The grand opening of Phoenix Tower was a far cry from Cao Yanhua’s imagination of firecrackers exploding and drums beating—it fell short by a hundred thousand miles.

No, a hundred and eighty thousand miles.

Mu Dai had disappeared without a trace. Yan Hongsha had returned to Kunming due to family debt issues. Luo Ren was nowhere to be seen. Heavy rain poured from the sky, and across the street, Lian Yan had shut its doors—Lian Shu had been taken away by the police, and Lian Yan hadn’t been open for business for several consecutive days.

All these circumstances could be summarized in two words: desolate.

Cao Yanhua clutched a stack of flyers, pacing around the shop like a caged beast. He had sent advertisements to WeChat groups and Moments, offering half-price for opening day visitors and free service for the first three customers. Last night, he made a grand announcement at the bar, asking everyone to support his business…

Where was everyone? Where had they all gone? Had a little rain completely extinguished their magical nature of loving to watch excitement, and take advantage of bargains?

Yi Wansan sat at a table near the door, sipping cola through a bright yellow straw from a slender-necked bottle—a slow, continuous flow. After two hours, he hadn’t even finished half the bottle.

He said, “Fat Cao, calm down a bit.”

Calm down? On what should have been a bustling grand opening day, they’d encountered a downpour, without a single customer showing up. If it were you, could you stay calm?

The aroma of roasted lamb leg wafted from the kitchen, each piece perfectly marinated and beautifully presented. They had expected overwhelming demand on opening day, but now faced such dismal prospects. How could they justify the sacrifice of all those lambs?

Uncle Zheng emerged from the back kitchen in a crisp new chef’s coat, looking at the sheets of rain outside. As if comforting himself and everyone else, he said, “It’s raining. People inevitably want to stay home.”

After speaking, he called to Pin Ting, “Come, be good, stop standing, and take a rest.”

Pin Ting was dressed beautifully today, wearing a banner that read “Welcome.” She had been standing expectantly at the entrance. Earlier, Cao Yanhua had instructed her, “Whenever customers come in, you smile, understand? A beautiful smile.”

Only because Luo Ren wasn’t around did he dare order Pin Ting around like this.

Pin Ting came over with her lips pouting, her shoes making tap-tap sounds. Cao Yanhua sat down at the table in low spirits, resting his legs on the table, his entire body as limp as a wrung-out dishcloth.

With this image, if any customers were to arrive, wouldn’t it be degrading?

Uncle Zheng frowned, about to say something to him, when Cao Yanhua stared into the vast curtain of rain and suddenly blurted out, “I wonder where my little shifu is right now.”

With that one sentence, the atmospheric pressure in the shop dropped another eight degrees.

Huo Zihong certainly couldn’t have explained to everyone the detailed reasons for Mu Dai’s departure, but she didn’t completely conceal them either. Combined with Yi Wansan’s extensive inquiries, some key words had leaked out, such as “multiple personalities” and “schizophrenia.”

Rainy days easily add to melancholy. Cao Yanhua sighed, “My little shifu, so youthful and charming, loved by everyone who meets her. How could she possibly have mental problems?”

Yi Wansan said, “Am I the only one who thought she had some split personality issues?”

Once this topic came up, the two started to quarrel.

Cao Yanhua bristled like an aggressive rooster: “You’re diagnosing someone with a split personality just based on their clothing style? Back in Jiefangbei, I’ve seen countless women—those female white-collar workers in business suits during the day, then at night wearing sparkly spaghetti straps and hot pants that cover less than a diaper. By your logic, they all have split personalities?”

Yi Wansan said, “Sometimes, her personality seemed inconsistent…”

Cao Yanhua grew more combative: “Everyone has their highs and lows in life. Just the other day, after coming back from Sizhai, weren’t you also acting as delicately as someone in postpartum confinement? Where did your boldness from the days of burning the old clam go? Do you have a split personality, too?”

Yi Wansan indicated he wouldn’t argue further and lowered his head to continue sipping his cola.

Cao Yanhua concluded: “Only irresponsible people who don’t understand the problem would make a generic diagnosis of personality disorder! They attribute everything to personality disorder because it’s a safe bet that can’t be wrong!”

Outside, someone approached—hair disheveled, carrying a sack, pants rolled up, wearing flip-flops, and holding a broken black umbrella. Water poured from the collapsed umbrella surface like a miniature waterfall.

Pin Ting sprang to her feet, smiling like a flower as she rushed toward the door.

Cao Yanhua kicked Yi Wansan: “A beggar’s come, give him some money to send him away.”

His passionate speech from earlier still lingered, but he directed Yi Wansan with absolute certainty.

Yi Wansan rolled his eyes.

There was indeed such a rule. Last night, Huo Zihong had reminded him: newly opened shops should set aside money specifically for beggars, as all manner of people needed to be accommodated.

Yi Wansan took some change and went out.

After a while, he came back with someone.

What was this! Bringing Pin Ting in was one thing, but why bring in that person too? How inauspicious!

Cao Yanhua’s feet resting on the table spread slightly, and he peered through the V-shaped gap at the newcomer: hair already wet from the rain, surprisingly naturally curly, wearing black-framed glasses with one temple broken and wrapped repeatedly with white thread. A delighted smile spread across his face as he carefully pulled out a phone from his pocket.

It was truly impressive—he used an Apple!

Today’s beggars were indeed quite high-tech and sophisticated.

Still wearing that delighted expression, he turned the phone screen to show Yi Wansan: “Friends and family, half-price on opening day, free for the first three, right?”

That voice…

Though he’d never seen the person, that voice…

Cao Yanhua suddenly recalled someone.

He hurriedly tried to stand up, supporting himself on the chair, but his balance was uneven, and he tumbled from the table, landing face-first with a solid smack.

But he immediately scrambled to his feet using both hands and feet: “Mr… Shen?”

Shen Gun said, “Weren’t you learning kung fu? Your practice… doesn’t seem very effective…”

Cao Yanhua felt that the lights in the room had become brighter than before.

Yes, a humble abode brightened by an illustrious visitor!

He regarded Shen Gun with reverent eyes.

Truly a master. Previously, during the string of strange and thorny incidents, they couldn’t get him to come even when they tried to invite him. But now, for the half-price opening day offer with the first three free, he braved the rain to visit—it showed real character.

His attire was also distinctive, that of one who sees through worldly vanity and returns to simplicity, holding a broken umbrella, his whole being emanating an air of transcendent detachment like “letting a cloak of rain and mist drift through life.”

Uncle Zheng brought out sliced and seasoned lamb leg, its aroma enticing. Shen Gun was so delighted that even his glasses seemed to sparkle.

He picked up a slice and savored it, saying, “Delicious! Just slightly inferior to a KFC family bucket.”

Uncle Zheng was deeply discouraged.

Yi Wansan, having finished calling Luo Ren, came over and said, “Luo Ren will be here soon.”

Shen Gun had no interest in Luo Ren and picked up another piece of lamb, rolling it thoroughly in chili flakes: “It’s a pity I can’t see our little pocket.”

When Luo Ren entered, Shen Gun was in the middle of an expansive discourse.

“Only quack doctors would treat patients until they seem more like patients! All this talk of split personalities is just an excuse. I believe that psychological illnesses are encounters with demons of the mind, understand? Demons of the mind!”

He grabbed a lamb bone, waving it in the air to illustrate his point, looking quite possessed himself.

Cao Yanhua and the others listened intently, not noticing Luo Ren’s arrival. Pin Ting, however, saw him, her eyes wide and round as if about to say: “Oh?”

Luo Ren placed his index finger vertically on his lips, signaling her to stay quiet.

Shen Gun continued: “The ancients long ago concluded: the one who tied the bell must untie it; the illness of the mind must be treated with medicine for the mind.”

Luo Ren leaned against the doorframe. The door wasn’t fully closed, and rainwater splashed on the ground, soaking him below the knees.

Before coming, Ma Tuwen had called him, first complaining and asking why he was searching again—were they playing hide-and-seek? Then he said that this time the search seemed difficult; Wan Fenghuo’s end had made no progress.

This result was not unexpected to Luo Ren.

The hardest person to find in this world is one who truly doesn’t want to be found.

The sky gradually darkened.

On the bumpy mountain road, a double-decker sleeper bus approached.

As it continued, night intensified. The interior lights were switched off, and the yellowish headlights turned on. Outside the windows, shadows flickered indistinctly—trees or jutting rocks, it was hard to tell.

The rustling of plastic bags and the sounds of people turning to sleep filled the air. The destination wouldn’t be reached until tomorrow afternoon, with a long journey still ahead.

Mu Dai lay on a lower berth toward the back. An old man slept in the upper berth, snoring thunderously, one foot dangling down, swaying back and forth.

Mu Dai couldn’t sleep. With her head against the glass, she suddenly remembered something and took out her wallet from her pocket.

Left was…

Three yuan and twenty cents.

She wasn’t concerned about the small amount, just puzzled about what she had bought that resulted in a twenty-cent change.

Three yuan and twenty cents—barely enough for the next meal.

But she wasn’t anxious. Instead, she felt a subtle happiness, a sense of finally discarding the old.

Anyway, she wouldn’t starve to death. Because of the uncertainty, the next meal—what she would eat, with whom, and where—all held unknown expectations.

The bus swayed gently, like a cradle.

She closed her eyes.

She saw Luo Ren.

He stood in front of a fruit stall, fruit placed by his feet, writing something on a paper: “However, miss, if you’re looking for an opportunity to get to know me, you can call my number anytime…”

Mu Dai opened her eyes, turned her head, and breathed on the window. She extended her finger and wrote Luo Ren’s phone number.

After writing it, she breathed again, and the string of numbers blurred.

Sometimes, fate brings people together not to stay with each other, but to miss each other.

Faint sounds of an argument came from the front.

Mu Dai didn’t notice at first, until she suddenly realized it included a girl’s frightened, hushed voice.

Saying: “No, no.”

It was from a position toward the front of the bus, seemingly from an upper berth. The girl suddenly called out, “Sister,” then her voice disappeared.

Mu Dai sat motionless on her berth for a while, then got up, put on her shoes, and holding onto the rail of the upper berth, slowly walked forward.

The commotion grew louder, and she could see two figures struggling in the darkness. The one on top appeared to be a man, pressing down on the girl, covering her mouth. The girl struggled, tapping the adjacent berth.

A middle-aged woman lay on that berth, facing away, her eyes half-open. Mu Dai could see the glint in her eyes.

But she didn’t move a muscle.

Mu Dai said, “Hey!”

Her voice wasn’t small. The man looked toward her, snarling, “Little bitch, get lost, or I’ll stab you to death.”

Mu Dai said, “Then come down and stab me!”

Holding onto the berth rail, she asked the girl, “What’s your relationship with him?”

The girl’s mouth was covered, and she kept shaking her head, her eyes glistening with what must have been tears.

The man swung a violent slap toward Mu Dai. She tilted her head, stepping on the lower berth rail to leverage her body, grabbing his wrist with one hand and bending it in the opposite direction, while her other arm stretched to grip his shoulder hollow.

Just then, the bus swayed, and using this fortunate momentum, with a thud, Mu Dai pulled the man down to the floor.

The man cried out in pain while the girl above burst into loud sobs. Mu Dai asked, “What’s your relationship with her?”

He answered gruffly, “She’s my girlfriend!”

The girl shrieked from above, “I don’t know him! He was staring at me while waiting for the bus, and I ignored him. Then he changed his berth to be next to mine after boarding. I had no idea that once the lights went out, he would… he would be so shameless…”

There was movement from the surrounding berths as people began to stir. Some turned on flashlights, some shone phone lights, others shouted, “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

Now everyone was awake.

The middle-aged woman who had been there earlier also sat up. Being the closest, she seemed to feel obligated to explain: “I’m not sure either. I thought it was just young people quarreling…”

The man stood up, tall and imposing, his face twisted into an unrecognizable shape as he bellowed, “She’s my girlfriend! Our quarrel is none of your business, get lost!”

Some onlookers grew timid, saying, “Oh, it’s just lovers quarreling…”

The girl scrambled toward Mu Dai, saying, “Sister, I am not his girlfriend, really not.”

In the bus’s light, Mu Dai saw her face. No wonder she called her sister—she looked only sixteen or seventeen, while the man must have been in his thirties.

Mu Dai said, “Do you have your ID card? Let me see.”

Then she looked at the man: “If she’s your girlfriend, what’s her name?”

The girl immediately understood and tremblingly took out her ID card for Mu Dai. Someone nearby egged on: “Yeah, what’s your girlfriend’s name?”

The man’s face turned extremely ugly. His fierce gaze swept around, and the taunting voices diminished.

The bus continued moving.

The man clenched his fists like a small vinegar pot and walked toward Mu Dai.

The bus cabin fell silent. The girl, face pale with fear, pulled at Mu Dai, seemingly wanting to pull her back. Mu Dai glanced at her and said, “Meeting me is your lucky day.”

She kicked off from the lower berth and sprang up. The man looked up at her, only to be struck squarely in the neck by her shoulder and elbow. He fell over in pain. Mu Dai landed in front of him, bent down to grab his shoulder hollows, sinking her shoulders and exerting force, managing to drag him.

Like dragging a dead pig.

She dragged him to the front, where the driver was still driving. The relief driver stood up to block her: “What are you doing?”

Mu Dai said, “Open the door.”

The driver pulled over, and as soon as the door opened, Mu Dai kicked the man out, then pulled the door closed and said, “Drive!”

The driver said, “Miss, you can’t cause trouble like this. He’s a passenger too.”

Mu Dai ignored him and turned around, walking back to her berth.

The bus stopped for a while. The man below didn’t dare to board. After some time, passengers began to lose patience: “Are we going or not?”

Amid the commotion, the relief driver secretly opened the door slightly. The man cowered as he boarded, crouching by the door, not daring to move further in.

The bus started moving again.

The cabin gradually returned to calm. Mu Dai, with her hands behind her head, saw a timid figure approaching.

Coming closer, she saw it was the girl, carrying her bags, who glanced at Mu Dai and hesitantly sat down on her berth, occupying just a small portion.

Then, she lowered her head, fumbling with the plastic bag in her hands, and offered an orange.

She said, “Would you like an orange?”

Mu Dai took it, dug her nail into the peel, then opened it and put a segment into her mouth. It was sweet, slightly sour, with juicy pulp that soothed her taste buds.

The girl looked back toward the door, then moved a bit closer to Mu Dai.

—”The bus’s final stop is Nantian. Are you going to Nantian too?”

—”I was working outside, but my aunt runs a restaurant in Nantian and asked me to help.”

—”My name is Zheng Li, the ‘Li’ from ‘pear.'”

—”Nantian is a small place. What are you going there for?”

Mu Dai had remained silent, eating one segment after another, the fresh citrus fragrance spreading through the stuffy air.

Zheng Li thought she probably wouldn’t reply.

Just then, Mu Dai spoke up.

She said, “I’m going to find someone.”