Lin Xirou couldn’t send Jiang Baichuan to be hanged at South Ba Monkey Head—they’d already hanged four people there, all just for show, hanging in vain. Moreover, Jiang Baichuan was a leader; if they were to hang him, it would need to carry real weight.
After throwing Jiang Baichuan back into his cell, she asked Xiong Hei: “What do you think about this? Was he telling the truth?”
Xiong Hei said: “For now… it sounds somewhat reasonable.”
According to legend, in “Feng Dao,” the emphasis was actually on the “Dao” (blade). There was only one blade, while those who wielded it changed generation after generation. This blade had a particular characteristic—it needed to drink blood to kill A-Xiao. Once wiped with blood, it could kill regardless of whether ten days, half a month, or even a year or two had passed. But it had limitations: one blood drinking for one kill. To kill a second target, it needed to drink blood again.
Xiong Hei felt it was time to employ some flexible reasoning: “That paralyzed Feng Dao indeed has no blade with him. Perhaps someone else used a blade that had been wiped with his blood—think about it: Han Guan and Chen Fu were operating together, but we only found Han Guan in the well. Where’s Chen Fu? Could it be that the blade could only be used once, and without more blood to drink, it couldn’t kill Chen Fu, so they had to take him away?”
Lin Xirou fell silent for a moment.
It was possible, but the question remained: how did they find Han Guan and Chen Fu in the first place?
These two were merely passing through Stone River County on their way to reinforce South Ba Monkey Head. “Passing through” in her understanding meant traveling inconspicuously—how could they have coincidentally encountered the Coiled Head Army, who happened to be wielding a blade capable of killing Xiao?
Xiong Hei was equally puzzled. It seemed impossible that their list had been leaked—if Jiang Baichuan’s people had access to their roster, how could they have been caught so easily?
He scratched his head, then suddenly tensed up, raised his arm, and sniffed it.
Lin Xirou frowned: “What are you doing?”
Xiong Hei’s lips went dry: “Sister Lin, are you sure we don’t have a scent?”
Though they appeared human, they weren’t truly human. They possessed unusual tongues that could sprout short spines at the base when extremely angry or in life-or-death situations, secreting toxins that could cause paralysis in mild cases or corrosion in severe ones.
Could there be the faintest trace of scent that some Dog Clan member with evolved olfactory abilities had detected, leading to Han Guan and Chen Fu’s…
Xiong Hei shuddered violently.
Lin Xirou said coldly: “What are you afraid of? Don’t frighten yourself. Didn’t that so-called Mad Dog fail to smell anything?”
“Besides, even if that were true, the Coiled Head Army barely has anyone left. We’ll eliminate them one by one.”
Speaking of which, she suddenly became irritated: “Still no contact with Jiang Baichuan’s accomplices?”
She was exasperated: in Jiang Baichuan’s contact list, all those who should have been his accomplices were either unreachable or had canceled their numbers. It was ridiculous—imagine kidnappers holding hostages but unable to find any of the hostages’ families anywhere in the world.
Who was she supposed to negotiate terms with?
Xiong Hei said: “None can be reached, though there is one number that connects but no one answers. The owner is Jiang Baichuan’s mistress, called Que Cha. Her phone might have location blocking installed; we can’t determine her position.”
Lin Xirou pondered: “All contacts unreachable except one—this was left for us. No matter, if they won’t answer calls, we can send messages. Send those photos from South Ba Monkey Head one by one. Let’s see how long these cowards can keep hiding.”
On his return journey, Yan Tuo visited two more partners before finally returning to the villa on the third evening.
The trunk was full of various local specialties given by the partners. In the past, Yan Tuo would have refused them—they were worthless items that took up space. But this time he took everything: these could prove he had gone on business, checking in at several locations.
He carried the bags and packages into the elevator.
The villa was unusually quiet: Lin Ling had messaged him earlier saying that Aunt Lin and Xiong Hei had returned, bringing along a young and beautiful Miss Feng.
On the third floor, he placed all the bags in the small living room in a conspicuous position before heading to his room.
His heart skipped a beat when he took out his key.
When he left, the door had been locked from the inside, but now it wasn’t—though every room in the villa had spare keys, they were generally never used, respecting personal space.
Yan Tuo pushed open the door and switched on the light.
Lin Xirou was there!
She wore an elaborate light gray Japanese silk robe decorated with clusters of pink and white cherry blossoms. Her long hair was slightly damp, suggesting she had recently bathed. She held a white buffalo horn comb and sat in his computer chair, facing the unlit screen, slowly combing her hair.
The light startled her into stopping.
Yan Tuo jumped: “Aunt Lin, why… why are you here?”
Then a chilling thought struck him: she had entered his room and was combing her hair… in the dark?
Lin Xirou turned to look at him with a graceful smile: “I haven’t seen you for several days. I suddenly missed you, so I came in to sit for a while.”
Could that even be considered a reason?
But Yan Tuo had to pretend it was reasonable. He smiled in agreement and asked: “Where’s Lin Ling? I don’t see her.”
“I had Lü Xian take her out for dinner. Dating should look like dating, after all.”
Yan Tuo struggled to respond. As he was desperately searching for a topic, Lin Xirou seemed to suddenly realize something: “Don’t just stand there. Come, sit down, let’s chat.”
The atmosphere was truly eerie. Yan Tuo pulled up a chair and sat down, catching the faint, warm fragrance of Lin Xirou’s recent bath.
Feeling uncomfortable, he discreetly moved his chair further away.
Lin Xirou carefully studied Yan Tuo’s face: “When I first saw you, you were only this big…”
She held out both hands to indicate a length: “Do you remember?”
Yan Tuo shook his head: “I was too young to remember.”
Lin Xirou lowered her hands and sighed softly: “Time flies. You’re so grown up now.”
Yan Tuo responded: “Yes, in a few more years, I might feel awkward calling you Aunt Lin.”
Lin Xirou was silent for a moment, then asked: “Little Tuo, do you think Aunt Lin is a monster?”
Yan Tuo smiled: “Strange, certainly, in some ways, since you’re different from me. But not a monster—monsters are those who eat people and harm others, right?”
Lin Xirou reached out and slowly took his hand.
Her hand was ice-cold and slick, reminding Yan Tuo of a snake—this must be how it feels when a snake’s body slowly glides across your skin.
Lin Xirou said: “When I first came here, I was alone, without support or family. In the whole world, you were the most caring and lovable. Your mother was busy then, so I was the one who lulled you to sleep. I told you everything and shared all my sorrows with you. Back then, in Aunt Lin’s heart, you were like a little angel.”
Yan Tuo mocked himself: “Never thought the little angel would grow up so crooked.”
Still, it was understandable. Children, especially those innocent of the world’s ways, were all angels. He’d seen his childhood photos—he was indeed quite adorable and likable. Shamelessly speaking, even he liked what he saw.
It was just a pity that he couldn’t remember anything from when he was so young. He had no recollection of what Lin Xirou had confided in him.
Lin Xirou wasn’t amused by his humor: “Later, as you grew up, you stopped clinging to Aunt Lin. Perhaps you even had your secrets.”
Yan Tuo’s scalp tingled.
“That’s normal for adults—they need their space. Like how you never used to lock your door as a child, but now whenever you go out, you lock it tight.” Lin Xirou smiled, patting the back of his hand slowly twice. “But Little Tuo, Aunt Lin hopes this family bond between us will never change. If it did change, Aunt Lin couldn’t bear it.”
Yan Tuo didn’t know how to respond, but fortunately, a new message on his phone provided an escape.
Lin Xirou withdrew her hand: “Check your message.”
Yan Tuo opened his phone.
A self-destructing message.
He casually swiped to close the screen: “Just a system message, nothing interesting.”
Lin Xirou made a sound of acknowledgment and stood up: “You’ve just returned and must be tired from the journey. Get some rest.”
Yan Tuo watched her walk toward the door, about to breathe a sigh of relief when Lin Xirou turned back: “By the way, you remember Feng Mi, right?”
“Yes.”
“She’s always lived in Xiamen and has never been to the north. I’m letting her stay for a while. When you have time, show her around, let her broaden her horizons.”
Yan Tuo found this arrangement strange but still nodded: “Sure.”
…
Lin Xirou finally left.
Yan Tuo let out a long breath, his previously tense back gradually relaxing. He sensed Lin Xirou’s speech today had a specific purpose, but in the rush of the moment, he couldn’t figure out what it was.
After sitting for a while, he suddenly jerked forward to feel the back of his computer.
Cold—thankfully, at least Lin Xirou hadn’t turned on his computer while she was in the room.
He picked up his phone and opened the self-destructing message he’d received earlier. Reading it, his mind jolted, and he nearly jumped up.
It was from Nie Jiuluo, just one line:
—Xing Shen, 187XXXX2688, meet as soon as possible.
Had they… made contact with Xing Shen?
Yan Tuo had asked Nie Jiuluo to “find a way to contact Xing Shen quickly,” but aside from that Weibo post, she hadn’t tried anything. She didn’t know where to start “finding a way.”
Xing Shen had contacted Nie Jiuluo first.
Coincidentally, when Xing Shen met up with Yu Rong and decided to change phone numbers, he called Nie Jiuluo, but she was seriously injured then and had lost her phone at the pump house. Later, he called once or twice more, but the phone was with Yan Tuo and went unanswered. After several failed attempts, Xing Shen grew suspicious, believing something must have happened to Nie Jiuluo.
He didn’t dare call again, instead taking an indirect approach, telling Que Cha he liked Nie Jiuluo’s sculptures and asking her to help find purchase channels.
Que Cha searched online without success, then directly messaged Nie Jiuluo on Weibo to inquire. When she told Xing Shen, he laughed bitterly: “What if she doesn’t check Weibo?”
Que Cha said: “That’s impossible—she posted something new just a few days ago.”
Calculating the dates, this “a few days ago” was after they’d lost contact, and that post “Dogs bark amid water sounds, dewy peach blossoms thick” was too pointed to be an impersonator.
Xing Shen had Que Cha help reply in the private message with the poem’s last two lines, plus his new phone number.
Sure enough, within half a day, Nie Jiuluo called.
…
Regarding Yan Tuo, Xing Shen was half welcoming, and half suspicious.
The welcome part was that, if what Nie Jiuluo said was true, one side had the manpower, the other information—a perfect complementary void.
The suspicious part was, what if Yan Tuo was a Chang Gui, and everything was just an elaborate trap he’d set with sweet words?
Eventually, Nie Jiuluo lost her temper: “If you think this person isn’t trustworthy, you’re just doubting my judgment. Xing Shen, are you the only one who can read people? Can’t I tell? I guarantee there’s no problem with him.”
After she put it that way, it would be disrespectful to keep hesitating. Xing Shen compromised: “Let’s meet first then. The matter is important enough to warrant a face-to-face discussion.”
In his excitement, Yan Tuo hadn’t completely memorized Xing Shen’s phone number.
That was the frustrating thing about self-destructing messages—after ten seconds they vanished without a trace, regardless of whether you were distracted or interrupted while reading.
Yan Tuo had to reply: Please send it again.
Then he got paper and pen ready, prepared to write down the number as soon as it came.
Nie Jiuluo replied quickly.
The first message wasn’t worth recording, as it was mostly scolding him: Can’t you focus? These are all important messages—what if I can’t send it again like last time? How can you let messages slip by like this? What if it delays everything?
It made sense and was worth heeding. Yan Tuo humbly accepted the lesson, then quietly changed Nie Jiuluo’s system-assigned numerical nickname to “Hot Temper.”
The second message finally provided the number.
After writing it down, Yan Tuo memorized it, then tore up the paper and flushed it down the toilet.
Meet with Xing Shen.
He needed to meet Xing Shen quickly—that way, Lin Ling, Xu Annie, and the others could escape danger sooner.
He grabbed his phone and went downstairs. Lin Xirou had just been in his room, making him distrust it. This call needed to be made somewhere private and safe.
Downstairs, he ran into Xiong Hei smoking by the door. Xiong Hei found it strange: “Didn’t you just get back? Going out again?”
Yan Tuo replied: “Forgot to wash the car.”
He drove the car out of the garage and around the complex, meanwhile navigating to the nearest car wash. If he was going to lie about forgetting to wash the car, he might as well actually wash it.
As he was replanning his route, Feng Mi’s voice suddenly came from the back seat: “Where are you going?”
Yan Tuo’s body stiffened, and he instinctively slammed the brakes.
Feng Mi had anticipated startling him and expected him to break, but she hadn’t expected such a sudden stop. Unable to keep her balance, she slid forward between the driver’s and passenger’s seats, hitting her head on the dashboard with a painful grimace.
She held her head and complained: “What are you doing? You could have killed someone.”
Yan Tuo’s heart was pounding: Thank god he hadn’t tried calling Xing Shen in the car.
His face remained cold and hard: “How did you get in my car?”
Feng Mi sat up, still rubbing her forehead: “I was curious, wanted to see what your car was like. Who knew you’d come just after I got in? I thought I’d hide and give you a little scare, but ended up hurting myself instead.”
She then pursed her lips, gesturing at the car ornaments and decorations on the dashboard: “Surprisingly, you have a childish side, putting such cute things in your car.”
Yan Tuo had no patience: “Get out.”
Feng Mi asked in surprise: “You mean me?”
She leaned back against the seat: “Yan Tuo, that’s not gentlemanly of you. How can you leave a young lady on the street? What if something happens to me—will you take responsibility? Besides, Aunt Lin told me to hang out with you. Just go about your business, I won’t get in your way.”
Yan Tuo remained silent for a while before finally starting the car again.
Feng Mi smiled charmingly.
When Lin Xirou left the farm, she invited Feng Mi to come along, instructing her: “Feng Mi, help me keep an eye on Little Tuo during this time.”
She had asked: “How should I watch him? Stay close to him?”
That was her specialty.