Love on the Turquoise Land

The drive back to Xi'an would take two days, but Yan Tuo's mind was preoccupied, making it hard to focus. What should have been two days stretched into three.

By the evening of the second day, the car entered Shaanxi Province. On the map, the outline of Shaanxi resembled a kneeling terracotta warrior. Yan Tuo felt as though he had entered the province through the warrior's toes, heading toward his destination somewhere near the pelvic region.

The highway was both bustling and desolate—bustling with endless streams of cars, desolate for the lone driver. He followed the navigation, occasionally glancing up at the towering road signs at the forks.

At some point, one of the signs caught his eye: Youtang County (62km) .

Youtang County.

Something stirred in Yan Tuo's chest. Before he could decide whether to make the detour, his hands had already turned the steering wheel in that direction.

A little past eight in the evening, Yan Tuo's car climbed Old Bullhead Ridge.

This was where his father, Yan Huanshan, had first made his fortune—the coal mine that started it all.

Now, it was as lonely as a graveyard. Not just the mine, but the entire Old Bullhead Ridge had been abandoned. It was easy to think of the gold rush that once swept the American West—miners arrived, followed by saloons, restaurants, prostitutes, and all kinds of supporting infrastructure. A small city rose, only to be left barren when the gold ran dry.

The coal mine at Old Bullhead Ridge hadn’t shut down because the coal was exhausted, but because extraction was no longer profitable. Later, as coal production capacity was aggressively reduced, mines were shut down en masse, leaving behind more and more abandoned pits. Yan Tuo had read reports—by 2020, there were about 12,000 abandoned coal mines in the country. The world was abuzz with discussions on how to repurpose them: industrial tourism, underground hospitals, deep-earth science labs. But none of that excitement would ever reach a small, forgotten place like Old Bullhead Ridge.

The iron gate to the compound was shut, its bars rusted and coated in dust. The slogan plaque above the gate hadn’t completely rotted away, leaving three characters— "High," "Shift," "Home" —jutting defiantly toward the sky.

"Go to work happily, return home safely."

Yan Tuo sat in the car, staring blankly at the iron gate. People couldn’t enter, but the car’s headlights pierced through, illuminating a stretch of flat ground beyond.

Back in the day, Yan Huanshan had ridden a heavy-duty bicycle in and out of this gate every day. His mother had frequented this place too. Even Yan Tuo had vague memories of it—learning to walk on that flat ground, wobbling unsteadily, miners crowding around and cheering, "Go on, Xiao Tuo!" Uncle Changxi held a lollipop like a carrot leading a donkey, coaxing him step by step.

And of course, the woman who would later become his "Aunt Lin" had been there too.

Yan Tuo turned the car around. As the headlights swung away, the mine plunged into darkness, and soon, Old Bullhead Ridge sank into the night like a grave hiding its secrets.

...

The car entered Youtang County.

The county town was nothing like it used to be—new streets, high-rises, shopping districts, all freshly built, so new that anyone hoping for nostalgia would only feel lonelier.

Yan Tuo parked by the roadside and walked into a snack street.

At the entrance was a shop called "Changxi’s Sour Soup Dumplings."

He lifted the curtain and stepped inside. The place wasn’t large, but it was clean and tidy. Though it was past peak dining hours, about two-thirds of the tables were still occupied.Behind the counter stood the owner, Liu Changxi, so engrossed in his work that he didn’t even notice a customer had arrived—probably tallying accounts.

Yan Tuo moved closer and rapped his knuckles on the counter. “One bowl of sour soup dumplings, pork and cabbage filling.”

Liu Changxi hastily looked up. “Oh, right, sure. Take a seat inside… Xiao Tuo?”

Yan Tuo smiled at Changxi’s surprised and delighted expression. Uncle Changxi had aged, his temples streaked with white, though he wasn’t even fifty yet upon closer calculation.

Liu Changxi was overjoyed, staring at Yan Tuo repeatedly. “Ah, you’ve grown taller.”

Yan Tuo: “No way. I was this tall last time.”

The last visit had been two or three years ago, and at that age, it was unlikely he’d have another growth spurt. But Liu Changxi still felt Yan Tuo seemed taller and more imposing—maybe it was just him shrinking with age. After hesitating for a long moment, he added, “You’ve got a man’s bearing now.”

Shortly after Yan Tuo took his seat, the sour soup dumplings arrived, accompanied by a few side dishes of cold appetizers and a can of Bingfeng soda.

Liu Changxi left the business to his staff and sat down to eat with him. “This time, are you staying?”

Yan Tuo fished out a dumpling and took a bite. “No, just passing through.”

Then he glanced around the shop. “Business is good, huh?”

Liu Changxi grinned, deep wrinkles creasing his face. “Yeah, you know how it was before—just a street stall, always getting chased around. It was rough. After renting this place, things got much better. You might not believe it…”

Lowering his voice, he held up eight fingers. “This year alone, I’ve made over eighty thousand in net profit.”

Yan Tuo nodded. “That’s great. It’s rare to have such stability now. Uncle Changxi, you should find someone and settle down properly.”

Liu Changxi froze.

At that moment, he felt the passage of time more vividly than ever. It seemed like just yesterday that this little brat was licking a lollipop, hands sticky, crying for him to “wash hands” with soap. And now, here he was, speaking like an old man, advising him to “find someone and settle down properly.”

Liu Changxi forced a laugh. “I’m an old man now. Who’d want me?”

Yan Tuo lowered his head to scoop another dumpling. “Don’t wait for my mom anymore. She’s not waking up. And even if she did, her heart’s always been with my dad.”

Liu Changxi was caught off guard, stiffening on the spot.

He felt unbearably awkward, his long-held secret suddenly ripped open and laid bare. He didn’t know how to react. Fortunately, Yan Tuo was considerate—he kept his head down, eating dumplings and sipping soup, never looking up or meeting his eyes, giving him time to compose himself.

Liu Changxi swallowed dryly, watching the top of Yan Tuo’s head and the slight rise and fall of his shoulders as he chewed. Only when his face felt less stiff did he manage to ask casually, “Your mom… how’s she doing lately?”

Yan Tuo finished eating and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Same as always. The doctor said if she had a choice, she’d probably prefer to go peacefully rather than linger like this. I’m done, Uncle Changxi. I’ll take advantage of you and skip paying.”

Liu Changxi chuckled half-heartedly. “No need to pay.”

Only when Yan Tuo stood to leave did he realize. “You’re leaving already?”

Yan Tuo: “Yeah, like I said, just passing through.”

Liu Changxi hurriedly got up to see him out, but at the door, a staff member stopped him with a question, preventing him from walking Yan Tuo all the way out. He could only call after his retreating figure, “Say hello to your mom for me.”Yan Tuo didn't turn around, just raised his hand overhead in a casual wave—his way of saying: Got it.

Due to Liu Changxi's request, after arriving in Xi'an at noon the next day, Yan Tuo made a trip to the nursing facility.

This was an extremely private and high-end vegetative state care/rehabilitation center. Previously, it operated on a card-swipe visitation system, but after someone had stolen a client's membership card to sneak in, they'd recently upgraded to card-swipe plus fingerprint access.

Yan Tuo hadn't visited in over half a year—partly because after downloading the facility's app, he could check the 24/7 surveillance feed anytime he wanted; partly because no matter how many times he came, the person would still be lying there unchanged, with nothing new to see.

But most importantly, he didn't want to come.

Each visit was too oppressive.

...

His mother, Lin Xirou, occupied the sunniest and relatively quietest room in the facility.

When he pushed open the door, two nurses were giving Lin Xirou muscle massages to prevent atrophy—though her muscles had long since atrophied. After lying in bed for over twenty years, no amount of "passive exercise" could compare to an ordinary person's activity level.

Yan Tuo had seen photos of his mother in her youth—bright-eyed with pearly teeth, radiant and full-figured. Now she was withered, emaciated, unable to swallow, relying on a nasogastric tube for liquid nutrition, sallow and gaunt, her head shaved, looking pitiful and almost absurd.

The nurses recognized him and knew his habits: "Mr. Yan, shall we... give you some privacy?"

Yan Tuo nodded, then added, "Could you bring some cotton swabs and saline? I'll brush my mother's teeth."

Last time, he'd patted her back to prevent bedsores. This time, he'd brush her teeth. He couldn't just sit and stare—he had to do something during each visit.

The nurses quickly brought the supplies on a tray.

Yan Tuo put on a medical mask, pulled a chair close to the bed, folded a tissue to place beneath her chin, adjusted the overhead dental light to the right position, then cradled Lin Xirou's face with one hand while using the other to dip cotton swabs in saline, patiently cleaning each tooth one by one.

From years without chewing, the muscles in her jaw were stiff, making it hard to open her mouth.

Even with the nurses' daily oral care, the odor in her mouth was far worse than normal, noticeable even through his mask.

And the face cradled in his palm was utterly unresponsive, frighteningly light, completely at his mercy.

...

By the time he finished, sunlight streamed brightly through the window, one beam falling softly across the bedding.

Yan Tuo stared at that beam of light until a phone notification came through.

It was from Lin Ling: Almost back? Aunt Lin asked me to check where you are.

Yan Tuo replied with two characters: Soon.

After sending it, he sat for a few more seconds before standing to push the chair back in place and heading for the door.

As he opened it, he couldn't help glancing back one last time.

At the woman lying in that bed.

A woman who'd lost her life, her love, her family—even her name... all stolen away.

By the time he returned to the villa, it was already afternoon.

Normally, the villa was somewhat noisy, as it was Xiong Hei's property. Responsible for company security, Xiong Hei had wide social connections and lavish spending habits, making the place feel less like a residence and more like a clubhouse for his cronies to drink, play cards, and socialize.

Yan Tuo and the others used a private elevator at the back entrance. In other words, the first two floors were semi-public while the third and fourth were private living quarters, strictly separated by access control—to outsiders, Xiong Hei simply claimed the upper floors housed a seriously ill relative who needed peace and quiet. Guests took the hint and never pried further.Yet today, the entire building was unusually quiet. When Yan Tuo entered the elevator, he didn’t hear any of the usual commotion.

Most likely, Xiong Hei wasn’t around—which was odd, given that he usually stuck close to Lin Xirou like a shadow.

Yan Tuo headed up to the third floor first.

Lin Ling was in the small sitting area near the elevator, working on a miniature dollhouse. She looked up at the sound of footsteps just as Yan Tuo walked in.

“Xiong Hei’s not here?”

“Haven’t seen him in two days. I called the farm—he’s not there either.”

That meant he’d been sent off on some other task.

Yan Tuo’s gaze skimmed over the nearly finished dollhouse on the coffee table—pink-themed, very girlish, complete with tiny tables, chairs, and a vanity. Did every girl like this kind of dreamy aesthetic?

Nie Jiuluo definitely didn’t. The sculptures in her studio ranged from breathtakingly beautiful to grotesquely terrifying—none of them were cute or playful.

Lowering his voice, he asked, “How are you? Sleeping okay lately? Did you get the cameras?”

The villa had surveillance, but it was mostly focused on the exterior to deter intruders. None of the living spaces were monitored.

Lin Ling nodded. “Got them. Nothing’s happened.”

Good. Yan Tuo reassured her, “Maybe it was just a dream.”

She hoped so. Lin Ling tilted her chin toward the outer room. “Aunt Lin wants to see you as soon as you’re back.”

Lin Xirou’s door was closed. Yan Tuo knocked. “Aunt Lin, it’s me.”

“Come in.”

He pushed the door open. Lin Xirou was on the phone and motioned for him to wait.

He couldn’t hear the conversation—Lin Xirou only responded with simple acknowledgments like “Mm,” “Okay,” “That’s fine,” and “Send me a photo.” But judging by her expression, she seemed to be in high spirits.

Business matters rarely made her smile these days. Yan Tuo’s pulse quickened—had there been a breakthrough in tracking down Banya?

For him, that was anything but good news. A single witness could unravel all the lies he’d spun.

After hanging up, Lin Xirou turned to him. “Finally back. Such a trivial errand about herbs—was it really necessary to go yourself?”

Mid-sentence, her expression suddenly darkened. “What happened to your neck?”

She reached out to touch it.

The wound had mostly healed, but the bite mark hadn’t faded yet. Yan Tuo instinctively leaned away. “It’s nothing. Ran into a crazy person…”

Lin Xirou wasn’t as easy to fool as Lin Ling. “A woman, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Lin Xirou frowned. “Xiao Tuo, why can’t you date someone normal for once? Last time, it was that Nie girl—you left her stranded in the mountains. Now, after just a few days away, you’ve got another one biting you. Can’t you find decent people to be with?”

Yan Tuo: “I’ll… be more careful next time.”

He quickly changed the subject. “Aunt Lin, you seem happy. Good news?”

Lin Xirou sighed wistfully. “Yes.”

“Related to Banya?”

She neither confirmed nor denied it, but her expression suggested he’d guessed right.

Strange. Lin Xirou placed extreme importance on “Banya.” Yan Tuo had a gut feeling—this wasn’t just about him and Gou Ya suffering at Banya’s hands.

“I thought the trail went cold at Banya. That there was no way to track the person down?”

Lin Xirou smiled leisurely. “Xiao Tuo, don’t worry about that. I’ve always regretted dragging you into this mess, making you suffer so much. Don’t worry—those who hurt you will pay dearly for it.”Yan Tuo fell silent for a moment, then suddenly laughed. "I understand, Aunt Lin. It's my fault. I rarely get to help you with anything, and the one time I do, I mess it up so badly that a whole group of people have to clean up after me. The fact that you haven't scolded me already shows you're being very kind to me."

Lin Xirou was taken aback, realizing he had misunderstood. "No, Xiao Tuo—"

Yan Tuo reached for the door handle. "I get it, Aunt Lin. There's no need to comfort me."