been days ago. The warm yellow afternoon sun was gone, replaced by a cold white orb.
The grain field stood taller than a person, topped with white tassels like down. Disturbed by her running, the fine filaments floated around her, falling and rising, rising and falling again.
The car had also come down, moving slowly, separated from her by a large stretch of grain.
Nie Jiuluo didn’t want to be chased and crushed by the car like Xing Shen had been—she needed cover.
She quickly ran toward several abandoned houses in the distance.
***
Chen Fu was driving, his expression dark, lips tightly pressed, the creases at the corners of his mouth as hooked as his nose.
Han Guan was uneasy: “Brother Chen, shouldn’t we find out who she is?”
Chen Fu said: “What’s there to find out? Would any ordinary person eavesdrop on our conversation?”
Han Guan: “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding? Perhaps she thought her fiancé was in our room?”
Chen Fu: “If it was a misunderstanding, she would have realized after hearing a sentence or two. Would she listen from start to finish? I even took a dump in between, and she was still there.”
Han Guan swallowed: “Then… should we tell Sister Lin’s side?”
Chen Fu sneered: “Let Sister Lin know how careless we were, talking freely outside and letting someone overhear? The situation could go either way—don’t you know what happened to Dog Tooth?”
Han Guan fell silent.
Ahead were several half-collapsed abandoned mud houses. Chen Fu stopped the car and jerked his chin toward one of them: “She’s behind that one, right?”
Han Guan nodded: “I saw clearly. She ducked in there and disappeared.”
Chen Fu’s mouth twisted in contempt. These were all mud houses, with dense thatch still jutting from their collapsed roofs.
He bent down and pulled out a German-made submachine gun from under his feet, handing it to Han Guan: “Thirty rounds, reload when empty.”
Han Guan: “Empty?”
Chen Fu: “Of course empty. Who are you saving them for? Oh right…”
He tossed over a silencer: “Put this on.”
Han Guan attached the silencer, tested its weight, pointed the muzzle outward, gritted his teeth, and pulled the trigger. The bullets sprayed out in a fan pattern.
In an instant, that mud house was engulfed in dust, as if shrouded in thick fog. Although the earthen walls were over forty centimeters thick, submachine gun bullets could pierce steel plates, let alone mud. The air was filled with endless whistling sounds.
Through the dust cloud, Chen Fu noticed a figure dart out and shouted: “Over there!”
Han Guan swung the gun around, closely tracking where the figure had run to, and again emptied the trigger. That mud house shook as if the person inside was being jolted and convulsing from the bullets’ penetrating force. When the magazine was empty, half the wall crashed down.
In the collapsing dust, a figure struggled out, stumbled a few steps, and then ducked into a pump house not far away.
Han Guan said: “Out of ammo.”
Chen Fu threw him a new magazine to replace it while cursing: “Fuck, still not dead. Really can take it.”
***
Pump houses were common in rural areas, and used for irrigation. They were usually built of brick because they housed water pumps, hence also called pump rooms.
The pump would draw water from deep wells and distribute it through pipes to nearby areas. In earlier years, when machinery was precious, farmers would sometimes sleep in these houses to guard the equipment.
Later, with the spread of smart pump houses, individual pump houses gradually fell into disuse. In Li Keng Village where no one lived anymore, the pump house had long been abandoned, its machinery covered in thick dust, water pipes scattered about, and the deep well in the corner covered with miscellaneous wooden boards.
Nie Jiuluo was breathing heavily, leaning against the doorframe, clutching her coat tighter, her hands gripping the hem covered in blood.
She knew she must have been shot, and could feel warm liquid flowing steadily from somewhere on her body, but she dared not look down: the human spirit is fragile—knowing nothing sometimes allows you to endure longer. Once you know, see, and see, combined with various mental images, you might collapse immediately.
Her hands trembling, she took out her phone and sent Yan Tuo a message: “Reed marsh.”
She had meant to write more, but her hands were shaking so badly that she accidentally hit send, and when she tried to add another message, there was too much blood on the screen for it to respond.
Then the gunfire started again behind her, accompanied by the sound of flying brick debris.
The brick wall might not hold for long. Nie Jiuluo dove toward the corner of the room.
***
Han Guan had already seen blood on the path to the pump house, so he was relatively relaxed, and besides, brick walls weren’t many levels stronger than mud walls.
After emptying the second magazine, the brick wall was riddled with over ten holes up and down. Han Guan didn’t ask Chen Fu for another magazine. He shouldered the submachine gun, peered inside, then gave Chen Fu a thumbs-up without looking back: “All good!”
Chen Fu sighed in relief, pulling out a cigarette from the glove box and lighting it: “Just one woman, and so much trouble!”
Han Guan walked into the house.
Nie Jiuluo was lying face down on the ground, a large pool of blood beneath her, motionless. Her long hair was bathed in the pre-sunset light, thick and soft, smooth as satin.
Han Guan crouched down, and couldn’t resist touching her hair—near the back of her head, it was still warm.
He used the gun muzzle to turn Nie Jiuluo’s face, wanting to see what she looked like.
At that moment, Nie Jiuluo’s eyes suddenly flew open, and with all her remaining strength, she flipped over and drove a knife into Han Guan’s throat.
Han Guan’s eyes widened, instinctively reaching for his throat, but it wasn’t over—Nie Jiuluo pressed a hidden trigger on the knife handle, and though the knife was still in his throat, a smaller blade emerged from within. Nie Jiuluo’s hand rose and fell, driving this second blade straight down from the top of his skull until the handle disappeared.
The whole process took less than five seconds. Han Guan stared blankly at Nie Jiuluo, his still-blinking eyes gradually filling with blood—first bright red, then darkening to black, as if black eyeballs were filling the sockets.
Nie Jiuluo spat a mouthful of blood on Han Guan’s face and said: “Die, then.”
She pulled back her knife, not bothering to look at Han Guan’s slumped form, and clutched her abdomen with gritted teeth.
The earlier movement had been too much—her entire abdomen felt like it was being torn apart. She was bleeding from multiple places, and perhaps it was her imagination, but her coat felt completely soaked through.
She still didn’t look down.
Couldn’t look.
***
After taking several drags of his cigarette, Chen Fu suddenly realized Han Guan had been quiet for a while.
He looked curiously toward the pump house: “Han Guan?”
There was no answer. From that bullet-riddled brick house, the aura of death was seeping out.
Chen Fu crushed the cigarette butt in his palm and got out of the car.