What frustrated Shen Gun was that afterward, he couldn’t extract any more substantial information from Yin Erma’s mouth. Or rather, the more he asked, the more anxious he became.

For instance, he asked whether Laozi had mentioned what should be done when the stars aligned as the Big Dipper and continued to shine brightly.

Yin Erma just looked at him, chuckling, his face flushed with alcohol.

Assuming he was unwilling to answer, Shen Gun changed the question: Had these wooden slips been preserved in your family for over two thousand years? Has your family, from ancient times to the present, gone to the Eight Trigrams Star-Observing Platform every night to observe stars?

Yin Erma said, “No, that’s not it.”

Not? Shen Gun was completely confused. Just as he was about to ask more, Yin Erma pitched forward, his head thudding onto the table. He began snoring like thunder, reeking of alcohol.

Shen Gun was left alone, absently munching on peanuts. After a while, something suddenly occurred to him. He quickly arranged the wooden slips properly, took out his phone, and photographed each one.

What Shen Gun posted to the group chat were these photographs, saying they might be related to the seven evil bamboo slips and were extremely important. He asked them to compare the text style online and investigate what was written on them.

Luo Ren and Yan Hongsha might have been busy with other matters, as neither responded immediately. Since Mu Dai had to occasionally deal with the foreman, this task fell to Yi Wansan and Cao Yanhua.

The two sent Luo Ren a message, indicating they wanted to borrow the computer in his room.

With no reply, they turned on the machine to try their luck. Though they worried there might be a password, surprisingly, there wasn’t. The screen lit up without any obstacles.

Logically, they should have clicked on the browser first.

Cao Yanhua lowered his voice: “Brother San, do you think my Brother Luo might have those kinds of videos on his computer?”

He winked, and Yi Wansan understood immediately: “He might even have those kinds of pictures.”

As they spoke, the mouse hovered over the storage drive: “Should we look?”

Cao Yanhua said: “This is unethical, but for my little master…”

Yi Wansan said, “Indeed, this is also for the little boss lady. Some men hide things very deeply.”

So they looked.

To their great disappointment.

The reason Luo Ren left this computer here seemed to be that he didn’t mind it being “public use.” There was almost no stored or downloaded content, and the browsing history had been completely cleared, leaving no traces.

After a while, Cao Yanhua murmured: “My Brother Luo hides things too deeply…”

The two exchanged a glance and reluctantly began their work.

They searched for seal script fonts online and opened a simplified-to-seal script online converter. Yi Wansan was responsible for comparing each character, while Cao Yanhua transcribed the characters Yi Wansan identified onto a blank sheet of paper.

When people focus on a task, time seems to pass particularly quickly. They had only translated about half when the construction work next door had already finished. They could even hear the sound of settling accounts and the masons going downstairs.

By the time they looked up again, it was almost dark.

Many seal script characters couldn’t be identified, so they had to use circles as placeholders. Holding up the paper, half of it was circles, but between guessing and inferring, they managed to get a general sense of the meaning.

What was written confirmed what Yin Erma had told Shen Gun—about Laozi reaching his resting place and entrusting Yin Xi to build the Eight Trigrams Star-Observing Platform. However, there were one or two additional sentences.

The ancient text was convoluted and difficult, but translated into plain language, the gist was that Yin Xi asked Laozi what should be done if the seven stars shone brightly.

Since the situation had become dangerous and grim, shouldn’t something be done?

Then, after deep thought, Laozi “observed the Eight Trigrams and contemplated the heavenly signs,” and said four words.

“Juzi ke qi.” (The Great Master can be expected.)

Yin Xi asked Laozi: “Who is this Juzi?”

Laozi’s answer was: I don’t know either.

There was nothing beyond this; the rest must have been burned.

Dutiful to his task, Cao Yanhua edited this content into several long paragraphs and sent them to the group chat.

He also added his own opinion: Juzi should be a person, right? During the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, people often included “zi” in their names.

The phrase “Juzi ke qi” was also easy to translate. Laozi meant that they could count on a person called Juzi.

However, Shen Gun quickly replied that Juzi was the leader of the Mohist school, founded by Mozi. But chronologically, when Laozi died, Mozi had just been born. At that time, it would still be quite a while before the Mohist school became a faction and the first Juzi emerged.

Cao Yanhua wasn’t convinced: Laozi was a sage; couldn’t he know the past and future? Moreover, his reply to Yin Xi, “I don’t know either,” further indicated he was speaking of someone from a hundred years later.

This seemed somewhat reasonable. After much consideration, Shen Gun felt he still needed to make a breakthrough with Yin Erma.

However, Yin Erma suddenly seemed like a different person. No matter what Shen Gun said, whether he waved the flag of culture or special research, Yin Erma wouldn’t reveal another word.

When pressed urgently, he would reply: “Mr. Shen, there are some things we don’t tell outsiders. The reason I told you so much is that in this lifetime, you’re the second person to mention the seven evil bamboo slips to me.”

Shen Gun knew he had encountered a stubborn old man. Two types of people’s mouths could never be pried open: those of the dead, and those who would die before speaking.

This feeling of being beside a secret yet unable to glimpse it was truly awful.

That night, thanks to Yin Erma not driving him away, they shared a sleeping space. The moonlight was good, shining through the old-style wooden lattice window, covering him with small squares of light.

Shen Gun, of course, couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, sighing. After countless times, he heard Yin Erma talking in his sleep.

“Key… observe the Four Gateway Arch…”

Early the next morning, Uncle Zheng received a call from Luo Ren, who said that Pin Ting’s condition was stable, but she indeed needed long-term care.

Hearing this, Uncle Zheng understood. Luo Ren couldn’t possibly handle this “long-term” situation, so he was probably coming back.

Uncle Zheng wanted to go keep her company, but times had changed. The reputation and signature dishes of Phoenix Tower were now his responsibility.

Luo Ren told him not to worry: “I’ll hire a full-time caregiver for Pin Ting who will eat, live, and sleep with her, and can also cooperate promptly with Dr. He’s treatment.”

This was the only option. Uncle Zheng enjoined him: “You must interview carefully, and let Pin Ting interview them too. Don’t keep anyone she doesn’t like.”

Luo Ren smiled: “I understand.”

After the call, he pushed open the door to He Ruihua’s room.

There were no other clients during this time slot. Pin Ting wandered around the room, curious about everything. Sometimes she would ask He Ruihua, “Uncle, what is this?”

He Ruihua smiled genially, patiently explaining to her.

After prolonged contact with He Ruihua, one would feel that this person was quite easygoing, very patient with patients, and able to communicate empathetically. It was just unclear why he had initially made such disagreeable judgments about Mu Dai.

Luo Ren sat down on the sofa and beckoned to Pin Ting.

Pin Ting trotted over, calling: “Little Dao Brother.”

Luo Ren made a stern face: “Now you know I’m Little Dao Brother. At home, you wouldn’t even acknowledge me, and you ran after someone else, calling him Little Dao Brother.”

Pin Ting became shy, hugging his arm and resting her head against his shoulder, nuzzling him.

Luo Ren felt a slight stirring in his heart, suddenly realizing that he had indeed neglected Pin Ting during this period and owed this young woman.

He reached out his hand, wanting to pat Pin Ting’s head.

But Pin Ting’s docility truly lasted no more than three seconds. Before his hand could touch her hair, she darted away, running to He Ruihua, saying: “Uncle, I want to watch a movie.”

On He Ruihua’s computer was a set of psychological animated short films, each only a few minutes long. Though they appeared to be lively animations, they were similar to psychological intelligence tests. He had shown them to Pin Ting before, and she had enjoyed them greatly.

He Ruihua opened an episode. Pin Ting pulled up a chair and sat down, squeezing He Ruihua to the side. She propped her elbows on the table, cupping her face in her hands like a serious elementary school student.

He Ruihua’s assistant knocked and entered, seeing the scene in the room with some awkwardness: “Dr. He, the scheduled client has arrived early…”

Not wanting to disturb their business, Luo Ren tried to lead Pin Ting away, but she was engrossed and refused, stamping her feet in annoyance.

He Ruihua smiled and said, “Let her watch. We have more than one meeting room anyway.”

He instructed his assistant to take the client to the next room.

This kind of behavior, turning the host into a guest…

Luo Ren glared at Pin Ting, but she dared to say: “This Little Dao Brother is bad. I still prefer that Little Dao Brother.”

Really…

Luo Ren returned to the sofa with a bitter smile. After some thought, he took out his phone and opened the images and conversations in the group chat to examine them closely.

He had seen them before and had spoken with Shen Gun and Mu Dai separately on the phone. But since he had time now, it would be good to ponder and compare again.

The burning of books and burying of scholars…

Laozi’s departure from Hangu Pass had already been recorded on bamboo slips at that time. When leaving, it was Yin Xi who asked him to seal the seven evil bamboo slips with the Phoenix Luan Clasp—this indicated that, in that environment, the seven evil bamboo slips weren’t kept entirely secret.

Mozi is recognized as the first generation of Juzi of the Mohist school. He lived long before the burning of books and burying of scholars, so Mozi would have known the rumors about the seven evil bamboo slips.

But what was special about Juzi and the Mohist school?

Luo Ren searched online on his phone.

—The Mohist school was a group with strict organizational discipline…

—They obeyed commands, faced dangers fearlessly, and never retreated.

—The Mohist school’s organization members were largely craftsmen and lower-status scholars…

—Mohists were combat-capable, possessing the initial spirit of “knights-errant”…

It seemed…

“Little Dao Brother, it’s finished!”

Luo Ren’s newly formed train of thought was destroyed by Pin Ting’s sudden shrill cry.

He looked at Pin Ting with irritation: “Wait.”

After it finished, it would naturally jump to the next episode, so she just needed to be patient.

But if the current Pin Ting could have such awareness, she probably wouldn’t need medical treatment here.

She was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan, moving the mouse and clicking around, then reaching out to pat the monitor, as if this would somehow make the next episode appear.

Luo Ren stood up helplessly. He had barely taken two steps toward her when Pin Ting suddenly made a surprised sound.

A rustling sound came from the computer speakers, indicating that a video was playing.

It seemed he didn’t need to go help her after all. Luo Ren turned around, just about to sit down again, when a familiar voice suddenly came from the speakers.

—”What if I can’t fall in love with Luo Ren?”

This was… Mu Dai’s voice.

Luo Ren’s heart suddenly began to pound violently. He walked to the computer screen.

Pin Ting seemed to find this program uninteresting and was pouting, about to move the mouse again. Luo Ren held her hand and said: “Be good, don’t move.”

His tone was a bit harsh, his gaze fixed on the screen.

This should be an internet cafe, right? The background was dim and noisy. Mu Dai wore headphones, leaning back in her chair, one hand playfully fiddling with the microphone near her lips, the other holding a can of beer.

The last time he had seen such an expression on her face, it seemed to have been in a video as well.

Luo Ren paused the video and looked at the playlist.

He understood now. This was a video from some time ago, in the history menu of the playlist, somehow clicked on by Pin Ting.

Looking at the file timestamp, it seemed to be… the night before leaving Nantian.

Luo Ren gripped Pin Ting’s arm and pulled her away from the chair, sitting down himself.

Pin Ting was unhappy: “Little Dao Brother, that’s my seat!”

Luo Ren looked up at her.

Unlike usual, there was no smile on his face, and his gaze lacked warmth.

Pin Ting became a bit frightened. She stepped back, lowering her head and fidgeting with the hem of her clothes.

Luo Ren said, “Go and lock the door from the inside. If Dr. He comes back, tell him you’re playing hide-and-seek and won’t let him in.”

Pin Ting’s eyes lit up: “Are we playing hide-and-seek with Uncle?”

“Yes.”

Pin Ting skipped and sprinted to the door, turning the lock inward several times. Looking up, she noticed another security bolt at the top of the door. With great effort, she dragged a stool over, stood on it, and locked the door.

On the computer screen, Mu Dai’s image remained frozen, her eyes looking right at him. Luo Ren had always believed that Mu Dai was someone who couldn’t hide her feelings. Her eyes were as clear as water, revealing joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness.

But now, he suddenly felt he couldn’t understand them anymore.

He looked into Mu Dai’s eyes for a long time.

What secrets do you have?