Lao Qian was in the tourism service industry and had met all sorts of clients—if not a thousand, then at least eight hundred. Some he forgot the moment they turned away, while others left a lasting impression.
Nie Jiuluo belonged to the latter category. But to be honest, with 99.9% of these people, it was a once-in-a-lifetime encounter, so after three to five days, he gradually stopped thinking about them and moved on.
But he never expected there would be a follow-up.
It was about two weeks after Nie Jiuluo’s trip had ended. Lao Qian had just finished his shift and was originally planning to go home for dinner when his wife called, saying she had been invited by her girlfriends for a facial and wouldn’t be home to cook. She told him to grab a bite somewhere on the street.
Lao Qian ended up at a roadside dumpling shop. Eating alone was inevitably lonely, but thankfully, he had his phone for company—his job required him to join many local groups, like "Eat, Drink, and Have Fun in Shihe" or "Tourism Charters, One Big Family." During busy times, he muted the notifications, but when he had free time, he actively joined the discussions for some fun.
Just as he was enjoying his meal, one of the groups suddenly exploded with messages. He tapped in and saw members frantically spamming the same sentence: "Let me earn that 2,000!"
What was going on? Lao Qian scrolled up, flipping through several pages before finding the source: someone had posted a photo, claiming the person in it had gone missing around Shihe. Their family and friends were offering a reward—2,000 for anyone who had seen them and could confirm basic details, with additional compensation for those who could provide leads.
Lao Qian wanted that 2,000 too.
He opened the photo and was so shocked he dropped his dumpling into the vinegar dish with a plop , splashing vinegar all over his face.
The man in the photo—wasn’t that the… the one working in the illegal service industry? That male escort?
He had gone missing? Well, it wasn’t that surprising. People in that line of work, regardless of gender, faced higher risks.
At the bottom of the photo was a contact number. Lao Qian’s heart pounded—he had no idea how this Yan Tuo had gone missing and couldn’t provide any leads, so the extra reward was out of the question. But that 2,000 was practically guaranteed!
Having never earned money like this before, Lao Qian felt nervous. He couldn’t even finish the remaining half-bowl of dumplings, quickly paid the bill, and left. Once in his car, he rolled up the windows to create a quieter environment, took a deep breath, and dialed the number.
He was as tense as if he were in a job interview.
Soon, someone picked up—a man whose tone was indifferent at best. "Who is this?"
Lao Qian enunciated clearly, "Right, I saw your missing person notice—"
Before he could finish, the other person burst into laughter, his voice dripping with disdain. "Oh, you’ve seen him, huh? I get two hundred calls a day, all claiming the same. Tell you what, since you’ve 'seen' him, answer me this—what brand was the car he drove?"
Lao Qian froze, his confidence instantly wavering. "Car? Wasn’t it an SUV? A big one."
The other end fell silent for a second or two. When the man spoke again, his tone was less mocking. "Buddy, just based on that answer, you’ve already secured the base reward. I was testing you earlier—don’t take it personally. Too many scammers out there."
Lao Qian hurriedly replied, "Understood, understood."
"What color was the SUV?"
"White."
The man hummed in acknowledgment. "Any distinctive features or decorations on the car? Can you name one?"
Lao Qian didn’t recall anything special—just that it was an expensive-looking vehicle. As for decorations…A thought suddenly struck him: "There was a duck in his car, the toy kind."
He had initially wanted to add that it was a professional trait but held back, fearing it might offend since it wasn’t exactly a respectable line of work.
The person on the other end hummed in acknowledgment, then asked with a hint of excitement, "Which day did you see him?"
Lao Qian mentally calculated the date: "The 18th, yes, the 18th of last month."
The response was brisk: "Alright, come collect your money."
Two thousand yuan, just for talking? Lao Qian grew wary, suspecting a scam. But upon hearing the meeting location—a café on the first floor of the central district’s department store, a bustling area with a police station right across the street—he relaxed. It couldn’t be safer.
In a corner booth of the café, Lao Qian met the person waiting for him.
She was a young woman of average height, slender with an unremarkable appearance. Her complexion was pale, and her hair had a yellowish tint—she seemed somewhat frail. The only noteworthy feature was her hands: delicate fingers, fair and smooth like peeled scallion stems.
She must have known her hands were her best asset, as she had invested heavily in them. Her nails were polished to a glossy pink, adorned with silver and scattered gold nail art. Around her wrist was a delicate gold chain, composed of irregularly shaped, tiny multifaceted gold beads that shimmered subtly, like a circle of starlight dancing on her skin.
Lao Qian thought it was a shame such beautiful hands were attached to her, making her plain features appear even duller in contrast.
She presented her ID and business card, introducing herself as Lin Ling, an office assistant at a Chinese medicinal herbs distribution company. Yan Tuo was the legal representative of this company.
In other words, the boss had gone missing. Beyond filing a police report, some employees had paused their work to help search for clues. According to her, the person who answered the phone was also a colleague, tasked with filtering out false leads and forwarding credible ones to her.
As she spoke, she adjusted her phone on a stand, switching to video mode and positioning it to capture Lao Qian’s upper body.
Lao Qian found it hard to believe: "This Yan Tuo... he’s the company boss? He’s rich?"
Lin Ling replied matter-of-factly, "Obviously. Born into money, never known hardship."
Lao Qian understood: a second-generation rich kid, and not the wasteful kind.
"Then why was he doing... that?"
Lin Ling glanced at him. "Doing what?"
Lao Qian hesitated, initially wanting to spare the boss’s dignity. But then he reconsidered—when someone’s missing, pride hardly matters. He might as well be honest.
He phrased it as tactfully as possible: "The... adult entertainment industry."
Lin Ling maintained a professional demeanor. "That’s the boss’s private matter. We don’t pry. Just describe what you saw in detail. Besides the two thousand, we may add more depending on the value."
There was more money to be made? Lao Qian perked up. Aware he was being recorded, he straightened his posture and began recounting the events with clarity and flair.
As a seasoned driver-for-hire, he had a way with words. Lin Ling listened intently, hardly interrupting except to ask at the end, "This Miss Nie—do you have her contact details or any basic information?"
Lao Qian said, "You know her name—you can look her up online. She’s quite famous, has held exhibitions and been featured in magazines."The questioning was nearly done, and Lin Ling was quite straightforward. She had him pull up his Alipay QR code and transferred five thousand yuan to him on the spot.
When Lao Qian walked out of the café, he felt like it wasn’t real. He kept unlocking his phone to check if the money was still there.
He had to keep this money well hidden—his wife couldn’t find out, or she’d spend it on facials again. His friends couldn’t know either, or they’d pressure him to treat them to a meal. Eating out wasn’t cheap these days; a single meal could easily cost three or four hundred.
After seeing Lao Qian off, Lin Ling put her headphones back on and fast-forwarded through the video once more before packing up and heading straight to the fifth floor of the building.
The fifth floor was the dining area, bustling with a food court, affordable and well-reviewed restaurants, and high-end eateries with discreet entrances that clearly signaled their hefty price tags.
Lin Ling walked into the most impressive-looking one.
Given the steep prices, only a few scattered tables were occupied, and the lighting was warm and dim. Lin Ling made her way to a table near the back and called out, "Aunt Lin."
The woman flipping through the menu responded with a soft "Hmm" and said, "Sit."
Lin Ling took the seat directly across from her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a few young waiters in white shirts and bowties sneaking glances their way. When their eyes accidentally met hers, they quickly looked away, flustered.
Lin Ling smiled knowingly. Of course, they weren’t looking at her.
They were looking at Aunt Lin—Lin Xirou.
She called her "Aunt," but in terms of appearance, they seemed around the same age. What Lin Ling envied most was Lin Xirou’s breathtaking beauty and the effortless charm in her every smile and frown—a blend of Hong Kong retro and French elegance. She was wearing an avocado-green, V-neck tea dress with puffed sleeves and a floral print. If Lin Ling had worn the same dress, she’d have looked awkward and frumpy, but on Lin Xirou, it clung to her like a second skin.
In her presence, Lin Ling always felt inadequate, as if the heavens had poured their heart into crafting Lin Xirou, while rushing through her own creation in a hurry.
She pulled up the video and slid the phone, earphones plugged in, toward Lin Xirou.
Lin Xirou said, "No rush. Tell me first—I’ll watch it slowly tonight."
Lin Ling organized her thoughts. "The guy I met today was a driver, and he was quite useful. We lost contact with Yan Tuo on the 19th, but this man saw him on the 18th. He said when they parted, Yan Tuo had a beautiful woman surnamed Nie in his car."
Lin Xirou smiled faintly. "Not surprising. Xiao Tuo’s a grown man. He told me he’d met a friend and needed a few extra days—I figured it was probably a woman."
"But on the evening of the 19th, that woman was dumped at a remote mountain pass. The driver had to travel a long way to pick her up."
Lin Xirou shook her head. "I can believe Xiao Tuo would kick a woman out of his car, but leaving her in a place like that doesn’t seem like him."
Lin Ling chuckled. "I thought the same. He’d usually drop them off in busy areas, train stations, or subway entrances—somewhere they could easily get home."
Lin Xirou pondered for a moment. "We’ll need to dig deeper on this Nie woman... Anything else solid?""There are two more people we need to meet in person. One is an old man who runs a hotel—he claims Yan Tuo stayed at his place on the evening of the 18th. The other is someone called 'Da Tou,' who says he saw Yan Tuo..."
Here, the voice lowered: "...stuffing a very ugly man into a suitcase."
Lin Xirou frowned. "How could Xiao Tuo be so careless? Letting people see something like this... What a headache..."
And "headache" wasn't just a figure of speech—she genuinely massaged her temples in exhaustion. Lin Ling, observing her expression, cautiously suggested, "Aunt Lin, if you're not feeling well, you should go back and rest. I can handle things here."
Lin Xirou replied indifferently, "How could I rest with Xiao Tuo missing for so long? After all, I raised him."
Lin Ling sat motionless, a chill creeping up her spine, all the way to the crown of her head.
As a child, she had idolized Lin Xirou. This aunt who adopted her was so beautiful—even the actresses on TV couldn't compare.
But later, she grew afraid. When she was five, Lin Xirou looked to be in her early twenties. When Lin Ling turned twenty, Lin Xirou... still looked to be in her early twenties.
October 18, 1992 / Sunday / Overcast
I’m over four months pregnant now. When I look in the mirror, my belly seems more pronounced, and my body feels heavier. No wonder they say pregnant women are "running with a ball." Carrying such a big ball around is really tiring.
Da Shan finally settled on a name for our son. He said the character "Kai" feels too light, lacking strength, but "Tuo" is different—it sounds powerful, like someone who can mine coal and bless the business at the mine.
Son, just bless the mine’s business. Forget about mining coal.
Speaking of Da Shan...
Da Shan has been acting a little strange lately. But if you asked me to explain, I couldn’t pinpoint it—it’s just a feeling. I mentioned it to Min Juan and Xiao Xiu, but they disagreed. Min Juan said pregnant women are overly sensitive, prone to overthinking. Xiao Xiu, never one to mince words, asked me straight up: "Is Da Shan seeing someone else?"
It scared me half to death. I told her I trusted Da Shan—he’d never do something so despicable. Xiao Xiu just scoffed and said all men are like that, especially at this stage—most likely to stray.
I shouldn’t have listened. Once those words got into my head, they took root. After my prenatal checkup today, I stopped by the mine. While Da Shan was away, I rummaged through his office like a thief, checking every drawer and surface.
There were a few new children’s books with pinyin in his office—probably bought for our son (way too early for that). And a small mirror.
Why would a man need to look in a mirror?
I got suspicious and loosened a button on Da Shan’s most frequently worn shirt—not pulling it off completely, just fraying the thread so it dangles.
If the button falls off, so be it. But if it gets sewn back on... that would be trouble.
I also slipped Changxi ten yuan and told him to keep an eye on Da Shan for me. Changxi refused the money, saying I’d always looked out for him and this was the least he could do. Truth is, I haven’t done much—just occasionally given him an apple or pear since he’s young and new to the mine.If Da Shan really has another woman out there, Lin Xirou, let me tell you, don't be weak. Don't let people think you're easy to bully. Just go all out—take a knife and chop up that wretched couple, then swallow sleeping pills and die—take Xiao Tuo with you too. Without a father or mother, living in this world would just be suffering.
Am I overthinking things? It's just a small mirror. Min Juan was right—pregnant women tend to overanalyze everything.
Time to sleep.
—[Excerpt from Lin Xirou's Diary]
OpenNovel