In the depths of the Qinba Mountains, past one in the morning.
The dense forest canopy blotted out the sky, and the night was already pitch black—here, it was even darker. The saying "so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face" was no exaggeration.
Yet, in this desolate place once described by the ancients as "where foxes dwell and jackals gather," a chaotic glow now pierced the darkness, accompanied by faint murmurs of human voices.
The light came from various sources: camp lanterns, glow sticks, and tactical flashlights.
A dozen men and women, ranging from their twenties to forties, were packing their gear and dismantling tents under the illumination.
A short young man yanked a crumpled orange windbreaker from his backpack, shook it out, and slipped it on before wrapping a garish buff around his neck. With a cheeky grin, he asked a muscular man in an olive-green T-shirt across from him, "Lao Dao, check me out—do I look like a college student here for a hiking adventure?"
As he spoke, he spun around dramatically, giving Lao Dao a full 360-degree view.
Lao Dao wasn’t actually old—barely thirty, with dark skin and a sharply defined, square-jawed face. He was wrapping his Type 56 bayonet in leather when he shot the young man a sidelong glance. "Yeah, sure. Like a damn bird."
With a flick of his wrist, he pretended to lunge with the bayonet. "A pig sticking scallions up its nose—quit pretending to be an elephant!"
The young man had anticipated this and yelped, darting far out of reach before standing there cackling. A fair-skinned woman nearby frowned and hissed, "Quiet! Jiang Shu’s on the phone."
The young man stiffened, immediately clamping his mouth shut. He clasped his hands above his head in a frantic, apologetic gesture before slinking back to his spot.
Lao Dao smirked at him, eyes full of schadenfreude.
Grumbling, the young man fiddled with his backpack for a moment before glancing toward a small hill dozens of meters away.
There, silhouetted against the faint backlight, stood a man on the phone. His medium build and upright posture were visible, but his features were obscured.
The young man nudged Lao Dao with his elbow. "Hey, weren’t we supposed to stay in the mountains for two weeks? Why the rush to leave halfway through?"
Lao Dao shut him down with one retort: "What, you got a problem with going back? You fall in love with this place or something?"
Jiang Baichuan was mid-call when he spotted Xing Shen approaching from the base of the slope.
Xing Shen was tall, around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with a scholarly air that made him seem gentle and refined even in this setting.
Despite the late hour, he wore sunglasses—though no one nearby found it odd.
Because Xing Shen was blind.
Jiang raised a hand in a "hold on" gesture, signaling they’d talk later.
He knew Xing Shen could "see" it. Xing Shen’s sense of smell was extraordinarily sharp, almost enough to navigate by. And though he couldn’t perceive colors or details, he could faintly detect a kind of "light." Once, when explaining this to Jiang, Xing Shen had likened it to this: Everything emits light, whether subtly or vividly. If something appears dark to you, it’s only because your eyes can’t perceive it—just as some sound frequencies are inaudible to human ears, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.Sometimes Jiang Baichuan felt it was a pity that Xing Shen was blind, but other times he thought it was good that without physical eyes, he had opened another kind of "eyes" in a different sense—seeing things more simply and purely.
Xing Shen approached and stood silently to the side, not moving or speaking until Jiang Baichuan hung up the phone. Then he said, "Jiang Shu, we should hurry. At the earliest, we can reach the mountain pass by noon tomorrow and return to Banya by evening."
Jiang Baichuan chuckled cheerfully. "No need. Everyone’s worked hard. Take it slow, rest whenever. Just make it to the pass before dark tomorrow."
Xing Shen was taken aback. "You’re not in a hurry... to see that Yan Tuo anymore?"
By the second half of his sentence, he instinctively lowered his voice.
About an hour earlier, Jiang Baichuan had roused everyone who had already settled down, ordering them to pack up camp immediately and leave the mountains as soon as possible.
"No rush, no rush. Haste makes waste," Jiang Baichuan said, leaning closer to Xing Shen and whispering, "He’s already fallen into Nie Er’s hands."
Xing Shen froze. "A Luo? How did they run into each other?"
Jiang Baichuan replied, "Small place, narrow roads. Buddhas meet Buddhas, ghosts meet ghosts."
The injection’s effects were indeed potent. Yan Tuo only vaguely woke once around noon the next day—"vaguely" because he wasn’t truly conscious. He barely registered awareness before the giant hand of unconsciousness dragged him back under.
At the time, he only sensed the clamor of car noises around him, his body uncontrollably jostling and rolling. When he struggled to open his eyes, he recognized it as his own trunk, with two familiar large items beside him: the canvas bag holding Sun Zhou and the suitcase containing Gou Ya.
Truly, the wheel of fortune turns. Now it was his turn to crouch in the trunk—though he wasn’t bagged up. His limbs and mouth were tightly bound with tape. He guessed Nie Jiuluo was driving, and the car was passing through a bustling area because the surrounding noise was chaotic—engines, horns, exhaust fumes, and shop promotions blaring about "today-only special offers."
Listening to the ads, he sank back into boundless darkness. This time, however, he knew he was unconscious, slipping away with unbearable anxiety. He felt himself running endlessly through the black, panting and drenched in sweat. After what seemed like an eternity, a chilling gust pierced through flesh and bone, jolting him with icy coldness.
Yan Tuo opened his eyes.
It wasn’t a hallucination—he was genuinely freezing.
Night had fallen. Before him stood the even blacker, rugged outlines of mountain ridges, with a few needle-thin stars scattered high above.
In the north, autumn nights turned bitterly cold, and the mountains were several degrees chillier. The trunk door was open, and the mountain wind whistled inside, blowing straight through him—literally a "piercing wind," cutting through his chest, heart, lungs, and guts.
Yan Tuo curled up to warm himself. Gradually, he heard voices carried by the wind—the murmurs of two people talking.
Stiffly, he turned his neck toward the source of the sound.It was too dark, but fortunately, with the faint glow from the car's dashboard, he could vaguely make out two figures: one was Nie Jiuluo—he knew her silhouette all too well, the kind of familiarity that gnawed at his bones and ground his teeth in fury. The other was someone he hadn’t seen before, a man of average build with a smooth contour from forehead to the back of his head, suggesting a slicked-back hairstyle. Judging by his voice, the man was likely older.
He strained his ears, trying to catch the words carried by the wind.
Nie Jiuluo: “…What about Sun Zhou? Can he still be saved?”
The older man hesitated: “Hard to say. We’ll do our best. It would’ve been easier if it were earlier… Now it’s already taken root and sprouted.”
Nie Jiuluo: “Right, when Sun Zhou went missing before, I filed a report. At the time, I didn’t think…”
Her voice dropped here, and Yan Tuo missed the rest.
“…Find a way to close the case. Arrange for him to make an appearance or call home.”
The older man: “Don’t worry, we’ll handle it properly.”
Nie Jiuluo: “Also…”
Yan Tuo saw her pull something from her back pocket and hand it to the man. “Yan Tuo’s phone. I’ve tried it—it unlocks with his right index finger. There’s one issue…”
Her voice softened again. Knowing this concerned him, Yan Tuo strained to lift his neck, trying to inch closer. After a few seconds, her voice became clear once more.
“His mother’s name is Lin Xirou, but I checked—she’s been a vegetable for over twenty years. How could there be so many calls between them?”
Sweat beaded on Yan Tuo’s forehead, only to be instantly dried by the mountain wind.
The older man: “Could it be a caregiver by her side?”
Nie Jiuluo: “No idea. Anyway, that’s your business now, not mine. If you find anything, tell me if you want. If not, keep it to yourselves.”
The older man chuckled: “Nie Er, we’re all on the same side.”
Nie Er? Not Nie “Jiuluo”?
Nie Jiuluo: “No. Each to their own path. I’m not on your side. Let’s get down to business—name a price. Three items in the car. How much are they worth?”
The older man sighed: “Why talk about money, Nie Er? Our families have two generations of ties…”
Nie Jiuluo cut him off: “No ties. Three items, all unique. I’ll charge you a million. Not expensive, right?”
Yan Tuo was baffled. At first, he thought Nie Jiuluo and the older man were allies, but now they were haggling over payment, as if she were delivering goods for a fee.
The older man sighed: “Not expensive.”
Nie Jiuluo: “Then it’s settled. Deduct a million from the debt I owe you.”
Yan Tuo grew even more confused, but he memorized every word. Even the most puzzling information was still information—every riddle had its solution.
With that, it was clear the conversation was winding down. The older man asked, “How will you leave? Should I leave you a car?”
Nie Jiuluo: “No need. Just give me the flashlight. I have my own arrangements.”
As they approached the car, the older man went straight to the driver’s seat while Nie Jiuluo walked to the back to help close the rear door.
Just as she was about to shut the trunk, Nie Jiuluo suddenly met Yan Tuo’s eyes. The compartment was dark, but his gaze was piercing—deep and fixed on her.
Nie Jiuluo smiled and leaned closer to him. “Don’t blame me. You brought this on yourself. Why be a decent person one moment and a lackey the next?”She straightened up after speaking.
The older man had already turned on the interior light. Yan Tuo saw Nie Jiuluo's face—her smile had vanished, her gaze sweeping downward to give him a disdainful look, as if he were a pile of dog shit everyone avoided.
Then, with a loud bang , the car hood slammed shut.
Nie Jiuluo watched as the car drove away. Though this was the mountain pass, it wasn’t much different from being deep in the mountains. The car’s lights and engine noise were quickly swallowed by the massive mountain and the dense, shadowy forest.
She stood there for a moment before unscrewing the Wolf-Eye flashlight Jiang Baichuan had left for her. Adjusting the brightness, she followed another path outward.
This was the foot of the mountain, still some distance from the main road.
As she walked, she suddenly sensed something and looked up to see Xing Shen waiting by the roadside.
Xing Shen faced her direction, a faint smile on his lips. "A'Luo, it’s been so long—six or seven years, hasn’t it?"
It had indeed been a long time. Six years and seven months, to be exact. They’d spoken once or twice in between, always strictly business, never anything beyond that.
Nie Jiuluo gave a noncommittal hum and glanced at him.
He looked the same as ever, just more mature. Since childhood, people had praised him, saying, "You could be a star when you grow up." They weren’t wrong—he had the looks, the build, the presence. Everything except those eyes.
She didn’t stop walking. "I’ve got an appointment. I’m in a hurry."
Xing Shen reached out as if to stop her but withdrew his hand midway. He remained standing there, listening as the surroundings grew quiet again—the kind of silence unique to mountains and forests, filled with countless tiny noises. So quiet it was as if neither of them had ever been there.
Nie Jiuluo did indeed have an "appointment."
This was a winding mountain road, its beginning and end lost in the quiet darkness. Nie Jiuluo sat on a roadside post and waited patiently.
The temperature had dropped further. Her thin shirt was no match for the cold, and she regretted not asking Jiang Baichuan for a jacket. She rubbed her arms for warmth and strategically draped her hair over her shoulders and back to block the wind.
After about half an hour, two headlights approached in the distance—Lao Qian’s car. Nie Jiuluo stood and waved. Before the car even came to a full stop, she had already pulled the door open and slipped inside.
This season didn’t call for the heater in the car, but the temperature was much more comfortable.
Lao Qian looked around, shocked and indignant. "Miss Nie, he… he just left you here in the middle of the night?"
Nie Jiuluo smiled. "It was fine at first, but then things went south."
Lao Qian started the car. "What kind of man does that? No decency at all."
Of course, deep down, he thought Nie Jiuluo had brought it on herself—too reckless, reaping what she’d sown. But she was a client, so he couldn’t let that show.
Nie Jiuluo pulled out the small blanket in the car. "Take it slow and steady, Qian. I’m going to nap."
She lay down across the backseat. These past two days, her back hadn’t touched a flat surface—she was exhausted. Now, stretched out, she felt indescribably comfortable, every limb at ease.
Half-asleep, she heard Lao Qian ask, "So, Miss Nie, are we continuing with the rest of the trip?"
In his experience, most people wouldn’t be in the mood for sightseeing after something like this. They’d either cut the trip short or cancel outright. He had to remind her: if the client canceled the trip, she could get a partial refund for the remaining itinerary, but she’d still have to pay a 20% penalty.Nie Jiuluo said, "Go on, why stop?"
They couldn't delay the plan just because of a minor issue.
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