After a long pause, Nie Jiuluo finally spoke: “Xing Shen, with Uncle Jiang gone, you’re in charge of everything. The plan was made by you and Yan Tuo together, what do you think now?”
Xing Shen said: “I think something must have happened to Yan Tuo. I’ve met him—he’s logical when he speaks and clear-headed. He would understand what losing contact means at a time like this. If he could contact us, he would have done so already. After so long without news, he’s either being held captive or… dead.”
Nie Jiuluo remained silent. Those two words, “dead,” felt both weightless and foreign to her.
Xing Shen continued: “Right now, opinions are split. Half want to continue because we’ve done so much preparation work, and it would be a shame to give up. The other half want to withdraw, fearing we’ll be hunted instead. I want to continue, but out of caution, I need to ask you—you vouched for Yan Tuo to me, can he keep his mouth shut? If he’s being controlled, what are the chances he’ll reveal our plans?”
Nie Jiuluo said: “Wait a moment, give me some time to think.”
She held the edge of the workbench, slowly walking step by step to sit on the sofa near the reading lamp. The sofa cushion was soft, with three sides wrapped around it—sitting in it gave a sense of security.
She closed her eyes and thought deeply. There was a faint smell of clay dust in the air. Clay sculptures, after all, were just earth when broken down.
Rising from the soil, and after being discarded, returning to the soil.
She said: “First, I agree with your assessment that something has happened to him. He mentioned to me before that he had intervened in too many things lately and felt a sense of crisis. He also said that after returning, Lin Xirou had been dropping hints to him. But I don’t think he was exposed because of this Di Xiao hunting plan.”
Xing Shen felt relieved: “You’re that certain?”
“Put yourself in Lin Xirou’s position and you’ll understand. If I were Lin Xirou and discovered Yan Tuo’s intentions, I would turn the tables and hunt us instead. And the most important prerequisite for counter-hunting would be to lull you into continuing your actions. You said his phone really can’t be reached?”
Xing Shen nodded instinctively: “Yes.”
“Cutting off the phone would just alert you that something’s wrong, wouldn’t it? Lin Xirou isn’t that stupid, so I don’t think she did this—Yan Tuo did it himself. Simply put, he was exposed for something else, but he protected this plan.”
Did that mean their operation was still safe for now?
Xing Shen let out a long breath.
“Secondly, you asked if he can keep his mouth shut—I think he can. For two reasons. First, he was once captured by Ban Ya and held for some time. You beat him plenty, but did he confess anything?”
Xing Shen was speechless—he hadn’t.
“Second…”
As she got to the second reason, Nie Jiuluo suddenly remembered Yan Tuo’s expression when she told him in Anyang that Xu Annie was pregnant.
At the time, she thought Xu Annie was just a pitiful stranger who had nothing to do with them, but Yan Tuo was already thinking about how to save her.
“Second, Yan Tuo isn’t the type to drag others down with him when he falls. He’s the kind who, even if he falls into a trap with no hope for himself, will still try to lift others. So if he’s been exposed, he won’t implicate others. If he’s done for, he’ll hope that he’s the only one who falls, while those who can be saved will still be saved.”
After a long silence, Xing Shen said: “A-Luo, you think very highly of him.”
Nie Jiuluo lowered her eyes: “This isn’t praise, just stating facts.”
Xing Shen: “Then do you think he’s dead?”
Nie Jiuluo’s heart trembled. This she couldn’t analyze, nor dare to think about: “What do you think?”
Xing Shen hesitated: “Given how cruel Lin Xirou’s group is—hanging our people to dry—I think she wouldn’t be lenient with betrayal from those close to her either. If he’s dead, there’s nothing we can do. If he’s still alive, I think… we should act quickly. Having enough bargaining chips would make negotiations easier.”
The logic made sense, but Nie Jiuluo felt there was some risk in this approach, though she couldn’t quite figure out what.
She collected herself: “Did Lin Xirou respond to your message about changing people?”
“Yes. She asked us who killed Han Guan, and if Chen Fu was still alive.”
Han Guan?
Nie Jiuluo’s ears suddenly rang, making her miss whatever Xing Shen said next.
Han Guan was handled by Yan Tuo. She remembered him saying he’d dealt with it cleanly, burning Han Guan’s body and throwing it into a machine well.
Seeing is believing—Lin Xirou knew Han Guan was dead, which meant the body must have been retrieved, and Yan Tuo happened to lose contact at the same time…
Her hands and feet turned cold. If it was because of this, then Yan Tuo was in serious trouble, complete trouble.
“How did you respond to her?”
“Haven’t yet. They’re the ones asking, so they can wait.”
—She asked us who killed Han Guan, and if Chen Fu was still alive.
Asking this right away meant Lin Xirou already knew Han Guan and the others had encountered the Chan Tou Jun—though that wasn’t surprising, anyone who saw Han Guan’s remains would recognize the Chan Tou Jun’s methods.
Day seven, breakfast time.
As soon as Lin Ling entered the dining room, she felt something was off. Lin Xirou and Xiong Hei were both there, but their breakfast was untouched. One had a terrifying look in her eyes, the other looked awkward.
This low pressure had a reason—just an hour ago, there had been a reply from Xing Shen.
—Alive.
Avoiding the question of who killed Han Guan, but confirming Chen Fu’s status.
Alive.
It seemed Jiang Baichuan hadn’t lied; that blade really could only kill a Di Xiao once.
But this brought them back to the old question: how did Chan Tou Jun find Han Guan and Chen Fu in the first place?
Xiong Hei had a sudden thought: “Sister Lin, they have Mazha, and the Gou family can’t smell us. Could Mazha… be more sensitive to us? After all, we’re the same kind.”
It was this comment that darkened Lin Xirou’s face and changed her expression. Xiong Hei, reading the atmosphere, didn’t dare voice any more opinions.
…
Lin Ling timidly sat down at the table, keeping her movements minimal, even trying not to make noise while pouring herself coffee.
However, her arrival still stirred the frigid air around the table. Lin Xirou finally picked up her fork, and Xiong Hei seemed to relax, popping a steamed taro into his mouth.
Lin Ling tried making conversation: “Aunt Lin, haven’t seen Yan Tuo for several days.”
Lin Xirou gave her a cold glance: “Missing him?”
“No, it’s just that he’s not responding to calls or messages. He wasn’t like this before. Also, I had dinner with Lu Xian yesterday, and he said the car repairs are almost done.”
Lin Xirou had heard about the car crash and repairs from Feng Mi, but with so many worries on her mind, Lin Ling bringing up such trivial matters made her especially irritated: “Lu Xian’s a grown man, can’t he be more straightforward? Always fixating on money—does he think Xiao Tuo would cheat him?”
Lin Ling stayed quiet, then after a while softly asked for permission: “Aunt Lin, I made plans with Lu Xian tomorrow to see the famous ginkgo tree. Is that okay?”
Lin Xirou was puzzled: “What famous ginkgo tree?”
Lin Ling quickly showed Lin Xirou photos she had downloaded to her phone: “This one, at Guanyin Chan Temple, right here in Xi’an, Chang’an District. It’s over 1,400 years old, they say Tang Taizong Li Shimin planted it himself.”
It was an incredibly huge ginkgo tree, especially impressive from an aerial view. In the photo, the ginkgo leaves were golden yellow, the entire tree gilded, with yellow brocade covering the ground, standing out dramatically against the sparse countryside and green tree-covered slopes around it.
No wonder it was famous.
In Xi’an, Chang’an District—since it was in Xi’an, right on their doorstep, there shouldn’t be any problem.
Lin Xirou thought for a moment: “Don’t ginkgo leaves only turn yellow in autumn? It’s almost New Year’s now, the leaves must have all fallen off. What’s there to see?”
Lin Ling stammered an explanation: “Well, it’s trendy now to visit places in all four seasons, taking photos each time. People say this tree represents longevity—if a couple completes all four seasons of photos and they’re still together, their relationship will… will be very good.”
She blushed, her ears burning, her palms starting to sweat.
She was making it up. She was lying.
It was Xing Shen who told her to go there.
During her first phone call with Xing Shen, she had been so nervous she could barely speak coherently. Xing Shen probably realized her poor psychological resilience and told her to watch a Weibo account called “Que Que Cha Cha.” He said the next post would feature a Xi’an attraction with dates and times in the photo, but those numbers would be Photoshopped—the post would actually be telling her the time and place to leave. She just needed to find a way to get there on time.
Lin Xirou glanced at her: “How are things with Lu Xian? If it’s not working out, find someone else. Stop dragging it on.”
Lin Ling didn’t dare look up, afraid her expression would reveal her lie: “It’s just… at first I didn’t feel anything, but after spending more time together, it seems… okay.”
Xiong Hei laughed: “That’s what I’m saying—relationships need time. Not clicking at first sight doesn’t mean anything. Think about it—in ancient times, couples hadn’t even seen each other before marriage, and many still ended up loving each other.”
Lin Ling thought to herself, that’s because you haven’t seen how many were miserable after marriage.
Lin Xirou made a sound of acknowledgment and said nothing more.
As long as things were progressing smoothly.
Lin Ling was also someone she had “raised,” and since she would inevitably become a blood vessel one day, Lin Xirou was willing to let her live as comfortably as possible until then.
She had raised her all these years, providing good food, drink, and care—she hadn’t mistreated her.
Besides, without her, Lin Xirou, there might not even be a Lin Ling in this world.
Yan Tuo felt he was under house arrest.
After being confined for so many days, his biological clock was disrupted, and he gradually lost his sense of time: the windows were sealed, blocking out sunlight, and whether before sleep or after waking, the room was always lit by artificial light.
As the days of confinement increased, so did the frequency of eating, drinking, and using the bathroom. Keeping his hands and feet bound became troublesome, so they switched to handcuffs and shackles, with chains between the cuffs allowing limited movement.
The small bedroom was naturally prison-like, with windows sealed by bricks and an iron grate security door. With a mattress and bedding inside, living there was just like being in jail.
Food and drink could be passed through the iron grate, but using the bathroom was more complicated—it required Feng Mi’s presence.
Feng Mi seemed to be the designated “prison warden” appointed by Lin Xirou, but she didn’t live there, given the poor conditions. Yan Tuo suspected she had found a short-term rental nearby, probably in the same building, allowing her to come by anytime.
Four burly men guarded him around the clock, working in two shifts. All were unfamiliar faces Yan Tuo hadn’t seen before, though that wasn’t surprising—there were many of Xiong Hei’s men he didn’t know. These four had clearly been instructed never to chat with Yan Tuo. Even when he was desperately bored and tried to make conversation through the iron door, they completely ignored him, focusing on their card games, dice, or downloaded adult videos on their phones.
Xiong Hei came by occasionally.
Yan Tuo liked it when Xiong Hei visited, as he always brought some benefits.
One time, while talking to him through the iron grate, Xiong Hei suddenly shivered and cursed: “It’s so cold, and people are living here!”
Being a rundown place, installing air conditioning wasn’t practical, but that evening a small heater appeared in the living room, blowing warm air toward his cell.
At first, Yan Tuo enjoyed the warmth, but later it made him uncomfortable.
He didn’t want these people to be kind to him. He wanted them to be treacherous, cruel, and despicable so that when he raised his blade of vengeance, it wouldn’t feel too heavy.
Things were quite bearable when Feng Mi was around. She would bring a small meditation cushion to the security door, sit cross-legged on it, and talk with him.
Yan Tuo wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but ever since he told her he “didn’t like” her, he felt that Feng Mi talked less than before, and her words were less irritating.
Once, while discussing how damp the first-floor room was, Feng Mi suddenly sighed and asked him: “Yan Tuo, I’m young and beautiful, so many people like me, why don’t you?”
Yan Tuo: “You’re young and beautiful, plenty of people like you, why do you need me to like you specifically?”
Feng Mi looked at him for a long time before saying: “People who like me all want to sleep with me, and after that, it’s over. But I feel like if you liked me, it wouldn’t be about sleeping with me… it would be… something different.”
She couldn’t quite explain what that different thing would be.
She said: “If I were human, would you like me then?”
She was bold, treating the burly guards behind her as decorations, probably thinking they wouldn’t understand anyway.
Yan Tuo fell silent.
Inside his right sleeve was a needle.
In his left pocket was a golden, flattened little star.
Inside the little star was a plum blossom.
Nie Jiuluo must know something had happened to him by now, right? Would she be worried?
…
Only Lin Xirou had never come.
Yan Tuo had a feeling: when Lin Xirou finally came, whether he passed her test or not, whether he lived or died, would be decided.