She couldn’t tell how long the truck had been driving. Mu Dai couldn’t move, couldn’t open her eyes, and couldn’t precisely feel the bumps of the vehicle—her body just seemed to be in the clouds, sinking, then floating.

In her consciousness, that sentence kept echoing.

—”That’s enough to make her sleep for 24 hours.”

She anxiously thought: I don’t want to sleep for 24 hours.

Why, she couldn’t explain clearly, but she felt that if she could wake up earlier, perhaps she could turn something around.

She struggled, seeing a hazy white before her eyes, like the fog from that day.

The creaking sound of a wheelchair approached from a distance. Looking up, she saw Meihua Jiuniang, both hands on the wheelchair, a brocade cover hanging at her legs.

Mu Dai struggled to lift her head and said, “Master, Luo Ren will come to save me, he definitely will.”

Meihua Jiuniang replied softly: “Mu Dai, don’t depend on Luo Ren. There are some desperate situations where you can’t rely on anyone.”

Her expression was calm and compassionate. That familiar face gradually blurred, slowly disappearing into the mist.

Mu Dai lowered her head in frustration. After a brief moment of calm, she heard rustling footsteps.

Looking up, she saw another version of herself, wearing a t-shirt with a kitten head, concern and caution in her eyes, hugging her knees as she slowly crouched down beside her.

Mu Dai’s eyes grew moist. She reached out to grab the hem of the other’s clothes and said softly, “Come, help me wake up.”

That other Mu Dai looked at her, apologetically moving her hand away, saying: “Mu Dai, this time is different from the time with Lian Shu. The drug is too strong; I can’t help you.”

Mu Dai tried to grab her again, but she reluctantly shook her head repeatedly and left.

Then everything became quiet.

Mu Dai said to herself: It’s okay, I can do this. I don’t need to wake up to escape; I don’t need my limbs to move normally. I just need my ears to hear and my eyes to see—it’s just a matter of opening my eyelids.

She tried for a long time. During this period, once, her eyelids suddenly opened involuntarily, then closed again. But it wasn’t entirely meaningless. Her eyes, like a camera lens, captured that momentary view: a corner of the truck compartment, stacked vegetable baskets with some leaves sticking out, which happened to sway with the bumps of the truck.

After that, she finally could hear sounds.

It was noisy—vehicles coming and going, horn blasts, clamor, shouts. She was certain they were on a main road, but which road? The leopard could take her anywhere.

After a while, the truck stopped. The noise continued, seeming like they were waiting at a traffic light. Pedestrians crossed the road, apparently a group of people enthusiastically discussing something. A girl’s voice rose high, excited, saying: “Maybe we should eat preserved spareribs tonight, and order a plate of chickpea jelly…”

Mu Dai’s heart stirred: They were back in Lijiang.

Preserved spareribs and chickpea jelly were both listed as “local specialties,” though Mu Dai herself didn’t find them particularly delicious. But tourists from other places seemed very interested in trying them.

They must be back, because Luo Ren had already returned. Leopard wanted revenge on Luo Ren, so she would either take her far away or bring her right under his nose.

She clenched her teeth and kept listening.

The tinkling sound—that was Dongba wind chimes. Many people walk back and forth, vaguely hearing requests for photos. Was it at the ancient city gate? That was the most bustling spot for “I was here” photos. The truck’s speed noticeably slowed down. Yes, if they had entered the scenic area, they should be moving slowly…

Mu Dai suddenly felt that this place was familiar. Perhaps the truck’s route wasn’t very far from the Gather and Scatter at Will bar.

But suddenly, the truck turned a corner toward a quieter area, leaving the hustle and bustle far behind. Faintly, she could still hear sounds like “he… duo… luo.”

Was that a chicken crowing?

The truck finally stopped. Someone opened the rear doors, and as they hoisted her onto their shoulder, they said: “This drug works; she’s sleeping like the dead.”

Mu Dai, using all her strength, quickly opened her eyes once more, then closed them.

She wasn’t sure what she had seen, only taking in blocks of color, shapes, and scenes, trying to retain them in her mind to carefully reconstruct, ponder, and recall.

They had indeed returned to Lijiang. It was a familiar house, steps, and entrance, but in Lijiang, such houses were too numerous, scattered along every winding alley.

Was there anything different? Something that would immediately catch the eye?

She remembered now—jutting out from the top of the wall were clusters of bamboo tips. This courtyard must have many bamboo plants, a distinctive feature. Many homes with character would create uniquely beautiful courtyards.

Were there many courtyards with bamboo in Lijiang? Mu Dai thought carefully but had no impression. Perhaps there were a few.

Passing through the courtyard, she smelled the fresh scent of bamboo leaves. A slanting leaf even gently brushed against her face.

But the light quickly disappeared. The person carrying her walked down a staircase, the footsteps becoming more distinct the further down they went.

A creaking door opened, and then she was heavily thrown to the ground. The floor was ice-cold; her face pressed against it, motionless.

After an unknown length of time, melodious piano music drifted from above, from outside.

And a soft, sweet voice, humming along with the piano melody: “Hey diddle, diddle…”

The drug’s effects had worn off.

Mu Dai got up from the floor. The light was blindingly bright. She instinctively knew it must be deep night—having lived in the area for a long time, she was familiar with the sensations of different seasons and had a natural sensitivity to night and day.

This was a basement with no air windows. Half of the room was welded into a cage with iron bars, and she was confined in this half.

Leopard sat in the other half of the space, in a chair, still in the same attire, her eye patch covering one eye, a cigar held between her fingers—a thick, hand-rolled cigar that produced abundant smoke.

They say if one’s heart is filthy, their appearance must be ferocious. But with Leopard, this wasn’t the case at all. Even with one blind eye, she was still beautiful. Life can be unfair sometimes; God is excessively generous to certain people.

Leopard watched her motionlessly through the bars, for who knows how long.

Mu Dai sat cross-legged, reached up to fix her hair, then adjusted her clothes.

Meihua Jiuniang had once said: Mu Dai, appearance is spirit; you are your appearance, and your appearance is you.

Mu Dai missed her master more than ever before.

Leopard spoke to her: “You’re Luo’s girlfriend?”

“I looked into you. I heard you have a condition—like a willful little girl who cries when unhappy, needing your Hong Yi to comfort and pamper you.”

She leaned slightly forward and asked: “Why aren’t you crying now?”

Mu Dai glanced at her and said, “I am Meihua Jiuniang’s disciple.”

Master had taught her not to depend on anyone, to be Mu Dai first, then Meihua Jiuniang’s disciple, and someone else’s lover.

But that wasn’t it. Circumstances change. The master was dead. Before Leopard, she would hold her head high as Meihua Jiuniang’s disciple, refusing to cry or beg for mercy. Until death, she would not compromise her master’s spirit in the slightest.

Leopard said, “Oh, that old lady.”

Mu Dai stared at her and asked: “How did my master die?”

Leopard smiled gracefully, tapping ash from her cigar on the edge of the chair, and said: “Let me think… I stabbed her… one, two, three… nine times.”

Mu Dai didn’t speak, but her body straightened, her back becoming more erect.

Leopard giggled, her gaze scanning Mu Dai’s face. Not seeing the expected expression, she found it somewhat flavorless. She took a deep drag of her cigar and continued: “But I can make you feel better—your master didn’t die by my hand. Her kung fu was excellent. In my life, I’ve never met anyone with such good martial arts, especially considering she was disabled.”

“I couldn’t beat her. She struck mercilessly. She thought she had killed me—indeed, those moves would have killed an ordinary person.”

Mu Dai listened quietly.

“At that time, I couldn’t get up for a while. I heard her laughing, laughing heartily. Halfway through her laughter, the sound suddenly stopped.”

At that moment, the laughter seemed to be cut off, abruptly ceasing. Leopard looked up to see, in the night’s foggy darkness, Meihua Jiuniang’s body standing rigidly for about one or two seconds, then collapsing with a crash.

A smile appeared at the corners of Mu Dai’s lips.

Not looking at Leopard, as if speaking to herself, she said: “My master was formidable. In her youth, she traveled far and wide, rarely encountering worthy opponents.”

It was true. She was proud of her master. Meihua Jiuniang, sitting in her wheelchair, using only her upper body movements and arms, had once defeated Senior Brother Zheng Mingshan and teased him: “With such skills, you dare to go out and take disciples? You’re misleading people.”

In recent years, Meihua Jiuniang’s health had gradually deteriorated. She had been hospitalized several times, undergone surgery, and taken medicine continuously. She had sighed, saying that in her life, even if she hadn’t achieved outstanding merit, at least she had lived freely. The thought of lingering between life and death on a sickbed, breathing her last breath silently at the bedside, was truly unacceptable to her.

Better to fight one last battle magnificently and thoroughly, honoring her early years when she first entered the martial world. A life of wandering, tumultuous, amidst the flash of blades, regretful yet content.

Master must have felt free-spirited as she laughed before her death.

Mu Dai knelt up, brought her palms together, and pressed the base of her palms against her forehead, prostrating herself in a deep bow. This was the grand ceremony she had performed when she became a disciple. She remembered Hong Yi standing beside her, presenting a stack of bills wrapped in red paper, saying: “Thank you, Old Lady Mei, for agreeing to teach our Mu Dai. The little girl is slow; please be patient with her, elder.”

A hot tear rolled down her cheek, dropping to the ground.

Earlier, she had told Luo Ren that Master had been ill for so long that she was mentally prepared. Now she realized it wasn’t so.

She was still young after all, not as able to see through life and death as her master. Master had once said that life is like a vast ocean, each person an isolated island. The passing of life is the process of islands being continuously engulfed by waves. Eventually, everyone must rest peacefully beneath the waves. Master had merely sunk before her.

Now she understood a little. She was still an island, floating on the surface, enduring waves while receiving sunlight. But looking back, the island that had always accompanied her was gradually sinking into the cold, dark seafloor.

Even knowing that someday in the future, they might meet again in sinking and silence, she still felt reluctant, feeling the sea’s surface suddenly desolate.

Mu Dai sat up again and looked at Leopard.

She asked: “You’ve captured me to deal with Luo Ren? What do you want? To kill him?”

Leopard smiled, taking another cigar from the ashtray nearby. She held the two tips together, with wisps of smoke curling up. It seemed to take forever for it to light, making one inexplicably anxious watching.

She said, “Luo has ruined many of my plans, causing me to lose a lot of money.”

“Why couldn’t we cooperate? He works as a mercenary to earn money. If he worked for me, I could also pay him even more.”

“You understand, when a person meets someone capable, they first admire them, then want to recruit them. No one wants to oppose them. Opposing a capable person is both painful and foolish.”

She slowly pointed to her single eye: “But Luo, he disappointed me so much, forcing me to this point.”

Mu Dai looked at her coldly: “So you want to kill him?”

“Kill him? Little beauty, you think too simply.”

“Killing him would be just one knife stroke or one bullet. What about me? My single eye will accompany me for life. In the future, when I want to vent, whom will I find? A handful of ash in the ground?”

At this point, she changed the subject: “Do you know why I’m called Leopard?”

“Why?”

A smile spread across her lips, as if reminiscing.

“I love leopards—beautiful in appearance, sensual in lines, with flawless fur all over. They’re agile hunters. Their tongues have barbs that can scrape off a layer of your skin with one lick. Thirty sharp teeth easily chew through skin, flesh, and bone. At night, their eyes emit a phosphorescent glow.”

“They can live in the tropics and survive in snow at tens of degrees below zero. Keeping a leopard as a pet was my dream.”

“But almost all animal trainers told me leopards are difficult to tame. I didn’t believe them and tried to approach one.”

She slowly unbuttoned her collar. On her snow-white skin, lower down, were several hideous claw marks. Even though healed, they were still deeply indented. At the time, these wounds must have been bloody and bone-deep.

“I was very unhappy, extremely unhappy.”

“But it didn’t matter. I have money, countless people at my command. I had that leopard sedated, its claws, teeth, and barbed tongue removed, and surgery performed on its jaw bones.”

“Since then, that leopard has been like a big cat. It still gets angry, but when it opens its mouth to bite, it only leaves a puddle of saliva. Occasionally, it scratches with its paws, soft and gentle, as if tickling.”

“When I’m happy, I put a necklace on it, dress it in a fancy hat; when I’m unhappy, I whip it and ask, ‘Do you remember when you left such ugly scars on me?'”

“You ask what I want to do with Luo. I don’t want to kill him. I just want to remove his claws and teeth, make him a dog by my side.”

Mu Dai spat out a few words through her teeth: “Luo Ren will never.”

Leopard smiled sweetly: “Is that so?”

Her voice lowered to a whisper: “That’s because you don’t understand him well enough. Luo is still alive because I allow him to be. He doesn’t know… what other cards I hold.”