As Nie Jiuluo stepped out of Lo Mei Pavilion, she glanced up at the signboard, noting the name: Halo Creeps. She found the name pleasing and more down-to-earth compared to the imposing names of “King of Lo Wang” and “The Sect of Lo Wei.” The simple, unpretentious name resonated with her, reflecting a touch of hardworking simplicity.
She decided to walk instead of hailing a cab. The cool night air was refreshing, and the exercise helped her clear her mind. She needed to distance herself from the recent revelations about the owl and return to her ordinary, yet comforting life.
Her thoughts lingered on Dogtooth. She knew that within three to six months, Dogtooth would awaken, and once that happened, her ability to “vacuum” safely would be compromised. Moreover, revealing the truth about Dogtooth implicated Yan Tuo as well, and she anticipated that he would react accordingly.
Despite this, Yan Tuoâs last appearance and his final question had stirred a sense of pity in her. It felt as if there was a deeper story hidden behind his facade. However, Nie Jiuluoâs compassion quickly hardened. She reminded herself that pity was irrelevant; Yan Tuo was a ghost, and ghosts were only to be dealt with according to their actions. She had to focus on her role in enforcing justice, not on the personal stories behind the perpetrators.
Upon reaching home, she found Sister Lu just waking up. Sister Lu offered her something to eat, but Nie Jiuluo declined, indicating that she wanted to go to bed. She made her way through the courtyard, discarded her high heels with a sense of relief, and ascended the stairs barefoot.
The studio, though spacious and filled with numerous items, often felt empty to her, especially in the quiet of the night. Tonight was no different; the emptiness seemed palpable.
Sitting at her workbench, Nie Jiuluo took out a long pale gold note and began to write about the events of the day:
1. Met with Yan Tuo; matters clarified.
2. The braised soldiers were delicious; worth another visit.
3. …
She hesitated, unable to think of a third point. With a frustrated sigh, she crumpled the note into a star shape and walked over to a large, old-fashioned double-door cabinet against the wall. The cabinet doors were intricately carved with ancient Chinese door gods, their mouths slightly open.
Nie Jiuluo placed the star-shaped note into the mouth of one of the door gods, paused thoughtfully, and then opened the cabinet door, revealing its contents.
Inside the cabinet, Nie Jiuluo found two large cardboard boxes, each filled with folded stars. They were actually customized open glass cylinders, one labeled “2002-2012” and the other “2013-“. The cylinder on the left, covering the earlier years, was almost full, while the one on the right was only half-filled. The stars in the left cylinder were duller and the paper aged, whereas those in the right were brighter and newer.
Taking a deep breath, Nie Jiuluo reached into the left cylinder, stirring the stars around like she was drawing from a lottery. She picked out two of them, finding the ritual of unwrapping them comforting. She turned off the overhead lights and switched on a floor reading lamp, then settled on the sofa beneath its soft glow.
The first star she unfolded read:
Zhu Wei dragged my little bianzi, crying bitterly. The teacher called him a “thief.” To give the teacher a good seal, I said it wasn’t closed. Zhu Wei, I won’t destroy you, and you won’t be a person. 2002.3.20
Nie Jiuluo laughed aloud. She had no recollection of Zhu Wei, but the note was a reminder of her childhood. Even if she had been bullied, it hadnât left her with deep psychological scars.
With a smile still on her face, Nie Jiuluo moved to open the second star. As she read, her smile faded:
For the sake of my fortunate life, I decided to negotiate with Jiang Baichuan. May 6, 2003.
She remembered this note vividly, almost as if it were yesterday. The note evoked memories of breaking a mechanical pencil in frustration and drinking diluted liquor to reinforce her resolve.
Jiang Baichuanâshe had to deal with him now. She considered sending a message about Yan Tuoâs phone call. She typed:
“I received a call from an unknown number today. Yan Tuo called.”
A few minutes later, Jiang Baichuanâs response was swift: “Telephone?”
Nie Jiuluo replied: “Okay.”
The call came through immediately, and Jiang Baichuanâs voice crackled with excitement: “What did he say? Did you get any valuable information?”
Nie Jiuluo replied, “I’m afraid Iâll disappoint you. He didnât provide anything particularly useful. He knows some things about the owl, but not everything. He seems to understand the origin of the owl, the Entanglement Army, and the existence of the Dog Family, but he doesnât know about the Knife Family or the Whip Family. He also asked how to kill the owl, and I told him I didnât know.”
Jiang Baichuanâs frustration was evident: “He also claimed to be an ordinary person who just happened upon a dogtooth… I knew he was hiding something.”
Nie Jiuluo remained nonchalant. She had given Jiang Baichuan the information Yan Tuo had revealed, which was her only obligation. The details about who told Yan Tuo were irrelevant to her.
“Additionally, I asked Sun Zhou and Yan Tuo mentioned that Sun Zhou wasnât with them.”
This piece of information added another layer to the intricate puzzle Jiang Baichuan was trying to solve.
Jiang Baichuan sneered, “This kid is full of nonsense. Who knows if it’s true or not.”
Nie Jiuluo responded, “I donât think heâs lying. During the chaos, itâs possible that Sun Zhou took advantage of the confusion to escape. If he was still with you, youâd have noticed him. Thereâs also a chance he ran away by himself.”
Jiang Baichuan paused for a few seconds, contemplating the possibility. “I canât rule it out… Itâs a possibility.”
Nie Jiuluo continued, “Sun Zhou has become a significant issue now. The longer he remains uncontrolled, the more dangerous the situation becomes. Itâs best to send someone to find him before something worse happens.”
Jiang Baichuan agreed enthusiastically, “Iâll send a few people to look for him. Donât worry, Iâll make sure they donât know about you. Iâll leave you a contact number in case you need assistance. Itâs always good to have backup in emergencies.”
Nie Jiuluo found the offer reasonable and considerate, and despite the emotional sting of needing help, she smiled and accepted, “Okay.”
Later, Jiang Baichuan made a phone call on the balcony. After ending the call, he glanced at the timeâit was half past eleven. It was almost time for Sun Zhouâs meal, so he decided to check on him.
Back inside, he opened the glass door leading to the bedroom. Que Cha, already half asleep, stirred at the sound but quickly rolled over and fell back asleep when she saw Jiang Baichuan exiting.
Jiang Baichuan went down to the basement. The design of the villa area didnât include a basement originally, but since the house was theirs, they had dug down to add one. Jiang Baichuan had extended the house with an extra floor that was rarely used but was now proving useful.
The basement, about 100 square meters, was divided into three bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. It even had a lifter for oil and wastewater.
Upon entering, he heard the sound of chopping. Big Head, wearing an apron, was busy at the cutting board, preparing fresh meatâpork chops and liver.
Jiang Baichuan approached and asked, “Is all of this fresh?”
Big Head replied, “Of course. I told the seller if itâs frozen meat, Iâd return it and complain.”
Big Head finished chopping and filled a stainless steel basin with the meat, then handed it over to Jiang Baichuan. “Here, you take it in. Iâll continue with my work.”
Jiang Baichuan carried the basin to the innermost bedroom. Unlike the other rooms, this one had a padlock on the outside, though it was currently unlocked. He knocked on the door.
Shan Qiang opened the door and stepped aside to reveal Sun Zhou sitting on the bed, watching TV. When Sun Zhou saw the meat in the basin, he grimaced in disgust.
Sun Zhou, who had once appeared thoughtful and composed, now looked gaunt and weary. His skin sagged around his eyes, giving him a haggard appearance.
Jiang Baichuan greeted him with a smile, “Sun Zhou, how are you feeling today?”
Sun Zhou grimaced, “Uncle Jiang, can you please not make me eat… this stuff?”
He pointed to the meat with a look of revulsion. “How is this supposed to be cooked? Raw meat carries bacteria, maybe even tapeworms. It makes me want to vomit. Is this what people eat?”
Jiang Baichuan replied calmly, “Itâs all for your treatment. Endure it for now.”
Sun Zhou complained further, “At first, roasting the meat was uncomfortable, but it made me feel better afterward. Why did you stop?”
Jiang Baichuan responded patiently, “Weâre doing it in stages. Donât you trust us? This meat isnât just rawâitâs been treated with something medicinal. If you doubt it, consider the alternative. You havenât seen a doctor, and the condition youâre dealing with has led to hair growth. Itâs better to stick with our treatment than go to the hospital.”
Sun Zhou fell silent, acknowledging the validity of Jiang Baichuanâs points.
Driven by curiosity that day, Sun Zhou ventured into the cornfield. He didn’t want to go far, but he was compelled to search for evidence to prove that nothing terrible had happened the previous night and that he had nothing to regret. Despite his initial fear upon seeing the blood stains and collapsed stalks, he was driven forward by newfound courage and continued walking. He eventually found a hole in the ground.
The hole was not open at the time; it was covered with a mound of earth, resembling a giant anthill. Sun Zhou, feeling a tinge of apprehension, picked up a stick and prodded the soil. The darkness within was unsettling, but as he leaned in to look, he noticed two glowing grains floating inside, like green grapes emitting a faint light.
If he were from the mountains, he would have immediately suspected a wolf and reacted accordingly. However, growing up in the city had made Sun Zhou less aware of mountain dangers. His reaction was slow, and before he could fully comprehend the situation, two arms shot out from the hole, grabbing his shoulders with a grip like iron claws and dragging him into the darkness.
Sun Zhou felt as though he had plunged into hellâblack, damp, and foul. The most terrifying part was the constant scratching and biting. He struggled desperately but felt the grip tighten, and he was overwhelmed by fear. He could barely speak as he saw two eerie eyes darting around him. Just when he thought he was doomed, someone pulled him out of the hole and angrily shouted at the creature.
Sun Zhou couldnât see who had rescued him, but he caught a glimpse of the creature. It was hard to determine if it was human or something else entirely. Its face was red, twisted, and frightening, with bared teeth. The creature seemed to fear the light and the presence of the rescuer, shrinking back in terror.
Instinctively, Sun Zhou ran. He fled the cornfield, jumped into his car, and drove away frantically. His wounds felt numb and itchy, and his mind was frozen and disoriented. When he arrived at the hospital, everything seemed surrealâthe corridor twisted like a worm, the ground was uneven, and the nurse’s face appeared oddly distorted.
At the doctor’s office, when asked what had bitten him, Sun Zhou’s mind produced an image of a fierce yellow dog, and he replied, “Yes.” The doctor instructed the nurse to bandage his wounds and administer an injection. After receiving treatment, Sun Zhou stumbled back to his car, barely managing to drive. His phone screen flickered like a frog about to leap, but he collapsed into the seat and fell asleep.
When he woke up that night, he was disoriented, unsure of where he was. He found a room card in his possession and remembered he should stay at the hotel for the night. Despite the chaos in his head, he managed to drive to the hotel parking lot. There, he encountered a white off-road vehicle, which arrived just behind him. His muddled state led him to stop the car and enthusiastically wave at the other driver, saying, “You first, you first.” The driver looked at him for a moment before responding, “Go first.”
Sun Zhou reflected on Jiang Baichuan’s words. He had gone to the hospital, but he hadnât been cured. He realized that Jiang Baichuanâs “fire therapy” had helped him recover from his disoriented and nightmarish state. Despite the unusual nature of the treatment, Sun Zhou reassured himself that Jiang Baichuan meant no harm. After all, he was just a simple driver, and there was no reason to believe anyone was trying to harm him.
Suppressing his nausea, Sun Zhou glanced at the pot again and asked, “Is this really medicine?”
Jiang Baichuan replied, “In traditional Chinese medicine, even bat feces and chicken sacs are considered medicinal. Theyâre good for treating illnesses.”