It took Yan Tuo two days to drive back to Xi’an. With his mind preoccupied, the journey extended beyond the expected time, stretching into three days. On the evening of the next day, as his car entered Shaanxi Province, Yan Tuo observed on the map that the province’s outline resembled a kneeling terracotta warrior. He felt as though he was driving through the toes of the figurine, heading toward the pelvis of the figure.
The highway was a mix of bustling traffic and solitude. While the roads were busy with vehicles, Yan Tuo, driving alone, relied on navigation and periodically glanced at the high road signs. Among the many signs, one caught his eye: “Yutang County (62 km).”
A flicker of curiosity crossed Yan Tuo’s mind. Before he could deliberate on whether to visit or not, his hands had already turned the steering wheel, guiding him toward Yutang County.
By around eight o’clock in the evening, Yan Tuo’s car arrived at Lao Niutougang. This was where his father, Yan Huanshan, had first started a coal mine. Now, the place was as desolate as a cemetery. The once-thriving coal mine, which had seen a bustling gold rush-like boom, was now abandoned. Just as gold diggers had once flocked to the western United States, transforming small towns into lively hubs, the departure of gold had left these towns empty. Similarly, Lao Niutougang had become a barren wasteland after the coal mine’s closure.
The closure wasn’t due to the depletion of coal but rather because mining had become economically unfeasible. With the drive to reduce coal production capacity, many coal mines were phased out, leading to numerous abandoned mines. Yan Tuo had read reports indicating that by 2020, there were about 12,000 abandoned coal mines in China. Discussions about the utilization of these abandoned resources were active in scientific circles, but Lao Niutougang remained a small, unremarkable part of that broader discourse.
The iron gate to the yard was closed, and the rusting iron fence had taken on a gray hue. The iron sign on the gate, though partially decayed, still bore the words “High-Class Home,” a reminder of the past. The slogan “Go to work happily and go home safely” seemed both ironic and distant now.
Yan Tuo sat in his car, staring at the iron gate. Though people couldn’t enter, the car’s headlights pierced through the gloom, illuminating a flat expanse behind the gate. He recalled that Yan Huanshan used to ride a two-wheeled bicycle through this gate every day. His mother often visited, and he had a hazy memory of the place. He remembered walking on the flat ground behind the gate as a child, with miners encouraging him and Uncle Changxi holding out a lollipop, leading him like a carrot before a donkey.
His memories also included the woman who would later become his “Aunt Lin.” As he turned the car around, the once-familiar mine disappeared into darkness. Lao Niutougang sank into the shadows, cloaked in secrecy and silence, like a grave holding its secrets.
Yan Tuo drove into the county seat of Yutang. The area had transformed from its old self, with new streets, high-rise buildings, and bustling commercial areas replacing the old scenery. The newness of it all left no room for nostalgia.
He parked his car by the roadside and walked into a nearby snack street. At the corner of the street, he spotted a shop named “Changxi Sour Soup Dumplings.” Yan Tuo pushed aside the curtain and entered. The shop was modest but tidy, and while it wasn’t crowded, there were still a few patrons.
Liu Changxi, the owner, was at the cash register, absorbed in his work and not noticing Yan Tuo’s arrival. Yan Tuo leaned over and tapped on the counter. “A bowl of sour soup dumplings, pork and cabbage,” he ordered.
Liu Changxi looked up in surprise. “Oh, okay. Please, sit inside… Xiao Tuo?”
Yan Tuo smiled at the recognition. Despite Liu Changxi’s greying hair and age, he was actually under fifty. Liu Changxi, clearly excited, scrutinized Yan Tuo and remarked, “You’ve grown taller.”
Yan Tuo chuckled. “How could that be? I was already that height last time.”
It had been two or three years since Yan Tuo’s last visit. Liu Changxi, perhaps feeling his own age more, might be imagining Yan Tuo’s height as having increased. Liu Changxi, after a thoughtful pause, added, “There’s a man…”
Not long after, a bowl of sour soup dumplings, along with a few cold dishes and a can of Bingfeng, was served. Liu Changxi, abandoning his post, joined Yan Tuo at the table. “Can’t you stay a bit longer?” he asked.
Yan Tuo picked up a dumpling and ate. “I’m just passing through.”
He glanced around the shop. “Business seems good.”
Liu Changxi’s face lit up with a smile, revealing deep wrinkles. “Yes, you know, I used to run a stall, constantly moving and dealing with hassles. It’s much easier now with this place. You won’t believe it…”
Lowering his voice, he made a gesture of quotation marks. “So far this year, I’ve earned over 80,000 yuan in net profit.” Yan Tuo nodded in approval. “That’s great. It’s rare to find such stability these days. Uncle Changxi, you should find someone to settle down with.”
Liu Changxi was taken aback. He felt the weight of time as he remembered Yan Tuo as a child, once sticky with lollipops and asking him to “wash his hands” with soap. Now, Yan Tuo was giving him advice about finding companionship.
Liu Changxi laughed it off. “I’m an old man now. Who would I find?”
Yan Tuo’s tone was more serious as he replied, “Don’t wait for my mother. It’s unlikely she’ll wake up. Even if she did, her heart would still be with my father.”
Liu Changxi froze, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation.
Liu Changxi felt a rush of embarrassment as Yan Tuo’s comment about his mother exposed a secret he had kept hidden for years. He was momentarily at a loss for how to react, but Yan Tuo’s considerate silence, his focus on eating dumplings and occasionally sipping soup, allowed him some time to regain his composure.
After a moment, Liu Changxi managed to ask casually, “How is your mother doing?”
Yan Tuo finished his meal and wiped his mouth with a tissue. “It’s still the same. The doctor said that if she had a choice, she might prefer to leave this world rather than continue living like this. I’m done eating, Uncle Changxi. I won’t be paying.”
Liu Changxi smiled, as if to say it was no trouble. “What money? You don’t need to pay.”
It wasn’t until Yan Tuo stood up to leave that Liu Changxi realized he was actually going. “Leaving already?”
Yan Tuo nodded. “Yes, I mentioned I was just passing through.”
Liu Changxi hurried to the door to see him off. When he was about to ask something else, he stumbled and ended up shouting at Yan Tuo’s retreating figure, “Make sure to bring something good for your mother.”
Yan Tuo waved a hand in acknowledgment without looking back.
***
The next day, after driving into Xi’an by noon, Yan Tuo headed to the care club. This private, high-end vegetative care and rehabilitation center had recently upgraded its security from a card-based system to include fingerprint access after an incident involving stolen membership cards.
Yan Tuo hadn’t visited in over six months. The clubhouse app provided 24/7 monitoring, and despite multiple visits, the sight of his mother’s condition remained unchanged. The emotional weight of these visits made them especially challenging.
His mother, Lin Xirou, was housed in the most well-lit and relatively quiet room in the facility. As Yan Tuo entered, two nurses were busy giving her a muscle massage to prevent atrophy. Despite these efforts, her condition remained unchanged after more than 20 years in bed. Her body was frail, withered, and unable to swallow food, depending on a nasogastric tube for nutrition. Her appearance—yellowed skin, thin muscles, and a shaved head—was starkly different from the vibrant woman she once was.
The nurse, familiar with Yan Tuo, asked, “Mr. Yan, would you like us to step out?”
Yan Tuo nodded and requested, “Please bring some cotton swabs and salt water. I’ll help my mother brush her teeth.”
The nurse quickly brought the items over. Yan Tuo donned a medical mask, positioned a chair beside the bed, and set up a light. With one hand supporting Lin Xirou’s face and the other holding a cotton swab dipped in salt water, he meticulously cleaned her teeth. Her mouth, having not chewed food in years, was stiff and difficult to open. The smell, even through the mask, was overpowering. Her face, light and unresponsive, felt like a poignant reminder of her lost vitality.
When he finished, the sunlight streaming through the window cast a soft, gentle light over the room. Yan Tuo’s phone buzzed with a message from Lin Ling: “You’re coming back soon, right? Aunt Lin asked me to check on you.”
Yan Tuo replied briefly, “Almost there.”
After sending the message, he took a few more moments before putting the chair back and heading towards the door. As he opened it, he glanced back at his mother. Her condition symbolized a loss of life, love, family, and identity—her essence stolen by time and circumstance.
***
By the time Yan Tuo returned to the villa, it was already afternoon. The villa, usually a hub of activity due to Xiong Hei’s extensive network and high-profile connections, was unusually quiet. Xiong Hei managed the company’s security, and the villa functioned more like a social club than a private residence.
Yan Tuo and others typically used a special elevator through the back door, separating the semi-public first and second floors from the private third and fourth floors. This setup ensured privacy, with Xiong Hei only telling outsiders that seriously ill relatives were recuperating upstairs. Today, the villa’s silence was conspicuous as Yan Tuo entered the elevator without the usual noise and commotion.
The absence of Xiong Hei from the villa was unusual. He had always been attentive to Lin Xirou’s condition and rarely strayed from her side. Yan Tuo ascended to the third floor, noting the silence and emptiness that pervaded the villa.
In the small living room next to the elevator, Lin Ling was engrossed in crafting a miniature house. When she heard Yan Tuo, she looked up and noticed him entering.
“Xiong Hei isn’t around?” Yan Tuo asked.
Lin Ling shook her head. “I haven’t seen him for two days. I called the farm, and he wasn’t there either.”
Yan Tuo noted her distraction, her attention focused on her craft—a pink, almost fairy-tale-like miniature with a tiny table, chairs, and dressers. He mused that every girl might like such dreamy things, though he knew Nie Jiuluo would prefer something different—her sculptures were more fierce and intricate, lacking in this cuteness.
He lowered his voice, “How are you? Have you been sleeping normally? Did you get a camera?”
Lin Ling nodded. “I bought one. Nothing unusual has happened.”
Yan Tuo felt some relief. “Good. It might just be a dream you had.”
Lin Ling pouted. “Aunt Lin asked to see you as soon as you got back.”
***
When Yan Tuo reached Lin Xirou’s room, he knocked on the door. “Aunt Lin, it’s me.”
“Come in,” Lin Xirou’s voice called from inside.
Yan Tuo entered to find Lin Xirou on the phone. She gestured for him to wait, and though he couldn’t hear the details of her conversation, her cheerful tone and the lightness of her words indicated she was in good spirits. This unexpected happiness was a rare sight, and Yan Tuo wondered if there was some new development in the investigation into Banya. For him, this could mean trouble—any new lead would put his deceptions at risk.
After hanging up, Lin Xirou noticed Yan Tuo’s neck. “What happened to your neck?” She reached out to touch the wound.
The marks from the incident were fading, but still visible. Yan Tuo shifted uncomfortably. “It’s nothing. Just ran into someone unstable.”
Lin Xirou’s perceptiveness cut through his facade. “A woman, then?”
“Yes,” Yan Tuo admitted.
Lin Xirou frowned. “Xiao Tuo, you need to be serious about relationships. It’s not right to keep provoking these chaotic situations. You had that incident with Miss Nie, and now this… Can’t you find someone normal?”
Yan Tuo avoided her gaze. “I’ll be more careful next time.”
He quickly changed the subject. “Aunt Lin, you seem in good spirits. Is something exciting happening?”
Lin Xirou’s expression softened. “Yes.”
“Does it have something to do with Banya?” Yan Tuo inquired.
Lin Xirou didn’t give a clear answer but her reaction suggested that it was related. Yan Tuo’s intuition told him that her interest in “Banya” went beyond his own troubles.
“You mentioned earlier that all leads had been lost and no one could be found,” he said.
Lin Xirou smiled enigmatically. “Don’t concern yourself with that. I regret involving you in this, and I want to make sure those responsible pay for their actions.”
Yan Tuo remained silent for a moment, then responded with a smile. “I understand, Aunt Lin. I might not be much help, but I’ve certainly made a mess for you to clean up. I appreciate you not blaming me for it.”
Lin Xirou was taken aback, sensing he might have misunderstood her intentions. “No, Xiao Tuo…”
Yan Tuo reached for the door handle. “I understand, Aunt Lin. You don’t need to comfort me.” He opened the door and left, the conversation leaving an uneasy tension in the air.
