Love on the Turquoise Land

Nie Jiuluo had never felt such panic in her life.

There was no helping it—everyone had their Achilles' heel, and hers was a fear of water.

In her dazed state, she felt herself sprawled in darkness, trembling with terror, utterly shattered. Then, a sliver of white light pierced through the blackness, and Yan Tuo emerged along that light, holding a gleaming boning knife. He leaned over her.

Nie Jiuluo's voice trembled uncontrollably: "What are you doing?"

Yan Tuo said, "Miss Nie, you've played me for a fool. I'll slice your flesh piece by piece, so you understand what retribution means."

As he spoke, the knife's tip descended toward her cheek.

Nie Jiuluo's scalp prickled. She screamed, "No, no!"

As an artist, she pursued beauty to the extreme. She couldn't bear the thought of her face being carved into uneven, pockmarked ruin—she'd rather die.

In desperation, she shakily reached out to steady herself against Yan Tuo's waist. "Let's talk."

Yan Tuo asked, "How?"

"Any way you want," she said. "Let's talk, take our time."

As she spoke, her hand slid to the small of his back, fingertips tracing the grooves of his muscles through the thin fabric. She leaned closer to his lips, whispering breathily, "Let's talk."

She knew she was beautiful—beauty could be a blade or a shield.

Yan Tuo finally wavered, lowering his head to kiss her.

She exhaled inwardly, returning the kiss with practiced ease. Fine, she thought, consider it being licked by a dog. Just wait a little longer—once he's deeper in his stupor, she'd seize the chance to kill him.

...

Nie Jiuluo's eyes snapped open.

It was already dark outside.

But the city lights outside her window provided enough illumination to see nearby details—one of the perks of living downtown. Even if you felt lonely, the lights never let you feel alone.

Beneath her was the soft bedding of her own bed, surrounded by draped curtains.

Nie Jiuluo bolted upright: this was her home, her bedroom.

What was going on? Had it all been a dream?

She immediately touched her hair—no, not a dream. Her hair felt dry and brittle, with lingering dampness inside. She really had been in the water.

How had she gotten back? What had happened in between?

A chill ran down her spine. Instinctively, she slipped a hand under her clothes, checking her chest, then her inner thighs. Finding no discomfort, she hurried out of bed, flung the door open, and leaned out the window.

The kitchen light was on. Sister Lu was watering the courtyard with a spray can.

Nie Jiuluo called out, "Sister Lu!"

Sister Lu quickly stopped and turned. "Miss Nie, you're awake! Will you be having dinner?"

Nie Jiuluo: "How did I get back?"

Sister Lu: "I don't know. You... don't know either?"

Sister Lu truly didn’t know.

She knew Nie Jiuluo had gone to an exhibition but wasn’t sure if she’d return for dinner, so around four in the afternoon, she called her.

No answer.

Sister Lu decided to prepare for both scenarios. She washed and chopped vegetables and meat into dices, strips, and cubes. That way, if Nie Jiuluo returned and wanted dinner, she could have a meal ready within half an hour. If not, she’d pack the prepped ingredients into fresh bags and store them in the fridge for the next day.

In the meantime, she answered the door for a few deliveries and stepped out to take out the trash.

Once everything was settled, she brought out a small stool and sat under the eaves, scrolling through videos. Just as she was laughing at something, she glanced up and noticed the door to the main house’s first floor was open.She was a bit puzzled. She clearly remembered closing the door after finishing the cleaning in the afternoon, yet now it was open... Had Miss Nie returned?

Sister Lu went upstairs to check. The studio was empty, and the bedroom door was slightly ajar. Peering in, she saw: Oh, she was lying in bed asleep.

Probably tired from the exhibition, Sister Lu didn’t dare disturb her. Then it occurred to her that maybe she had gone out to take out the trash when Miss Nie returned, so they hadn’t crossed paths. She dismissed the thought.

Nie Jiuluo brushed off Sister Lu’s concerns and returned to her room, sitting down at the dressing table.

Without turning on the light, only a faint shadow was visible in the mirror. She stared at her reflection and suddenly felt it looked unfamiliar.

She had never faced extreme danger before, so she had no idea how she would react. There was a saying that the self in dreams is stripped of all legal, moral, and social constraints—every action is the rawest manifestation of one’s deepest desires.

In the dream, her fear was real. It seemed she was afraid of death. In the face of terror, her knees would buckle, and she would go to any lengths to save herself, even resorting to methods she would despise in reality.

This realization didn’t sit well with her. It felt like peeling back her own facade, revealing something far less glamorous than she had imagined.

...

Suddenly, Nie Jiuluo thought of something. She hastily pulled open a drawer and dug out an old phone.

Her usual phone was likely at the bottom of the water by now. Fortunately, phones were replaced so quickly that she always had one or two spares lying around. She plugged it in, waited a moment for it to power on, connected to the home Wi-Fi, opened the WeChat app, logged in with her password, and immediately called Lao Cai via voice chat.

Lao Cai assumed she was calling to share her thoughts on the exhibition and answered leisurely, “Ah Luo, how was it? Feeling inspired?”

Inspired, her foot.

Nie Jiuluo spoke rapidly, her breath uneven. “Lao Cai, don’t you have friends who run private hospitals? I need a full-body checkup—the most thorough kind. I’m going now. Arrange it immediately. Preferably with results on the spot. Ask the doctors to work overtime—cost isn’t an issue.”

She wasn’t naive. Yan Tuo hadn’t drowned her just for fun.

Maybe he had injected something into her or planted something on her.

Ten minutes later, Nie Jiuluo stormed out like a whirlwind, tossing a quick explanation to Sister Lu about going for a checkup.

Sister Lu was startled. “This late? Do hospitals even do checkups now? They’re probably closed. Maybe tomorrow—”

Before she could finish, Nie Jiuluo was already gone.

Sister Lu felt uneasy. There was something off about Nie Jiuluo since she returned from the exhibition. Rushing out for a checkup in such a panic—had she found a lump somewhere?

The more she thought about it, the more anxious she became. She resolved to wait for Nie Jiuluo’s return. The wait dragged on until past 1 a.m., when Nie Jiuluo finally pushed through the front door, utterly exhausted, her steps dragging.

Sister Lu rushed up nervously. “The checkup... is everything okay?”

Nie Jiuluo replied, “It’s fine.”

Then she sidestepped Sister Lu and went back to her room.

Her words said “fine,” but her face and body screamed otherwise. Sister Lu was beside herself with worry. Unable to let it go, she hesitated before finally brewing a cup of longan and goji berry tea and taking it upstairs.

The moment she reached the second floor, Sister Lu got the shock of her life.Nie Jiuluo moved most of the sculptures from her studio to the open space by the platform, arranging them in a large circle of varying sizes and heights. She sat right in the center, touching one after another, and finally lay down comfortably among them.

Since she had already been spotted, Sister Lu couldn’t pretend she hadn’t seen anything. Hesitantly, she asked, "Miss Nie, why are you lying on the ground? Isn’t it cold?"

Nie Jiuluo replied, "Look at them, aren’t they adorable?"

Adorable? Sister Lu could certainly acknowledge the exquisite craftsmanship of Nie Jiuluo’s work, but "adorable" was a stretch. In her opinion, they were far less cute than Pleasant Goat or Pretty Goat.

She placed the goji berry water on the table. "Of course, you’d find your own creations lovely no matter what."

Nie Jiuluo murmured, "I almost couldn’t touch them ever again."

Sister Lu understood now—this was likely just a young person’s paranoia. A minor health scare had made her fear the worst, but after a checkup, everything was fine. Now, in high spirits, she was appreciating life more than ever, finding joy in everything.

Relieved that her employer was fine, Sister Lu shared in the happiness. "Glad you’re okay. It’s like the heavens sent you a gift."

Nie Jiuluo didn’t respond, lying even more relaxed as her gaze gradually softened.

It wasn’t the heavens. It was Yan Tuo who had given her the gift.

Over the next three days, everything returned to normal. Nie Jiuluo reissued her phone number and made do with her old phone, planning to upgrade when new models from major brands were released. The rest of her time was spent practicing small hand-sculpted pieces: kneading refined clay, pinching a lump in her hand, and shaping it freely.

Using Tang Dynasty artist Zhou Fang’s Court Ladies Wearing Flowered Headdresses as a reference, she molded plump beauties—some catching butterflies, others holding flowers. One by one, these Tang-style court ladies took their graceful poses on the platform, creating a delightful sight.

That afternoon, sunlight slanted through the window, warming her body as Nie Jiuluo sculpted the "moth-feather eyebrows" of the sixth beauty. By modern aesthetic standards, the Tang Dynasty’s "moth-feather eyebrows" weren’t particularly attractive—thick and round like moth wings, resembling an inverted "八" character on either side of the forehead.

Her phone rang—an unknown number.

Her hands covered in clay, Nie Jiuluo couldn’t unlock the screen, so she swiped it with her chin.

Yan Tuo’s voice came through. "Miss Nie?"

Her heart tightened momentarily before relaxing. She glanced at the phone but didn’t respond, continuing to fuss over the Tang lady’s eyebrows instead.

Yan Tuo waited in silence before asking again, "Are you there?"

Nie Jiuluo said, "Speak."

Yan Tuo: "Are you free tonight? Let’s have dinner."

Nie Jiuluo: "Where?"

Yan Tuo: "I’ll book you a ride. It’ll pick you up at your doorstep at six."

Nie Jiuluo gave a noncommittal hum and fell silent. After a few seconds, Yan Tuo hung up.

Checking the time—4:30 p.m.—she still had enough time for a quick shower before heading out.

She set aside the court lady, pinched another lump of clay, and began shaping Yan Tuo’s likeness. Aiming only for a rough outline without refining the facial features, she finished in minutes.

She propped the clay figure upright, rested her chin on the table, and stared at "him" for a long while. Then, raising her hand, she flicked it hard with her middle finger, sending the figure flying.

The clay figure spun midair. The soft material kept it from shattering upon impact, only flattening slightly.

Nie Jiuluo thought to herself: This round goes to you.

At exactly six o’clock, Nie Jiuluo descended the stairs in a deep red ankle-length dress with a high slit, layered under a black blazer, and strapped into black lace-up heels.Hearing the "click-clack" of high heels, Sister Lu peeked out from the kitchen: "Not eating at home again today?"

Nie Jiuluo twirled her small silver clutch bag studded with diamonds and replied, "Nope."

Sister Lu watched her leave, feeling a twinge of envy—both for Nie Jiuluo and for young women these days. How wonderful it was to dress in rich purples, sapphire blues, deep reds, and emerald greens, wearing whatever looked beautiful, with cuts that hugged their figures so perfectly. Back in her day, society had been far more conservative; even a slightly tight blouse that accentuated the bust would earn whispers of impropriety behind her back.

She glanced down at her own waist, now softened with excess weight, and her thick legs, sighing with regret.

The car stopped at the entrance of a pedestrian street. The lights had just come on, and the dinner rush was in full swing, with crowds bustling back and forth. Nie Jiuluo stepped out, unsure of where to go, when a young waiter in an apron waved at her. "Miss Nie, right? The guest said the place is hard to find, so he sent me to fetch you."

Indeed, it was hard to find. The shop wasn’t on the main street but tucked away in a side alley, the very last storefront—an old-fashioned braised food joint. These days, even the finest wine feared obscure alleys; a bad location meant poor business. No wonder they could spare staff to fetch customers even during peak dining hours.

Nie Jiuluo scanned the small, unremarkable shop but didn’t see Yan Tuo.

The waiter pointed behind the staircase leading to the second floor. "In the private room."

Who’d have thought such a shabby place even had private rooms? Nie Jiuluo lifted the hem of her skirt and ducked past the stairs. Sure enough, there was one, its entrance draped with a blue floral-print curtain. She pushed it aside to find a square table, behind which sat Yan Tuo.

Nie Jiuluo didn’t even glance at him properly, striding straight over to take the seat opposite him. She tossed her clutch onto the table, then tugged at her skirt and adjusted the chair—its legs were uneven, but luckily, so was the floor. After a bit of shifting, she finally found a stable position.

Yan Tuo watched her fuss and said, "Sorry about the humble setting. Doesn’t quite match your outfit."

Nie Jiuluo shot him a sidelong glance and replied nonchalantly, "I wear what I like. It has nothing to do with who I’m eating with or where."

After a pause, she added, "You’re really a madman."

Truth be told, up to this point in her life, he was the only one who had ever bested her. Anyone who could outmaneuver her—friend or foe—earned her grudging respect.

She had to thank him for the wake-up call, though. From now on, in any confrontation, she’d steer clear of water.

The "madman" remark probably referred to his stunt of driving a car into the river.

Yan Tuo nodded. "Likewise. Shall we order?"

"Order."

Yan Tuo tugged on a call bell hanging from the wall. Soon, the waiter brought out the dishes—small plates of braised delicacies: beef, tripe, crayfish, chicken wings, peanuts, edamame, kelp knots, lotus root slices, and more. They also brought half a pitcher of beer, a pot of chrysanthemum tea with two cups, and a thermos filled with hot water—clearly set up for a long, leisurely meal where they could chat for hours without running out of tea.

As the waiter left, he slid a thin sliding door shut beside the staircase. Despite its flimsiness, the noise from outside immediately faded to near silence.

Yan Tuo leaned down and pulled a paper bag from beside his feet. "For you."

Nie Jiuluo took it and opened it to look inside.It was everything she had lost when she fell into the water, but anything water-damaged or unusable had been replaced with new items of the same or higher value. So the bag was new, and there was even the latest model of phone included. Of course, these weren’t the main point. Nie Jiuluo reached in and rummaged through, spotting her dagger—she let out a long sigh of relief. Everything else could be lost, but not this—it was one of a kind.

Even the spring-loaded button she had planned to make Yan Tuo swallow during their next encounter was there—he probably didn’t know what she had intended to use it for, but he had still put it back in as it was.

Nie Jiuluo remained expressionless, setting the paper bag aside and waiting for Yan Tuo to continue his performance.

Sure enough, there was a next act. He took off his jacket, then bent his head and pulled his T-shirt off from behind.

Hah, taking off his clothes—what was he trying to pull?

Nie Jiuluo watched intently. Part of her had hoped that lifting the T-shirt would reveal flabby layers of fat, but Yan Tuo’s shoulders and back were broad and rounded, his muscles firm—his physique was beyond reproach. Besides, at his age, a man’s bones and muscles were already fully developed, at their strongest and most vigorous.

After a moment, she averted her gaze, realizing what Yan Tuo wanted her to see: his body was covered in wounds. Though most had scabbed over, they were still shocking to behold—stripes and gashes, likely all inflicted during his time in Jiang Baichuan’s hands.

Nie Jiuluo avoided meeting his eyes, focusing instead on the curved spout of the teapot. “I was only responsible for the handover. What others did wasn’t under my control.”

Yan Tuo agreed with her on that. “But without your involvement in the middle, I wouldn’t have suffered any of this. I won’t take my pants off, but there’s a rotting patch on my leg—the doctor had to scrape away the decayed flesh bit by bit with a scalpel.”

Nie Jiuluo raised her eyes. “So?”

“So, when you were in my hands, I could’ve done the same to you—even if it was just carving a few lines into your face with a knife.”

There didn’t seem to be a rebuttal to that. Nie Jiuluo pressed her finger against the rim of the teacup, tilting it until the base spun playfully on the table.

Yan Tuo slid his arms back into the sleeves of his T-shirt and pulled it on again. “But I didn’t do anything—just sent you home. Miss Nie, I gave you a huge favor. I want something in return.”