West Zhejiang, Anta County.
In recent years, despite the province’s emphasis on “common prosperity,” there are always counties and cities that lag behind. Anta is one such place. It’s not that Anta is poor or backward, but rather that the rapidly changing external environment has left it struggling to keep up.
As soon as the intercity bus arrived, it was surrounded by taxi drivers who had been waiting eagerly.
“Tadong Tadong, fifty yuan per person!”
“Anyone going to Tabei? Just one more person needed, hop in and we’ll leave, no need to wait.”
“Metered fare, metered fare! Pay by the meter.”
…
Nie Jiuluo sat in the car, listening to the various accents of Mandarin. She had been away from her hometown for so long that she could no longer speak the local dialect, though she could still understand it.
She didn’t get out of the car until the crowd of passengers and taxi drivers had mostly dispersed.
The station was very small, and bustling when a train arrived but now quite deserted as the excitement had died down. The setting sun cast a cold and indifferent light over the place, sinking lower in the sky.
Nie Jiuluo dragged her suitcase toward the station exit.
Nie Dongyang, holding a magazine, scanned the area at the station exit. After a separation of seventeen or eighteen years, he had changed little except for his gray hair and the wear on his face.
When Nie Jiuluo emerged, Nie Dongyang was momentarily stunned. He quickly opened the magazine and compared it to her, then, with a look of surprise and delight, waved the magazine in her direction: “Xixi, Xixi!”
Nie Jiuluo approached with an impeccable smile, just like in her interview photos: “Uncle.”
Nie Dongyang beamed: “I saw everyone leaving and thought you might have missed the train.”
Nie Jiuluo smiled back, tilting her ankle to show him the stiletto heels of her boots: “High heels make it hard to move quickly.”
Nie Dongyang complimented her: “Oh, you’re featured in the magazine, that’s impressive. Let’s get in the car.”
…
Nie Dongyang drove a new Volvo.
Sitting in the back seat, Nie Jiuluo casually assessed the car. The price of this model was around 300,000 yuan—about the cost of their small share of the house.
As they drove out, Nie Dongyang chatted with her: “Xixi, it’s been so long since you were last here. Yunyun brought me the magazine, and I almost didn’t recognize you. Why did you change your name?”
Nie Yun, Nie Dongyang’s daughter, and Nie Jiuluo’s cousin were less than a year apart in age.
Nie Jiuluo replied, “It’s my stage name.”
“Oh, the stage name,” Nie Dongyang sighed. “Artists are amazing; they always have two names. Oh, yes, here’s the list.”
He handed her a piece of paper filled with various expenses for the Underworld rituals, totaling 26,000 yuan. The list included items like yellow paper, tribute, live fish for the big sacrifice, money for building the shed, and money for the drummer. Nie Dongyang said, “Hey, don’t worry.”
He reached for his phone to bring up the payment code and scan it, but Nie Jiuluo waved it off, indicating that it wasn’t urgent. Instead, she rolled down the window and looked at the street scene outside.
Nie Dongyang reluctantly put his phone away and paused before explaining the follow-up plans: “Xixi, I won’t be able to entertain you today. Tomorrow, there’s a lot to do, and I have to give some explanations when I get back. You’ll need to get up early. I’ll pick you up at the hotel at half past seven. We’ll go to the place for the rituals, and you’ll be busy all day. In the evening, I’ll ask your aunt to find a good restaurant, and we’ll have a meal and chat together as a family.”
Nie Jiuluo replied, “Don’t book a restaurant. It’s a waste of money. I’d prefer to eat the dishes cooked by my uncle. Let’s just set up a table at home.”
Nie Dongyang felt this was more practical but insisted, “It’s too informal at home; it’s not decent.”
Nie Jiuluo laughed, “It’s family; don’t worry about it.”
…
The hotel was in the central city, surrounded by numerous restaurants. Nie Jiuluo decided to casually have dinner at one of them before heading back to the hotel. She walked to the lobby but then changed her mind.
She wanted to stroll past her old house, to see if the trees that used to drop insects after spraying were still there and to find the spot on the road where she last saw her father.
However, she quickly realized that nearly 20 years had passed. Despite Anta’s slow growth, the changes were substantial—many old streets had been extended or widened, previously unremarkable areas had become streets, and landmark buildings like schools and hospitals had been relocated.
She no longer recognized the area.
The night breeze was chilly, and she frequently lifted the edge of her windbreaker, hugging her arms to fend off the cold. Hometown is not just a geographical location; it’s a blend of regions, specific years, specific people, and specific memories. It loses its essence with every change. People who have been away for years might never return to their “hometown,” but just to where others now live.
So, she told herself not to be nostalgic. There was nothing old to chase.
She pulled out her phone to navigate back to the hotel but suddenly felt a strong sense of being watched or followed.
To test her suspicion, she deliberately walked a bit longer. Her intuition was correct—someone was following her. The tracking skill of the follower was quite amateurish. A few times, she pretended to adjust her hair in the reflection of shop windows to get a good look at her pursuer.
The follower was an elderly man, around fifty or sixty years old, with a thin frame and an awkward gait. He wore a white-washed casual jacket and sneakers with cracks on both sides. His movements were clumsy, and he nearly tripped over his own feet.
These days, encountering such inexplicable individuals was alarming. Normally, she would have assumed it was a perverted stalker, but given the current circumstances, she couldn’t help but think of Yan Tuo’s possible accomplices.
She continued walking briskly, her heels clicking assertively on the pavement.
After about ten steps, she suddenly stopped, turned around, and approached the old man directly.
The old man, whose steps could not match her pace, nearly trotted after her. When he saw her approaching, he panicked, squatting down to tie his shoelaces—even though they were not actually loose or untied. He fumbled on the ground as if he had dropped something.
After less than two seconds of fumbling, Nie Jiuluo’s suede-covered square-toe boots appeared in front of him.
The old man looked up and then stood.
Nie Jiuluo demanded, “What are you doing following me?”
Her gaze and tone were aggressive.
The old man struggled to maintain his composure. “No, no.”
Passers-by had started to notice the commotion. The old man, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, blushed and avoided making eye contact with Nie Jiuluo.
Nie Jiuluo said sharply, “I saw you following me from two streets away from First Food.”
The old man, clearly uncomfortable with confrontation, crumbled quickly. “I… I mistook you for someone I know. You just looked familiar. I’m sorry, really sorry…” His voice trembled, reminiscent of a schoolboy caught cheating. He continued to apologize, almost in tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
He raised his hand, turned his head, and retreated as if trying to hide his shame. With repeated apologies, he hurriedly left, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”
If this had been an ordinary situation, Nie Jiuluo might have scolded him, but his overly dramatic reaction made her question if he was really a threat. Despite her doubts, she followed him out of curiosity.
The old man, clearly panicked, quickened his pace as he noticed her following him. His already awkward gait turned into a full-on sprint as he fled into a nearby community.
Nie Jiuluo stopped, observing the high-rise buildings around the community, and at that moment, the community doorman called out, “Lao Zhan, you’re back… Hey, why are you running?”
…
Nie Jiuluo, skilled in extracting information, quickly gathered details about the old man, “Lao Zhan,” from the doorman. His name was Zhan Jing. He was an old bachelor who had previously worked as a middle school teacher but was dismissed due to his lifestyle. His job stability had been poor since then.
Over ten years ago, a benefactor had introduced him to a woman who helped with household chores, but when Zhan Jing didn’t respond to her advances, she became enraged and threatened to sue him. The incident stirred some controversy but eventually faded. Since then, Zhan Jing had become wary of women, fearing further scandal.
…
To Nie Jiuluo, Zhan Jing appeared to be a pitiful old man rather than someone involved with Yan Tuo. She speculated that he might simply resemble someone he knew.
…
The day continued with the rituals, which involved many tasks and duties. Nie Jiuluo had been busy from early morning, participating in the various ceremonies and rites. To maintain her composure, she used eye drops to simulate tears during the rituals, adding a touch of authenticity to her performance.
The ceremonies for Nie Xihong’s nineteenth anniversary were completed successfully, and the next event was a family dinner.
Nie Dongyang had moved to a large flat in a high-end community with three bedrooms, two living rooms, and two bathrooms. Nie Jiuluo was curious and excited to see the new house. “Uncle, can I take a look around?” she asked.
Nie Dongyang, eager to show off his new home, replied, “Of course, no need to be polite. Just have a look.”
In the kitchen, Nie Jiuluo greeted her relatives. “Hello, Uncle. Sister Yun, you’re busy?”
The kitchen was bustling with activity. The aroma of casserole chicken filled the air, and Nie Jiuluo’s aunt, looking a bit heavier than before, was busy stirring the pot and seasoning the food. “Xixi, just make yourself comfortable. I’ll have everything ready soon,” she said, her face glowing with warmth.
Nie Yun, who was washing vegetables, had grown taller and thinner over the years, and her posture was slightly hunched. She smiled politely at Nie Jiuluo, though her shyness and a hint of inferiority showed in her demeanor.
Nie Jiuluo left the kitchen, and as the clinking of spoons continued, she overheard Nie Yun’s uncle’s comment: “You’re afraid of seeing people; you don’t have any presence at all. I don’t know, I think you’re the one who’s like an orphan…”
Nie Jiuluo smiled, interpreting the comment as a backhanded compliment.
The house, though spacious, lacked modern amenities like cameras. The furniture in the master bedroom was all solid wood, and the dresser and wardrobe were locked. If there were valuables, they were likely stored there.
With time before the meal was served, Nie Dongyang invited Nie Jiuluo to watch TV in the living room. They were watching a local TV version of a citizen challenge, where ordinary participants failed in humorous ways, causing Nie Dongyang to laugh heartily.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Nie Jiuluo said, and Nie Dongyang nodded without taking his eyes off the screen.
The bathroom was adjacent to the master bedroom. Nie Jiuluo deliberately closed the bathroom door loudly to cover her movements. She quickly slipped into the master bedroom, donned silk gloves, and began working on the locked drawers. Using her skills, she managed to open the locks with ease.
She encountered a brief scare when the aunt approached the bathroom door and inquired if someone was inside. Nie Jiuluo hid behind the bed and heard Nie Dongyang call out, “Use it at night or use the smaller one.”
The aunt grumbled and returned to the kitchen, allowing Nie Jiuluo to continue her task. In the third drawer of the large closet, she found what she was looking for: Pei Ke’s emerald white gold necklace. She examined it for a moment before pocketing it, replacing it with a fake necklace she had brought, and locked the drawer.
—
At the family banquet, the atmosphere was lively and friendly. Conversations flowed easily, with the aunt asking about Nie Jiuluo’s work in the sculpture industry. Nie Yun, slightly embarrassed, corrected her mother, “It’s called sculpture, not clay figures.”
Nie Jiuluo smiled, responding, “It’s quite similar to clay figures, and the earnings can vary. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes not so much, but it’s around hundreds of thousands.”
Nie Dongyang was astonished. “Hundreds of thousands!” He then chided his daughter, “Look at you, you earn a fraction of what no one wants.”
Nie Yun’s head drooped in response.
After a few rounds of drinks, Nie Jiuluo set her chopsticks down. “Uncle, there’s something I need to discuss with you now that I’m back.”
Nie Dongyang looked confused. “Huh?”
The change in Nie Dongyang’s expression was noticeable. He discreetly kicked Nie Dongyang under the table, thinking to himself that he had been warned about Nie Jiuluo’s intentions. Now that she was grown and wealthy, she might be aiming to reclaim her parents’ property.
Nie Jiuluo continued, “When my parents had their accident, you took care of the house and everything else. Do you remember the necklace my mother had? It was a jade pendant and a platinum chain, quite precious and sentimental. Can I take it back this time?”
Nie Yun was about to respond but was silenced by a sharp kick from her mother.
The aunt looked puzzled. “Xixi, are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
