Love on the Turquoise Land

10 p.m.

Nie Jiuluo finished flipping through a book titled Contemporary Western Sculpture .

To be honest, her life wasn’t as thrilling as Yan Tuo imagined. When she wasn’t out gathering inspiration, she was either working with clay or reading. A few days ago, Lao Cai had suggested she try to interact with all kinds of people and embrace life more. He said sculpture wasn’t just about copying appearances or working behind closed doors—it had to be infused with experience, experience ! That way, viewers could sense the intricate layers of her life just from a lump of clay.

It sounded too abstract. Besides, she was only in her twenties—how “intricate” could her life possibly be?

Nie Jiuluo tossed the book aside and suddenly thought of Yan Tuo.

Living among a group of dixiao that acted just like humans, all while pretending not to notice—now that was a life rich with texture, contrast, excitement, and depth. Hers, in comparison, was a bit thin. But then again, she was just an ordinary person.

Just as she was thinking this, her phone rang.

The caller ID showed “Nie Dongyang.” It took Nie Jiuluo a moment to remember who that was before she answered calmly.

Nie Dongyang laughed on the other end. “Xi Xi, still awake this late?”

Nie Jiuluo wanted to address him respectfully as “Uncle,” but the word stuck in her throat. Still, Nie Dongyang was her father Nie Xihong’s older brother, so he really was her uncle—her biological uncle.

She hummed in acknowledgment. “What’s up?”

Nie Dongyang said, “Well, Xi Xi, you’ve been working away from home for so many years now. But this year is different—next week marks the 19th anniversary of your father’s passing. According to our customs, the ninth year is more significant than the tenth, so the 19th is even more important than the 20th. Don’t you think you should come back to pay your respects?”

It had already been nineteen years. She really ought to fulfill her filial duty. “Sure.”

Nie Dongyang cleared his throat. “Now, for such an important occasion, we’ll need to arrange a proper ceremony, which will cost quite a bit. I was thinking—wouldn’t it be more appropriate if you covered the expenses?”

Nie Jiuluo didn’t respond. She almost laughed.

After her father jumped to his death for love, she was effectively “orphaned,” but she didn’t need to go to an orphanage. Even though her mother’s side had no relatives left, her dear uncle was still around—Nie Dongyang had taken possession of her family’s house, all their money, and even her, vowing to treat her better than his own child and to send her off in grand style when she married someday.

But in the end, she hadn’t needed his support. After cleaning out her family’s assets, he still had the nerve to ask her for money over something this trivial?

Nie Dongyang seemed to sense her mood. “Of course, if you weren’t here, I’d handle everything myself—after all, he was my own brother. But think about it—the bond between father and daughter is closer than between brothers. If I took over without consulting you, it wouldn’t be proper. It’d seem like I wasn’t respecting you. Besides, your father wouldn’t be happy about it, right?”

What a smooth talker, making sure he had all the justification on his side. Nie Jiuluo couldn’t be bothered to argue over such a small sum. “Fine.”

Nie Dongyang sounded pleased. “Don’t worry, Xi Xi. I’ll give you a detailed list of all the expenses, and I’ll try to get receipts where possible.”

“Receipts”? As if she had anywhere to submit them for reimbursement. Nie Jiuluo was about to say it wasn’t necessary, but then she changed her mind. “Sure.”

Let Nie Dongyang go all out and skim as much profit as he wanted from this. He clearly enjoyed it.

After hanging up, Nie Jiuluo stood still for a moment, then walked to the bookshelf and pulled out a photo album from the bottom shelf.This photo album was essentially a collection dedicated to her father Nie Xihong and mother Pei Ke, with only a few photos including her—not because she was neglected. She had her own album, starting from her first hundred-day portrait to the abrupt end when Nie Xihong jumped to his death the year she turned six.

Nie Jiuluo flipped open the album.

By the 1990s, color photos had become the norm, though the hues weren’t particularly vibrant. The photos spanned from her parents' courtship and marriage to their life together afterward. In nearly every picture, Pei Ke wore a platinum necklace with a jade pendant around her neck.

Nie Jiuluo remembered this necklace well. As a child, she loved holding up the jade to the sky, turning the heavens into a flowing emerald stream. The platinum chain fascinated her too—back then, she thought gold was the most precious metal in the world, but Pei Ke told her platinum was even more expensive.

Later, after her mother passed away, the necklace was kept as a memento in her dressing table drawer. Whenever her father drowned his grief in alcohol and tears, she would climb onto the vanity stool, hold the necklace against her neck, and imagine how beautiful she would look wearing it. She dreamed of a handsome prince falling for her, whisking her away on a white elephant to a prosperous kingdom (she had little regard for white horses—their bony backs were uncomfortable to ride, while elephants were broad and cushy). There, they would live happily ever after.

Eventually, the necklace, along with the house, money, and even herself, were taken over by her uncle’s family.

Nie Jiuluo snapped the album shut with a sharp thud .

Midnight.

In the basement kitchen, Da Tou was once again brandishing his cleaver, this time with Shan Qiang assisting him. A pot of boiling water bubbled on the stove as Shan Qiang carefully picked up pieces of meat and liver with chopsticks, dropping them into the pot.

Da Tou grumbled, "Damn mutt, insisting on cooked food. Making me go through all this trouble."

Shan Qiang shushed him, jerking his chin toward the innermost bedroom—a silent warning to keep his complaints to himself and avoid raising Sun Zhou’s suspicions.

Da Tou got the hint and lowered his voice. "Hey, isn’t it about time for Sun Zhou to start the whip?"

Shan Qiang gave a noncommittal hum.

Da Tou pressed, "Did you buy the whip?"

"Yep," Shan Qiang said eagerly, setting down the chopsticks to pull up his Taobao order on his phone. "See? Premium-grade, bull tendon whip, handwoven with ancestral craftsmanship."

Da Tou asked, "You’re doing it?"

Shan Qiang shrugged. "I’m the closest one here, so yeah, it’s on me."

Da Tou sounded doubtful. "You sure you can handle it?"

Shan Qiang bristled. "What’s that supposed to mean? Aren’t we all part of the whip family here? I might not be the best, but something basic like 'initiating the whip' is within my skills, right? If things get too intense later, we can always hand it over to that little vixen Yu Rong."

At the mention of Yu Rong, Da Tou’s lips twisted. "That one’s a real freak."

Shan Qiang shrugged again. "Well, that’s why she’s at the top. Nie Er, Xing Shen, Yu Rong—which one of them isn’t a freak?"

He nudged Da Tou with his elbow. "Hey, out of all of them, who do you think is the most twisted?"

Da Tou squeezed his eyes shut dramatically, wrinkles fanning out at the corners. "Isn’t it obvious?"

Shan Qiang nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I figured it’s him too."

…Jiang Baichuan was the host, while Xing Shen and Lao Dao were honored guests. The task of delivering meals at midnight naturally fell to Da Tou and Shan Qiang. And tonight, there were two portions to be delivered to two different places.

Da Tou grabbed the plate of cooked food: "I'll go to the garage to feed the little beast. You spend more time with Sun Zhou—build some rapport to make future work easier."

Shan Qiang thought this arrangement was just right. He packed the remaining raw meat from the chopping board into a plate and hummed a tune as he carried it toward the inner room. Just as he reached the doorway, he heard Sun Zhou urgently calling out to him: "Brother Qiang! Hey, quick, they’re kissing!"

To help Sun Zhou pass the tedious and dull "treatment period," Da Tou had downloaded a batch of action films from the internet—each one particularly intense.

Shan Qiang quickened his pace while musing to himself: Sun Zhou really has a big heart. Even at this stage, when he’s practically at death’s door, he’s still in high spirits. Well, might as well enjoy it while he can—good times like these won’t last much longer.

He pushed the door open in a hurry: "What kind of movie is it? Domestic or foreign?"

"Domestic, domestic! Hurry up!"

Hearing it was domestic, Shan Qiang’s face lit up with joy. To be honest, foreign action films didn’t do much for him—different races made it feel like scratching an itch through boots. Domestic ones, however, were different. They were his own people, so he could get into them much faster.

As soon as he entered the room, he set the plate down and immediately sat at the foot of the bed, eyes glued to the screen: "Is this a period drama?"

"No, it’s set in the Republic era."

The Republic era? That was fine too—not too far from modern times, making it easier to empathize. Shan Qiang shifted back, adjusting his seat for more comfort. Just as he was about to tell Sun Zhou to hurry up and eat, a heavy blow struck the back of his head.

The hit made Shan Qiang’s vision go black—a flickering, blocky kind of black. Somehow, he managed not to pass out. Stunned, he turned to look at Sun Zhou.

How could it be Sun Zhou? This useless idiot, this moron who got played by Jiang Baichuan with just a few words, who spent all day happily crowding together with him to comment on movies…

How could it be him?

But it really was Sun Zhou. He was holding the large tray from the tiger-striped orchid pot in the room, glaring at him viciously. Seeing that Shan Qiang hadn’t collapsed, he raised the tray high again and brought it down hard on the top of his head.

This time, Shan Qiang truly couldn’t take it. He slumped limply to the ground, a single thought flashing through his mind: Fucking hell…

Once Shan Qiang was down, Sun Zhou sprang into action. He first stuffed Shan Qiang’s phone into his pocket (after spending so many days watching movies and playing games together, he’d already memorized the password). Then he dumped the plate of raw meat into the trash, placed the empty plate conspicuously in the living room, dragged Shan Qiang back to his room, laid him on the bed facing the wall, and covered him with a blanket. Finally, he turned off the lights, stepped out, and locked the padlock on his own door.

Done. Everything had gone according to plan—nothing was overlooked.

Sun Zhou wiped the sweat from his palms onto his clothes, then pressed himself against the wall, trembling, as he hurried toward the door.

When Da Tou sauntered back into the house, the first thing he noticed was the empty plate.

Couldn’t even bother to wash it! Displeased, he glanced toward the bedrooms. Sun Zhou’s door was already shut and locked, and Shan Qiang’s was closed too.

Tch. Sleeping like it’s a competition. Da Tou tossed the empty plate he’d brought back onto the table, turned off the lights, and headed to his own room.

Screw it, I won’t wash it either. I’ll make Sun Zhou do it tomorrow morning. Sun Zhou skulked around the villa area like a thief, dodging and hiding until he finally climbed over the wall. Only then did he break into a frantic run, stopping breathlessly at the entrance of a bustling commercial street.

Safe at last. Seeing people meant safety. He sniffled and walked to a relatively less crowded spot to call his girlfriend, Qiao Ya.

On the other end, Qiao Ya recognized his voice and was utterly surprised: "Why did you change your number? Weren’t you supposed to be in Guangzhou with friends checking out some business opportunity?"

Sun Zhou replied, "Ah, that was all a lie to keep you guys from worrying. It’s too complicated—I’ll explain when we meet. I’ll send you a location screenshot in a bit. Hurry up and come pick me up. I’m at..."

He approached the display window of a real estate agency, checking the addresses of the listed properties, then relayed the city and county names to Qiao Ya.

Qiao Ya was startled: "That’s almost out of the province! It’s a long drive. Can’t you just take the train back?"

Sun Zhou snapped, "I told you it’s complicated. Those people... something’s off about them. It’s even creepier than getting trapped in a pyramid scheme. If I take the train... what if they’re waiting for me at the station? Just hurry up! And if anyone asks about me, don’t say anything. I’m afraid they might come looking for me."

6:00 a.m.

Nearly four hours had passed since Lin Xirou entered the small room to "talk" with Crippled Father.

Yan Tuo and Xiong Hei waited in the lounge. At first, they chatted—about how stubborn and tight-lipped Crippled Father was, about how Aunt Lin might extract information from him. But eventually, they grew too tired to continue.

Especially Yan Tuo. He had already been driving nonstop for a long time before being abruptly summoned by Lin Xirou. Exhausted, he grabbed a blanket and curled up on the sofa.

Just as he was drifting into a hazy sleep, he suddenly heard Lin Xirou’s voice: "Xiao Tuo’s asleep?"

She was... out already?

Yan Tuo instantly became alert but didn’t react in time before hearing Xiong Hei reply, "Yeah, he’s out cold. Young people can’t handle this kind of strain—he conked out ages ago."

As he spoke, Xiong Hei gave Yan Tuo’s shoulder a shove.

Yan Tuo decided to keep "playing dead," remaining completely unresponsive to the nudges.

Lin Xirou said, "Don’t bother him. Let him sleep—he’s been through a lot these past couple of days. Xiong Hei, come with me."

Xiong Hei acknowledged her, and their footsteps soon faded away, followed by the soft click of the door closing.

Yan Tuo’s heart pounded. After waiting a few seconds, he quietly threw off the blanket and got up.

The underground space before dawn was eerily silent, where even the slightest rustle felt amplified. The voices drifting down the corridor were as faint as threads, nearly imperceptible.

Holding his breath, Yan Tuo crept to the door. With extreme caution, he slowly turned the handle, opening it just a crack.

He caught fragments of their conversation, punctuated by long silences.

Lin Xirou: "Those legends... they’re real."

Xiong Hei: "So they... really exist?"

Lin Xirou: "The moment I saw Gou Ya’s wound, I knew this wasn’t simple. The way the knife cut—it was done by someone who knows what they’re doing. Later, Xiao Tuo mentioned someone smelled the stench in the car..."

Xiong Hei: "There shouldn’t have been any smell."

Lin Xirou: "Exactly. That bastard Gou Ya must’ve given in and eaten something he shouldn’t have. Xiao Tuo suffered all this because of him. When he wakes up, I’m going to tear him apart!"Yan Tuo's Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he quickly organized the information in his mind: There shouldn't have been any scent—only omnivores have scents—which meant if Gou Ya hadn't been "omnivorous," his encounter when asking for directions in Banya Village should have gone smoothly? But what exactly was "omnivorous"? What had Gou Ya eaten?

Natou remained silent for a while.

Xiong Hei: "Sister Lin, did the old man reveal any information about your son?"

Son? Yan Tuo's lips went dry, afraid he might miss Lin Xirou's response.

Lin Xirou must have shaken her head.

Xiong Hei said angrily, "His mouth is that tight? Sister Lin, should I take over? I refuse to believe a wretched old man can hold out for long."

Lin Xirou: "He said the fire you set killed his wife, and he has nothing left to live for. Take his life if you want, but getting any information about the others from him is out of the question—someone who's already given up on life is the hardest to deal with."

Xiong Hei fell silent. After a moment, a loud slap echoed—clearly, he had struck himself. "Sister Lin, it's all my fault."

Lin Xirou: "Enough, what's done is done. Just remember this lesson. Now that you're human, you need to think like one—don't act like a beast in everything you do."

Xiong Hei: "Sister Lin, are we... in danger now?"

Lin Xirou sneered: "How are we in danger? As for this man, find a way to keep interrogating him. I've heard there are drugs that can cloud a person's mind—sometimes, in that state, they might answer questions unconsciously. Whatever method you use, just make sure you find out who Mad Knife is."