At night, Yan Hongsha was too worried to sleep.

Heavens above, why had there been so many troubles lately?

No reliable news about Mu Dai, Luo Ren injured, the Xiong Simple in Leopard’s possession, and Cao Jiefang missing—yes, just before bedtime, Yi Wansan had thrown up his hands and confessed to her and Cao Yanhua that Cao Jiefang was gone, whereabouts unknown.

Under normal circumstances, this would have caused a huge commotion in the bar. However, at this critical moment when everything was burning like wildfire, this bad news seemed trivial when compared to the worse news. Cao Yanhua was stunned for two seconds, then said: “If it’s gone, it’s gone. If losing our Jiefang could bring my little master back, that would be good too.”

Yan Hongsha asked Cao Yanhua, “Where did you go earlier?”

Where had he gone? Looking for solutions. Cats have cat ways, mice have mouse ways. Cao Yanhua had no connections, but he couldn’t just sit around. In desperation, he turned to “colleagues” for help.

Those “habitual pickpockets” wandering around Lijiang must have their organizations, large and small. These people roamed the streets all day, their eyes more perceptive than radar scanners. If he could build bridges with them, wouldn’t that information network be as good as Wan Fenghuo’s?

So Cao Yanhua had gone to stake out the streets. Having a sharp eye himself, he quickly spotted a few “comrades” in the crowd. First, he employed a trick: “You pick from others? Good, I’ll pick from you.” After picking their pockets, he returned everything as a gesture of goodwill, then made his request: please keep an eye out for any suspicious Southeast Asian people in the vicinity, especially a one-eyed woman.

Yan Hongsha was a bit angry: “Cao Pangpang, didn’t you say you’d make a clean break with the past? You even named the chicken ‘Jiefang’ (Liberation) to remind yourself. Why are you getting involved with them again?”

Cao Yanhua was also angry: “What else can I do? I only have two eyes and two legs. I can’t gather information alone. At a time like this, does it matter what they do for a living? Many hands make light work, understand?”

…

Yan Hongsha sighed and turned over in bed.

Something bad was going to happen, she thought. Something terrible was bound to happen.

But surprisingly, nothing did. The next day was so peaceful, as was the third day. Occasionally, someone would call Yi Wansan using the number on the lost chicken notice, but Yi Wansan had lost his initial enthusiasm and lazily replied: “Send a photo first so I can verify it.”

The caller would hang up abruptly and never call back.

The connections Cao Yanhua had made also seemed useless, and Yan Hongsha suspected they might have even backfired: just in these couple of days, she’d heard of two incidents where Thai tourists visiting the ancient city had their wallets stolen. Could this be what those people understood as “keeping an eye out for suspicious Southeast Asians”?

On the evening of the fourth day, Qingmu brought Luo Ren back.

Yan Hongsha and the others visited Luo Ren at different times. He could already get out of bed and move around, but following doctor’s orders, he mostly “rested in bed.” His face was a bit pale, and he looked somewhat exhausted. He didn’t want to talk much. An open laptop sat beside him, supposedly waiting for news from Wan Fenghuo. He kept his phone in his hand, occasionally looking down to check something.

This was the most agonizing moment—they could do nothing but wait.

As Yan Hongsha was leaving, she suddenly noticed that Luo Ren was wearing Mu Dai’s whistle pearl necklace around his neck.

If Mu Dai died, Luo Ren would probably wear that necklace for the rest of his life.

Yan Hongsha was shocked by this sudden, strange thought: how could she have such an ominous idea?

She stomped her foot at the doorway, spat several times to ward off bad luck, then raised her hand and gave herself two slaps.

After that, she took a deep breath and looked up, suddenly freezing.

Qingmu was leaning against the railing opposite the door, looking at her with confusion.

Yan Hongsha was at a loss, unsure whether to explain or not. Finally, she steeled herself, lowered her head, and walked away quickly.

Qingmu watched her go all the way downstairs.

These strange friends Luo had made—he would probably never understand them.

He sighed, entered the room, and asked Luo Ren: “Luo, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Qingmu didn’t quite believe him. Later that night, he had specifically checked the hallway surveillance footage. From Leopard’s entrance to her exit, a considerable amount of time had passed. She must have said many things to Luo Ren.

“She didn’t affect you too much, did she?”

Luo Ren smiled slightly and lowered his head to type on his phone.

Was there an effect? In the past, each of Leopard’s words would have been enough to kill him.

But all of that could only kill his past.

He still had a future, and in that future, there was a familiar silhouette. Though blurry, it was still vivid, waiting for him.

So no matter how rotten his past, no matter how wounded his body, he would still stand up.

Leopard could paint over his past at will, but his future—he wouldn’t let her touch even a bit of it.

Luo Ren took a deep breath and sent the message he had composed.

He was asking Shen Gun, “Haven’t you arrived yet?”

At the back door of a small noodle shop, Cao Yanhua sat grimly on a pile of bricks, emanating an aura of authority.

Before him stood a young man in his twenties with a tuft of dyed white hair, looking nonchalant with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He spread his hands: “I can’t help it. If we can’t find anything, we can’t find anything. Southeast Asia also has ‘Asia’ in it—we’re all from the same continent. They don’t stand out like Westerners.”

Though called a small noodle shop, it was a meeting point, a place to fence goods, a place for exchanges.

“Boss Cao, we’re all colleagues here, and we’ve truly tried our best. You said yourself you wanted this done discreetly, and when things are secretive, efficiency naturally suffers… Oh, Pisan is back.”

Another one reporting in was Pisan, who wore a DSLR camera around his neck, posing as a photographer—in reality, he couldn’t even find the power button. This outfit was merely a disguise. He unzipped his large camera bag and turned it upside down, spilling out miscellaneous items.

Over the past few days, they had become quite familiar with Cao Yanhua. Pisan greeted him: “Hey, Boss Cao, I’ll have to disappoint you today. I didn’t run into any Southeast Asians.”

As he spoke, White Hair picked up a bulging old wallet and squeezed it: “Something solid. Not money, what treasure is this?”

When he opened it, several objects that were neither long nor round fell out, one after another. After picking them up, he cursed angrily: “What’s wrong with people? Why put little pieces of wood in a wallet?”

Looking further, he found several folded paper notes. Though he knew there was little hope of finding money, he still pulled them out.

Upon opening them, he jumped up again: “Damn, all kinds of weirdos these days. Keeping KFC receipts like treasures, are they for reimbursement?”

KFC? Cao Yanhua looked up. Why did that sound so familiar?

He asked: “Do you remember what that person looked like?”

Pisan answered: “I remember, very clearly. Looked like someone from the Middle East, with curly hair, glasses on the bridge of the nose, carrying a non-woven fabric bag…”

Curly hair, glasses, non-woven fabric bag…

Cao Yanhua suddenly jumped up.

This sounded like… Shen Gun.

Shen Gun had come to the ancient city? No wonder Luo had just sent a message asking if Shen Gun had arrived.

Moreover, Shen Gun had visited before. Last time he came, he had headed straight to… Phoenix Pavilion.

Cao Yanhua specifically went to check the Phoenix Pavilion. From a distance, he saw someone lying straight outside the closed door of Phoenix Pavilion, using a non-woven fabric bag as a pillow. Though it was late, there were still tourists on the road. Cao Yanhua saw a couple passing by who threw two coins on the ground.

Truly… there is genuine compassion in this world.

Cao Yanhua hurried over: “Master Shen!”

Sure enough, it was Shen Gun, lying there with solemn dignity. Hearing Cao Yanhua call him, he opened his eyes briefly, then closed them again.

“Master Shen, when did you arrive? Our Brother Luo was asking about you.”

“Don’t talk to me. I’m feeling utterly hopeless now.”

“Master Shen, did you lose something?”

“I told you not to talk to me, I…”

Before he could finish, Shen Gun suddenly sprang up from the ground: “How did you know?”

Cao Yanhua silently handed over two items.

An old wallet and an Apple phone.

Shen Gun howled and practically pounced on him, attracting attention from half the street. Cao Yanhua was startled, but still managed to ask: “Master Shen, did Brother Luo ask you to come help? Do you know about my little master…”

Before he could finish, Shen Gun howled again and embraced him tightly: “Cao Pangpang, no! Cao Shuaishuai, you’re amazing! How did you know I lost my things?”

In Cao Yanhua’s mind, “Master Shen” had always been aloof and cool. This sudden fiery enthusiasm left him dumbfounded.

“Um… Master Shen…”

“Don’t call me Master Shen. I want to become sworn brothers with you! From now on, we’ll be brothers of different surnames. We may not be born on the same day, same month, same year, but we’ll die on the same day, same month, same year.”

This didn’t seem right. This Master Shen seemed to be of a higher generation. Cao Yanhua stammered: “Sworn… brothers?”

“Now, immediately! Yes, first we need a chicken to cut its head off and become brothers! Where’s a chicken? I thought I saw one just now…”

Shen Gun, in great excitement, pulled out a slingshot from his non-woven fabric bag. After a glance around, he headed toward a nearby bush.

Cao Yanhua picked up the non-woven fabric bag and ran after him: “Hey, Master Shen…”

Wild pheasants were rare in Lijiang. Even if you saw one, it was probably being raised by a resident. Going to shoot one so brazenly would mean having to pay compensation…

Hmm…

Shen Gun seemed to have found his target. He was aiming, his cheeks puffed high, the slingshot string pulled to its tightest…

Following his line of sight, Cao Yanhua suddenly froze.

That chicken… wasn’t that Cao Jiefang?

He shouted: “Wait!”

Too late. The small stone, whistling through the air, flew toward Cao Jiefang… and passed by, hitting a tree half a meter away.

Cao Yanhua breathed a sigh of relief.

Such poor aim.

However, an unexpected event occurred at that moment.

The small stone hit the tree and bounced off with its momentum unspent. Unfortunately, with a thud, it struck Cao Jiefang squarely on the head as the bird raised its head and opened its eyes wide at the commotion.

At that moment, time… stood still.

Through the one-way mirror glass, Leopard looked at Mu Dai, who sat in a chair covered with electrical wires. She had just gone through a round of vomiting, her face deathly pale, her forehead covered in large beads of sweat.

Leopard, smiling, extended her hand and slowly traced Mu Dai’s face on the glass: “How is she?”

“She resisted the most on the first day. Yesterday, she was already failing, beginning to show physiological aversion similar to conditioned reflexes to Luo Ren’s voice and images. Today, we started continuously playing edited and synthesized false footage, with Luo Ren and her as the subjects and objects of abuse. This process is accompanied by electric shocks and other physical pain to deepen the sense of reality of these impressions…”

“Could she be faking it? Could this state be false?”

“No. Various instruments record physical signs—changes in body temperature, heartbeat, heart rate, blood pressure, bioelectricity—these cannot be faked.”

“Is everything ready?”

A subordinate handed over a brocade box. Leopard opened it to reveal a titanium survival whistle.

“It’s been verified. It’s the same model as her original one, the same.”

Leopard picked it up to examine closely.

The little beauty had asked her to pass a message, and she had complied.

—If Luo Xiaodao misses me and wants to talk to me, let him blow the whistle. I will hear it.

But delivering the message didn’t mean she wouldn’t take precautions.

Last time, that ambiguous “everyone bullies me” had caught her off guard and nearly exposed her. This time, she wouldn’t make the same mistake.

What would happen when the whistle was blown?

Leopard laughed heartily, clutched the whistle in her palm, then turned and left.

Outside the door was a staircase leading up. She climbed step by step, finally pushing open a door and entering a hall.

This was another elaborately decorated room. In the corner stood an old-fashioned record player. At the coffee table in front of the sofa, a woman was working on a bust model. Tasha stood watching nearby. Seeing the Leopard emerge, she ran over joyfully, shouting: “Mommy!”

Leopard reached out, pressed her hand on Tasha’s head as she rushed over, and casually pushed her aside. Tasha stumbled, looking timid and confused, not knowing what she had done wrong.

The woman working on the bust model flinched, nearly spilling the molding rice paste beside her.

Leopard turned on the record player.

Magnificent and majestic music filled the room—Beethoven’s Symphony of Fate. The first phrase of the movement was said to be a thought-provoking warning.

—Fate is knocking at the door.

The music grew increasingly urgent, like rising, rapid waves, high winds, and surging waters, seeming to shake the entire room.

The leopard slowly walked over.

The woman held a small piece of soft clay, skillfully and quickly kneading it onto the model’s face, filling depressions, pressing down protrusions, patting the eyelids repeatedly. The previously rigid bust suddenly began to look familiar.

Leopard asked: “Can you make it look exactly like me?”

“Yes.”