The lamb leg was prepared authentically, with cuts on both sides. It was said that after cleaning, it was stewed with dozens of spices for over two hours, then marinated in rich broth for a day. Once removed, it was evenly coated with salt, cumin granules, and rosemary, then sealed in plastic wrap before being sold.

Uncle Zheng was a master at roasting lamb legs. He didn’t rely on modern tools—just a wooden frame to build a fire. After brushing the lamb leg with honey water and roasting it over the fire, it soon sizzled with oil, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.

Mu Dai watched without blinking: “Don’t let it burn, Uncle Zheng. Should we turn it?”

Uncle Zheng chuckled. A small table was set beside him, where he was chopping green onions and cucumber strips on a cutting board. After a moment, he instructed Mu Dai: “Turn it.”

Mu Dai was delighted, gripping the metal skewer handle to flip the roasting lamb leg: “Uncle Zheng, how wonderful it would be if this were ancient times. We could travel the world with our roast lamb legs—you’d roast, I’d flip, and we could right wrongs along the way.”

What imagination this young lady had! But Uncle Zheng quite liked her. Luo Ren had said that when they first met, Mu Dai was unusually fierce—but where was the fierceness? He hadn’t seen any trace of it.

When the first one was done, Mu Dai’s eyes sparkled: “Do we just hold it and gnaw on it?”

She couldn’t help swallowing, not minding if her hands and mouth got oily.

But that wasn’t the case. Uncle Zheng sliced the leg meat into thin strips, placing a portion on each small plate. He evenly sprinkled chili powder, cumin, and salt grains, then topped it with green onions and cucumber strips, adding a small silver fork. He handed the first plate to Mu Dai: “Try it.”

It was truly exquisite. Mu Dai accepted it with both hands: “This is such an elegant way to eat it.”

Uncle Zheng smiled: “Indeed. Pin Ting loves it but finds gnawing troublesome, so Luo Ren asked me to prepare it this way.”

Is that so? Mu Dai didn’t respond, but instinctively looked around. Luo Ren wasn’t there—he was probably inside accompanying Pin Ting.

“Pin Ting… she can be cured, right? Couldn’t Luo Ren take her to hospitals in Beijing or Shanghai to try?”

Uncle Zheng sighed: “Luo Ren has tried, but it’s not a physical problem…”

Toward the end, he shook his head with a sigh and continued distributing plates.

Mu Dai tactfully stopped talking. She took another plate and brought it to Li Tan, who was sitting on the steps nearby. Li Tan had seen her but hadn’t spoken to her. Mu Dai felt quite guilty and pushed the plate toward him: “Try some, it’s delicious.”

Li Tan still ignored her. Well, he had reason to resent her—after all, it was her “Aunt Hong.”

Mu Dai, holding her plate, was about to find another spot. Just as she stood up, Li Tan suddenly asked: “Your Aunt Hong… has she ever mentioned me?”

How should she answer? A kind lie? Or the painful truth?

Seeing Mu Dai’s silence, Li Tan smiled: “I understand.”

He knew the answer without asking. Perhaps asking helped him let go more thoroughly.

Mu Dai found it quite sad and tried to change the subject: “Luo Ren said Uncle Zheng accompanied you to the hospital. Nothing serious, I hope?”

“When you get old, your body becomes like an antique car—problems everywhere.” Li Tan sighed with self-mockery, patting his knee. “I never paid attention before, living with irregular schedules, eating irregularly. Now the old fellow is protesting.”

Indeed, it was strange. Previously, despite his age, he never felt old. He had been vigorous, constantly striving to uncover the truth. But that night, when Luo Ren came in with the phone, telling him someone wanted to speak with him—

The moment he heard Li Yaqing’s voice, that vigor inside him slowly drained away.

Li Yaqing said “sorry” to him. He laughed bitterly and said, “It’s nothing.”

No one had forced him at knifepoint; he had chosen it himself.

Now thinking about it, it did match that old saying: “Like a bird that has eaten its fill and returns to the forest, a vast empty land remains clean.” After all the pain, turmoil, strife, and struggle, now there was just emptiness, strangely deflating.

Li Tan smiled at Mu Dai: “I’m heading back tomorrow. Luo Ren says there are still some mysteries. I don’t have the energy to investigate anymore. It’s hard on you all. When you get news, give me a call and let me know.”

He stood up with effort, pounding his aching waist. From beginning to end, he never touched the plate of lamb that Mu Dai had brought him.

Perhaps, even if verbally resigned, in his heart, he still couldn’t accept any goodwill connected to Hong Zihong.

Mu Dai stood there for a while, forking a piece of roast lamb into her mouth. With her low spirits, it tasted like chewing wax.

Inadvertently turning her head…

Among everyone present, only Yi Wansan could eat with such a satisfied, ravenous appetite.

Before sleep, everything was normal. At midnight, Mu Dai woke up.

Dry—it was truly dry here. It felt like there wasn’t a single drop of moisture in the air. Her throat was parched, and her lips were starting to peel.

There was no kettle in the room, so Mu Dai went to the living room to find one. Just her luck—the water dispenser only yielded half a cup, gone in one sip.

How strange—no kettle? Mu Dai rushed to Luo Ren’s door, wanting to knock but restraining herself.

In the middle of the night, everyone was sleeping.

But without knocking, should she just endure the thirst?

As she hesitated, the door suddenly opened.

The kettle was plugged in, emitting the familiar sound of water heating. Mu Dai finally relaxed, wrapping herself in her coat and sitting on the sofa, waiting for the water to boil. Meanwhile, she examined Luo Ren’s room, her gaze quickly drawn to one wall.

It looked like a case wall from movies, and included the chart Luo Ren had made with sticky notes at the small noodle shop in the ancient city. However, the places previously marked with question marks had been replaced with “Zhang Guanghua.” A folded line extended from Zhang Guanghua’s name, ending with three characters.

Hangu Pass.

The three characters “Hangu Pass” were circled repeatedly in red pen with a question mark, clearly still a conjecture. On the other end, a folded line extended from Luo Wenmo’s name, ending with “Pin Ting.”

It also had a question mark, but for some reason, seeing it made Mu Dai’s heart ache.

Luo Ren brought over a cup with some lotus seed cores: “It is indeed much drier here than in the south. Many first-time visitors find it difficult to adapt.”

“How did you know I was outside your door?”

“After Uncle Zheng mentioned Pin Ting’s situation, I’ve been especially vigilant, sometimes staying awake all night, but…”

His brow furrowed: “So far, I haven’t encountered…”

As he spoke, his gaze fell on that wall.

If it was indeed a “virus” as previously speculated, could Pin Ting be another carrier? Were her so-called abnormalities the manifestations of the early stages? And how was this virus transmitted between individuals?

Turning his head, he saw Mu Dai anxiously licking her lips.

Luo Ren snapped his fingers in front of her, startling her: “Stop licking them. It only makes them drier.”

The water had boiled, steam rising. Wanting to drink but not daring, fearing that one sip would scald a layer of skin, Mu Dai simply lowered her face over the cup, the steam making her feel much better.

Looking at Mu Dai, Luo Ren was both annoyed and amused: “Didn’t you bring lip balm?”

Lip balm? She did use it normally, but it wasn’t essential. She hadn’t thought about it when leaving.

Luo Ren dug his own out of his luggage and handed it to her: “The south has soft mountains and gentle waters. You’re too careless. Here, everyone carries one, regardless of gender.”

Mu Dai reached out to take it, but just as she touched it, Luo Ren pulled it back.

He twisted out a section of the balm, took a straight-edged knife from the table, cut off the part he had used, and then handed it back to her.

How thoughtful. Mu Dai was momentarily stunned: “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

Luo Ren looked at her: “Really don’t mind?”

Mu Dai’s ears reddened with guilt.

Don’t mind? Thinking about it, she did mind.

Mu Dai lowered her head, twisted out the balm, and applied it to her lips. As she did so, she suddenly jolted and looked up at Luo Ren.

Luo Ren’s expression was grave. He raised a finger to his lips, making a “shh” gesture.

It seemed he had heard it too.

Not just Luo Ren, but Uncle Zheng, Yi Wansan, and Li Tan had all come out.

This wasn’t the “faint, thread-like” singing that Uncle Zheng had described. This was actual singing, the voice clear, especially distinct in the night.

The group met in the hallway. Luo Ren gave Uncle Zheng a look, and Uncle Zheng understood: those not involved should stay out of it.

He turned to explain to Li Tan and Yi Wansan: “Pin Ting… she’s not quite normal here. I’m sorry she disturbed your sleep. Please understand.”

His tone was firm despite the gentle words. Anyone with common sense would understand: what host would allow strangers to see a family member during an episode?

Li Tan, already disinterested, turned and went back to his room. Yi Wansan had to retreat too, feeling extremely disappointed: No wonder the door was made like a railing. Such a beautiful woman, actually insane? Was there no justice in this world?

Luo Ren led Mu Dai closer.

Pin Ting was indeed dancing, singing while dancing. Her movements were certainly bold and expansive—what refined, delicate woman would dance like this?

With “The Bowstring Song” as background context, Mu Dai understood quite clearly: Yes, this was the kind of ancient dance, not focusing on graceful postures but dancing spontaneously.

Pin Ting’s song and dance continued for about two to three minutes. Then, she suddenly stopped, returning to that silent, downcast appearance. She quietly got into bed, pulled up the covers, and turned off the bedside lamp.

The room was completely silent. The blanket formed a mound that remained motionless for a long time.

Mu Dai hadn’t felt it while watching, but now she sensed a lingering horror spreading from this room. She involuntarily shuddered, small tremors rising on both arms.

Uncle Zheng shook his head at her with a sigh, as if saying: See? This is how it is.

He walked back to his room with heavy steps.

Luo Ren stood at the railing, motionless, his eyes fixed on Pin Ting in bed, his lowered hand slowly clenching.

If this truly was a “virus,” were Pin Ting’s symptoms gradually worsening? His uncle, Luo Wenmo, hadn’t shown such reactions. Could it be that reactions varied, differing from person to person?

Mu Dai didn’t know what words would be most comforting at this moment: “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

Luo Ren’s heart stirred.

Calling multiple times to invite Mu Dai here—was it really without selfish motives? Yes, there were motives. She practiced martial arts and knew the situation, making her the best assistant. If something happened with Pin Ting and he couldn’t control the situation, having Mu Dai here was worth three, four, five, or six Uncle Zhengs.

But what if the severity of the situation exceeded his imagination? Wouldn’t Mu Dai be in danger?

“My master says that those who practice martial arts are half-members of the jianghu world, hating evil and helping those in danger. I can barely manage that. Besides, my Aunt Hong is connected to this matter, so I’ll try my best to help you.”

Luo Ren laughed inwardly. Mu Dai was much more innocent than he had thought. That night, when she cried from fear, he could tell: she was the type who would repay even the smallest kindness many times over. Had he intentionally or unintentionally exploited this trait to gain her sympathy?

Yes, he probably had. And he called himself a man? It was rather shameful when he thought about it.

Luo Ren looked at her: “Mu Dai.”

“Hmm?”

“You should move out tomorrow, and take your friend with you.”

“What?”

Mu Dai felt wronged. What had she said? Just like that, she couldn’t stay anymore? She had only said kind words.

Such a smart young lady, yet sometimes so foolish—her whole demeanor radiated naivety. Luo Ren reminded her, “If Pin Ting has indeed been infected with a virus, I’m not sure if it can infect another person. If you stay here, it’s hard to say, really hard to say.”

Mu Dai’s heart nearly skipped a beat.

She truly hadn’t thought of this. Her master used to say there was an old saying: “Warriors are reckless,” as if strengthening the body meant weakening the mind. She had proudly responded: “Master, I’m very smart.”

Smart? She could barely handle minor characters like Yi Wansan and Cao Yanhua with an imposing manner. When truly facing issues, she discovered her forgetfulness and incomplete thinking—she still lacked experience.

She quickly nodded: “Oh, oh, alright.”

Her expression was tense, as if staying one more second would lead to infection. She looked eager to return to her room and pack immediately: “Well, I’ll go back then.”

She turned to leave. Luo Ren had a sudden thought and quickly grabbed her arm: “I was just testing you. What happened to hating evil and helping those in danger? What happened to helping?”

It was a real slap in the face.