Even after breaking camp, leaving the mountains, getting in the car, and returning to the hotel, Cao Yanhua still couldn’t adapt to this sudden “change.”

Were they quitting?

Indeed, initially, he was the one who had reacted most violently, shouting the loudest. He had expected arguments, scolding, perhaps even pushing and shoving with rolled-up sleeves. But surprisingly, none of that happened. Luo Ren hadn’t even furrowed his brow, simply agreeing with a casual “We all agree, so we quit.”

Could it be this simple?

Entering the room, Luo Ren tossed his bag aside, sprawled on the sofa, and took the remote in hand, casually flipping through channels.

Variety shows, TV dramas, news—he switched through them one by one. Glancing up to see everyone still standing, he said, “Now we have plenty of time. Do whatever you want. Don’t just stand there.”

Mu Dai went to take a shower, Yan Hongsha did laundry, and Cao Yanhua grabbed Yi Wansan: “Brother San, has my Little Luo Brother been traumatized? Just like that… we’re quitting?”

Yi Wansan looked at him askance: “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Weren’t you the one crying and wailing about quitting?”

Cao Yanhua stammered, “But… but we can’t be so hasty. There should be a proper conclusion.”

“Quitting is the conclusion.”

Yi Wansan couldn’t be bothered with him anymore and truly began to “do whatever he wanted,” searching online for hangover remedies for Cao Jiefang while scribbling notes on paper, preparing to try each one on Cao Jiefang.

Cao Yanhua peeked at what he was writing:

1. Clean and slice Chinese cabbage roots, mix with vinegar and white sugar, and marinate for 10 minutes before eating.

2. Juice celery or snow pears.

3. Japanese imported anti-hangover medicine, available on Taobao…

Cao Yanhua gave up trying to argue. Mu Dai emerged from her shower, plugged in the hair dryer, and began drying her hair. As the small appliance buzzed, he circled Mu Dai.

“Little Master, my Little Luo Brother is just speaking out of anger, right? Such a big matter can’t just be abandoned, can it?”

Mu Dai stopped the hair dryer and smoothed her hair with her hand. “Do you want to die?”

“No, no, no, I don’t.”

Cao Yanhua shook his head like a rattling drum.

“Then we can only quit. Go play whatever you want. If you’re bored, I’ll teach you kung fu tonight.”

Cao Yanhua had no choice but to seek out Yan Hongsha.

Yan Hongsha was standing by the sink, scrubbing clothes with gritted teeth—she had spent the night perched in a tree, and her clothes were stained with what might be tree resin, sticky and difficult to wash out.

She said, “Fatty Cao, you’re contrary. If we quit, we quit. Isn’t it good to let you enjoy life?”

But it truly wasn’t good. By his reckoning, they had been chasing the ominous slips for nearly half a year. To suddenly cut it off without a proper conclusion left Cao Yanhua feeling strangely empty.

Angry words, angry words—weren’t they just meant to vent, feel good, and relieve frustration? How could they be taken seriously?

He paced around the living room several times before cautiously suggesting, “Maybe we should call Mr. Shen?”

Shen Gun was still staying in Wuzhen.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t finished researching the items at Four Archways View. In his words, “People who haven’t lived here don’t know how good it is—quiet, atmospheric, no disturbances, neighbors within earshot but never visiting each other. Nights alone are eerie, as if there are ghosts around. It couldn’t be more thrilling.”

So, since Luo Ren and the others hadn’t summoned him yet, he was content to stay, lingering as long as possible.

This person was quite… abnormal.

However, after all this time, everyone had gotten used to him. Any type of conversation could continue with him, even when they were speaking at cross purposes.

Mu Dai had asked him, “Do you have a home? If not, you could live in Wuzhen permanently. I don’t go there much anyway—I won’t charge you rent either. Just clean up, watch the place, and do your research and writing. If you want to go out, just lock the door and leave. No one will interfere with you.”

Shen Gun was overwhelmed with gratitude: “Really? Little Pocket, you mean it?”

He was so excited he forgot himself: “I suddenly have a house? And such a big one, even bigger than Little Furball’s inn! There’s even a fish pond, and such a large courtyard where I can grow vegetables…”

Cao Yanhua had to interrupt him: “Mr. Shen, calm down your excitement. We have a situation here.”

He recounted everything that had happened, sparing no detail. When he finished, he looked up to see the huge golden sunset outside the window, and felt a deep melancholy: another day was coming to an end.

Shen Gun wasn’t particularly surprised and said, “Actually, I guessed this from the beginning.”

Ancient times were different from modern times. As they said, ‘Among the five classics of ritual, none is more important than sacrifice.’ For ‘serving the gods to receive blessings,’ valuable offerings were certainly required.”

Cao Yanhua was starting to lose his temper again: “So they just let people die? Why?”

Shen Gun replied, “Your current thinking is related to the era you live in and the education you’ve received. But things were different in the past. Perhaps in the earliest times, people thought that being able to sacrifice for the Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps was an honorable thing. Sacrificing one life to save countless people from disaster—they might have competed to become death soldiers. Even if it wasn’t voluntary, ‘if the ruler orders a subject to die, the subject must die’—when an authority gave an order, those below would obediently follow.”

This… might well be true.

Ancient China was, to a certain extent, a Confucian society. Foreign critics had commented that “Classical Chinese Confucianism emphasized the collective over the individual, authority over freedom, and responsibility over rights.” In those times, individual identities were blurred, submerged beneath layers of clan, family, country, ruler, propriety, and loyalty.

Mainstream opinion held that death was not frightening if one could leave a name in history that “weighed more than Mount Tai.” Dying for one’s country, ruler, or chastity was all considered praiseworthy.

The ideas of expressing individuality, pursuing self-fulfillment, and emphasizing personal spirit and the preciousness of life were largely products of modern civilized society.

Cao Yanhua asked, “But why did it have to be a human life?”

Shen Gun answered, “Probably because life is the most precious thing to everyone. Being willing to offer one’s life demonstrates sincere intent. If you’re quitting, then quit. I also think asking someone to die is too much—but for some things, you need to have a response ready.”

Quitting—the seven-day period would inevitably expire—the subdued ominous slips would disperse again—the five of them would be the first affected, changing from hunters to prey.

The intensity of the cheetah’s attack still made them shudder. There was truly nothing to look forward to in the future. Waves of danger would keep coming, and it was just a matter of how long the five of them could last, and which year would be their last.

Yi Wansan muttered, “Damn it, there’s not even hope anymore. What countdown? It’s endless.”

He didn’t want to listen to the phone call anymore. He bent down to pick up Cao Jiefang. “Let’s go, Jiefang. Let’s forget about sobering up and drink a few more pounds. Fatty, coming? Let’s go to a restaurant and order the most expensive dishes. Fire Two, join us. Consider it a belated birthday celebration. Let’s not save money either. If we suddenly die one day before spending it all, that would be too sad.”

He glanced at Luo Ren: “Not inviting you. You and the little boss lady can have your private time. Go see a movie, take a walk or something. Good days are few; one less with each passing day.”

…

The door slammed shut. With Yi Wansan and the others gone, the room suddenly became much quieter. The phone’s call button persistently glowed. Luo Ren asked Shen Gun on the other end, “Still there?”

“Yes.”

“Not planning to say something inspirational?”

Shen Gun struggled for a while, then said, “Little Carrot, please don’t die.”

These “inspirational” words were too blunt. Even though her mood was low, Mu Dai still burst out laughing.

Her laughter seemed to loosen Shen Gun’s tongue.

“Don’t die. Let me tell you, as long as you’re alive, effective or not, you can try hundreds or thousands of methods. But once you’re dead, there’s only one result—buried underground.”

Luo Ren made a sound of agreement: “Makes sense.”

“There’s an ancient Chinese saying: ‘Life can be found in hopeless situations.’ Often, in the most desperate circumstances, the greatest turning point is hidden. But too many people give up and seek death at the final moment. Little Carrot, hold on a bit longer. Perhaps a way to survive will appear.”

Luo Ren laughed heartily: “Having known you for so long, these are the most pleasing words you’ve ever said.”

He ended the call, stood up, and put on his jacket. Looking at Mu Dai, he said, “Let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“To see a movie.”

There was only one cinema in Tong County, with posters displayed in the window. Scanning them, nothing appealed to her. Mu Dai asked Luo Ren, “Can we not see a movie?”

“Sure, do whatever you want.”

“I want to take a walk and talk.”

“Then let’s go.”

The small county’s streets didn’t take long to walk. Soon they reached the outskirts, where there was a forest that extended up into the mountains. Flower-patterned bricks formed a walkway. As they entered, a night-shift street cleaner kindly warned them, “Don’t go too far in for your date. A couple got robbed just a few days ago.”

Mu Dai’s face lit up: “Really?”

Under the puzzled gaze of the street cleaner, she linked arms with Luo Ren and walked deeper, fantasizing: “It would be great if we really encountered a robber.”

Luo Ren laughed at her: “Showing off your martial arts skills? Let’s plan—if we meet one, do you want to handle it, or should I?”

If a robber targeted them, they would have the worst luck in eight generations.

Mu Dai said, “No, if we meet one, you should run away, looking very scared and pathetic, like a cowardly man who abandons his girlfriend in danger.”

What did she mean? Luo Ren frowned.

Mu Dai grew more excited as she spoke: “And I’ll stamp my foot and curse you for being spineless, then cry, pretending to be very afraid. That way, the robber will feel triumphant and come to grab me, but I’ll run.”

“My movement techniques are good; they could never catch me, no matter how hard they tried. If I get tired of running, I’ll climb a tree.”

The robber would probably go crazy, perhaps holding a knife while tearfully looking up at her, saying, “Young lady, don’t be so cruel. I’m just trying to rob you; it’s not easy for me…”

There was a stone bench nearby. Luo Ren pulled her over to sit down. Mu Dai was still immersed in her self-directed scene, laughing uncontrollably.

When she was tired of laughing, she naturally leaned against Luo Ren, resting her head on the armrest of the stone bench. The hard surface hurt, so she raised her hand to rub her head. When she tried to rest again in a different position, Luo Ren had already placed his arm there as a cushion.

It happened naturally, as if it had become a habit.

In the darkness, Mu Dai smiled. Those secret joys swelled in her heart like blooming flower buds. She stopped playing around and quietly gazed at the sky while resting on his arm.

The sky wasn’t very clear tonight; not a single star was visible.

She asked Luo Ren, “Are we quitting?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Luo Ren lowered his head and gently covered her face with his hand. His fingertips touched her eyelashes, creating a subtle tickling sensation. In the palm of his hand, he felt her warm breath, and at the edge of his palm, there was a soft and gentle touch—her slightly moist lips brushing against it.

He lowered his hand, gently closing it as if capturing that moment of beauty in his palm.

“Do you know why I never fought in death matches when I was in the Philippines?”

“When risking life for money, why choose to rescue hostages instead of becoming a kidnapper?”

“Mu Dai, everyone has expectations for themselves. I’m not a saint; I’ve done wrong things, stupid things. I’ve had inappropriate words and actions, made wrong judgments. But in my heart, I still hope to be a good person.”

“I didn’t fight death matches, no matter how fanatical others were. I told myself that without grudges or hatred, just for a win or loss, I had no right to take a life.”

“Hired kidnappers make money faster, but I didn’t want that. I’d rather work harder, even make enemies, as long as what I did was righteous and something I could live with in good conscience.”

He smiled.

“It’s absurd. In a place like Mindanao, bullets fired always take lives. At such times, considering whether something satisfies your conscience seems somewhat hypocritical.”

“But I persisted, because in places where humanity is missing and everything is dictated by force and money, people easily become nothing more than breathing rotten flesh. But if you have principles, at least you’ll live with substance and backbone.”

“I’ve held on this way, so I know being a good person isn’t easy. You’ll be bullied and used by people with ulterior motives.”

“Being bullied by people is acceptable, but heaven shouldn’t bully us. What Fatty Cao said is what I wanted to say, too. The five of us, subduing the ominous slips—our motives may not be particularly noble, but at least we haven’t betrayed our conscience. If death is the end, if even heaven bullies us, then I won’t accept it.”

He raised his head to look at the pitch-black night sky, as if exhaling a long breath of turbid air, and said loudly, “At worst, we just quit.”

Mu Dai laughed heartily and imitated him, cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting at the sky, “If you dare bully me, I’ll quit! Just watch me!”

By the time they returned to the room, it was very late. They swiped the card, pushed open the door, and were met with the smell of alcohol.

Luo Ren immediately laughed: “Yi Wansan doesn’t mess around. When he said he’d drink, he did.”

Looking around the room, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Cao Yanhua lay with limbs spread out like a giant crab, occupying eight-tenths of the coffee table. His face was flushed red as he snored loudly in deep sleep.

Yi Wansan had wrapped a towel around his hand like an Arab, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a plastic bag of celery beside him. He was carefully peeling a stalk as if peeling a banana, saying to Cao Jiefang in front of him, “Come, Jiefang, eat this to sober up.”

Cao Jiefang stretched his neck, seemingly wanting to eat, but Yi Wansan crunched through it himself.

Is this what being drunk looks like? Mu Dai clutched her stomach and crouched down laughing. After a while, she stood up, took out her phone, and started recording a video.

Luo Ren frowned: “Kicking someone when they’re down isn’t very nice, is it?”

Mu Dai tilted her head: “So what?”

“Get closer to film them, close-up.”

Mu Dai understood. She tiptoed over, and just as her camera focused on Yi Wansan’s face, a loud shout suddenly came from the bedroom: “Grant me power!”

Mu Dai was so startled that her hand trembled, and her phone clattered to the floor.

That was Yan Hongsha’s voice.

Luo Ren was exasperated. He went over and pushed open the door. Yan Hongsha was sitting on the bed in the bedroom, with the seven wooden slips arranged in a circle in front of her like playing cards. The Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps were on her arms like bracelets. She had her head tilted back, both hands raised toward the sky as if in prayer.

Heavens, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be played.

Luo Ren went over, suppressing a laugh, and looked down at Yan Hongsha’s face.

Her expression was extremely determined and devout.

Luo Ren said, “What’s going on, Hongsha? Planning a rebellion?”

Yan Hongsha put her finger to her lips mysteriously and said, “Shh, I’m looking for the seventh ominous slip.”

Luo Ren lowered his voice: “How are you looking?”

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell the Japanese devils.”

Luo Ren couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.

…

Settling Yi Wansan and Yan Hongsha took Mu Dai and Luo Ren a lot of effort. Yi Wansan clutched the celery tightly, as if holding gold bars. Luo Ren had no choice but to drag him, celery and all, onto the bed. As for Yan Hongsha, even after lying down, she remained spirited, suddenly sitting up with eyes shining like light bulbs.

“Mu Dai, we have obtained the Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps.”

Mu Dai said, “Yes, yes, lie down.”

“The Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps will greatly increase our power. We’ll soon find the seventh ominous slip.”

“Yes, yes, we’ll find it soon.”

“You must not give it to the Japanese!”

“Alright, alright, I promise.”

…

After who knows how long, Yan Hongsha finally fell into deep sleep. Mu Dai had been curled up in the blanket, laughing the whole time, so that even when she fell asleep, there was still a smile on her face.

She dreamed again.

A foggy hotel room, elongated, disproportionate black shadows, rustling sounds revealing obvious panic.

—She found it, she’s about to find it.

—No, no, no, she can’t guess.

—It’s right there!

Mu Dai turned over and got up, barefoot, walking through the cool mist toward the corner of the living room.

—She found it, she’s about to find it!

She stopped at the sofa in the corner. Someone was sleeping there. She heard deep, steady breathing.

No light, no moon, only mist and darkness interfering with her vision.

Mu Dai’s hand groped on the coffee table, finding an ashtray and, beside it, the hotel’s complimentary matches.

With a scrape, the faint smell of sulfur dispersed in the mist. The thin, white matchstick, with its burning tip, flickered with a yellowish flame occasionally interspersed with pale azure.

In that small patch of light created by the flame, she finally saw clearly.

It was Luo Ren’s face.