After the incident, Pin Ting had remained in the family home in Small Merchant River, cared for by Uncle Zheng. Every two days, a specially hired hospital nurse would come to bathe and clean her, with quarterly health checkups.

For Uncle Zheng and the nurse, it was an easy task because Pin Ting’s madness wasn’t the raving, screaming type. She was quiet to the point of stupor, often sitting on the floor from morning until night, occasionally stretching out her hand, pointing fearfully at the carpet that was free of any stains.

The “something wrong” that Uncle Zheng mentioned could be traced back to several nights ago.

Due to its geographical location, Small Merchant River became especially quiet at night, with only the howling wind often audible. Uncle Zheng, being elderly, had long grown accustomed to the sound of the wind but remained alert to any unusual movements.

That night, he woke up with a start in the middle of the night.

There was a faint singing, like fine threads wafting and swirling through the empty house.

Pin Ting was singing.

Pin Ting had always been a girl who could sing and dance well. As a child, she had studied ballet, and she sang beautifully with graceful modulation. Although such a performance in the middle of the night seemed abrupt, perhaps it was just a new manifestation of her madness.

After much hesitation, Uncle Zheng decided to go check on her.

With Luo Wenrao’s cautionary example, no one knew whether Pin Ting might also slip away quietly one day, so her room was always locked from the outside. But for ease of care and delivering items, the upper half of the door had been modified to resemble a kind of fence.

This was why the singing sounded so clear—the room wasn’t soundproof.

In the dead of night, the sound of singing sent chills down one’s spine. Uncle Zheng reluctantly edged to the door, only to discover that Pin Ting wasn’t just singing.

She was also dancing.

Completely different from her previously delicate and graceful dance steps, her movements were now bold and expansive, her posture ancient and strange, as if she were circling something, both singing and dancing.

Luo Ren asked: “What was she singing?”

“Back and forth, two syllables at a time, just eight characters.” Uncle Zheng tried hard to remember. “She sang, ‘duan zhu, xu zhu, fei tu’ or was it ‘fei tu,’ and ‘zhu rou.'”

…

For several consecutive days, all was calm. There was no news from Luo Ren. If this silence continued, Mu Dai believed that before long, she would put things like Luoma Lake and Luo Ren out of her mind.

But one night, Li Tan called, his voice trembling with excitement.

“I didn’t expect things to progress so quickly. After the sketch was completed, I thought, since I saw that person in Small Merchant River, I should start my search there. So I went again, not daring to ask around openly, just looking at faces on the street. A couple of days ago, a car entered Small Merchant River, and I saw the driver, I saw the driver…”

He was too excited to speak.

“I followed the car. It wasn’t hard to find—I had seen that car before. The owner was named Luo Wenrao. Isn’t it a coincidence? The day after the Small Merchant River case, this person died. And the person in the sketch is called Luo Ren…”

Mu Dai felt a headache coming on. How should she explain to Li Tan? Things weren’t as he imagined. Why was he so stubborn?

“Anyway,” he seemed to have made some kind of resolution, “if anything happens to me, you… understand.”

Understand what? Before Mu Dai could speak, he had already hung up.

Li Tan’s words carried a sense of tragic heroism, like the wind sighing over the cold waters of the Yi River.

Mu Dai sensed trouble and quickly called him back. There was no answer, so she sent a text message, urging him to remain calm, explaining that the situation was complicated, not as he imagined, and that Luo Ren wasn’t an accomplice.

The message was sent, but it was like a stone sinking into the sea.

She had no choice but to call Luo Ren, though with a thousand reluctant thoughts: Why should I be the one to call this person who left without saying a word?

Luo Ren answered quickly. Mu Dai briefly explained the situation, then warned him: “Li Tan has gone to find you.”

“Thank you.”

Mu Dai suddenly became upset: “You know martial arts. I know he can’t beat you. Don’t be too heavy-handed and hurt him. He’s quite pitiful.”

Having said this, her nose tingled with emotion. Without waiting for Luo Ren’s response, she hung up.

She did think Li Tan was pitiful. When she had spoken to Hong Yi earlier, she had merely been embellishing for effect, but now, the more she thought about it, the more she felt compassion. She fell asleep with her head on her arm, feeling that this night was especially desolate.

Having just created the hypnotic sketch and then gone to Small Merchant River, Li Tan wasn’t planning to live a normal life anymore. How long can a lifetime be? If Hong Yi were Li Yaqing, Li Tan had spent most of his life consumed by what could be considered an absurd matter.

Tossing and turning, she finally began to drift off and had a strange dream. She dreamed she was answering her phone, and Luo Ren said, “Li Tan is here.”

She mumbled in response: “Oh.”

“Mu Dai, are you awake? Li Tan is here.”

Her consciousness gradually cleared. Her phone was indeed in her hand, the screen lit up, with the call time increasing second by second.

So it wasn’t a dream; she was on a call?

Mu Dai quickly sat up in bed, her words disconnected: “Here… Li Tan? At your place?”

“Yes, he broke in forcefully. Good thing you warned me… We’ve tied him up. He’s glaring at me… Uncle Zheng, don’t let him near the wall!”

The last sentence seemed to be directed at Uncle Zheng. Mu Dai couldn’t picture the scene, and her heart pounded wildly.

After a while, Luo Ren spoke to her again: “After being tied up, he kept cursing, so we taped his mouth. Then he started banging his head against the wall… These types are the most annoying. I can’t be bothered to explain… He wouldn’t listen anyway.”

Pitiful people can also make one grit one’s teeth in frustration. Mu Dai suddenly felt a surge of passion and impulsively got out of bed: “Wait a moment. Don’t hang up.”

She rushed to Hong Yi’s door in one breath but hesitated before knocking: Forget it, it’s so late. I shouldn’t upset Aunt Hong…

Just as she was about to leave, she noticed a line of light coming from under the door.

She probably hasn’t gone to sleep yet. Mu Dai hesitated for a moment, then knocked.

Hong Yi, wearing a robe, opened the door: “Mu Dai, you’re still up so late? Perfect timing. Come help me look at some patterns.”

Only her desk lamp was on, illuminating many books of various patterns, shadow drawings, and more than a dozen traced or imitated designs. Hong Yi picked up one and held it up to the light to show her. This one was based on architectural decorative patterns—one a diamond-shaped lattice pattern, the other a lotus and waterfowl pattern.

“Most fabric patterns nowadays are still just flowers and plants, nothing new. I was thinking, ‘Stones from other hills may serve to polish jade.’ Some architectural patterns, if printed out, would be unique…”

She said much more, but Mu Dai wasn’t listening. She was staring at the soup bowl on the table. When Hong Yi stayed up late, she always kept a bowl of sweet pear soup with fritillary bulbs and wolfberries nearby to moisten her lungs and combat dryness.

Tracing patterns under the warm light, taking a sip of sweet soup when tired, while elsewhere, someone was tied up, cursing, his mouth taped shut, banging his head against the wall…

“Aunt Hong, are you Li Yaqing?”

The room suddenly fell silent.

After a while, Hong Yi gently placed the traced pattern paper on the table. The paper made a soft rustling sound as it rubbed against the surface.

On the other end of the line, Luo Ren paused, glanced at the ferocious-looking Li Tan in front of him, and walked out to the quiet corridor, his breathing suddenly becoming heavy.

Mu Dai felt a moment of regret, but then thought, since she had already asked, she might as well ask everything.

“Aunt Hong, I’ve met with Luo Ren. His family experienced a case just like the one at Luoma Lake. His uncle died, and his sister went insane, so he’s investigating anyone who might know the truth. As for Li Tan, he’s spent most of his life on this matter…”

“Aunt Hong, you might have your reasons for concealing some secrets, and I won’t press you. But, without harming yourself, could you perhaps share what you can? Give others some hints, at least so Li Tan doesn’t have to go in circles anymore?”

“If I’ve guessed wrong about everything, then you can scold me, Aunt Hong.”

She activated her phone screen, showing Hong Yi who was on the other end of the call, then handed the phone to Hong Yi. Hong Yi’s hand loosened, and the phone clattered to the floor.

Mu Dai didn’t pick it up. She didn’t speak or look at Hong Yi again. She simply turned and left, returning to her room, getting into bed, and pulling the covers over herself.

How nice it was to close her eyelids and have everything turn dark. This was all she could do.

Luo Ren had been listening quietly, without making a sound. In truth, he no longer held much hope for Hong Yi. It was Mu Dai who surprised him.

In ancient times, she would have been a chivalrous woman, quite righteous and warm-hearted.

For some reason, he didn’t immediately hang up. Perhaps there was still a glimmer of hope in his heart. After a while, he mocked himself for thinking too much.

Just as he was about to end the call, Hong Yi’s hoarse voice came through: “Hello?”

The next day, Mu Dai woke up very early, but to avoid awkwardness, she deliberately dawdled in bed, missing breakfast time.

Aunt Hong must be angry. She hadn’t come to call her, nor had she sent Yi Wansan to ask if she wanted her meal saved.

Around ten o’clock, she felt something was off. Usually at this time, even if the floor below wasn’t bustling with noise, it would have been lively enough to prevent anyone from sleeping.

She got dressed and went downstairs, holding her breath as she passed Hong Yi’s door, afraid of being called. In her mind, she was calculating how to express her regret and humility when she saw Hong Yi.

Yes, after a night of sweet comfort under the covers, upon waking, that fervor of righteous indignation had subsided. She felt she hadn’t handled things well, but couldn’t quite articulate exactly what she had done wrong.

As she descended the stairs, she suddenly sensed something wasn’t right.

The lower floor was very dark. Usually, when the business was open, it would be flooded with sunlight. Clearly, not only had they not opened, but they had also lowered the window blinds that were normally kept rolled up.

Mu Dai took the stairs three at a time, running down with rapid footsteps.

Hong Yi wasn’t there. Yi Wansan and Zhang Shu were sitting at the table. Breakfast seemed unfinished; the bowls and plates hadn’t been cleared. But both men appeared distracted, staring at their cold porridge bowls in silence. Hearing footsteps, they both looked at Mu Dai.

Mu Dai felt guilty: “Why are you looking at me?”

She walked over casually: “Where’s Aunt Hong?”

Zhang Shu answered: “She’s gone away.”

As he spoke, he pushed a phone across the table—her phone, the one she had given to Hong Yi last night, the one that had fallen to the floor and hadn’t been picked up.

“She knocked on my door at four in the morning, saying she wanted to go out to clear her mind. She didn’t say when she’d be back. She told me to take care of the shop and help you well.”

He repeated Hong Yi’s words verbatim: “If Mu Dai is interested in the business, let her manage it. If she’s not interested, let her be. She’s young and still playful.”

“She also settled accounts with Yi Wansan, not requiring him to repay any money and giving him two months’ extra wages. Whether he wants to stay or not is up to him.”

Why did it feel like she was settling her affairs before leaving? Mu Dai’s heart sank, and she asked in confusion: “Why?”

She instinctively opened her phone and checked the call log. The last call was with Luo Ren, duration: 2 hours and 27 minutes.

Her mind went blank. She immediately called him back. Hearing Luo Ren’s voice, she almost cried: “Luo Ren, my Aunt Hong… you last night…”

Luo Ren interrupted her: “Mu Dai, don’t worry. Your Aunt Hong has left, right? She mentioned it to me. It’s not because of you—there are other reasons.”

Is that so? Mu Dai felt somewhat relieved.

“Mu Dai?”

“Yes?”

“Your Aunt Hong is indeed Li Yaqing. And…”

He hesitated. Mu Dai’s heart, which had just been set at ease, tensed up again: “And what?”

“Zhang Guanghua was killed by her.”