By noon the next day, Luo Ren’s car entered Chongqing.

After driving for more than ten hours straight, his head was throbbing. Once in the city, he found a restaurant to eat, then tried calling several people one by one.

Mu Dai, Yi Wansan, Cao Yanhua—none of their phones connected.

Only Hong Sha answered. She sounded deeply depressed. When he asked what she was doing, she hesitated for a long while before finally saying, “Writing IOUs.”

Her uncle’s and grandfather’s deaths couldn’t be concealed, and creditors who had previously been restrained by propriety now came to her door, speaking bluntly.

—”Previously, out of respect for your grandfather…”

—”If your grandfather were still here, everything would be negotiable, but now…”

They seemed to have decided she had no hope of recovering financially.

She had sold the house, cleared out the furniture, but still couldn’t cover the debts. Some people, seeing her as a pitiful young girl all alone, were willing to let go of ten or twenty thousand, but there were always two or three who insisted, pounding the table, saying: “You’re pitiful, but does your being pitiful mean you don’t have to pay? You think you’re in the right?”

Yan Hong Sha held back tears in her eyes, gritting her teeth, refusing to let them fall. When pushed too far, she also slammed the table and stood up: “Either I write an IOU, or you take me to jail. Two options, choose one!”

The creditors looked at each other: forcing a young girl to go to jail wasn’t exactly honorable, and more importantly, if she went to jail, wouldn’t the debt be completely lost?

So she wrote IOUs. Never having written one before, she searched online for the format, signed her name, ID number, pressed her fingerprint, agreed on a repayment date, and ended with “This is certified herewith.”

Luo Ren asked, “How much do you owe in total? Or I could lend it to you first?”

Yan Hong Sha was silent for a moment, then said, “No.”

She didn’t want to turn a friend into a creditor, seeing them every day and always feeling inferior.

Luo Ren didn’t insist: “Think about it yourself. If you need help, just ask.”

After a pause, he added, “Mu Dai and the others might be in trouble. All three of them, no news at all.”

He briefly explained the previous events to Yan Hong Sha. Though concerned, she still felt they should think positively: “Maybe Mu Dai just forgot, or she was busy and didn’t have time to call?”

These possibilities seemed unlikely, since Luo Ren had clearly explained the importance of the matter to her: “Because there’s no signal in Cao Family Village, daily scheduled communication is especially necessary. If I don’t receive a call, I can assume something has happened to you.”

If she couldn’t call last night, she could have made up for it during the day, but throughout his journey, he hadn’t received any calls.

Hearing this, Yan Hong Sha became worried too: “Then… I’ll go as soon as I finish writing these IOUs. How will we stay in contact?”

“The same way. I’ll find a way to call you at a fixed time every day.”

—

By sunset, Luo Ren entered the mountains. For the final stretch, the car couldn’t proceed further, so he parked it and carried a simple tactical bag containing essential self-defense tools and medicines.

He initially thought about taking the car keys with him, but after some consideration, he dug a hole near a tree and buried them.

His phone still had a signal, so he took advantage of this to tell Yan Hong Sha about the location. Since she would inevitably arrive after him, she could open the car door to get supplies if necessary—his trunk was essentially a half-storage unit.

He waited at the entrance for a while, hoping to hitch a ride on a motorcycle or something. After waiting left and right with no vehicle in sight, it unexpectedly began to drizzle.

With no other choice, he followed the mountain path on foot into the village. Fortunately, he was traveling light and didn’t feel tired. By dinnertime, he reached the outpost of Cao Family Village, a small grocery store.

The store didn’t have much food. Luo Ren bought a bottle of water and two chocolate bars. In just this brief moment, the rain had intensified.

The chocolate didn’t taste quite right. He ate only one bar and casually put the other in his pocket.

The store owner was nice, retrieving a black umbrella from the back room for Luo Ren, explaining that several ribs were broken but he didn’t need to return it—it could barely shelter him for a short distance.

The owner asked him, “Are you also here for the wedding?”

Sort of, Luo Ren answered vaguely.

The owner looked outside, where water was pouring down from the eaves: “The timing isn’t good. In these mountains, it either doesn’t rain at all or it rains for seven days straight. Looks like the wedding will be soaked.”

He shook his head as he spoke: “Not good, not good.”

Indeed, not good. Being “soaked” was equivalent to saying the wedding would be “washed out”—it didn’t seem auspicious.

The final stretch of road was about six or seven li.

It was more difficult than before. The dirt road was waterlogged, and the soil was soft. Each step created a half-inch deep depression. The umbrella was also peculiar—while most umbrellas angle downward, this one opened upward, collecting water as he walked.

Luo Ren thought to himself: Do you think you’re a flower?

He had to tilt the umbrella sideways every so often, letting the accumulated water pour down like a small waterfall. The water quickly flowed along the road crevices, an ochre-yellow color. If you scooped up a bowl, half would be mud.

In these mountains, mudslides must be common, and landslides probably happen frequently too.

Stepping unevenly through the mud, by nearly nine in the evening, he finally reached Cao Family Village. After asking for directions to Qingshan’s house, he approached it, leaning the umbrella against a tree before continuing in the rain.

The reason was simple—walking with such an umbrella ruined his image.

Qingshan was sitting at a table in the main room, using a pen to draw circles on paper, thinking about the arrangement of round tables and guest seating for tomorrow’s wedding, occasionally glancing outside.

The rain continued unabated, worrying him. Who wouldn’t hope for sunshine on their wedding day?

As he looked outside once more, he suddenly froze.

A man was striding toward him, tall and straight, wearing black military boots, splashing through the puddles collected in the depressions of the stone slabs before the door.

Qingshan instinctively felt the man was coming for him.

Sure enough, Luo Ren walked straight in and asked him: “Are you Qingshan?”

Qingshan nodded.

“I’m looking for my friends who arrived yesterday, one man and one woman.”

Qingshan stammered: “Are you referring to the guests from Beijing? They said they were friends of my cousin Dabun.”

“Yes.”

“They’re gone.”

“Gone?”

Qingshan explained that he didn’t know what happened either. Everything had been normal when he arranged their accommodations last night, but in the morning, both of them had disappeared.

He took Luo Ren to see the room where Mu Dai and Yi Wansan had stayed: “Look, I thought they might come back, so I didn’t clean up much, just folded the blankets.”

It was an ordinary room with no signs of a struggle. If something had happened to Mu Dai, he wouldn’t be here.

Leaving in the middle of the night, taking their luggage, and then complete silence—the whole thing seemed suspicious, no matter how you looked at it.

“Did they meet anyone after they arrived?”

Qingshan smiled good-naturedly: “People were coming and going in the house. They met many people.”

“Did they have any specific conversations with anyone?”

“Yes, the eldest Cao daughter. They talked with her for quite a while. That’s… Cao Jinhua.”

Cao Jinhua? The name sounded familiar.

“Anyone else?”

Qingshan scratched his head: “That girl also met our Yafeng… but only briefly. Seventh Aunt said they exchanged just a few words before coming out.”

Seeing Luo Ren’s confusion, he explained somewhat embarrassedly: “Yafeng is my bride.”

The bride?

Luo Ren’s mind stirred. Could she be the kidnapped girl?

It was already very late, and going to find Cao Jinhua at this hour seemed inappropriate. Luo Ren asked Qingshan if he could stay the night.

The room was empty anyway, so Qingshan readily agreed and proceeded to ask him many questions.

—Are you also a friend of my cousin Dabun?

—I thought my cousin was afraid my uncle would beat him, so he sent two friends ahead as scouts. Why did they leave in the middle of the night?

—You couldn’t contact them either? Well, there’s no signal here.

…

Yes, why did they leave in the middle of the night? Luo Ren was also wondering about this.

If they had rescued the girl and left, it would make sense, but in the current situation, the bride was still here, and the people who came to help her—one, two, three of them—had all disappeared.

After lying down, Luo Ren kept pondering this question, hands folded behind his head, unable to figure it out.

Perhaps there was a problem with either the bride or the village itself.

Outside the window, the rain continued unabated, growing increasingly heavy.

Bored, Luo Ren lifted the curtain to look outside. The courtyard’s drainage was poor, and water had already accumulated. The rain hit the water surface, creating ripples mixed with splashes.

Just as he was about to lower the curtain, a hand suddenly emerged from the center of the shallow puddle.

Despite being accustomed to danger, this unexpected sight still made Luo Ren’s entire body tense up.

He had just walked through the center of the courtyard into this room. It was packed earth, not soft mud. There couldn’t possibly be someone hidden underneath.

The hand continued to reach upward, and then, with difficulty, a head began to emerge from the water, as if someone was struggling to climb out.

First, just the top of the head, then the forehead, then the entire head, kept low. The sound of the pouring rain seemed to grow louder.

It was like a scene from a movie.

Luo Ren told himself this was impossible.

The person slowly raised their head.

Rain mixed with blood all over the face.

Luo Ren’s mind exploded with a roar, and for an instant, he couldn’t even hear the rain.

It was Yi Wansan!

Without a moment’s hesitation, Luo Ren almost kicked the door open as he rushed out. In the torrential rain, he raced to the center of the courtyard, half-kneeling, reaching into the rainwater.

Splashing water, icy rain soaking his head, almost washing down his back. This coldness brought Luo Ren back to his senses. He stood up and stepped back.

The solid-packed earth had about half an inch of standing water. There was no one there. What he had just seen was perhaps an illusion.

But Yi Wansan must be in trouble.

—

Mu Dai curled up in a corner of the cave, sleeping fitfully.

She had a dream where she was sleeping peacefully in her room, on that large carved wooden bed called “Immediate Promotion.” Suddenly, the bed began to shake all around. She rubbed her eyes and sat up to see that surrounding the bed was a vast expanse of water.

Animals passed before her eyes in pairs: paired doves, swimming white geese, a pair of monkeys doing the breaststroke with a pair of moles on their backs, huddling together.

In the distance was a large ship. These animals were continuously making their way toward it.

That must be the legendary Noah’s Ark. God had sent a flood for forty days, and only Noah’s family and pairs of animals could board the ship.

Mu Dai sat alone on the bed, thinking, I can’t get on the ship. Luo Ren isn’t here, so I can’t form a pair.

A wave came, and the bed flipped over.

Mu Dai fell into the water. The water was ice-cold.

She woke up instantly.

The splashing sound of water, a chill beneath her body—it did feel like water.

She quickly sat up and groped around until she found the flashlight. Fortunately, the flashlight was waterproof. When she turned it on, she saw that the cave floor was indeed practically a sea of water.

It must be raining heavily outside. Countless streams of water hung down from one side of the stone wall, pooling at the bottom of the cave. The water level was rising. Thankfully, she had been sleeping in a higher area; otherwise, she might have been submerged in her sleep without knowing.

Mu Dai hurriedly got up and limped to the side of the stone wall. A stone higher up was diverting the rainwater, creating a separate stream.

She tilted her head back and moved forward to drink a few mouthfuls. It tasted of earth, not particularly pleasant, but it was far better than having had nothing to drink all day.

She swept the flashlight around the cave. Perhaps she should find a relatively clean container to store some water.

One end of the cave with low-lying terrain had already accumulated water, forming a small pond.

As the flashlight beam swept across it, her movement suddenly froze. After a while, she hesitantly pointed it back, stopping at one spot.

There, on the water’s surface, bubbles were forming, as if someone was drowning underneath.

Mu Dai’s scalp tingled, and this premonition finally became reality.

A head slowly rose from beneath the water, looking toward her. A hand reached out to her, the expression on the face urgent and agonized.

Yi Wansan?

Without thinking, Mu Dai rushed over and reached out to pull, using great force, but it was like punching cotton—she grabbed at nothing and then fell hard into the accumulated water.

Splashing sounds, small waterfalls hanging from the wall. Mu Dai shuddered, stood up, and after a while, looked up.

The exit was there, about thirty meters from the ground.

She needed to find a way out. Yi Wansan must be in trouble.

Mu Dai endured the pain, stepping through the splashing water to the stone wall. Taking a deep breath, she pressed her abdomen tightly against the wall, her right hand reaching up to grab hold. In her mind, she encouraged herself: “Come on, come on.”

With a forceful push, her right hand gripping, her entire body went up. Her left hand instinctively reached to grab, sending a piercing pain through her. The injured leg also gave out, and her whole body fell heavily into the water. It took her a while to recover before crawling out, her hair dripping continuously.

She looked down at her left hand.

Only one finger was injured, but when she tried to move, it was as if her entire arm was useless. The same with her leg—not broken, not fractured, just painful.

If only… she didn’t feel pain.

If only… she could split into another personality… one that didn’t feel pain.