Mu Dai woke up.

In her mind, the images from her dream lingered persistently, so vivid they felt real.

Yi Wansan had shown her that courtyard where she was first imprisoned, proudly declaring: “Cao Fatty and I spent so much effort to find it, and Liberation also helped quite a bit.”

The information from Zheng Mingshan’s side was: the owner of that mansion was a big boss from Beijing, currently abroad. He had bought the house in Lijiang but only vacationed there for a few days each year. The man wasn’t short of money, and the rest of the time, the house sat empty—Leopard and her associates had simply seized the opportune moment to quietly occupy the nest.

Mu Dai lay still for a while, then rose as gently as possible, put on her boots, and grabbed her coat.

Before she could take two steps, she suddenly heard Luo Ren’s voice: “Where are you going?”

Since his recent awakening, his alertness seemed much higher than before.

Afraid he would worry, Mu Dai bent down and touched his forehead. “Just going to the bathroom.”

Luo Ren laughed, wrapping his arm around her waist and leaning close to her ear, his warm breath tickling her earlobe.

He said: “You think I’m that easy to fool? Dressed so properly, going to meet someone at the bathroom?”

Mu Dai smiled, not minding being caught. Seeing his spirits improving day by day and his quick recovery made her happy, so she leaned down to kiss him, gently nibbling his lips with her teeth.

Luo Ren enjoyed it thoroughly, saying: “You can try more of this approach, but it won’t work.”

Mu Dai buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, laughing for quite a while before saying, “I dreamed about the courtyard where Leopard first imprisoned me. Some things seemed strange, and I want to check it out.”

As expected, his brow furrowed.

Mu Dai thought for a moment and added: “Maybe it’s a clue from the Phoenix Luan Button.”

He understood the reasoning, but once bitten by a snake, one fears rope for ten years. Mu Dai had just been kidnapped, and no matter what, he couldn’t feel at ease letting her go out alone in the middle of the night.

Mu Dai read his thoughts: “When you were unconscious, I often came to see you at night, making the trip back and forth many times. I’m used to it. Besides, that house—Senior Brother already cleared it out, and after Leopard left, it’s been vacant.”

Luo Ren finally reluctantly nodded but still made one request: that she keep her phone’s video call open the entire time, maintaining constant contact.

After Mu Dai left, Luo Ren couldn’t fall back asleep. He sat up, propped by pillows, watching his phone continuously. At first, she probably had the phone in her pocket—the video was dark, but he could hear the sounds of her running and climbing stairs.

Then the screen brightened as she turned the camera toward herself, saying: “I’m here.”

She panned around to show him the surroundings.

The ancient city at night wasn’t completely dark. For the sake of aesthetics, lanterns, light boxes, and various signboards remained lit, and from higher vantage points, one could see the silhouettes of bamboo branches extending from the eaves.

The scene suddenly shifted—the little girl was “wall-walking” again.

Luo Ren pressed his lips together, feeling he should recover quickly, though Mu Dai wouldn’t say it, she surely wanted to return to Fog Town to pay respects to Mei Jiunu.

Just a wall away, the courtyard was unnaturally quiet, with the rustling of bamboo particularly clear. Luo Ren asked her: “Is the wind strong?”

“Yes, it’s windy tonight, my hair’s all blown messy.”

She pushed open the door, fumbled for the switch on the wall, and bright light made the screen flash white. After a moment, it became clear—it was a staircase leading upward.

She closed the back door, and her footsteps sounded especially hollow in the stairwell. Then, with a creak, she pushed open the door in front of her.

This was the main hall, unlit. The screen suddenly darkened. An open window hadn’t been properly closed and was banging in the wind. A book lay open on the tea table by the window, its neat pages rustling loudly. Hearing this gave Luo Ren chills; in that moment, the cold wind flipping those pages seemed to blow directly into his neck, involuntarily making him shudder.

He called out to her: “Mu Dai?”

Another morning arrived.

Cao Liberation was especially active today. Before Yi Wansan even got out of bed, he had already heard several clear “He… Do… Lo” calls, interspersed with Cao Yanhua’s grunting sounds—was he stretching his legs or practicing routines?

Lying in his warm bed, Yi Wansan suddenly felt that Cao Yanhua was truly quite persistent.

Yawning as he came out, he had barely reached the bar counter when Huo Zihong pounced: “Update.”

Yi Wansan gave her a sidelong glance, slowly took out a coffee cup and latte art needle, positioned the coffee machine, and started it up. The humming of the machine filled the bar with the rich aroma of coffee beans. Zhang Shu hurried across the hall and out the door. Just as he pushed it open, Cao Liberation let out a loud cry.

The two looked toward the door, hearing Zhang Shu’s loud scolding: “Do you have a death wish, Cao Liberation? Next time you stand at the front door, I’ll pluck all your feathers, believe it or not!”

Oh no! How could they so carelessly provoke Cao Liberation?

Before Yi Wansan could say anything, Cao Yanhua had already rushed over anxiously, positioning himself between Zhang Shu and Cao Liberation.

“Uncle, please, please be kind to our Liberation, try to be gentle…”

Zhang Shu rolled his eyes: “I’ve lived most of my life, and now I have to be gentle with a chicken?”

“No, it’s not that,” Cao Yanhua stammered to explain. “Our Liberation has… somewhat violent tendencies…”

“You think I’m afraid of its violence? If it dares make a sound, I’ll stew it with mushrooms tomorrow.”

Zhang Shu strode away.

Cao Yanhua was sweating profusely as he carried Cao Liberation back inside. Meanwhile, Yi Wansan pushed the finished coffee across the counter.

Huo Zihong gnashed her teeth: “Once? Upon a time?”

“Yeah. Don’t all stories start that way? Once upon a time.”

Huo Zihong was furious, slamming her palm on the counter so hard that the dishes and cups rattled three times.

Cao Yanhua passed by, and though he wasn’t entirely clear on the cause and effect, he had heard something and tried to console Huo Zihong: “Sister Hong, my Brother San is quite honest.”

“His word choice is so concise. If he had started with ‘a long, long time ago,’ it would take six days.”

Yi Wansan looked appreciatively at Cao Yanhua: “Brother Cao truly understands.”

Huo Zihong sincerely felt that compared to Cao Liberation, Cao Yanhua and Yi Wansan were more suited to living eternally with mushrooms.

Before she could voice her harsh thoughts, Yi Wansan’s phone rang.

He answered, chatted briefly, then looked up to call to them: “Get Shen Gun. Luo Ren wants us at the hospital right away.”

In the morning, Luo Ren had already been moved to a private room. Huo Zihong bought breakfast on the way—six portions of different varieties, steaming hot—spreading them across the hospital bed tray.

Mu Dai walked to the door, closed it properly, and latched it.

Cao Yanhua was carrying a black bag with a zipper. Only now did he mysteriously open it slightly: “Brother Luo, look!”

Cao Liberation’s head popped out immediately, then drooped over the edge of the zipper with an expression that clearly said, “I’m suffocating in here.”

In capturing Leopard, Cao Liberation had contributed greatly. Cao Yanhua had long been eager to bring it to see Luo Ren but didn’t dare do so openly in the hospital, a place of importance.

Luo Ren smiled slightly and said, “I have something to discuss. Let’s eat while we talk.”

Really? It felt strange to be summoned so solemnly only to “eat while we talk.”

Huo Zihong pondered this while peeling a tea egg. Yi Wansan and Cao Yanhua exchanged glances, while only Shen Gun ate with complete focus, crunching on fried dough sticks and soy milk, commenting: “Not good, not crispy enough!”

Mu Dai sat to the side, holding a book, patiently waiting until everyone had hesitantly started eating before softly saying: “I know what story the Seven Water Shadows tell.”

Huo Zihong froze, the peeled egg falling to the floor and rolling far away. Shen Gun choked on his soy milk and coughed repeatedly. Yi Wansan struggled to swallow his mouthful of bun, evidently choking, his face turning red as he gestured to Cao Yanhua for water. Only Cao Liberation was delighted, flapping its wings as it chased after the egg.

Luo Ren smiled at Mu Dai, saying, “The Little girl is so naughty, waiting until everyone started eating to tell us.”

There was a smile on his face, but it contained no joy.

Among their group, Shen Gun was the most eager, wiping his mouth and questioning Mu Dai: “What story?”

Mu Dai turned the book toward them.

It was a hardcover book. On the cover was a scholar in flowing robes and headband, in typical Chinese painting style, with three large characters: “Zi Bu Yu.”

Cao Yanhua stood farthest away, squinting: “What is that?”

But Shen Gun made an “oh” sound, as if seeing an old friend: “Zi Bu Yu, indeed.”

He explained: “This is a classical Chinese collection of strange tales. It was written by Yuan Mei in the Qing Dynasty. The title comes from the Analects: ‘The Master did not speak of prodigies, feats of strength, disorders, or spirits.’ But Yuan Mei was naturally unrestrained and said himself, ‘I broadly collect matters that startle the mind and shock the ears, speaking wildly and listening wildly, recording and preserving them.'”

Luo Ren looked at him: “You’ve read it?”

Shen Gun proudly replied: “Of course. But I read it long ago and have forgotten most of it. The book has… over thirty volumes, with many stories.”

Suddenly, he realized: “Does it record the story of the seven ominous bamboo slips? That’s impossible, I have no recollection of that.”

Mu Dai was silent for a moment, then said: “In this book, on page 342, in the continuation volumes, there’s a story titled ‘The Singing Dog.'”

Cao Yanhua didn’t understand: “What is that?”

“Two street performers brought a dog to perform in the marketplace. Crowds of spectators gathered because… the dog could sing.”

Cao Yanhua drew in a sharp breath.

“Master, this dog must have attained spiritual powers, right? Even more impressive than the literacy dog in the Water Shadows.”

Shen Gun frowned, as if desperately trying to recall whether he had seen this story when reading “Zi Bu Yu” years ago.

Mu Dai continued.

“Because this performance was so popular, the local magistrate attended it. He ordered his men to bring the dog back, telling the performers it was to entertain the magistrate’s wife, who would reward them generously if pleased.”

Shen Gun’s mouth gaped open, seemingly remembering something.

“After the dog was brought back, the magistrate had it led into his office and asked the dog, ‘Are you human or dog?'”

Yi Wansan listened intently, while Cao Yanhua laughed: “Isn’t that redundant? Of course it’s a dog.”

Mu Dai gave him a look.

This look made Cao Yanhua uneasy, and he stammered: “Could… could it be human?”

“The dog replied, ‘I don’t know if I’m human or dog.'”

At this point, Shen Gun let out a short “Ah!” He remembered now.

Mu Dai paused; she was having difficulty continuing, her fingers constantly stroking the spine of the book. Huo Zihong sensed this might not be a pleasant story, but curiosity compelled her: “What happened next?”

Shen Gun’s face alternated between pale and flushed, both enlightened and shaking his head. Seeing Mu Dai’s hesitation, he said: “Let me continue.”

He thought for a moment: “There were some other details that I won’t go into. Essentially, the magistrate became suspicious and had his runners capture the two performers for questioning. The two men refused to confess until severe torture was applied, at which point they revealed the truth.”

“They said the dog was made from a three-year-old child. First, they used drugs to burn and peel off all the skin…”

Mu Dai kept her head down, silent. Huo Zihong’s face gradually paled, and when she smelled the sauce of the tea egg before her, she suddenly felt waves of nausea.

Shen Gun was also uncomfortable: “Then they burned dog hair to ash, mixed it with a special medicine, and spread it over the body. They also fed the child a secret medicine. The wounds healed, and soon after, hair grew all over the body, even a tail appeared, making it completely resemble a dog.”

The room was as silent as if empty. Cao Liberation rolled the egg with its small claws, looking up with unease, not understanding why everyone had suddenly gone completely quiet.

For the next part, Shen Gun’s memory wasn’t entirely clear, so he asked Mu Dai: “What does the book say?”

Mu Dai handed him the book.

Shen Gun turned to page 342 and read aloud. Though it was in classical Chinese, it was still comprehensible: “With this method, barely one in ten survives. If one succeeds in creating such a dog, one can profit for a lifetime. They killed countless children to create this dog.”

Cao Yanhua gritted his teeth: “These two bastards! What happened to them later? Did they get their just deserts?”

Shen Gun looked further down the text: “After confessing, the two men said, ‘This is heaven’s will! Heaven’s will! We only ask for a quick death.’ The magistrate had them dragged to the marketplace, exposed their crimes, and beat them to death.’ This ‘beat to death’ probably means they were beaten to death with clubs.”

Cao Yanhua was still furious: “Beating them to death was too lenient for these turtle sons. They should have been sliced into a thousand pieces.”

Then he remembered something: “But Master, what does this have to do with our Water Shadows? Could it be that dog…”

He suddenly realized something, his expression changing dramatically.

Luo Ren said, “Mu Dai wouldn’t have this dream without reason. Moreover, this book was found at Leopard’s place. If we apply the Singing Dog’s story to the Literate Dog, then the Water Shadows’ story becomes complete.”

“The reason that dog could read, even recognizing characters written by the town’s private tutor, wasn’t because it was well-trained by the performers or because it had gained spiritual powers, but because it was human.”

“Later, for unknown reasons, the Literate Dog escaped and was even taken in by the private tutor’s daughter.”

Huo Zihong felt the hair on her arms standing on end, and a tightness in her chest: “Did the private tutor’s daughter know that the Literate Dog was actually… human?”

Luo Ren thought for a moment and slowly shook his head.

“Remember the fifth Water Shadow we saw? The private tutor’s daughter was feeding the Literate Dog, treating it completely as a domestic animal. I think that girl was kind-hearted. If she had known it was human and still wanted to care for it, she would have treated it like a human being.”

Yi Wansan unexpectedly added: “And from the Literate Dog’s perspective, it probably preferred to keep the secret.”

Huo Zihong felt a chill rise from the soles of her feet, shuddered, and fell silent. Looking down, she saw Cao Liberation at her feet and instinctively picked it up, holding it in her arms—its warmth served as a good hot water bottle.

Luo Ren continued: “Next, the private tutor’s daughter got married. From the Water Shadows, we saw the red bridal sedan chair and the Literate Dog staring fixedly at it.”

Cao Yanhua blurted out: “It… it didn’t develop feelings for that girl, did it?”

Luo Ren’s expression darkened, as if reluctant to dwell on this point: “Next, we see a private courtyard, behind bamboo blinds, a man and woman embracing, while in the shadows of a corner outside the door, there’s a dog.”

“At first, we overspeculated, even suspecting the woman of being unfaithful, having secret relations with another man. Now I think that man was probably her husband, and it was the dog that was abnormal.”

The Literate Dog wasn’t guarding the home but lurking in the shadows… watching.

“Then came the fire.”

Huo Zihong cried out, “Ah!”

She remembered the eerie dream she had when sending her uncle Yan Jiuxiao to be cremated.

In the dream, she saw a disheveled woman in the crematorium, her face twisted in agony, desperately trying to crawl out. In the dream, she rushed out of the control room to find the crematorium worker, only to see something bulging in the worker’s pants, as if a tail was hidden there.

She stammered: “That… that fire…”

A trace of reluctance crossed Luo Ren’s face: “That fire was probably not an accident.”