Love on the Turquoise Land

Nie Jiuluo woke up in the morning, and the moment she opened her eyes, she felt sore all over, as if she had been beaten up.

Come to think of it, hadn't she? It was a mutual brawl.

She hissed in pain as she got up and went to the bathroom, turning on the light to inspect her face first.

Half of her face was swollen like a fermented bun; the corner of her lip was split, and she had no choice but to leave it as it was—putting a band-aid on it would make eating and drinking inconvenient. There was a scratch the size of a fingernail on her forehead that she hadn’t noticed before—probably because she had been too engrossed in the fight. She stuck a band-aid on her forehead, instantly giving her entire face an air of deep suffering.

Having examined her "face," she turned to her "insides." Standing with her back to the wide dressing mirror, she loosened the tie of her robe, letting it slip down to her elbows, and twisted her neck to look at her reflection in the mirror.

Originally, she had skin as fine as porcelain, but with the advantages of delicate porcelain came its fragility—it couldn’t withstand bumps or knocks. Where others might just rub it off after a collision, she would end up with bruises or dark patches that wouldn’t fade for at least three to five days.

Now, from her shoulder blades to her waist, it was a sight too awful to behold—especially the areas on her back and waist where Yan Tuo had gripped her with force, the skin nearly black and purple, a truly shocking sight.

Nie Jiuluo gnashed her teeth in anger. As she wrung out the towel to wash her face, she imagined the towel was Yan Tuo, twisting it with such force that several seams of the cotton fabric tore apart.

Last night, she had been too exhausted from the fight and fell asleep the moment she lay down, without time to reflect. Now, in the bright light of day, fully rested and clear-headed, she recalled the events of the night and found many details worth pondering.

Yan Tuo had accomplices. If he had come for revenge, why hadn’t he brought his helpers along and instead come alone? Was it out of male pride, wanting to "independently" settle the score?

Moreover, compared to settling accounts with her, he seemed genuinely more interested in asking her questions.

—What was Gou Ya, and what was his background? What did Sun Zhou’s "taking root and sprouting" mean, and how was it treated? And what were the "ghostly minions"?

Interesting. He actually didn’t know.

But even without knowing, it hadn’t stopped him from serving diligently as a willing accomplice.

Nie Jiuluo picked up her phone, intending to mention last night’s events to Jiang Baichuan. She had already typed a few lines when she paused: it would suffice to inform him after the fact—was there any need for him to know the twists and turns in between?

Just as she hesitated, there were two soft knocks on the door, and Sister Lu’s voice came through: "Miss Nie, Mr. Cai is here."

Nie Jiuluo threw on a cardigan over her robe, buttoned it up, and went downstairs to meet Lao Cai.

Lao Cai was in his fifties, the owner of an art merchandise store that sold mid-to-high-end art supplies, including paintings, sculptures, and folk handicrafts. He also organized various related exchange salons from time to time. With years of experience in the industry and extensive connections, he was adept at facilitating deals—several of Nie Jiuluo’s works had been recommended by him to deep-pocketed regular clients, often fetching prices several times higher.

Over time, the two had developed a relationship that was both friendly and professional. He took good care of Nie Jiuluo, the kind of concern typical of an "uncle mentoring a younger generation."

Lao Cai wore a new-style neckband in-ear headset, swaying his head to some unknown rhythm. When he looked up and saw Nie Jiuluo coming down, he greeted her with a grin: "Ah Luo, long time no see... What happened to you? Got beaten up? Domestic violence? Did you get a boyfriend?"Fortunately, Nie Jiuluo was familiar with him and understood his line of questioning: Oh, got beaten up—women usually get beaten in domestic violence cases—domestic violence requires a man—so you have a boyfriend now?

She neither confirmed nor denied it, giving Lao Cai a sidelong glance.

Lao Cai took it as confirmation and was heartbroken: "I told you before, most men are no good. What's his name? Where does he work? Give me his address. I’ll arrange for someone to beat that bastard to death!"

Nie Jiuluo said, "I wasn’t paying attention while walking and fell."

A fall, huh? That meant there was nothing he could help with. Lao Cai immediately turned indifferent: "Young people these days, why don’t you watch where you’re going?"

As he spoke, he handed her a ticket: "Here, next Tuesday’s. Go and learn something."

Nie Jiuluo took it and looked.

It was for a themed sculpture exhibition titled Frozen Notes , showcasing renowned works related to music, including masterpieces from abroad. The back of the ticket featured an exhibit from France called The Dancer . With simple lines and no intricate facial details, the piece conveyed profound meaning solely through body movements.

Lao Qian reminded her: "VIP session, not open to the public. See how others do their exhibitions, so you’ll have an idea when you hold your own someday."

Nie Jiuluo sighed wistfully: "When will I ever get to hold a real solo exhibition?"

Before, she had only been invited to contribute single pieces to group shows—far from a "solo exhibition."

Lao Cai said, "You can do it now. Just line up your sculptures along the wall outside—that’d count as a personal exhibition too."

Nie Jiuluo glared at him in annoyance.

Lao Cai chuckled and gestured at the ticket: "If you want to hold one at this level, with international tours, you’re not there yet. But keep at it—you’ve got potential. I’d say you have a shot within five years. In this field, you’ve got to aim for the top."

Nie Jiuluo stayed silent.

Five years—that was an eternity, a full fifth of her life so far.

In the following days, Nie Jiuluo stayed busy as usual, mainly with restoration work. She repaired the Water-Moon Guanyin statue that had been damaged in the fall and also hired someone to fix the roof. As for the decapitated dragon skeleton, she didn’t bother restoring it—every trade had its superstitions. A piece that lost its head right after taking shape was better abandoned; she could always start a new one later.

Occasionally, while working, she’d feel a strange premonition and glance toward the door or window. But outside the windows, it was always just the usual scenery. She guessed Yan Tuo wouldn’t show up at her place again—he’d already been there once. Next time, he’d choose a different time and location.

And when they met again, he’d be even harder to deal with—after all, he was getting more familiar with her methods.

...

She saw Yan Tuo again outside the exhibition hall.

By then, she had already finished viewing the exhibition. The timing was awkward: 4 p.m., too early for dinner but too late to start anything else.

She descended the steps in front of the exhibition hall, waiting for the ride-hailing car she’d booked.

After a while, a beat-up car arrived belatedly.

Assuming it was her ride, she inwardly scoffed at its shabby appearance as she bent to open the passenger door. Then, the driver turned to face her.

Their eyes met. Nie Jiuluo froze for a moment before a twisted, inexplicable thrill surged in her chest.

Here he was again—this guy just couldn’t stop asking for trouble. It was like he was born to be beaten, destined to be trampled.The timing was quite opportune, as both had fully recovered: the swelling on her face had subsided, and the scab at the corner of her lips had fallen off; the bite marks on his neck had smoothed out, and the cuts from the wire had mostly healed, leaving only a Band-Aid on his right cheek as a token gesture.

Nie Jiuluo stared coldly at him, surrounded by the bustling crowd.

Yan Tuo said, "Get in the car. Our business needs to be settled, doesn’t it? The sooner it’s over, the sooner we move on. Or do you want to reschedule for next week?"

Nie Jiuluo glanced at the passenger seat.

Yan Tuo: "No bombs, no backup, just me. There are too many people here—it’s inconvenient. Let’s find a quiet spot in the outskirts where no one will interfere and settle everything at once."

Nie Jiuluo tilted her chin toward the car. "Why’s the car so beat-up?"

She didn’t mind riding in a junker, but for someone of Yan Tuo’s means to drive such a car felt a little… off.

Yan Tuo replied, "Last time, I drove a nice car. Where did you take it? Stripped and sold for parts, right? Driving a beater gives me peace of mind. If you want a better ride, find your own car and follow me."

That wasn’t necessary. Nie Jiuluo pulled open the door and sat down, testing the seat cautiously before settling in, her eyes scanning the interior.

Yan Tuo: "No tricks. It’s just a junker."

Nie Jiuluo fastened her seatbelt. She was a step too late in canceling her ride-hailing order and had to pay a penalty. As she finished the payment, the car turned onto the main road. In such a busy area, with cameras and eyes everywhere, only a fool would try anything.

Pretending to rummage through her bag, she discreetly slipped a dagger into her sleeve, then twisted open a pack of gum and popped a piece into her mouth.

Yan Tuo glanced at her. "Miss Nie, what about those questions I asked you?"

How amusing. Just because you ask, I have to answer? If that were the case, intelligence agencies worldwide might as well skip the hassle and settle things over afternoon tea with a simple Q&A.

Nie Jiuluo ignored him, focused on planning how to end things quickly. Getting out at their destination and engaging in a proper fight would be too stupid. It’d be better to strike while the car was moving—preferably on a deserted stretch. Her smaller frame gave her an advantage in tight spaces like the car, making it easier for her to maneuver than Yan Tuo.

Yan Tuo chuckled knowingly. "I figured as much."

Nie Jiuluo kept an eye on the road outside, suddenly remembering Sun Zhou. "What did you do with Sun Zhou?"

"Sun Zhou?" Yan Tuo looked puzzled. "Isn’t he with you guys?"

He quickly pieced it together. "Sun Zhou isn’t with you? Then I have no idea. He’s not with us either."

This took Nie Jiuluo by surprise. Jiang Baichuan had said everyone had been rescued, yet Yan Tuo claimed Sun Zhou wasn’t with them. It was impossible he’d perished in the fire unless his bones had been completely incinerated. The most likely explanation was… Sun Zhou had taken advantage of the chaos and escaped?

This wasn’t good. Nie Jiuluo swallowed lightly, her first instinct to contact Jiang Baichuan. But she immediately realized the timing was inappropriate and held back.

Outside, the crowds and traffic gradually thinned as they entered the urban-rural fringe. A little more desolation, and it’d be time to act.

Nie Jiuluo made conversation. "How did you and Gou Ya meet?"

Yan Tuo: "That’s none of your business."

What a hypocrite. He’d hounded her with questions, yet when she asked, it was suddenly "none of your business."

At that moment, the car noticeably accelerated. Trees and fields blurred past the windows as Nie Jiuluo instinctively grabbed the overhead handle.

Yan Tuo smirked. "Scared?"But that wasn't all. He pressed the control button, rolling down all the windows to their maximum. The rural dirt road was already dusty, and the speeding car made it worse. The wind howled through, making their eardrums buzz so loudly that normal speech became inaudible.

Nie Jiuluo's long hair instantly whipped across her face, and she swallowed a mouthful of dust. Furious, she yelled, "Are you out of your mind?"

Yan Tuo shouted back, "Miss Nie, didn't you ask why I drive this piece of junk?"

As he spoke, the car jolted violently, flying over a ditch before fishtailing up a steep slope for nearly a hundred meters, then leaping onto an iron bridge. The view suddenly widened.

This was a major river that circled the city. Though not particularly wide, the bridge spanned several hundred meters. In the distance, the new bridge over the river was visible—this iron bridge had been abandoned due to disrepair and hadn't seen traffic in years. As the car sped across, the metal plates beneath them rattled ominously.

Yan Tuo turned to Nie Jiuluo and murmured softly, "Because this car is meant to be scrapped."

The turbulent air inside the car drowned out his words. Nie Jiuluo couldn't hear him at all, only saw his lips move. Before she could even ask "What?" out of instinct, Yan Tuo suddenly yanked the steering wheel. A deafening crash followed as the railing shattered, and the car tilted downward, plunging off the five- or six-meter-high bridge.

Nie Jiuluo's mind went blank for two seconds, as if she'd been sucked into a vortex of sheer terror.

Was this... the car falling off the bridge?

In her entire life, she had never experienced anything so violent, so destructive.

To make matters worse, she was terrified of water.

She wasn't afraid of skydiving or bungee jumping, but water—the feeling of being enveloped in dense, suffocating liquid—was horrifying. Once, she tried submerging herself in a bathtub to hold her breath, only to panic instantly and nearly drown.

A tremendous splash echoed as darkness swallowed her vision. Water seeped in everywhere—since the windows were fully open, it wasn't just seeping but flooding in aggressively, unstoppable, impossible to push away.

Nie Jiuluo hadn't even had time to hold her breath before she choked on water. Swallowing a mouthful, she forced herself to stop breathing, frantically groping for the seatbelt as the car sank.

The fading sunlight above grew farther and dimmer. A shadow flickered past—Yan Tuo had already unbuckled himself and effortlessly slipped out through the window.

Don't panic, she told herself. Don't rush. Stay calm.

The buckle released. Tiny bubbles escaped her nose and mouth as she gripped the window frame and kicked hard against the car body. If luck was on her side, maybe the force would propel her back to the surface. Whether anyone could save her was secondary—at least she could breathe.

Just as she pushed through the window and began to rise, the shadow reappeared from above. Yan Tuo reached down, pressed a hand against her head, and shoved her back under.

It was unbearable. There was no ground beneath her feet—no matter how she thrashed, she only met empty water. Worse, she could no longer hold her breath. Water rushed into her mouth, nose, and ears, throwing her off balance, flipping and twisting her underwater.

The water around her grew murkier. Beyond the haze, Yan Tuo's blurred figure approached again. A surge of fury overtook Nie Jiuluo. With her last ounce of strength, she reached out to grab him—if she was going to die, she'd drag him down with her. Let them perish together.However, Yan Tuo had anticipated this move of hers. With an effortless sidestep, he nimbly circled around her.

The oppressive darkness closed in from all sides. Nie Jiuluo felt her breath leave her, her body ceasing to struggle as her consciousness, like a drop of clear water, plunged into thick ink.

She was utterly consumed by regret.

If she had known she would die at Yan Tuo’s hands, that her life would end this way—she should have struck first and killed him long ago.

Remember: ,.,