No matter how many times he asked, “What happened?” Mu Dai wouldn’t speak. Finally, her legs suddenly weakened, and she nearly fell, saying: “Luo Ren, I need to find a place to wash up.”

She seemed to suddenly realize how messy she was after being splashed. She desperately tried to wipe her face with the back of her hand and turned away to avoid the gaze of passersby. Luo Ren used his handkerchief to help her wipe, and when one became dirty, he replaced it with another.

Mu Dai mumbled, “You carry so many handkerchiefs.”

Luo Ren didn’t respond. As it happened, he had bought them while wandering around that evening. He didn’t usually use them, but had spotted them by chance and thought that with a little “tear jar” around, he should keep one or two on hand.

He had carefully selected several ones that were appropriate and proper, that wouldn’t seem fussy when taken out. But now, unexpectedly, they were all smeared with red oil. Crumpled into balls and thrown into the trash bin, they had transformed from clean and pristine to a pile of rags in an instant.

Having finally cleaned her face, he helped her remove the Sichuan peppercorns from her hair.

He couldn’t get them all out—there were so many, one by one. Mu Dai shook her head, looking around in a panic, and said vaguely: “I need to find a place to wash. I’m dirty.”

Looking down, she saw that some of the red oil and food had even poured into her boots. Feeling disgusted, without thinking, she took off her boots and threw them into the trash bin.

Luo Ren followed her suggestion: “My place is nearby. Let’s go there to wash first.”

Luo Ren found a set of Pin Ting’s clothes for Mu Dai. While waiting for her to shower, he went back down to find the restaurant owner.

The fat owner was eager to distance himself from the incident.

In his words, he didn’t know what had led to it. They had just been busy clearing tables after a large group of customers had left. He happened to look up and saw Mu Dai standing at the entrance, her gaze evasive and her face pale. In front of her stood a thin woman in her forties wearing a tourist hat.

Then, the woman hurried in, walking directly to a table. From the looks of it, she knew the people at that table. The owner had initially thought she was going to sit down to eat, but to his surprise, she picked up the soup pot and walked out.

“Who would have thought she was going to splash someone? I was curious and worried she might take the soup pot away. Instead, she went to the entrance and poured it over the girl’s head. The young lady didn’t even dodge—she just closed her eyes and took it.”

Luo Ren’s heart tightened slightly: How foolish, girl. No matter what happened before, even if you were in the wrong, you should have dodged and then apologized.

“Then the woman said, ‘I can’t eat anymore, how could I eat after this!’ After saying that, she threw down the pot and left. The people at that table looked at each other, paid their bill, and followed her out.”

At this point, the owner seemed somewhat distressed: that woman had chipped several pieces of porcelain from his soup pot by throwing it. Such a lack of manners.

“Did you see which tour group they were with? Was there any logo on the hat?”

The owner was dumbfounded: Tour groups in Lijiang were as numerous as fish crossing a river. The hats were either red or yellow, and the guide flags were either square or triangular. How could he remember them all?

Luo Ren returned with a heavy heart: Was it just a random argument? It didn’t seem so.

The door was slightly ajar. Luo Ren’s heart skipped a beat. When he had left, Mu Dai was showering, and he should have locked the door securely.

He tentatively called “Mu Dai” and gently pushed the door open.

Mu Dai was curled up in the corner of the sofa, covered with a blanket. Luo Ren thought she was asleep and instinctively softened his steps. Only when he got closer did he realize her eyes were open.

She said: “I’m exhausted, with no strength. I thought it would be troublesome to have to open the door for you when you returned, so I left it ajar.”

Luo Ren smiled, not knowing what to say.

She continued: “Can I borrow the sofa to sleep on? I’m very tired, and I don’t have shoes to walk back.”

Luo Ren nodded, indicating that she should sleep on the bed—beds were always more comfortable than sofas.

Only after seeing Mu Dai settled comfortably on the bed did he close the door and leave.

It was a bit chilly outside. Leaning against the railing, he could see the dark silhouettes of rooftops near and far. Luo Ren called the bar and asked for Uncle Zhang.

Uncle Zhang seemed somewhat displeased, saying: “For a young lady, how can she stay out overnight just like that? If this were in the past…”

If this were in the past, it would certainly have been extremely improper. But times were different now. Uncle Zhang grumbled for a few sentences and then let it go. He trusted Mu Dai, feeling that even if she stayed out overnight, she wouldn’t do anything inappropriate: “Well then, Luo Ren, I’ll trouble you to look after her.”

Luo Ren didn’t hang up: “Uncle Zhang, has Mu Dai ever had a grudge with anyone?”

Uncle Zhang was momentarily startled, then laughed it off: “A young girl, what kind of grudges could she have…”

Luo Ren wasn’t fooled by his ambiguous response and calmly recounted what had happened that evening.

Uncle Zhang fell silent. Luo Ren asked again: “Uncle Zhang, do you know who it was?”

After a long while, he finally heard Uncle Zhang’s reply: “I don’t know who it was, but I have a general idea. Don’t worry, a good night’s sleep will make it better. Let Mu Dai rest well.”

Uncle Zhang was treating him as an outsider, unwilling to speak clearly. This was understandable, but what did he mean by “a good night’s sleep will make it better”? Was sleep a painkiller? Or had similar incidents happened before?

Luo Ren couldn’t sleep. The house had guest rooms, so even after giving his room to Mu Dai, he wasn’t short of a place to sleep. But he was completely awake.

He walked up and down the house several times, passing by Uncle Zheng’s room and hearing the old man coughing as he turned in his sleep. Passing by Pin Ting’s room, he paused for a long time, listening to her quiet, even breathing.

Then, passing by Mu Dai’s door, he hesitated for a moment before gently opening it.

In the darkness, he couldn’t see clearly, but on the bed…

Luo Ren’s heart tightened, and he instinctively turned on the light. Sure enough, there was no one on the bed. Not only was there no one, but the pillow and blanket were also missing.

When had she left? Luo Ren’s scalp tingled. He turned to chase after her, but after taking just a few steps, he suddenly stopped. After a pause, he walked to the wall cabinet and slowly crouched down.

He hadn’t been mistaken. The sliding door of the cabinet, which had previously been tightly closed, was now open just wide enough to reveal a few strands of Mu Dai’s hair.

She had gone to… sleep in the cabinet?

Just as he was pondering this, there was movement in the cabinet. Mu Dai turned over, her eyes open, looking at him through the narrow opening. Luo Ren asked her: “Did I wake you?”

Mu Dai shook her head: “I can’t sleep. Luo Ren, let’s talk for a while.”

She added: “Turn off the light, please. It hurts my eyes.”

Luo Ren rummaged through his luggage bag and found a single inflatable air mattress, folded to the size of a thick piece of clothing. As he took it out, a small object came with it, rolling on the floor.

Luo Ren picked it up and gave it to Mu Dai: “Something fun.”

Mu Dai pushed the sliding door open a bit more and extended her hand to take it. It was a thumb-sized super-mini monocular telescope, about the size of a tiny medicine bottle, with “made in Russia” printed around the rim. At the other end was a loop of wire, just large enough for an index finger to slip through.

Luo Ren inflated the air mattress. As thin as it was, it gradually swelled up. Mu Dai held the telescope to her eye. The room was too small, and through the optical lens, all the furniture appeared stretched and strange.

When the light went out, Mu Dai thought: Luo Ren had many curious items.

The air mattress was placed on the floor, and Luo Ren lay down, his hands behind his head. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the blackness gradually dissipated. Looking to the left, Mu Dai’s eyes were gleaming bright in the cabinet, inexplicably reminding him of a little mouse stealing oil. Looking to the right was the inner-facing window.

Windows facing the street were fitted with glass for transparency, while windows facing the inner courtyard, to maintain an antique style, were still covered with paper. The window was fan-shaped with diamond patterns. At this moment, the outside was brighter than the inside, making the white, fan-shaped window resemble a curtain with winding patterns.

Luo Ren asked her: “Do you want to talk about what happened today?”

She answered a different question: “Luo Ren, what do you do? These two years, have you just been investigating cases related to Luoma Lake? Don’t you work?”

Work? Luo Ren chuckled softly.

Mu Dai seemed to suddenly realize: “Oh, I remember now, your family is wealthy.”

What did that have to do with his family being wealthy?

Luo Ren’s lips curved into a slight smile. He stared at the ceiling directly above, not knowing where to begin: “I lived at my uncle’s house for… over six years, and then my father stepped in and took me back.”

Some relationships, once broken, couldn’t be restored, especially at that age, which was the most rebellious period.

“I didn’t get along with my father. Strangely, this extended to being formal with my mother, not close. Not to mention an affected stepmother who was always around, and a half-brother who was the apple of my father’s eye.”

Compared to living with Pin Ting’s family, it was like heaven and earth. Who would want to return to such a home?

It was embarrassing to talk about. He deliberately avoided going home, desperately making friends outside, any kind would do, as long as they could help him pass the time. Sometimes, for the sake of brotherhood, he would get into fights. The more violently he fought, the more he was accepted and admired.

His father, enraged, had beaten him severely several times. The old man had a technique for beating people. He had found bamboo handles somewhere, split into thin strips at the bottom. When striking the body, they made a swishing sound, and each blow left bloody marks on the back.

While striking, he would use him as an example to educate his half-brother: “Don’t learn from this good-for-nothing!”

Blood seeped from his back, but he didn’t make a sound. Instead, he wore a smile on his face, indifferently watching that unfamiliar brother, causing the small boy to shrink back continuously.

His stepmother had truly put in effort. The little boy, not even ten years old, already had glasses as thick as beer bottle bottoms. What was he studying all day? Classics, history, philosophy, and strategies—was it all for inheriting the old man’s fortune?

“I had plenty of ways to infuriate my father. For entrance exams, I deliberately failed every subject. My father thought that, at the very least, I should have some education, so he spent a fortune to get me into a university, a paid university.”

In the darkness, he laughed softly: “Looking back now, I realize I was quite immature.”

Mu Dai leaned on the edge of the cabinet: “Then what?”

“After university, my father fell ill with some unknown disease. My mother urged me to return and stay by his bedside, but I didn’t. I had arranged to go to Southeast Asia with some friends and was having such a good time that I didn’t want to leave. On the day we were to return to China, my father called me, an international long-distance call. I later learned that before that, he had had a critical condition and nearly died. Having almost left this world and returned, he probably had reconsidered many things and felt that a son like me wasn’t worth keeping.”

So he had solemnly called to inform him that his financial support would be cut off, that he wouldn’t get a penny of the family fortune, and that he was no longer welcome in the family.

This was exactly what he had wanted. He had done it deliberately, feeling that it suited everyone: “My father could let go of this burden, my stepmother would be satisfied, my half-brother wouldn’t have to be so wary of me, and I would successfully get back at my mother.”

“What did this have to do with your mother? She already had a hard time at home. With you acting like this, how heartbroken must she have been?”

Luo Ren turned his head, looking at Mu Dai’s eyes with a smile: “You’re as innocent as an airtight little bag. Do you think those incidents where I nearly got hit by a car and had my stomach pumped due to poisoning were my stepmother’s doing?”

Could it be…

Mu Dai was shocked into silence: Could it have been Luo Ren’s mother? How was that possible?

…

Neither of them noticed the ghostly figure that drifted past the paper fan-shaped window.