Looking for opportunities at Old Niutou Ridge?
At first, Nie Jiuluo thought it too dangerous but then realized it made sense: currently, Xing Shen and Lin Xiruo had “lost track” of each other—whoever found the other first would gain the upper hand.
She asked: “Are you setting up an ambush in the mine shaft or on the ridge?”
Yu Rong was startled by her question: “On the ridge, of course! Who’d dare go down the mine? According to you, Lin Xiruo came from that mine, and so did Yu Peng—it’s a Xiao nest connecting directly to the Black-White Ravine. Just because you didn’t find the passage doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
Nie Jiuluo nodded. There must be a passage below; it was natural she couldn’t find it since she hadn’t explored even half of the underground area.
She warned Yu Rong: “I suggest just setting up an ambush. Don’t act unless you’re certain. The previous Xiao hunt succeeded because they weren’t prepared…”
Yu Rong hated being lectured: “I know, I know! Xing Shen escaped from under their guns last time—how could we not know they were dangerous? We’ll only act if we’re certain; otherwise, we’ll just gather intelligence. Understand? We’re not idiots; we value our lives.”
Nie Jiuluo was annoyed, feeling her good intentions were being dismissed. Yan Tuo watched from the side, finding it amusing but taking a clear stance: he patted the back of Nie Jiuluo’s hand, waiting for her to turn before winking at her.
His meaning was clear: let her say what she wants.
***
After crossing the provincial border, Yu Rong turned back. Nie Jiuluo got lucky and found a ride-share, though not directly home. They could take an inter-city taxi after reaching their stop.
The driver was taciturn, not the chatty type. Nie Jiuluo and Yan Tuo didn’t talk much either—with a stranger present, it wasn’t convenient to discuss their matters, so the car remained mostly silent.
Yan Tuo enjoyed this silence. The engine’s hum, the car’s vibrations, and passing vehicles’ horns all felt familiar and reassuring. When it started drizzling, the rain hitting the window formed streaks and droplets. Yan Tuo watched in fascination as if discovering a new world, finding endless wonder in the patterns of water.
He turned to share this discovery with Nie Jiuluo, only to find her nearly asleep.
She was nodding off, her body swaying, head bobbing precariously. Yan Tuo moved closer, and soon her head rested on his shoulder, her body leaning into his, soft and seemingly weightless.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and looked down at her hand. Sure enough, before long, one of her hands started to curl slightly out of habit.
Yan Tuo offered his left hand, and her fingers unconsciously hooked around three of his gloved fingers. The last thread of tension left her body as she finally fell into true sleep.
Through the windshield, he could see the rain falling everywhere, the view hazy until the wipers swept across, bringing momentary clarity before droplets began forming patterns again.
In this moment, Yan Tuo felt he wasn’t someone harboring secrets and hiding, nor someone facing an uncertain future with a troubled heart.
He was just an ordinary person taking his loved one home, where parents and sister waited, with wine warming and food fragrant.
***
After the long journey, they reached the courtyard near midnight.
Lu-jie had already returned to work after receiving the message, following Nie Jiuluo’s instructions to prepare the guest room. She’d used white goose-down bedding, new bedding sets, and fully equipped the bathroom with necessities.
When she opened the door for them, she didn’t recognize Yan Tuo: “Who is…”
Nie Jiuluo said: “He’s been here before—it’s Yan Tuo.”
Oh, Yan Tuo—the “clay figurine gentleman” whom Nie Jiuluo had openly admitted having feelings for, was finally brought home.
Lu-jie felt some joy but was extremely puzzled: why hadn’t he removed his hat and mask even after entering?
Nie Jiuluo gave her a meaningful look, first leading Yan Tuo to his room. After coming out, she asked Lu-Jie to prepare a light late-night snack, just a small portion, and instructed her not to stare at him, to act as if nothing was unusual: “He was tricked into coal mining for over two months—he’s psychologically sensitive, understand? He’s lost so much weight he’s embarrassed and doesn’t like people looking at him. He probably won’t leave his room these next few days. He’ll eat alone; just deliver meals and collect dishes at set times.”
Lu-Jie understood—from today, she’d need to prepare two types of meals: one for building strength and bones, another for gaining weight and nutrition.
***
If yesterday’s move from the mine to the hotel was a step out of poverty, then today’s arrival at the courtyard was like ascending to heaven.
Yan Tuo found the courtyard even gentler than in his countless recollections. Entering, he noticed the white plum blossoms had already fallen, but it didn’t matter—new spring flowers were ready to bloom.
That vigorous vitality, that peaceful atmosphere, was something he couldn’t find anywhere else.
Lu-Jie brought his late-night snack—all small portions: mushroom and vegetable porridge with two white shrimp, accompanied by a small dish of lettuce with scrambled egg strips. The jade-green vegetables with pale pink created an appetizing sight.
Nie Jiuluo wouldn’t eat with him: “When you’re done, just leave the dishes by the door. Lu-jie will collect them.”
Yan Tuo nodded, waiting until they left, and closed the door before removing his hat and mask.
These past days, he’d grown to hate mirrors, despising his reflection and feeling others would too. So he covered up when possible, not wanting to offend others’ eyes. He knew it was somewhat affected, but he couldn’t bring himself to face things openly yet.
Turning, he saw the white plum tree’s shadow faintly reflected in the window.
Wondering if any fragrance remained, Yan Tuo went over and opened the window slightly. The southern city’s temperature was much milder than the north’s. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he felt warmth mixed in the breeze.
Just as he was about to return to his meal, he heard Nie Jiuluo and Lu-jie talking softly, their voices barely audible.
Nie Jiuluo: “Lu-jie, if you have something to say, just say it. Don’t make that face like you’re holding back.”
Lu-jie: “No, no, it’s not my place to say. You’ll get angry.”
Nie Jiuluo chuckled: “Have you been watching too many period dramas? ‘Not my place’? I won’t get angry—your hesitation is what’s uncomfortable.”
Lu-jie hemmed and hawed: “Well, I think you should look at people more carefully, compare more. This Yan Tuo… isn’t he not very smart?”
Yan Tuo was startled—what was this about? How could she judge his intelligence when he was covered up?
Nie Jiuluo was also puzzled: “What makes you think he’s stupid?”
Lu-jie mumbled: “Well, it’s about his intelligence…”
Intelligence? They were questioning his intelligence now?
Yan Tuo listened carefully.
Lu-jie presented her case: “Think about it—getting tricked into mining coal? It’s been reported in the news so many times. With just a bit of vigilance, he wouldn’t have been fooled. People work for money, so being desperate for money and getting tricked is understandable. But this Yan Tuo doesn’t seem to need money, yet he still got tricked. Isn’t that… isn’t that being not very smart?”
Yan Tuo was speechless—he couldn’t refute this line of reasoning.
He waited hopefully for Nie Jiuluo to say something in his defense.
After a long wait, he finally heard Nie Jiuluo’s sigh-like response: “Everyone has their shortcomings, right? Good looks, money, and smarts—how can anyone have everything? If he’s not smart, then he’s not smart. We’ll just have to teach him more.”
Yan Tuo silently went back to eating.
After all, he was eating and living here on an IOU—let them say what they wanted about him.
***
It was very late when Nie Jiuluo came out after washing up.
With her hair still wet, she applied body lotion. During the fights in Youtang, she had protected her left arm, but only while showering did she discover her right shoulder and back were bruised and swollen, and the spot on her calf where the shovel handle had struck was badly bruised beneath the skin.
At least the trip wasn’t in vain—she’d finally brought him back, and now he was just one floor away from her.
Nie Jiuluo looked down at the floor. Yes, just one floor between them.
She wondered if he was asleep.
But what did bringing him back really mean? Things were far from over. He still needed to find his sister, and who knew when he would step out of this small courtyard again…
Nie Jiuluo felt dazed.
After a while, she remembered something and retrieved a touch-sensitive mood lamp from the storage cabinet.
It was a gift she’d received before. These lamps gave off very dim light, often used as candlelight substitutes, with convenient touch controls for brightness.
She needed to replace Yan Tuo’s bedside lamp—the current one was too bright.
Nie Jiuluo put on a coat, and took the lamp downstairs, along with some sticky notes and a pen. If he was already asleep, she’d leave the lamp by the door with a note, so he’d have a gift to find when he opened the door in the morning.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she immediately noticed Yan Tuo’s room door was open, as was the main door.
Had he gone out?
Nie Jiuluo checked the guest room first to confirm he wasn’t there, then looked around the courtyard.
There she found him, sitting on a stone by the white plum tree, head lowered, playing with a broken plum branch.
Nie Jiuluo didn’t dare call out to him. The doctor had said he would be sensitive lately and might have psychological issues. Was this what “showing symptoms” looked like?
Different fields were like different mountains—she couldn’t tell.
Yan Tuo saw her first and came over: “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
Nie Jiuluo said: “I should ask you that. Can’t sleep?”
Yan Tuo smiled self-mockingly: “Really can’t.”
He hadn’t slept well last night either. After sleeping on cold, hard, damp ground for over two months, the sudden switch to a soft bed left him paradoxically uncomfortable. Though mentally grateful, his body couldn’t adjust—he kept tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.
Nie Jiuluo found this reason both amusing and exasperating: “You still need to sleep, even if you can’t. Don’t they say it’s easy to go from frugal to luxurious? How come you’re finding it difficult?”
She urged Yan Tuo back to his room, made him lie down properly, and replaced his lamp. The mood lamp indeed created an atmosphere—its dim light made the room hazy and shadowy, giving everything a strongly surreal feeling.
Yan Tuo asked her: “Where’s Chen Fu?”
He remembered from his last visit that the suitcase containing Chen Fu was kept in the guest room cabinet, but he hadn’t found it during his check.
Nie Jiuluo: “I locked it in the storage room. How could you sleep with that neither living nor dead thing in your room?”
Yan Tuo made a sound of agreement. The mattress was extremely soft, his body sinking into it inch by inch. Combined with the lighting, he had trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy: “How are things with Xing Shen?”
Nie Jiuluo was both amused and exasperated: “Just rest easy and enjoy a few peaceful days. Lin Xiruo won’t discover your escape so quickly, and Xing Shen’s group won’t reach Youtang that fast either. See that touch point on the lamp? Hold it to turn it off.”
Yan Tuo reached out to try the switch, but just before touching it, he suddenly became distant: “When I was down there, nearly starving to death, I kept thinking this might be my retribution.”
Nie Jiuluo had been about to leave, but hearing this, her heart jumped and her whole body broke out in goosebumps: what nonsense was this? Was he having a mental breakdown? If so, she couldn’t leave him alone.
She pulled up a chair by the bed, took the throw blanket from his bed, and wrapped it around herself: “What do you mean by retribution?”
Yan Tuo was silent for a long while. His eyes unfocused, perhaps looking at the light on the bed, or maybe at the shadows around it. Finally, he said: “Did you know that my parents escaped back then?”
***
Tuesday, December 23, 1997 / Sunny
I think I might die, or at least, death isn’t far away.
My diary will probably outlive me, so I want to record everything. This way, even after I die, whoever reads this diary will know what happened.
I miss Xin Xin so much. It’s been exactly two days since I’ve heard my baby’s laughter.
Let me explain what happened. I’ll try to be as detailed as possible, writing whatever comes to mind.
Last Friday was the day Dashan and I had agreed to leave together. I truly didn’t care about our property—money can always be earned again, and starting fresh seemed fine.
The door was still locked from the inside, but I planned to exit through the window. All the windows had wire mesh for security, but Dashan had left wire cutters under the bed. When no one was home, I would cut the wires, not completely through to avoid detection, just about seventy or eighty percent through.
That night, as Dashan said, he and Li Shuangxiu went out for business. As soon as they left, I started preparing. December was so cold, and we had to take the train. I dressed Xiao Tuo and Xin Xin warmly, making them look like two round little bears. Then I packed small backpacks—we couldn’t take much, but important things had to come: Dashan’s love letters to me, our marriage certificate, and the jewelry from our wedding.
Xiao Tuo was so excited, constantly circling around me, asking: “Mama, are we visiting relatives?”
Xin Xin was much quieter, clutching her brother’s clothes, not letting go. She was Xiao Tuo’s little shadow now, doing whatever he did—Xiao Tuo was the commander, and she was his devoted little soldier.
I said: “Yes, Mama’s taking you on a train ride.”
He was overjoyed.
I squeezed through a corner of the wire mesh first, lifted Xin Xin out, then helped Xiao Tuo. The siblings were giggling, probably thinking it was a game. Xiao Tuo even wanted to crawl through again, but I grabbed his collar and pulled him away.
Then I got on my bicycle, Xin Xin in front, Xiao Tuo behind, and headed straight for the train station. Dashan had reminded me that in our small county, there were only a few trains each day—we couldn’t afford to miss them.
Fortunately, I wasn’t late—I was an hour early.
The station was packed. I’d never traveled far before and had never seen such a scene. Many people were sleeping on the ground wrapped in blankets, some had luggage piled mountain-high—how could the train possibly have room for all that?
People were carrying live chickens, half-sheep carcasses, and many shifty-looking characters.
I moved my backpack to the front and held tight to both children’s hands. I’d heard it was chaotic outside, full of thieves and child snatchers.
After great effort, I found a spot to settle. I learned there were two trains that night—one at 9:30 heading to Gansu, and another at 10:00 going to Yunnan.
Each person needed their ticket. Dashan had said if something went wrong with him, I should leave alone when the time came.
I silently prayed Dashan could get away safely—I just wanted our family of four to be together.
Suddenly Xiao Tuo pulled at me, saying: “Mama, little ducks!”
Looking where he pointed, I saw an old man sitting on the ground with a carrying pole across his knees, boxes, and sacks on both ends, and a large basket in front containing an old duck and several ducklings.
This child—was he born in the year of the duck? Why did he love ducks so much? I gave a noncommittal response.
Xiao Tuo nudged Xin Xin: “Xin Xin, ducks!”
He started walking that way, and Xin Xin, clutching his clothes, followed along.
They were really being troublesome. I grabbed Xiao Tuo’s collar and pulled him back: “Can’t you just sit still? What’s wrong with you? Got pins in your bottom?”
Xiao Tuo looked so hurt, wanting to go but not daring, tears about to fall.
Xin Xin stretched out her little arms to hug her brother, even glaring at me—this little girl, taking her brother’s side.
I coaxed Xiao Tuo: “Be good and stay put. When Papa comes, we’ll ask him to buy you one.”
—[Excerpt from Lin Xiruo’s Diary]