It was already dark when they left Five Dragon Cave.
Having accomplished what needed to be done and seen what needed to be seen, there was no reason to delay further. Yan Tuo drove at full speed toward Xi’an, only stopping briefly along the way for a simple dinner.
When they finally returned to the villa, it was past two in the morning. Though past midnight, if one wasn’t too particular, it could barely count as a “same-day round trip.”
Everyone returned to their rooms, and the villa fell silent, with only the motion sensor lights in the hallway brightening sequentially with footsteps.
Feng Mi walked last. Passing Lin Xirou’s room, she paused briefly and tapped on the door.
The door opened, and Feng Mi looked both ways before slipping in like a ghost.
***
Lin Xirou’s room was lit only by a small night light, the dim glow making them both appear as gold-rimmed shadows to each other.
Lin Xirou: “There was a car accident?”
Feng Mi pulled off the gauze bandage from her forehead and tossed it in the trash—such a large piece was cumbersome, and this minor wound had almost healed already.
She said: “Just a minor rear-end collision. It’s quite interesting to have a small accident while traveling. Aunt Lin, I like your godson—he can handle situations and knows how to smooth things over.”
She lazily sank into the silk-embroidered cushioned chair at the dressing table. Though her posture was casual, that snake-like flexibility added a touch of allure.
Lin Xirou said flatly: “Just focused on having fun?”
“Not exactly,” Feng Mi turned slightly, casually picking up a palette of shimmering eyeshadow from the table and testing colors in the mirror. “Lin Ling and that Lü Xian, I don’t think they’re dating. Lü Xian’s eyes might as well be glued to me, and as for Lin Ling, she only wants to talk to Yan Tuo.”
Lin Xirou made an “oh” sound, not seeming surprised: “Lin Ling has liked Xiao Tuo for years. After he rejected her confession, she even ran away from home once. I guess she hasn’t given up.”
Feng Mi burst out laughing: “Really? If her heart is set on Yan Tuo, it would be quite difficult to replace him with Lü Xian.”
“What about Xiao Tuo? Did you notice anything unusual?”
Yan Tuo…
Feng Mi thought for a while, then slowly shook her head: “Nothing obvious for now, just… very normal, very perfect. But Aunt Lin, in my experience, when you suspect someone but can’t find obvious flaws, there are only two possibilities.”
“One, your suspicion is wrong; two, this person is too clever, too good at pretending.”
Lin Xirou was silent for a moment, then said: “That’s what I think too. These years, I’ve been so focused on the farm, that I haven’t paid much attention to Xiao Tuo. Suddenly I realized he’s grown up so much.”
He was no longer that little one who, after being hit by his mother, would hug her legs crying and saying “Only Aunt Lin is the best in this world.”
Feng Mi looked at herself in the mirror—this eyeshadow was nice, the shimmer making her eyes look both dreamy and seductive.
A sudden thought struck her: “Aunt Lin, Yan Tuo knows we’re different, and he seems quite accepting. What if he likes me? I could sacrifice myself and be his real partner, wouldn’t that be good?”
Lin Xirou sneered: “What nonsense!”
Feng Mi: “I’m serious, Aunt Lin, think about it—human society’s tolerance keeps progressing. In the past, nobles couldn’t marry commoners, Manchus couldn’t marry Han, and when white people discriminated against black slaves, they couldn’t even eat at the same table, let alone marry. Now everything’s accepted. Yan Tuo and I could be the first pioneering couple. At worst we’d be childless—but men with men, women with women can’t have children either, yet they can form families now, just adopt.”
Lin Xirou couldn’t be bothered to argue: “Be realistic. Human tolerance will never extend to us.”
Feng Mi giggled: “There are always exceptions, depends on how deep the love is. Look at foreign zombie movies—when the wife becomes a zombie, the husband still loves her deeply and even catches living people to feed her. If humans can love zombies, aren’t I much better than a zombie?”
Lin Xirou almost laughed in exasperation: “True, such perverts exist. If Xiao Tuo has such tastes, I won’t object to you two being together.”
Yes, such perverts exist, but the one she had her eye on wasn’t a pervert.
Feng Mi felt somewhat dejected and stood up after a pause: “I’m going to bed.”
Lin Xirou reminded her: “Don’t forget to put a bandaid on your head tomorrow, or people will be suspicious if it heals too quickly. Only you were injured, no one else was hurt?”
Feng Mi casually replied: “Everyone’s fine, just Lü Xian’s car got dented…”
As she said this, something flashed through her mind, but it was too quick to grasp.
Lin Xirou noticed her sudden change in expression: “What’s wrong?”
Feng Mi raised her hand: “Don’t speak, let me think.”
She pondered, muttering to herself.
—Everyone’s fine, just Lü Xian’s car got dented.
—Dented… Lü Xian’s car.
Lü Xian’s car!
She suddenly remembered: “Aunt Lin, do you have a computer? In your room…”
No need to ask—she had already spotted it.
Feng Mi hurriedly sat at the desk and opened the laptop screen, which prompted for a password. Lin Xirou, sensing something significant, entered the password without being asked.
Once on the main screen, Feng Mi quickly opened a web browser, logged into cloud storage, and opened a folder full of videos.
Fortunately, she had been too lazy to delete them.
Only now did Lin Xirou ask: “What is it?”
Feng Mi selected a video from the bottom and played it: “The other day, Brother Xiong had us watch surveillance videos to look for Chen Fu and Han Guan. Sister Li was assigned the batch after the cars left the city. I told Brother Xiong that Sister Li wouldn’t watch carefully—she thinks the whole world has wronged her and hopes others have bad luck.”
This video didn’t show it. She swallowed and opened the next one: “Brother Xiong thought I made sense, so he got Sister Li’s cloud storage access and password, and we checked together. After watching, he scolded me for doing extra work, saying there was nothing wrong. I thought so too, but…”
Found it!
Feng Mi quickly pressed pause and enlarged the image.
Lin Xirou looked at the screen, showing a gray Audi.
“I caught this car while fast-forwarding through videos after Chen Fu’s car disappeared, about twenty minutes later. Since most cars in the countryside are mid to low-end, an Audi with four rings caught my attention. This car eventually disappeared too, probably entering an area without surveillance. Since it was going in the opposite direction, I didn’t pay much attention.”
“When we mentioned Lü Xian’s car being dented, I suddenly remembered—Lü Xian’s car is also an Audi, same color, same model. The license plate… I don’t remember, but we can ask Brother Xiong to check.”
Lin Xirou said: “Many people drive such cars, it might not be Lü Xian.”
“That’s why we need to confirm the plate number. What if it is?”
Lin Xirou stared at the Audi.
Those days, Lü Xian was indeed in Shi He.
What if it was?
If it was, it would be very significant: Lü Xian should have been on standby at the clinic, why was he driving around? And why did his appearance time match so closely with Chen Fu’s disappearance?
***
After showering and lying in bed, it was almost three, but at this deepest hour of the night, Yan Tuo felt no sleepiness at all.
Soon.
Seven years of groping in the dark, picking up scraps, and in these last few months, it was like riding a rocket, soaring skyward.
Good thing he hadn’t given up.
Too excited.
Yan Tuo picked up his phone, wanting to send Nie Jiuluo a message, but worried it might disturb her so late.
Then he remembered she usually put her phone on silent while sleeping: if she was already asleep, it wouldn’t disturb her; if not, sending a message wouldn’t be disturbing either.
He opened the self-destructing message app and sent: “Talked with Xing Shen today.”
Message sent, he watched the screen—still unread at the other end.
She must be asleep. Yan Tuo felt somewhat disappointed but also relieved: for someone on crutches, staying up this late would be asking for trouble.
He lay back down, looking at the irregular ice-block glass lava lamp hanging from the ceiling. In the darkness, the lava lamp had a cold severity, with faint light slowly flowing across its glass surface.
Yan Tuo suddenly remembered something, reached toward the bedside table, and quickly found it.
That paper star with a plum blossom hidden inside.
He took it, fondled it for a while, then playfully tossed it up, catching it as it fell.
Nie Jiuluo said this represented a day passing, the day’s events coming to an end.
What a long day it had been.
…
Yan Tuo closed his eyes, gradually feeling sleepy, when he heard a message notification.
Had Nie Jiuluo replied?
Yan Tuo quickly rolled over, grabbed his phone from beside the pillow, and checked—the self-destructing message was still “unread.” He paused, then remembered to check his other phone on the bedside table.
Sure enough, a message from Xing Shen.
—We can do it. Call me when convenient.
We can do it!
Yan Tuo’s mind sparked, instantly sat up. In the darkness, his heart pounded so wildly that it created an illusion of echoes filling the room.
Now was very convenient. He took his phone and anti-recording interference device into the bathroom, locked the door, and called Xing Shen.
Xing Shen had also discussed with Yu Rong and others for a long time, repeatedly considering and analyzing, finally concluding: that they could do it, but needed preparation time.
He said: “We estimate three-to-one, to handle five Di Xiao, we need fifteen people, three per group, flying to different locations.”
“For attacks, as you suggested, focus on ‘electric shock and ambush,’ try to avoid direct combat. Combat is too risky—once scratched or bitten, it becomes very troublesome.”
“We can’t act immediately, and simultaneous timing isn’t feasible. We need to consider a problem: these Di Xiao are currently ‘ordinary people.’ If you forcibly kidnap them and alert the police, what if they treat you as kidnappers? If you tell the police these aren’t humans but Di Xiao, do you think they’ll believe you?”
“So we need to scout first, understand their activity patterns, avoid high-risk areas, compile information from all five locations, and choose the most feasible and successful time window to act—after that, the success rate depends on heaven’s will.”
Yan Tuo asked: “What about Lin Ling?”
“Lin Ling’s situation is simpler because we don’t need to kidnap her—she’ll cooperate. What we need to do is arrange routes after taking her away, make her perfectly vanish, leaving Lin Xirou’s people without any traces to follow. Of course, we’ll leave enough information for Lin Xirou to know we did it.”
So far there seemed to be no problems, and if any arose, they could discuss them later.
Yan Tuo: “How long will this preparation take?”
Xing Shen pondered: “About ten days, minimum one week.”
Not bad, the timeframe wasn’t unreasonable, considering they needed to coordinate six locations “simultaneously,” including Lin Ling’s situation.
Yan Tuo clarified their roles: “Besides the list, what else do I need to help with?”
“Help keep everything smooth, and avoid complications. We’ll start contacting them through Que Cha’s phone, pretending to negotiate hostage exchange conditions, diverting their attention. In short, we cooperate and wait for the day of action.”
***
After hanging up, Yan Tuo noticed his hand and arm were trembling slightly.
Looking in the mirror, his face was flushed, ears burning.
This wasn’t good. Yan Tuo turned on the faucet, splashing several handfuls of cold water on his face.
Back in bed, just as he was about to calm down and think through Xing Shen’s action plan, another message notification sounded.
Had Xing Shen forgotten something and sent a follow-up message?
Yan Tuo picked up his dedicated phone—strange, the screen was empty, no new messages.
Right, now he carried two phones, causing such mix-ups.
He checked his phone.
It was a self-destructing message from Nie Jiuluo.
—What did you talk about?
Still awake so late, not planning to take care of her health? Yan Tuo felt annoyed, but couldn’t stop his lips from curving into a smile.
Too lazy to return to the cold bathroom, he put the anti-recording device beside his pillow, pulled up the covers, and buried himself in the pitch-dark bedding, speed-dialing while keeping his voice low: “Hello?”
He hadn’t made such a call in many years. For a moment, it felt like being back in his teenage years, calling his secret crush, afraid of being overheard, so taking advantage of the quiet night, burying himself deep in the bedding, covering himself and his secrets.
Nie Jiuluo said: “Are you under the covers? The echo sounds strange.”
Yan Tuo couldn’t help laughing—she was amazing, always able to guess his situation just from sounds.
He made an affirming sound: “Why aren’t you sleeping so late?”
Nie Jiuluo said: “I did sleep, just had too much bone soup at dinner.”
Yan Tuo burst out laughing.
Under the covers felt so comfortable, warm, and snug, holding his heart safely in place.
He said: “Knowing you have limited mobility, yet you still dared to drink so much soup at dinner.”