Nie Jiuluo had no choice. Lu Jie was a faithful follower of the “like supplements like” philosophy, firmly believing that broken bones should be supplemented with bone. She kept making various bone soups for her, trying every animal from pig to cow to sheep. After finishing one bowl, she would immediately refill it, as if drinking twice as much soup would make her arm heal twice as fast.
She asked, “What did you all discuss?”
Yan Tuo summarized their conversation, repeating the planned strategy to her.
Nie Jiuluo was somewhat surprised. “So soon?”
She continued, “If it’s slow, it’ll take ten days; at the fastest, a week. I won’t be able to help then—I’ll barely be off my crutches by that time.”
Yan Tuo felt a warmth in his heart. “You were thinking of helping?”
He was well acquainted with Nie Jiuluo’s tendency to “mind her own business.” Truthfully, he found it remarkable that she even had the thought of helping.
Nie Jiuluo had fought with Chen Fu and Han Guan before. Those two were among the stronger fighters, so if her body permitted, such matters weren’t difficult for her. “Yes, you could give me the most troublesome one of the five. I might not even need to fight—just smile and take them down.”
There was a hint of regret in her voice. It could have been another stage for her to showcase her acting skills, but unfortunately, her arm was holding her back.
After a pause, she asked him, “Are you under your blanket? Is the door properly closed?”
This was just like her style. Last time when she knew he was tailing someone, she reminded him to silence his phone and not wear an overcoat. This time, she was concerned about his security.
The air was a bit stuffy under the blanket, his voice muffled by the small space enclosed by silk cotton. Yan Tuo laughed, “It’s closed properly.”
Ever since Lin Xirou had appeared unexpectedly in his room, he’d been especially careful: thoroughly deleting files on his computer with a file shredder, uninstalling unnecessary applications, clearing all browsing history, and not only locking the door but also placing a mini door stopper behind it before sleeping.
“What about the windows? Someone might have already silently climbed in through the window and be lying on your bed listening right now.”
Yan Tuo responded irritably, “Can you not be scary?”
Despite his words, he couldn’t help but peek out from under the blanket, checking both sides.
There was no one—his windows were securely closed!
Nie Jiuluo giggled on the other end, “Did you check under the blanket?”
Just as Yan Tuo was about to deny it, she added, “Just looking at the sides isn’t enough, you need to check the ceiling too. Dog Ya can climb walls—maybe someone’s crawling on your ceiling right now.”
Yan Tuo rolled his eyes, not wanting to engage in her teasing, but two seconds later, he still lifted the blanket and looked at the ceiling.
Thankfully, there was nothing there.
He tucked himself back under the blanket.
After Nie Jiuluo finished laughing, she returned to the main topic: “Seven to ten days—you’ll need to be especially careful during this time. Sometimes the closer you get to your goal, the higher the risk of something going wrong.”
Yan Tuo smiled bitterly, “When am I not careful?”
Seven to ten days—it wasn’t just about freeing Lin Ling, Xu Annie, and the others, but also about freeing himself.
They’d said almost everything that needed to be said, and logically, he should urge her to rest soon. Yan Tuo thought this, but when he opened his mouth, what came out was: “Those decorative pieces and car ornaments you made…”
Nie Jiuluo: “What about them?”
Yan Tuo hesitated, originally wanting to say they were really well-made, but then felt that would be too much like making conversation for its own sake, so he changed course: “Do you take custom orders? I have a friend who saw them and liked them…”
“Not interested, don’t know them, too busy.”
Her response was quite direct. After a while, Yan Tuo spoke again: “What if I wanted to make another piece…”
“Go ahead…”
Yan Tuo perked up his ears to hear her answer.
After a few seconds, she finally said, “Well, that depends on what you want to make, and I’m very expensive.”
Did that mean she would consider it for him?
He said, “For this kind of pure handwork, especially custom pieces, being expensive is expected. You can take a cut or two from me, just don’t try to fleece me completely—that won’t get you repeat customers.”
Take a cut or two—was he giving her permission to mark up the price?
Nie Jiuluo laughed, shifting her body down slightly, listening to the voice in her earphones while gently running her fingernail along the dark patterns woven into her down comforter. “What do you want custom-made?”
“That courtyard of yours, when I took you back last time. I liked it.”
These days, he often thought about that courtyard.
Though it was in the bustling city, it maintained its tranquility. It had an aged quality without being decrepit—dove-gray brick walls, slightly upturned eaves, old wooden double doors that creaked when pushed open, the sound lingering as if grinding countless years within it.
Stepping inside led to a small courtyard, a three-sided compound with flowers and plants ensuring color throughout all four seasons. He especially loved the white plum tree in the corner, its branches crowded with blossoms, creating its bustling scene.
Her workshop was on the second floor of the main building, with many windows that could be pushed open. Standing below and looking up, one could see the shadowy outlines of sculptures.
…
Every time he thought of it, he found it beautiful and peaceful—like a gentle light in the darkness, a pool of clear water amid turbulent waves, a quiet little world within the mortal realm.
Nie Jiuluo misunderstood: “You like this type of house? Then buy one. You’re not short on money, and Xi’an is an ancient city—there should be courtyards like this.”
Yan Tuo: “There aren’t any exactly like it.”
There weren’t any like hers, with the plum blossoms, and the small portions of dragon beard noodles simmered in chicken soup with thin slices of water chestnuts.
Nie Jiuluo said, “Then don’t fixate on mine, I won’t sell it.”
Yan Tuo couldn’t help but laugh, “I know. So, can you make a custom piece?”
“How big do you want it?”
Yan Tuo thought for a moment: “A miniature version of the courtyard. Too big would be unwieldy, and too small wouldn’t capture the feeling. Could you make it about half a meter in length and width?”
This size would be suitable—not only could the buildings show detail, but small items like stone tables, stone benches, and large flowering trees could also be properly represented.
Nie Jiuluo said, “That’s doable, but for something like this, we can’t use clay modeling—we’ll need to follow proper clay sculpture procedures. Usually, I require a contract first, then a deposit before making the draft, but since we’re familiar, we can skip all that. However, don’t try to get out of paying once I finish it.”
Yan Tuo: “Don’t worry about that, I’ve bought from you before—I’m what you’d call a conscientious buyer.”
He’d even given tips larger than the actual purchase price.
Nie Jiuluo held back a laugh: “Just the courtyard? Do you want people in it or not?”
From her experience, scenery alone could be stiff, while people alone wouldn’t capture the full atmosphere—a combination would be best.
Yan Tuo paused for a moment: “If possible, that would be best. Such a large courtyard needs people to bring it to life.”
“What kind of people do you want? Do you have any reference images?”
Yan Tuo casually said, “How about making it like when I visited last time? It would be best if there could be a bowl of chicken noodle soup too.”
He tried to blur the focus towards the noodles: “Those noodles were delicious.”
Nie Jiuluo didn’t respond, her hand slowly stopping its movement along the embroidered pattern, her fingertip resting against the dense embroidered texture. She couldn’t quite identify the feeling stirring in her heart—like waves in the dark night, one layer overlapping another, before one could recede, another would surge forward.
Yan Tuo felt like he waited a very long time before hearing her voice: “Well… alright then.”
…
After hanging up the phone, Yan Tuo quickly fell asleep.
He had a dream.
In the dream, everything was pitch black, and he was running desperately, not knowing what he was running from—actually, in this dream, from beginning to end, he was the only person—but he just felt it was dangerous and terrifying, so he ran desperately, ran and ran.
As he ran, he entered the alley that connected to the small courtyard. The courtyard stood there so quietly, its door half-open, emitting a soft light.
He rushed to the door in a few steps, about to cross the threshold, when he suddenly changed his mind, quickly closed and locked the door, then turned around, his back against it, looking toward where he had come from.
Something charged violently towards him, the entire alley being torn apart by this enormous impact force, countless fragments dancing in the hurricane-force winds, striking heavily.
However, it was fine—the courtyard was still there, protected.
The next day, Yan Tuo was the last person to go to the dining room for breakfast.
With the countdown started, he actually became less busy, like when a major exam is approaching and reviewing becomes pointless—adjusting one’s mindset becomes most important. The list had been sent out, things were beginning to move on Xing Shen’s end, and as for himself, well, he would respond to changes with constancy.
When he entered the dining room, he saw Lin Xirou sitting at the table, holding a knife in one hand and a fork in the other, but she hadn’t yet started cutting the sausage on her plate—Xiong Hei was standing beside her, bent slightly, whispering in her ear.
Seeing Yan Tuo enter, Xiong Hei stopped talking and straightened up.
Yan Tuo greeted them: “Morning.”
As he sat down, he noticed that both of their expressions were somewhat strange.
Last night, Xing Shen had said he would start contacting Lin Xirou through Que Cha’s phone, pretending to negotiate various conditions for exchanging hostages—had it… already begun?
Yan Tuo pretended not to notice, picked up the coffee pot beside him, and poured himself a cup. After taking a sip, he found it too bitter and tore open a small packet of sugar, slowly adding it in.
The sugar powder was very fine, falling like a sudden snowfall at the cup’s rim.
Xiong Hei left, and in the kitchen, the stove was lit again—the aunt knew he had arrived and started preparing his portion of breakfast.
Lin Xirou looked up at him: “You don’t look well, didn’t sleep well?”
Yan Tuo took a gulp of coffee and rubbed his face: “Went to bed late last night.”
“Yesterday, how did it go with Lin Ling and Lu Xian?”
Feng Mi was there yesterday too, so it would be too fake to say they had mutual feelings: “It was okay. These two aren’t the type to have immediate attraction—we’ll see how it goes with more interaction, maybe feelings will develop.”
Lin Xirou nodded: “What are your plans for today?”
Yan Tuo smiled: “Nothing much, at most I’ll check in at the company. What about you, Aunt Lin? I’m free, I can drive you wherever you need to go.”
Lin Xirou smiled but didn’t respond, then lowered her gaze to focus on cutting her food.
It was too late last night, so she hadn’t inquired immediately. This morning, she had instructed Xiong Hei about this matter, telling him to investigate from the side first, not to ask the people involved directly to avoid alerting them.
Just now, Xiong Hei had told her that he had confirmed it was Lu Xian’s car. But when he asked A-Peng, he learned that Lu Xian hadn’t been the one driving. After arriving at Shi He, apart from being dragged out by A-Peng for an essential oil massage once, Lu Xian hadn’t left his room at all.
That car had been lent to Yan Tuo—during that period, fearing retaliation from Ban Ya’s people, Yan Tuo usually borrowed cars to drive, sometimes even borrowing driver’s licenses.
Yan Tuo, it was Yan Tuo again.
Once could be a coincidence, but twice definitely wasn’t.
It seemed she needed to pay attention to him personally now.
Lin Xirou put down her fork, and pulled a napkin to wipe the corner of her mouth: “New Year’s is coming up. I’ve asked the aunt to clean today. Why don’t you take Feng Mi to the flower market for a look around, and pick some flowers you like for decoration? Take Lu Xian and Lin Ling along too, create more opportunities for them.”
Yan Tuo agreed readily: “Then Aunt Lin, what flowers do you like? I’ll pick some for you too.”
Lin Xirou said: “Choose whatever you think is nice. I don’t have particular favorites, though I don’t like Heather.”
Heather—what an awkward name, and not commonly mentioned.
Yan Tuo repeated it to himself: “Got it, won’t buy that then.”
The aunt came over with a tray, serving Yan Tuo’s breakfast: cheese toast, fried eggs, bacon, and purple cabbage salad.
The colors were beautifully coordinated.
Yan Tuo hadn’t understood her meaning about not liking Heather.
The flower meaning of Heather is loneliness and betrayal.
She had endured so many years of loneliness being different, she shouldn’t have to bear betrayal too.
Yan Tuo happened to look up and saw Lin Xirou staring at him: “Aunt Lin?”
Lin Xirou smiled gracefully, looking particularly gentle. She forked a piece of the newly cut sausage and placed it on Yan Tuo’s plate: “Eat more, you’ve gotten thinner these days.”
During this period, because most of Xiong Hei’s men were scattered outside and rarely came to the villa, the villa was already quite quiet. With more people sent away, it became even quieter.
Lin Xirou took a spare key and opened Yan Tuo’s door.
Most men’s rooms tend to be relatively messy, but not Yan Tuo’s—this was thanks to the good habits developed during his college military training: his belongings were always neatly arranged, his bed always tidy, blanket folded into a perfect cube with straight corners that could be measured with a ruler.
Lin Xirou walked slowly to the center of the room, examining the items one by one.
Would there be secrets hidden in this room? How many?
Footsteps came from outside, and the next second, Xiong Hei stepped in: “Sister Lin.”
Lin Xirou pointed at the computer on the desk: “Get someone to check the computer.”
Xiong Hei nodded, then hesitated: “If he comes back and catches us…”
“I had Feng Mi go to the flower market with him. Feng Mi knows what to do. Also, get the cleaning people in here, clean this room first, every corner must be cleaned…”
At this point, she turned toward the bookshelf.
Yan Tuo had a lot of books. From bottom to top, they nearly reached the ceiling, some standing, some stacked, multicolored, almost covering an entire wall.
She said: “Check these books too, one by one. Who knows, there might be some note hidden between the pages.”
Xiong Hei swallowed: “Sister Lin, is Yan Tuo… suspicious?”
Lin Xirou remained silent, her hanging hand slowly clenching into a fist, her nails digging deep into her palm.
No one could betray her.
She had raised him for over twenty years, pouring into him all the emotions that should have been enjoyed by her own son.
He couldn’t betray her.
Yan Tuo—alive, he was her person; dead, he would be her ghost. He could never betray her.