Love on the Turquoise Land

Nie Jiuluo deliberately looked up at the signboard above as she stepped out of the braised food restaurant.

"Lu Xiao Bing."

She quite liked the name—it had an unpretentious, hardworking charm to it, much more down-to-earth than grandiose titles like "King of Braised Delicacies" or "Ancestor of Braised Flavors."

She wasn’t in a hurry to hail a cab. The cold front hadn’t moved south yet, and the temperature was perfect for walking. She needed the stroll to shake off the lingering unease from the story about the Di Xiao and return to the ordinary yet vibrant rhythm of everyday life.

Her only real worry now was Gou Ya.

Within three to six months at most, Gou Ya would inevitably wake up. And once he did, her peaceful "vacuum" of normalcy would shatter.

But then again, there was Yan Tuo standing between them. If Gou Ya revealed the truth, it would directly implicate Yan Tuo as a liar too—Yan Tuo would surely take action.

For some reason, the way Yan Tuo had looked at her at the end, and the question he’d asked, made her feel a pang of pity. There might be more beneath the surface.

But her heart quickly hardened again. Pity? What for? Regardless of any hidden circumstances, a willing accomplice was still an accomplice. A thief was a thief—the police only needed to catch them. Whether the thief deserved sympathy or had some tragic backstory was for judges and journalists to fuss over.

She raised her hand and hailed a taxi.

When she got home, Sister Lu had just gone to bed but came out in her robe upon hearing the noise, asking if Nie Jiuluo wanted something to eat.

Nie Jiuluo waved her off, signaling for her to go back to sleep, then crossed the courtyard and entered the hall. After a few steps, she kicked off her heels—they were exhausting—and padded barefoot upstairs.

Her studio was spacious. Though filled with supplies, it always felt vast and hollow in the quiet of night.

Tonight was no different.

She sat at her worktable, pulled out a pale gold strip of paper, and began jotting down the day’s events.

Met with Yan Tuo. Settled accounts.

"Lu Xiao Bing" was delicious. Worth revisiting.

…

There was no third point.

She tossed the pen aside, folded the paper into a star, and carried it to an old-fashioned double-door wardrobe against the wall.

The wardrobe’s doors were carved with the ancient Chinese door gods, Shen Shu and Yu Lei, their mouths slightly open—small holes in the wood.

Nie Jiuluo slipped the star into Yu Lei’s mouth, paused, then bent down and opened the wardrobe doors.

Inside were two large boxes of paper stars.

They were actually custom-made glass jars, side by side. The left one was labeled "2002–2012," the right "2013–." The left jar was nearly full, the right only half. The stars in the left were duller, their paper aged and varied, while those on the right were much brighter.

Nie Jiuluo took a deep breath, reached into the left jar, and fished around like she was drawing lottery tickets until she plucked out two small stars.

Unfolding a star deserved ceremony. She turned off the main light, switched on the floor reading lamp, and settled into the armchair beneath it, carefully opening the first star.

—Zhu Wei yanked my [censored], made me cry. The teacher made him apologize. To leave a good impression, I said it was fine. Zhu Wei, if I don’t wipe out your whole family, I’m not human. 2002.3.20

Nie Jiuluo burst out laughing.

Who was Zhu Wei? She had no recollection at all.But it was fine. Even if she was bullied as a child, she never felt spiritually miserable.

Nie Jiuluo smiled as she unwrapped the second one, but the smile gradually faded as she did so.

This entry was dated May 6, 2003. To be honest, it wasn’t too far from the previous one, but she remembered it all too clearly—even recalling some details: after writing this entry, she snapped the plastic casing of her mechanical pencil and drank a cup of watered-down liquor to show her determination to burn all bridges.

—For the sake of my happiness in this life, I’ve decided to go negotiate with Jiang Baichuan.

……

Jiang Baichuan. It was about time to touch base with him.

Nie Jiuluo opened the "burn after reading" app but hesitated as she typed. If she told Jiang Baichuan that she had let Yan Tuo go without stopping him, he would definitely make a fuss. Better to avoid unnecessary trouble—after all, she and Jiang Baichuan weren’t in some hierarchical or close partnership. She just needed to do what was expected and fulfill her duty to inform.

After some thought, she typed a line: Received a call from an unknown number today—Yan Tuo.

A few minutes later, Natou replied with two words: Call?

Nie Jiuluo typed: Okay.

The call came through immediately. Jiang Baichuan’s voice was agitated: “What did he say? Did he reveal anything useful?”

Nie Jiuluo said, “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. He didn’t say anything useful. He knows some things about the Di Xiao but not everything. From what I can tell, he already knows about their origins, the Chan Tou Army, and the existence of the Gou family. But he doesn’t know about the Dao or Bian families. He even asked me how to kill a Di Xiao, and I said I didn’t know.”

Jiang Baichuan seethed: “And he still claims he’s just an ordinary guy who happened to pick up Gou Ya… I knew that kid was up to no good.”

Nie Jiuluo hummed in agreement. She hadn’t lied—Yan Tuo did know these things, because she had told him. Jiang Baichuan only needed to know what Yan Tuo knew; who had told him wasn’t important, in her opinion.

“Also, I asked about Sun Zhou. Yan Tuo said Sun Zhou isn’t with them.”

Jiang Baichuan scoffed. “That kid’s full of lies. Who knows what’s true?”

Nie Jiuluo said, “I don’t think he was lying. The scene was chaotic with the fire. You thought Sun Zhou had been taken by them, and they thought Sun Zhou was still with you. Could there be a third possibility—that Sun Zhou took advantage of the chaos and ran off on his own?”

Jiang Baichuan paused for a few seconds. “That… can’t be ruled out, I suppose.”

Nie Jiuluo said, “Sun Zhou was already rooted and sprouting. Now that he’s out of control, the situation will only get more dangerous. You’d better send someone to look for him before things escalate.”

Jiang Baichuan agreed readily, then added, “What about you? After Yan Tuo escaped, we’ve had no leads on him. This call might be the prelude—I suspect he’s planning something big next.”

Nie Jiuluo’s gaze fell on the large bag she had brought back. He was planning something big, alright—but it was already done.

“Nie Er, it’s better to be careful. How about this—I’ll send a few people over. Don’t worry, they won’t know about you. They’ll just stay in the area. I’ll give you a number—if you need help, call them. Even the best of us need support. It’s good to have backup in emergencies.”The suggestion was reasonable and considerate. Refusing again would hurt their feelings. Nie Jiuluo smiled and said, "Sure."

Jiang Baichuan made the call from the balcony. When he hung up, he glanced at the time—11:30.

It was almost time for Sun Zhou’s meal, so he needed to check on him.

The balcony connected to the bedroom. He slid open the glass partition door. Que Cha was half-asleep, and hearing the noise, she initially thought he was coming to bed. But through her drowsy gaze, she saw him open the bedroom door and walk out instead.

Que Cha murmured, "Going out?"

Jiang Baichuan replied, "Not out, just downstairs."

Que Cha gave an "oh" and turned over, quickly falling back asleep.

...

Jiang Baichuan made his way down to the basement.

The villa complex wasn’t originally designed with basements, but since the houses were privately owned, people could dig however they pleased. Most households had expanded downward, and Jiang Baichuan had added a floor as well. It usually went unused, but recently, it had become indispensable.

The basement covered about a hundred square meters, divided into three bedrooms and a living room, complete with a kitchen and bathroom. A special lift pump had been installed to handle grease and wastewater.

As he entered, the rhythmic thud of a knife echoed through the space. Da Tou, wearing an apron, was chopping vigorously on a cutting board—a pile of reddish meat, including pork chops and liver.

Jiang Baichuan approached. "All fresh?"

Da Tou answered, "Of course. I told the seller if it was thawed meat, I’d return it and file a complaint."

By then, the chopping was done. Da Tou grabbed a stainless steel basin, piled the meat inside, and stuck a fork on top.

Jiang Baichuan took the basin. "I’ll take it in. You go do your thing."

Carrying the basin, he walked to the innermost bedroom and knocked. Unlike the other two rooms, this one had an additional padlock installed outside—though now, it was unlocked.

The door opened, and Shanqiang peeked out. "Oh, Jiang Shu."

He stepped aside, revealing Sun Zhou sitting on the bed behind him.

Sun Zhou had been watching TV but turned his gaze to Jiang Baichuan at the sound. His eyes immediately landed on the raw meat in the basin, and his face twisted in disgust.

Compared to before, he looked much more haggard. Once a decent-looking, spirited young man, he now appeared gaunt and sharp-featured, especially around the eyes, where sagging skin accentuated his exhaustion.

Jiang Baichuan smiled warmly. "Sun Zhou, how are you feeling today?"

Sun Zhou immediately complained, "Jiang Shu, can’t I stop eating... this stuff?"

He pointed at the basin of meat, looking like he might vomit. "At least cook it! Raw meat is full of bacteria—maybe even tapeworms. The smell alone makes me sick. Is this even human food?"

Jiang Baichuan spoke gently. "It’s for your treatment. Just bear with it."

Mentioning treatment only fueled Sun Zhou’s resentment. "Jiang Shu, at first, you used fire. It hurt, but afterward, I actually felt better. Why did you stop?"

Jiang Baichuan remained patient. "It’s a phased approach. Don’t you trust us? This meat isn’t just raw—we’ve added medicinal ingredients. If you don’t believe us, go to the hospital. You’ve been there before. What happened? Your wounds grew all that hair, and you were barely conscious. Without us, would the hair have receded? Would you even be lucid now?"

Sun Zhou fell silent.

It was true.Driven by curiosity that day, he ventured into the cornfield without intending to go far. Yet some stubborn impulse kept pushing him forward—he wanted to find proof that nothing major had happened the previous night and that he had no reason to feel guilty.

He spotted bloodstains and trampled stalks, which unsettled him, but the bright daylight gave him courage to press on. His pace quickened until he stumbled upon a hole in the ground.

At the time, the hole wasn’t open—its entrance was blocked by a mound of dirt, like an oversized ant nest.

Sun Zhou, cautious, picked up a stick and poked at the mound.

Inside was pitch black and utterly silent. He bent down to peer in and saw two glowing orbs floating in the darkness, like luminous green grapes.

A mountain dweller would’ve immediately guessed it was a wolf and reacted accordingly. But Sun Zhou, raised in the city, lacked that instinctive wariness of wild creatures. His delayed reaction cost him—suddenly, two arms shot out, steel claws gripping his shoulders, dragging his upper body into the hole.

To Sun Zhou, it felt like being plunged into hell—dark, damp, and reeking of rot. Worse still, he was being clawed and bitten relentlessly.

He struggled and fought back with all his might, yet he was certain he’d die there. Paralyzed with terror, he could only watch those ghostly eyes darting around him. Then, abruptly, someone grabbed his legs and yanked him—along with the creature—out of the hole, barking a furious command at it.

Sun Zhou never saw who pulled him out. His eyes were fixed on the thing dragged out with him—whether it was human or not was unclear. Its face was blood-red, twisted horrifically, baring jagged white teeth.

Yet the creature seemed afraid of the light—or perhaps more afraid of the person who’d intervened—shrinking back reflexively.

Sun Zhou’s first thought was: Run! Now!

He fled the cornfield, jumped into his car, and sped away. His wounds alternated between numbness and itching, his mind between icy clarity and swelling confusion. At one point, it struck him: Shouldn’t I go to the hospital?

So he did.

At the hospital, everything felt off. Why were the hallways twisting like worms? Why was the floor pockmarked? Why did the nurse’s face behind the registration counter keep shifting between square and round?

Later, the doctor asked, “Dog bite?”

His mind conjured the image of a vicious yellow dog, and he answered, “Yes.”

The doctor had the nurse bandage him and administer a shot. Afterward, he staggered out to his car. His phone on the seat blinked like a frog about to leap. He lunged for it, missed, and collapsed onto the seat, falling asleep.

So, everything he told Nie Jiuluo was the truth—or at least, what he believed to be the truth.

He slept until nightfall. Sitting up, unsure where to go, he patted his pockets and found a hotel keycard. Right, he remembered—this was where he’d spend the night.With his mind a complete mess, he started the car and managed to drive to the hotel parking lot despite drawing curses from other drivers several times along the way—miraculously avoiding any accidents. As he was pulling in, a white SUV happened to be entering at the same time. Technically, he had the right of way since he was ahead, but his brain was so foggy that not only did he stop, he also enthusiastically waved at the other driver, speaking slowly and politely with a slurred tongue as if he'd downed three pounds of strong liquor: "You go first, you go first."

The other driver studied him for a moment before saying, "You go ahead."

...

Jiang Shu was right—he had been to the hospital for treatment, but it hadn't worked.

Wasn't it thanks to Jiang Shu and the others' "fire therapy" that he had managed to snap out of that dazed, floating state?

Jiang Shu wouldn't harm him, would he? Besides, he was just a small-time driver—what would anyone gain from hurting him?

Suppressing his nausea, Sun Zhou glanced at the bowl of meat again: "Is this really medicine?"

Jiang Baichuan replied, "In traditional Chinese medicine, bat droppings are medicine, and chicken gizzards are medicine too. Don't let its grossness fool you—bitter medicine is good for the illness, as they say."

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