Jiang Baichuan laughed, “Angry or not, things have already turned out this way.”
Quecha glared at him, “You have a dark heart. Yan Tuo’s gang is ruthless. What if they retaliate against her? Didn’t you say she was useful, and now you’re pushing her out just because she’s no longer needed?”
Jiang Baichuan turned off the bathroom light, wrapped his arm around Quecha’s waist, and guided her downstairs. “You just don’t understand. I have three people left in my custody, but I can’t get any useful information from them. What’s the point of holding them? If you want to catch a big fish, you have to stir up the water. Letting people go is just to create some movement in the pond.”
He continued, “And how can you say I have a black heart? Sure, I pushed her out, but I informed her in time and promised to help with all my might. Didn’t I? As long as she wants, she can hide with me for as long as she needs, and I’ll take care of her like she’s a bodhisattva. Nie Er is a sharp knife, but she prefers to stay in her sheath. To use her, you have to ask for her permission, which can be a hassle.”
The situation was still unclear, and Jiang Baichuan couldn’t fully understand the other side’s intentions. Pushing Nie Er out to test the waters was the most suitable move. If she truly was invaluable, she would survive and thrive; if not, then it wasn’t worth keeping her in the first place. Perhaps, if cornered, she might even decide to join his side willingly.
As he pondered this, his phone rang. It was a message from Nie Jiuluo’s side.
Jiang Baichuan glanced at Quecha.
Quecha, still intrigued, turned her back to him, signaling that she wouldn’t peek.
Jiang Baichuan opened the message.
If Yan Tuo finds me, I’ll handle it myself.
Jiang Baichuan didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the message, a slight snort escaping his nose as his lips pressed into a thin line.
“Great, she doesn’t want my help,” he muttered to himself.
Yan Tuo was dazed, feeling as if he were a rolled-up flower pastry: lifted, folded, and meticulously adorned with thin strips of green onion to make it look more appealing.
Next, he thought, it would be time to steam it.
However, instead of the warmth of a steamer, he gradually became aware of the sound of knives and scissors clattering.
Yan Tuo opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the lava lamp hanging from the ceiling, its glass surface shaped like irregular ice cubes.
This was his room.
It should be night, as the chandelier was on, casting a warm, magma-yellow light. Yan Tuo liked how it looked when it was off—a suspended, futuristic stone, with a mercury-bright, cold, and hard gray hue.
Lu Xian was wiping his hands with an alcohol pad, and when he heard movement, he smiled at Yan Tuo, “You’re awake?”
He was a young man in his late twenties, with a medium build. A comfortable life had caused his waist to start forming a slight bulge, hinting at a future swimming ring. His most notable feature was a face that mothers-in-law found particularly pleasing—he had dated three girlfriends, and though the breakups were amicable, the mothers of his exes were invariably sad, feeling as if they had lost a peerless son-in-law.
Yan Tuo replied vaguely, his mind still blank, unable to recall the recent past.
Lu Xian continued, “You’ve been asleep for a few days. You really suffered this time, Yan Tuo.”
Yan Tuo’s thoughts began to clear, and fragments of memories came back to him: the wild hemp field, the canvas bag, the stainless steel arrow tip in Quecha’s hand, the dirty soles of sneakers as they kicked him, and… Nie Jiuluo.
Yes, Nie Jiuluo.
Thinking of her, he fully awakened, and his eyes darkened.
Lu Xian pointed to the front of Yan Tuo’s thigh, which was firmly bandaged, “This part isn’t iron-soldered, is it? The flesh was all necrotic, the smell of rot… well, in two more days, maggots could have grown.”
Yan Tuo winced, “Do you have to describe it in such detail? It’s disgusting.”
Lu Xian grinned with interest, “But there’s good news.”
He leaned closer to Yan Tuo and pointed to the right side of his neck, near his chin, “There’s a wound here, and the scar is set. Luckily, it’s not on your face, so it won’t be visible most of the time. Even if it is, it won’t ruin your handsome face—it might even add a bit of heroic spirit.”
Yan Tuo remained silent, his expression unreadable.
Lu Xian was surprised, “Does it bother you? No worries, once you reach middle age and grow a big beard, it’ll cover…”
He stopped abruptly, noticing Yan Tuo’s hands pushing against the bed as if preparing to get up—usually a sign he was about to act, possibly violently, though this time, he was still recovering.
Sensing the potential danger, Lu Xian quickly changed the subject, pressing the wireless pager around his neck, “Lin Ling, Yan Tuo is awake.”
Lin Ling’s voice came through almost immediately, “Okay, I’ll be there right away.”
Lu Xian gave Yan Tuo a playful wink and began packing up his medical kit, preparing to leave. Just as he was about to go, Yan Tuo suddenly remembered something, “What about Aunt Lin?”
Without looking up, Lu Xian responded, “You mean the goddess? She went to the farm.”
Yan Tuo fell silent.
His father, Yan, had returned to the mountains as his business ventures became increasingly successful. He also set up a scholarship fund as part of his philanthropic efforts, which had helped Lu Xian through medical school. After graduating, Lu Xian worked at a major hospital while also being employed by Yan Tuo’s company. Lu Xian was smart and pragmatic, often taking on tasks that required discretion—after all, wealthy people and big companies sometimes engaged in activities that couldn’t be done openly, and private medical assistance was sometimes necessary. In Lu Xian’s view, since he had benefited from the scholarship, it was only right to repay the favor with his medical skills.
However, Yan Tuo suspected that Lu Xian’s willingness to cross legal boundaries—and possibly the reason his three relationships had failed—had much to do with his unrequited love for Lin Xirou. Lu Xian often referred to her as a goddess and frequently compared Yan Tuo to her, saying things like, “Look at her. She’s around the same age as you, but she’s more capable, and more accomplished. You may be the legal face of the company, but she’s the one behind the scenes, planning and paving the way for you. How lucky you are to have such a goddess for an aunt!”
As soon as Lu Xian left, Lin Ling arrived, carrying a bouquet arranged with Yin Ziyanhong and Ye Cuiruijiao flowers. She placed it on the table, bringing a fresh, vibrant energy to the room.
Yan Tuo remarked, “They’re beautiful.”
His mind wandered back to the days he had spent in the dark, underground cell at the pig farm, where Sun Zhou’s heart-wrenching screams had echoed in his ears…
Compared to that, the present felt like a different world altogether.
Lin Ling pulled up a chair and sat down, “I called Aunt Lin. She was already on her way back, so she should be here in about half an hour.”
Yan Tuo nodded, “She went to the farm?”
The farm, he mused, was the Chinese herbal medicine plantation under his name.
Lin Ling nodded, “She took Dogtooth with her.”
“What was she doing there?”
Lin Ling chuckled softly and lowered her voice, “Doing… something. Do you want to know?”
The question hung in the air, and both fell silent for a moment.
After a pause, Yan Tuo shifted the topic, “What about Sun Zhou?”
Lin Ling looked confused, “Sun Zhou?”
Yan Tuo clarified, “The one who was locked up with me.”
Lin Ling frowned, “Wasn’t Dogtooth the one locked up with you?”
It seemed there was some misunderstanding, and they would need to sort it out later. Yan Tuo gestured for Lin Ling to continue.
Things weren’t complicated. When a grown person suddenly loses contact, you can wait a day or two, but after three or five days, you have to start looking for them.
During this period, Lin Xirou also received a call from Yan Tuo’s mobile phone. The caller said that the phone had been found and asked her who she was and how to return it. Lin Xirou replied that she was a nurse at the hospital and provided the company’s address (which could be found online). She asked the person to send the phone back, mentioning that the owner would give a thank you when they returned. However, the strange thing was that the call was abruptly hung up, and after that, it was impossible to reach the number again.
At first, no one thought too badly of it. They just made calls, checked things, and tried to figure out what was going on. But as the disappearance became more complete, they realized it wasn’t an ordinary case of someone going missing.
Lin Xirou first sent her trusted right-hand man, Xiong Hei, to take a team to Shihe County to look for clues on the ground. But she grew more anxious and decided to go herself, taking Lin Ling along.
“There really aren’t any clues,” Lin Ling said. “So, I’ll have to offer a reward to find someone. Of course, Aunt Lin won’t come forward. I’ll handle it as the company’s assistant.”
As she spoke, Lin Ling snorted. “After filtering through, three people came to interview me. I could basically tell whether there was a problem with someone just by meeting and talking to them—the old man who drives and the old man who runs the hotel seemed honest. They let us record a video and happily left after getting paid.”
“But the one called ‘Big Head’ was different. He disagreed with the place I set for the appointment, saying it wasn’t safe, and insisted that we meet where he suggested. He refused to show any ID, claiming it was for his protection. He also wouldn’t record a video, saying it violated his portrait rights.”
Yan Tuo’s mind was clear. “He’s deliberately contacting you to dig into our situation.”
Lin Ling nodded. “That’s not all. After the meeting, he followed me. Aunt Lin decided we should reverse the situation, so she had Xiong Hei follow him. Meanwhile, Big Head was following Banya.”
“You know Xiong Hei has a bad temper and is ruthless. When he saw what had happened to you and Dogtooth, he lost control. He burned down the pig farm and even pushed a woman into the fire.”
Yan Tuo was stunned. “How old was she?”
“Probably in her forties or fifties.”
That was likely Sister-in-law Hua, Yan Tuo thought. After a long silence, he quietly said, “Xiong Hei shouldn’t have done that.”
Lin Ling agreed. “Yes, Aunt Lin scolded him harshly. By burning the place, he destroyed the clues and scared off Big Head. Now we can’t find him.”
A fleeting thought crossed Yan Tuo’s mind, but it was too quick to grasp. He asked, almost reflexively, “The clues are gone?”
“Yes,” Lin Ling replied, still a bit angry. “That village already had few people living there, and even fewer came out to help put out the fire. And just because that woman bit a piece of flesh off his arm, he threw her into the fire—he should have at least interrogated her first.”
Yan Tuo didn’t say anything, but the phrase “the clues are gone” kept echoing in his mind.
Lin Ling didn’t notice his unease. “We would have been stuck without you. If you hadn’t woken up, we wouldn’t have known what to do.”
Yan Tuo’s lips felt dry. “Did Dogtooth say anything?”
Lin Ling shook her head and lowered her voice. “I haven’t seen him, but I heard from Xiong Hei’s contacts that Dogtooth might be dead. I’m not sure if that’s true. Do you remember, when we were on the second basement level of the farm…”
She trailed off, shuddering suddenly, and looked uneasily toward the door.
Yan Tuo whispered, “If you can, don’t mention that incident again.”
Lin Ling quickly nodded and, sensing the heaviness of the topic, tried to lighten the mood. “By the way, why did you let that beautiful girl go?”
Yan Tuo didn’t immediately understand: “What did I throw away?”
Lin Ling smiled slightly and pulled out her phone, flipping through it until she found a photo. She showed it to Yan Tuo and said, “This is Miss Nie, at first, we had no leads on her. Aunt Lin even suggested looking into her.”
But then Big Head appeared, followed the trail, and found Yan Tuo and Gouya. Naturally, the line involving Nie Jiuluo was deemed worthless and discarded.
Yan Tuo stared at the photo—it wasn’t just a photo, it was a page from a magazine. Nie Jiuluo was wearing a classic blue cotton suspender belt and black corset bloomers. She sat barefoot by an old-fashioned wooden window, her head slightly bowed, frowning in contemplation. Outside the window, a blurred green tree could be seen, and her hands were stained with a lot of mud. The photo captured a leisurely beauty amid casual work—a very successful snapshot.
“Magazine figure?” Yan Tuo asked.
Lin Ling nodded. “She’s quite famous in the sculpture circle. There’s a lot about her online.”
Yan Tuo swallowed hard, despite his physical discomfort, and tried to prop himself up with his stiff arms. “Actually, she…”
Before he could finish, the door was suddenly pushed open.
In both this place and the plantation, there was only one person who could enter without knocking.
Lin Ling’s back stiffened, and she immediately stood up. “Aunt Lin.”
It was Lin Xirou who entered. She looked hurried and dusty, but despite the weariness on her brow, she hadn’t lost her poise. Behind her stood Xiong Hei, who looked like a towering iron figure. Although it was already the season for wearing coats, he only wore a short-sleeved white T-shirt that read “Provoke me to try.” His shirt stretched tightly over his dark, muscular frame, and his right forearm was thickly bandaged with gauze—a reminder of where a piece of flesh had been bitten off.
Yan Tuo, now lying back on the bed, greeted her, “Aunt Lin.”
Lin Xirou approached with a smile and sat on the edge of Yan Tuo’s bed. “You finally woke up. I just met Lu Xian; he said there’s nothing wrong with you and that you’ll be fine after some rest.” As she spoke, she reached out to touch Yan Tuo’s face.
Yan Tuo instinctively wanted to pull away but resisted the urge.
Lin Ling interrupted, “Aunt Lin, you came just in time. I was just telling him about our search efforts, and I was about to ask him about the other side.”
Lin Xirou nodded, then spoke more seriously: “Xiao Tuo, Aunt Lin has something very important to ask you.”
The room fell silent. Xiong Hei, standing guard by the door, locked it with a “click.”
Yan Tuo spoke first: “Didn’t Dogtooth tell you?”
Lin Xirou sighed, “You’ve been through a lot this time, but compared to Dogtooth, it’s nothing. He hasn’t woken up for three or five months. Now tell me, who hurt him?” As she finished speaking, her hand moved from Yan Tuo’s face, and he felt her fingertips grow colder.
The thoughts that had been flashing in Yan Tuo’s mind suddenly became clear: “The clues are gone,” “Fortunately, there are still you,” “Dogtooth won’t wake up in three or five months”…
This meant that now, whatever he said would be taken as the truth.
His heart pounded, and he swallowed nervously before making a decision: “I didn’t see who it was.”
Xiong Hei interjected, “There are five cells under the pig farm. He and Dogtooth weren’t locked up together, so neither of them would know what happened to the other.”
Lin Xirou asked again, “How did you end up in their hands?”
Yan Tuo explained, “It was completely unexpected. I was on my way back when there was a glitch in the navigation system, and I took a wrong turn that led me to Banya.”10
“I got out of the car to ask for directions. When I got back in, there were three… no, four of them. They attacked me all at once. One of them jabbed a needle into the back of my neck, probably filled with anesthetic, because I quickly lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was already under the pig farm.”