She turned to leave, but Luo Ren called after her, saying, “Mu Dai, lie down with me for a while.”

Lie down for a while? On the… hospital bed?

He said, “At the moment, I can’t think clearly, and I don’t feel well. But when I’m suffering, I still hope that the person closest to me can stay by my side.”

Mu Dai stood beside the hospital bed for a few seconds, then nodded.

She silently removed her outer clothing and boots, carefully lifted the blanket, and lay down beside Luo Ren. His arm rested behind her, and she tilted her head back to avoid it, asking, “Won’t I press on you?”

“No.”

She lay down, her arm bearing her weight, strangely feeling settled.

Mu Dai very lightly rested her head, curling up her body, trying to stay close to him without pressing against him. The suppressed breath was slowly exhaled. Luo Ren laboriously turned his head slightly, his cheek gently touching hers through her hair.

He said, “Little Pocket isn’t someone else, not a girl I want to separate you from and reminisce about. She’s like blood that has flowed out of me—it hurts, but life remains.”

He understood, comprehended, and even tried to turn over to comfort her.

Mu Dai’s eyes stung. She moved closer to Luo Ren, feeling the warmth of his body, listening to his heartbeat, burying her face in the snow-white sheets that carried the hospital’s distinctive smell.

She said softly, “Luo Ren, I’m not sad. I remain whole and don’t feel like I’ve lost anything. This time, I merely used my differences to sacrifice a lesser piece to protect the king—I just fought a battle with the Leopard.”

“But I know you must be upset. At this moment, don’t be that perfect Little Knife Luo, and you don’t need to hide your feelings. I’m here with you.”

Luo Ren was silent for a long time.

Then he chuckled, tightened his arm, and said softly, “Come a little closer.”

Mu Dai turned and sat up. Luo Ren forcefully grabbed her waist, buried his face in her neck, and suddenly bit down hard.

Mu Dai’s whole body shuddered in pain. She gritted her teeth and endured it, about to say “So you are angry after all,” when the biting turned into passionate kissing before he released her.

She was stunned for a moment, suddenly remembering that night in Fog Town when Luo Ren, acting out of character, had fiercely demanded her.

She smiled, as if glimpsing his unknown side from the darkness.

Lowering her head, she whispered against his ear, “The former Little Knife Luo wasn’t like this.”

In their previous interactions, he had been tolerant and gentle, guiding her, leading her. His kisses were as gentle as a serenade, his dance steps never faltering, always orderly.

“That’s because the former little girl was delicate and fragile, and prone to crying. If I wasn’t careful with my boundaries, I was afraid of scaring her.”

“And now?”

“We’re evenly matched. No need to hold back.”

He liked caring for gentle girls and was willing to be courteous to match, holding an umbrella over her head, carefully protecting her.

But deep inside, like a warrior longing for a suitable battlefield, he desired an equal partner—to love fiercely, to collide forcefully, to conquer and be conquered, to bite and chew through blood and bone, swallowing it all whole, with a rain of bullets around and thunder and lightning overhead.

Perhaps this was also his hidden personality?

He laughed loudly, coughing uncontrollably due to lack of strength, but inwardly, he felt utterly exhilarated.

The news of Luo Ren’s awakening spread quickly. Over the next two days, almost everyone arranged different times to visit him in the hospital.

After receiving the news, Shen Gun immediately asked in the group chat: “Does this mean we can go to Fog Town now to further investigate the deadly clues? It’s the seven sevens!”

This message was embarrassing—it was truly incomprehensible why Shen Gun was always so enthusiastic about these thankless tasks.

Luo Ren also wanted to act quickly, but Mu Dai insisted that he rest for at least three to five more days.

As usual, she kept busy between the bar and Phoenix Tower, visiting Luo Ren at the hospital every day, bringing him carefully prepared soup in a stone bowl, stirring it spoonful by spoonful to cool it down.

Luo Ren asked her, “Did you make this?”

“Yes.”

“You know how?”

“I learned.”

The Patients’ Garden on the first floor had many methods for making nutritious soups, and online, there were so many video tutorials.

Cao Yanhua stood nearby, making snide remarks: “Little Master, don’t add too much salt. But no matter how bad it tastes, my Little Brother Luo will praise it and drink it with tears in his eyes.”

That’s how it usually happens in TV dramas.

Mu Dai sneered, “Am I stupid? When it’s ready, wouldn’t I taste it first?”

When leaving, Cao Yanhua quickly darted into the elevator carrying the thermos pot, while she walked with her hands in her pockets, unhurriedly heading for the stairwell.

After just a few steps, someone called to her from behind.

It was Qingmu.

Mu Dai stopped.

Qingmu walked up to her, then uncomfortably stepped back two paces, his face turning bright red. Suddenly, he bent down and bowed deeply to her.

He said, “I’m very sorry for looking down on you before and saying many disrespectful things.”

Is that so? Why the sudden change in attitude?

Mu Dai pondered briefly, then understood: she had deliberately kept Qingmu in suspense, delaying any explanation, but Luo Ren wouldn’t.

Mu Dai smiled and said, “It’s a small matter.”

She turned to push the door open and go downstairs, feeling pleased with herself for being so nonchalant. She couldn’t help but feel a little smug, her steps light as she descended, smiling all the way.

Shen Gun arrived two nights later, looking the same as always—curly hair, glasses with thread wrapped around the arms, carrying a non-woven bag, full of cheer. When he entered the bar, he was holding a bag of apples.

He handed them over generously, as if presenting hundreds of thousands of dollars, saying, “Congratulations on Little Radish’s safe recovery.”

The bar was busy at that time. Mu Dai was at the counter waiting for Yi Wansan to mix drinks for customers. Cao Yanhua led Shen Gun in, genuinely unimpressed with the bag of apples—each one was oddly shaped, neither red nor large nor plump.

But he had to be polite: “Master Shen, you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s nothing. They were on clearance, practically free. I just grabbed a bag.”

……

Mu Dai remained busy. While delivering orders, she saw Shen Gun sitting in the corner, happily showing a notebook to Cao Yanhua. After a while, Yi Wansan also went over to look.

Quite puzzled, when Cao Yanhua came over, she asked him, “What’s written in the notebook?”

“Master Shen says he wants to write a book called ‘Records of the Mysterious and Strange: The Seven Deadly Clues.’ He’s showing us the beginning.”

“How is it?”

Cao Yanhua clicked his tongue a couple of times, as if savoring the memory, then shook his head: “The writing style is poor, obscure, unappealing, and lacks logic.”

Is that so?

Mu Dai felt sympathetic toward Shen Gun. Finding a free moment, she went over to greet him, but before she could speak, Shen Gun stared at her and spoke first: “Little Pocket, so this is your tattoo?”

Mu Dai said, “Yes.”

She looked down at her tattoo. Today, she was wearing a low neckline, exposing most of the tattoo, and for some reason, she liked it more and more each time she saw it.

Shen Gun held a different opinion: “I heard it was tattooed for Little Knife Luo? Then why didn’t you tattoo a little radish—one of those bright red ones with big green leaves? Wouldn’t that look nice?”

Mu Dai stared at him for a long while, then said deliberately, word by word: “If you like it, you get it tattooed!”

Having said this, she slapped the table, turned, and left. At the door, she happened to bump into Yan Hongsha returning from the hospital.

She seemed low-spirited, gloomy, and somewhat distracted.

Mu Dai was curious and asked her, “How is Luo Ren?”

“He’s fine. The doctor was discussing discharge plans with Qingmu, giving many, many precautions. He also asked when you would come.”

“I’m busy today. I’ll go later.”

After speaking, Mu Dai went to the bar to get drinks. Yi Wansan hadn’t finished preparing them yet, grinding his teeth as he shook the cocktail shaker, as if contending with someone.

Yan Hongsha followed, trying to appear casual.

“Mu Dai, that Qingmu has a fiancée.”

“Yes, Luo Ren mentioned her. I think her name is Yukiko, a very cute girl.”

As Mu Dai spoke, she looked at Yan Hongsha curiously: “Is there a problem?”

“No… no,” Yan Hongsha stammered, “I just think that having a fiancée but staying away from home for so long is… unreliable.”

Mu Dai smiled: “Different couples have different ways of getting along. Luo Ren has a childhood friend in Chongqing called Ma Tuwen. He and his girlfriend are…”

Before she could finish, the drink was ready. Mu Dai picked up the tray and went to serve the customers.

Yan Hongsha stood there for a while, then slowly walked toward the back of the bar, passing by Cao Jiefang’s “mansion.” Cao Jiefang probably thought Yan Hongsha was going to feed it—its little head immediately popped out from between the cage bars.

Yan Hongsha ignored it and continued walking slowly, pushing open the back door of the bar and sitting down on the steps.

Compared to other places, the bar’s backyard was much quieter. In fact, it could hardly be called a “yard”—just a symbolic enclosure with a fence gate that opened with a push. The fence slats were sparse; Cao Jiefang could easily slip in and out without any problem.

The door creaked, and someone came out, plopping down beside her with a Singapore Sling. The fruity aroma mixed with alcohol wafted to her nostrils.

Yi Wansan.

Yan Hongsha glanced at him with dissatisfaction: “Making drinks for yourself again? Be careful—Zhang Shu might give you a tongue-lashing if he sees you.”

Yi Wansan said, “This is a reasonable work benefit. Sometimes when Zhang Shu is in a good mood, he even asks me to make him a Bloody Mary.”

After saying this, he nudged her with his elbow: “Second Fire, are you heartbroken?”

“Hmm… what?” Yan Hongsha jumped up as if stung by a scorpion, exclaiming, “Nonsense!”

Yi Wansan slowly sipped his drink, pressing his hand downward: “Calm down, calm down.”

“We’re all our people. What’s there to be embarrassed about? We go way back. I was buried in that pit, and you dug me out. How could I laugh at you?”

Yan Hongsha gave him two glares, then thought he had a point.

So she sat down again, emphasizing defiantly: “I’m not lovelorn!”

Yi Wansan remained calm: “I know. It’s just a bit of vague sentiment that came to nothing.”

Really… it was enough to make her nose crooked with anger.

Yan Hongsha could barely contain her frustration: “How did you know?”

“Second Fire, I’m not boasting, but back in the day, I was a master of romance. A small glance, a slight movement—what couldn’t I detect? Let me show you something special.”

He took out his phone, found a photo, and handed it to Yan Hongsha.

Hmm, this is…

It was Mu Dai and Luo Ren, both lying on the ground. Mu Dai had her eyes closed, her face flushed as if she had just been through an intense battle. Luo Ren also seemed tired, but one of his hands lightly covered Mu Dai’s, carefully avoiding touching it.

She asked curiously, “When was this taken?”

“Before your time, at Small Commerce River. The seeds of illicit love were just sprouting,” he took another sip of his drink, and patted his chest. “I discovered it.”

Yan Hongsha said, “Hmph.”

She tossed the phone back to him but didn’t feel as awkward anymore. So Mu Dai had her little secrets at the beginning, too.

She hung her head dejectedly: “I’m not lovelorn. I just thought this person was interesting…”

Yi Wansan gave a dry laugh: “Your definition of ‘interesting’ is truly unique.”

Yan Hongsha suddenly became melancholic: “Look at my fate. At first, I had a slight interest in Luo Ren, but he liked Mu Dai, so I immediately gave up. Then with Qingmu, I just had a tiny bit of curiosity, and he already has a fiancée.”

Suddenly overwhelmed with sadness, she said, “Yi Wansan, the next person I like—I hope they don’t already have a houseful of grandchildren.”

Yi Wansan burst out laughing, spraying his mouthful of drink.

He wiped his mouth, holding back his laughter: “That’s why I came to find you. Second Fire, you’re a dreamy girl with spring fever. The people you like, whether it’s Luo Ren or Qingmu, are all cut from the same cloth. You don’t understand them; you just think they’re mercenaries, cold and cool-looking.”

He patted Yan Hongsha’s shoulder: “Your fundamental direction is wrong. These kinds of people aren’t suitable for you. You should pull back from the brink and turn around. Broaden your horizons. As the saying goes, ‘When you turn around, that person is standing in the lantern-lit corner’—perhaps even Fat Cao would be more suitable.”

Yan Hongsha looked at Yi Wansan’s hand resting on her shoulder. It was quite heavy.

Then she looked up at him: “Yi Wansan, do you have a death wish?”

Yi Wansan said, “Alright, I’m going back.”

He patted his backside and started to leave, but Yan Hongsha was furious: “I’m still the one who saved your life! Is this how you comfort someone?”

Yi Wansan paused.

“How about this—I’ll write an article for you.”

He writes articles? Yan Hongsha was wary.

“It’s absolutely a cure for lovesickness. After reading this article, I guarantee you’ll completely move past the shadow. This is my specialty, never fails.”

He pointed at Yan Hongsha: “Come to me every day for an update.”

“It’s a serialized article?”

“Yep.”

Yan Hongsha had a bad feeling: “It won’t be too long, will it? If you serialize it for eight or ten years, and I need your help to get over my shadow—by then, I’ll have moved past dozens of shadows on my own.”

Yi Wansan reassured her: “No, it’s very short.”

When Mu Dai finished organizing and handed over her tasks to go to the hospital, she happened to see Yan Hongsha receiving today’s update.

She saw Yan Hongsha’s face turn ashen as she pointed at Yi Wansan, with a cup of coffee in front of her.

Mu Dai went over curiously and saw the latte art on the coffee, which read “ren ren.”

She asked, “What does ‘ren ren’ mean?”

Yi Wansan glanced sideways at her: “Little Proprietress, please don’t be on the same intellectual level as Second Fire. That’s the character ‘cong’ (from).”

Is that so? Mu Dai wasn’t interested; she was eager to see Luo Ren.

As she left, she heard Yan Hongsha behind her, gritting her teeth: “You call this serialized? Daily updates of one character?”

“It’s not just a character—you also get coffee, don’t you?”

Although she didn’t know what the two were arguing about, Mu Dai wanted to laugh—perhaps because her mood had been good lately.

Luo Ren’s spirits were good. After all, his injuries weren’t the kind that affected tendons or bones, requiring complete bed rest. According to the doctor, he could already get out of bed and take a few steps.

Before entering the ward, Qingmu consulted with Mu Dai about whether she could stay overnight, as he had almost completed the procedures for returning to Japan and had some unfinished business to attend to.

Since Luo Ren’s hospitalization, Qingmu had been the one keeping him company, truly dedicated. Mu Dai stepped back and bowed to him, saying, “Qingmu-kun, thank you for your hard work.”

Qingmu laughed heartily. As he left, he pointed to the observation window and said, “I’ve asked the doctors and nurses to disturb you as little as possible. You can pull down the curtains, and no one will see.”

Mu Dai said, “Get out of here.”

Nevertheless, it was indeed an undisturbed, worry-free time. She chatted with Luo Ren about many things, laughing constantly, coaxing him into making numerous empty promises—Is it good to go here? Is it good to go there? Is it good to eat this? Is it good to eat that?

They kept at it until very late. Luo Ren laughed, saying that Mu Dai was the easiest girl to please—as long as he agreed to everything, she would be happy. If he asked her later what she had begged for, she would forget eight or nine out of ten things.

When it was time to sleep, despite the single metal-framed companion bed in the room, she smoothly and familiarly went to squeeze in next to Luo Ren. Covered by the blanket, she felt that life was without worries or regrets.

The lights dimmed, and Luo Ren kissed her forehead, saying, “Good night.”

She slept deeply, expecting sweet dreams, but had none.

Surprisingly, she dreamed of the Leopard, sitting cross-legged across from her, with an exquisite copper turntable between them. The delicate and slender pointer, its tip gleaming coldly, corresponded to different segments around the copper disk.

The Leopard’s face revealed a strange smile, his voice as low as a whisper: “Come, little beauty, choose one.”

She suddenly became angry and flipped over the copper disk with one hand.

The scene changed again, becoming gloomy with rising wind. In the courtyard, bamboo plants leaned against each other, their leaves rustling.

Wasn’t this the place where the Leopard had imprisoned her at the very beginning?

She pushed open the door, climbed the stairs step by step, and entered a silent room with hastily abandoned desolation and disorder. Tasha’s doll was thrown in the corner, and several books were spread out on the coffee table. One of them had its pages blown by the wind, flipping back and forth noisily.

She approached and saw that the pages had stopped at a page number.

342.