It was past four in the morning, the time when most people were in their deepest slumber.
Yet in a room at a four-star hotel in the city center, the lights were blazing, and the bathroom was filled with steam, the sound of running water unceasing.
After a long while, the water finally stopped. Yan Tuo yanked the shower curtain aside with a sharp "shhh," stepped barefoot out of the tub, and walked up to the wide mirror. He wiped a clear spot at eye level, then tilted his chin up to examine himself.
It was a ghastly sight. A large bruise darkened his jaw, and on the right side of his neck was a bloody bite mark—neatly aligned, with both upper and lower teeth accounted for. Around his neck was a ring of torn, mangled flesh. Compared to these, the few scrapes on his face and the metallic taste of blood from biting his tongue were practically negligible.
He opened the first-aid kit beside him, cleaning and dressing each wound one by one, wincing the entire time. Finally, he stuck three band-aids on different parts of his face before pulling on a bathrobe and stepping out.
The room remained largely as tidy as when he had checked in. The open laptop on the desk had gone to sleep. Yan Tuo walked over, sat down, and woke the screen, pulling up a search page. He typed in a line:
Do you need a rabies shot if bitten by a person?
Over thirty million related results popped up.
What kind of world was this? Were there really this many people biting others? Anyone who bit someone should be jailed, have all their teeth knocked out, and be forced to live on porridge for the rest of their lives.
Gritting his teeth, Yan Tuo clicked through a few links and felt slightly reassured: generally, no shot was needed—unless Nie Jiuluo herself carried the rabies virus.
She probably didn’t. Though, given how she acted, she might as well have been infected for years and terminally rabid.
Leaning back in the chair, he tilted his head and rested for a few seconds before sitting up straight and typing his second search:
Nie Jiuluo.
So far, he had clashed with her twice. Conflict wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—it allowed for quick observation and analysis of a person.
She excelled at ambushes and lightning-fast strikes, aiming to end fights swiftly. Even those stronger than her could easily falter against her because of how sudden and unpredictable her attacks were.
She was ruthlessly goal-oriented, unconcerned with methods. Take biting, for example—most people would disdain such tactics, but she didn’t care. In her eyes, any trick or deception was fair game as long as it subdued her opponent.
Her stamina was lacking—or rather, compared to men, women’s physical strength was always at a disadvantage. So once dragged into a contest of brute force, she would gradually lose the upper hand.
The bracelet on her wrist was likely her trump card. Even when he had "kidnapped" her, she hadn’t used it. Tonight, even if she hadn’t revealed her full hand, she had probably played 80-90% of her cards.
He still needed to learn more about her.
As Lin Ling had mentioned, there were plenty of search results about her—mostly interviews in industry magazines, as well as features in arts and fashion publications. Likely because she was both beautiful and talented, making her more marketable than those with talent but no looks. Before tonight’s reconnaissance, he had already read quite a few.
Yan Tuo clicked on a new article.
The first thing that appeared was a large half-body photo of her, smiling softly, her features vivid and lively.
Just looking at it made him furious.
Scrolling down, the headline read: "A Life of Quiet Grace, as Serene as Chrysanthemums." Yan Tuo scoffed internally. Whether she was as serene as chrysanthemums, he couldn’t say—they weren’t close, after all. But "teeth as vicious as a wolf’s" was definitely true.He looked down with undisguised disdain.
[Entering the small courtyard, one feels a dazed sense of stepping from the mundane world into a secluded paradise. Some say every artist harbors an isolated island in their heart, but Nie Jiuluo truly dwells on one.]
What nonsense. What kind of "isolated island" sits in the city center, just a ten-minute walk from the largest commercial complex?
[I asked her if she ever grew weary of this unchanging life, surrounded only by clay molds and carving tools. She smiled: How could I? Then added: Don't think of them as lifeless, breathless things. The moments spent with them are equally turbulent and thrilling.]
Yan Tuo wondered what sins he'd committed to endure such cringe-inducing, elementary-school-level prose.
And of course she wasn't bored. She kidnapped, imprisoned, bit people, wielded axes and knives—her life was plenty exciting.
...
Yan Tuo clicked open another article.
[The second time I met Nie Jiuluo, she had just returned from a beach vacation. I asked whether swimming freely through the water and exploring the underwater world had inspired new creative ideas. She shook her head regretfully, confessing she couldn't swim.]
Couldn't swim—probably due to underdeveloped cerebellum and poor physical coordination... Unlike him, who'd been swimming since age two.
...
He opened another piece.
[Though her mother resided abroad long-term and her father remained occupied with business, the barriers of time and space never diminished their care for their daughter...]
Yan Tuo's heart skipped a beat.
This contradicted everything he'd uncovered: Nie Jiuluo's mother had "died accidentally" during a trip, her father had "jumped to his death"—what kind of performance was this about living abroad and doing business?
Crossing his arms, Yan Tuo pondered for a long while without reaching any conclusion. Then it struck him—magazines only showed you what you wanted to see. It was all persona crafting.
His gaze fell to the computer's lower right corner, where a new email notification icon glowed. He couldn't tell when it had arrived.
Clicking the icon, Yan Tuo saw the subject line "Update on Subject 017" appear on screen. The sender was Lin Ling, timestamped four hours earlier.
Opening the email revealed first a photograph—an ordinary candid shot that captured its subject naturally. The background showed a construction site, featuring a man in his forties or fifties wearing a yellow hardhat. His sun-darkened face was deeply lined as he smiled broadly at the camera, a cigarette in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other.
Below the photo was Lin Ling's message:
"Subject 017 Zhu Changyi currently works as a construction laborer at a building site in Wuhu High-Tech Zone, Anhui Province. He's in a romantic relationship with Ma Mei (37, from Jiangxi), who handles cooking at the site. Ma Mei divorced her ex-husband Zhou Dachong seven years ago and currently raises their son Zhou Xiao (age 9)."
Yan Tuo silently read the text, then opened a deeply buried Excel file from his storage drive.
The spreadsheet contained over a dozen worksheets with identical formats. Creating a new tab for Subject 017, Yan Tuo copied Zhu Changyi's photo, location, occupation, and personal connections into the appropriate fields.
As he finished, his eyes lingered on the densely numbered tabs at the bottom of the screen. He clicked one at random.
Subject 006.The page opened, revealing a photo of a young man with thick eyebrows and big eyes, a square face exuding righteousness, and a piercing gaze. His name was Wu Xingbang, living in Anyang, Henan, working as a taxi driver. He had a girlfriend, Xu Anni, who used to work in the nightlife scene. After they got together, Xu Anni left that life behind and became a cashier at a restaurant.
Clicking on another, number 014.
This time, it was a woman, Shen Lizhu, in her fifties, living in Chongqing and working as a waitress at a hotpot restaurant. She had a sworn younger sister named Yu Caiyan, and the two shared a small two-bedroom apartment under sixty square meters. Shen Lizhu doted on Yu Caiyan’s six-year-old daughter, Xixi.
…
Enough. No matter how many more he checked, it would still be the same—men and women, young and old, from all corners of the country, working in all kinds of jobs. There was simply no common thread.
He saved the file and casually replied to Lin Ling with two words:
—Received.
Glancing at the time, it was almost five. Still enough for a short nap.
Yan Tuo shut down the computer and had just stood up when his phone rang. Picking it up, he saw Lin Ling’s video call request.
Clearly, she had received the email and knew he was still awake, so she called immediately.
Strange, why was she still up at this hour?
Yan Tuo accepted the call.
The lighting on the other end was dim. Lin Ling sat on her bed, her face pale and hair disheveled. Her voice trembled with a hint of tears as she spoke, “Yan Tuo, I’m really scared right now. When I was sleeping, someone came in… What’s wrong with you?”
Mid-sentence, she noticed something off about Yan Tuo and paused, leaning closer to the screen. “Your face… What’s that necklace you’re wearing?”
Yan Tuo touched his neck. Right, the necklace—the blood-stained one, with a tooth-mark pendant dangling from it.
He said, “It’s nothing. Ran into a lunatic, took a fall, and got scratched on the neck.”
The dim lighting and small phone screen made it hard to see clearly, so Lin Ling let it slide. “That issue with the medicinal herbs causing deaths—is it resolved?”
Yan Tuo remained composed. “Pretty much. Turns out it wasn’t really about the herbs.”
His injuries had just healed, and with the Banya situation still unresolved, Lin Xirou had been reluctant to let him leave freely. But over the years managing the company, Yan Tuo had built connections with many business partners who were happy to cover for him and provide convenience. So he used the excuse of “herbs causing deaths” and “needing to handle it personally.” Since lives were at stake, Lin Xirou didn’t press further, only reminding him to be careful.
Hearing it wasn’t related to the herbs, Lin Ling relaxed a little. “Still, you should be careful. I’d hate for you to run into those freaks from Banya’s group again.”
Yan Tuo said, “If I still manage to cross paths with them after all this, it must be fate.”
The address he used in all official records was indeed his, but he had others—a room in a villa in the suburbs, registered under Xiong Hei’s name. Lin Xirou, Lin Ling, and Xiong Hei often stayed there.
His old phone had been destroyed at the pig farm. Now he was using a new one with a ghost number.
For this trip, he was driving a car owned by one of Xiong Hei’s underlings, using someone else’s license. The hotel was a corporate partner of a friend’s company, booked under an employee’s ID. He didn’t even need to check in—just swiped the card to enter.
In other words, from a data perspective, he was invisible. Unless Banya’s people could tap into nationwide surveillance—if they had that kind of reach, he might as well lie down and accept his fate.He steered the conversation back: "What happened to you just now? Who came in while you were sleeping?"
Lin Ling shuddered, looking around uneasily before lowering her voice: "I don't know, but the sensation was too vivid—it definitely wasn't a dream. I felt someone touching my face, neck, and even..."
She trailed off awkwardly, then after a pause continued: "I couldn't wake up no matter how hard I tried. When I finally did, I was drenched in cold sweat."
Yan Tuo: "You suspect someone took advantage of your sleep to harass you?"
Theoretically, it seemed unlikely. The villa was occupied by "their own people," and besides, Lin Ling was practically Lin Xirou's adopted daughter. Even if someone had improper thoughts, they'd think twice before acting on them.
He suspected Lin Ling might have had an erotic dream but didn't want to say it outright: "This is easy to handle. If you're really suspicious, buy a stuffed toy with a hidden camera and place it by your bed to see what it captures. If you're too scared, you could ask someone to help rent a place outside and move out for a few days to calm down."
Lin Ling nodded vacantly, then after a long while asked him: "Yan Tuo, aren't you afraid living in this... villa?"
Yan Tuo was silent for a moment before reassuring her: "Don't worry. You've been by Aunt Lin's side for over twenty years now. If something were going to happen... it would have happened long ago."
Lin Ling forced a weak smile: "Do you think... if I hadn't been curious that time and walked through the unlocked iron door under the farm... would my life be freer now?"
Lin Ling was about two or three years old when Lin Xirou adopted her.
"Adoption" was more like a "purchase." In those days, adoption procedures in small towns were already lax, and Lin Xirou didn't go through any official channels. She simply walked into the village, entered the house, tossed down a stack of money, and took the child away.
A two- or three-year-old doesn't have clear memories—or rather, their memories lack logical structure, existing only as scattered fragments.
She remembered a big black pig at home, fierce and always snorting and charging around, once even knocking her flat on her back.
She remembered the courtyard walls were made of yellow earth mixed with straw, with a collapsed section where the big black pig often escaped through the gap.
She also remembered a framed black-and-white portrait of the deceased hanging in the house, its glass cracked in a long line. Below it was the face of a somewhat boyish man, with small eyes and a flat nose—not good-looking at all.
Just like her.
These were all she remembered.
With Lin Xirou, she stepped straight from a broken-down village into a big city and into a family of three.
The man of the house was Yan Huanshan, terminally ill, dragging his sick body around like an old man. His eyes were hollow, as if his soul had left him—gone from morning till night. Sometimes he'd giggle to himself, other times mutter incoherently. Lin Xirou despised him and warned Lin Ling to stay away.
The woman of the house was Lin Xirou. Lin Ling adored her, thinking her more beautiful than any princess or fairy on TV.
There was also a handsome older brother named Yan Tuo. At first, Lin Ling liked him too, but later she didn't because he was mean. He'd glare at her, spit in her face behind Lin Xirou's back, kick her legs and buttocks (because fleshy areas wouldn't show marks), and a few times even yanked her sparse, yellowish hair while calling her ugly.
Just your typical nasty boy—but he had a charming face and knew how to pretend, so adults loved him.
Within a few years, Yan Huanshan died.Later on, as they grew older and started school, Yan Tuo stopped targeting her—perhaps because he had learned it was wrong to bully a girl. But he still disliked her and hardly spoke to her. Naturally, Lin Ling didn’t take the initiative to talk to him either—she had entered adolescence, gained weight, and became increasingly introverted and insecure. She would walk close to the walls, afraid of getting in anyone’s way.
When the incident at the farm happened, she was in her second year of high school.
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