Love on the Turquoise Land

Another noisy and chaotic day began.

Qiao Ya, with dark circles under her eyes, yawned repeatedly as she waited for the steamed buns to come out at the street-side stall.

Soon, the steamer lid was lifted, releasing fragrant white steam in all directions. Qiao Ya took a bag of fresh pork buns and hurried back to the car in quick strides.

Sun Zhou was slumped in the passenger seat, sound asleep under a blanket.

Qiao Ya nudged him. "Time to eat—your favorite pork and scallion buns."

Sun Zhou barely managed to crack open an eyelid, responding half-heartedly, "I'm not hungry."

Qiao Ya grew irritated. "I was the one driving all night—I'm the exhausted one here. What’s with the act? Get up and eat!"

Grumbling, Sun Zhou reluctantly sat up.

Qiao Ya was a cautious and slow driver, and on top of that, Sun Zhou had insisted on taking a convoluted detour for safety—so despite driving all night, they were still on the road.

He took the plastic bag from Qiao Ya. "You have the keys to your great-uncle’s place, right?"

Qiao Ya nodded. "Yeah."

Her great-uncle was an empty-nester who had moved back to the countryside. Before leaving, he’d given her the keys to his city apartment, asking her to drop by occasionally to clean and air it out.

"Then I’ll stay at your great-uncle’s place first—just to be safe."

"You’re overreacting," Qiao Ya said, rolling her eyes. "You think a pyramid scheme would send people after you?"

Sun Zhou shot her a look. "How many times do I have to say it? It’s not a pyramid scheme. They didn’t ask me for money or try to sell me anything—they just said they wanted to treat my injuries."

Qiao Ya scoffed. "How generous of them. So why didn’t you stay and get treated, huh? Why run? And you even hit someone. What if you’d seriously hurt them? That could’ve been assault."

Sun Zhou snorted, reaching into the bag to grab a bun. "Yaya, you’re just naive. The world’s full of bad people—you’ve got to stay alert. I played along, but I was watching everything. Those people didn’t seem legit—sneaky, whispering behind my back, lowering their voices so I couldn’t hear. Their ‘treatment’ was disgusting and unhygienic. And they locked my door at night—why? If it’s just treatment, why lock me up like a prisoner? Sure, they were polite now, but farmers take good care of their pigs too—keeping them warm, fed, and healthy—right up until they’re slaughtered."

"Putting it all together, I realized the best move was to get out! If they dare accuse me of assault, I’ll sue them for unlawful confinement," Sun Zhou said, tearing the bun apart. "Besides, if the hospitals in Ankang aren’t good enough, there’s Xi’an. And if that fails, there’s always Beijing or Shanghai. Why rely on some shady folk remedy—ugh, damn it, why does this bun smell rotten?"

Qiao Ya froze. "What? No way."

She took the torn bun from Sun Zhou and sniffed it—the rich aroma of pork, oil, salt, and scallion filled her nose.

"Are you messing with me, Sun Zhou? It smells fine!"

Sun Zhou genuinely couldn’t stand the smell—just a whiff made him nauseous. Pinching his nose, he tossed the bag back at Qiao Ya. "Take it away, get it out of here."

"Ugh, you’re impossible!" Qiao Ya fumed. "Too much raw meat’s ruined your nose for real food?"

She was beyond frustrated. Her once-presentable boyfriend, who used to be a point of pride, now had several scars on his face, his expression perpetually sullen. The more she looked at him, the uglier he seemed.After returning, she would have to give him more face masks, and if necessary, even get some cosmetic treatments to remove scars—after all, she was someone who valued looks.

Nie Dongyang’s phone call had genuinely stirred up Nie Jiuluo’s homesickness.

Thinking about it, she really had been away from home for a long time. After successfully negotiating with Jiang Baichuan, she had centered everything around herself, riding the waves and charging forward without looking back. She didn’t remember her parents’ death anniversaries, only lighting a few sticks of incense during Qingming Festival and having two extra bowls of dumplings set out during the New Year’s Eve dinner by the housekeeper.

As for filial piety rituals like memorial birthdays, she ought to observe them. Being an ordinary person meant going with the flow to some extent. Besides, her hometown was, after all, the place where she had spent her childhood.

That very night, her hometown appeared in her dreams.

She dreamed of the trees lining the street outside her home. It was summer, and the city had arranged for pesticide spraying. Countless caterpillar corpses littered the ground beneath the trees. Cars drove over them, flattening them into a disgusting mess.

Wearing a little dress, she leaned against the wall, retching, muttering between gags, "Disgusting."

Then she looked up, her gaze piercing through the treetops to the distant six-story rooftop of a shopping mall, where her father, Nie Xihong, stood alone, swaying unsteadily like a lightning rod about to be blown down by the wind.

...

She booked a high-speed train ticket for three days later in the morning. However, her hometown wasn’t accessible by high-speed rail, so she’d have to stay overnight in a connecting city before taking an intercity bus back.

The night before her departure, she went to Lao Cai’s place for dinner and to pick up the cheap knockoff of her mother’s jade necklace, which she had commissioned Lao Cai to have made. Meanwhile, Lao Cai focused on discussing two things with her.

First was frequently submitting her work to competitions and winning awards. Nie Jiuluo wasn’t entirely sold on such a rushed, fame-chasing approach, but Lao Cai enlightened her: "Ah Luo, I’ve figured out that your career isn’t the kind that’ll skyrocket to global fame overnight. That kind of genius comes along maybe once in decades. Just settle for being talented and climb the ladder step by step. What are awards? They’re boosters that let you skip three steps at once. Once you win, your status changes, and the price of your work shoots up immediately."

It didn’t sound bad. Nie Jiuluo’s final response was, "You handle it."

The second matter was setting her up on a date.

The man was the son of one of Lao Cai’s business partners. While selecting home decor artwork at a commercial firm, he had picked two of Nie Jiuluo’s pieces. Lao Cai, pleased with the sale, had sung her praises and even proudly showed off photos stored on his phone.

Thus, the man first took a liking to her work, then to the artist herself, and politely asked Lao Cai to play matchmaker.

Lao Cai’s words, however, made it hard to refuse: "Ah Luo, good men are rare in this world, so you’ve got to meet a few. It’s like buying melons—don’t you have to tap a few to hear the sound before picking a good one? You’ve got to meet them first to know they’re not the right fit. Then, after summarizing all these mismatches, your success rate will be higher next time, won’t it?"

Nie Jiuluo was utterly confused, unable to tell whether Lao Cai was trying to set this up or sabotage it. In the end, she gave a vague reply: "I’m going back to my hometown first. We’ll talk after I return."

Lao Cai’s place wasn’t far from Nie Jiuluo’s home—just a five-minute drive or about twenty minutes on foot.Normally, Nie Jiuluo would take a taxi both ways, but that night, she had accidentally talked too much and eaten a bit more, so she decided to walk home to help digest the food. Lao Cai didn’t insist on driving her—after all, they both lived in the city center, where the streets were brightly lit, bustling with people, and lined with police booths along the way.

On the walk, Nie Jiuluo thought about the "boyfriend" matter.

She didn’t really have an ideal type. The person Lao Cai mentioned—she could meet him later. If he was only interested in her looks, she’d find it shallow. But if he admired her work first, that would show taste.

Before she knew it, she had reached the entrance of the alley where she lived. From a distance, she spotted a man leaning against the wall by her door, head lowered as if waiting for someone. Something crouched at his feet—probably a dog.

Walking a dog? She hoped he wasn’t treating her doorstep like a public toilet.

A few steps closer, and her mind buzzed. She froze, her expression darkening instantly.

Xing Shen heard the movement and looked up, then straightened. "A'Luo."

Nie Jiuluo clenched her jaw, barely holding back. Seeing no one around, she strode forward, her voice low but sharp with anger. "I made it very clear to Jiang Baichuan—I’m not like you. We keep our distance and mind our own business. Now you show up at my door? What’s the meaning of this? And bringing this thing along—"

Her fingers curled like claws, suddenly darting downward.

Mazha had been trembling and shrinking behind Xing Shen the moment she appeared. Now, seeing her strike, it nearly died of fright. With a panicked yelp, it scrambled up the wall. Its clawed hands could grip the surface, but its feet—wearing shoes—were a problem. After several slips, it finally kicked them off and shot to the top of the wall, crouching there like an oversized feral cat, shivering uncontrollably.

Xing Shen urgently said, "A'Luo, don’t scare it!"

Nie Jiuluo didn’t move, coldly watching as two thick-soled white children’s shoes thudded to the ground one after another. How ironic—they were even name-brand.

"Xing Shen, you don’t understand the rules. How dare you bring this thing into a populated area?"

Xing Shen reached up toward the wall. After a hesitant moment, Mazha cautiously scrambled down and crouched at his feet, trembling so hard it didn’t dare move.

Xing Shen sighed. "A'Luo, hear me out first. Hua Saozi is dead, and Crippled Father is missing. You’re in too much danger, and you refuse Jiang Shu’s arrangements. I thought I could help—the enemy might be Mazha’s kind. With Mazha and me here, things would be easier—"

Nie Jiuluo cut him off. "I don’t need it."

"Xing Shen, the rules were set by everyone, and they must be followed. I rejected Jiang Shu’s arrangements—I know what I’m doing. I’ll bear the consequences myself. As for you, if you want to play the good Samaritan, shouldn’t you ask the other person first instead of—"

Just then, a passerby approached. Nie Jiuluo fell silent and subtly shifted to block Mazha from view.

The person was probably curious why someone would wear sunglasses at night, focusing entirely on Xing Shen and completely missing the "thing" at his feet.

Once the passerby was gone, Nie Jiuluo spoke decisively. "Take it away. Now. I mean it. If I ever see this thing where it shouldn’t be again, you’ll be preparing its funeral."After saying this, she walked to the door and pressed the doorbell.

Soon, Sister Lu's voice came from inside, "Ah, ah, coming."

Xing Shen remained standing where he was, pausing for a moment before softly saying, "A'Luo, if it weren't for the unpleasantness between us before, would you have... accepted my help?"

Nie Jiuluo turned to glance at him.

Xing Shen looked utterly dejected, his head slightly lowered, shoulders slumped, appearing quite pitiful.

She said, "Xing Shen, the lives we lead now are of our own choosing. No one forced anyone, and no one owes anyone anything. I'm quite happy with my life, and I hope you are too."

The door opened, revealing Sister Lu with a bright smile. "You just texted saying you overate and would walk back. I made you some hawthorn digestion soup."

Nie Jiuluo was pleasantly surprised. "Really? I could use some—my stomach's upset."

She stepped over the threshold.

The door quickly closed again, and the light that had briefly spilled out vanished like an elusive spirit, gone in an instant.

Xing Shen stood in the darkness for a while. Hawthorn digestion soup—he wondered if it was strong or weak. It must be weak, unable to pierce through the thick, owl-like scent around him, so he couldn't smell it.

Mazha finally dared to get up, staggering a few steps away to pick up its shoes and put them on.

Xing Shen called to it softly, "Let's go."

Yan Tuo stayed temporarily at the plantation with Lin Xirou.

On the surface, Lin Xirou claimed she was tired of city life and wanted to enjoy a few days of rural scenery. But Yan Tuo knew the truth—she was waiting for Xiong Hei to extract more information from Crippled Father.

Every morning, he watched the workers rush in to clock in, the plantation exuding an atmosphere of peace—so peaceful it was dull, as if there were no secrets at all. Sometimes, he truly admired Lin Xirou. Despite orchestrating so many shady dealings, she remained perfectly hidden.

In his spare time, he kept revisiting what he had overheard that day, breaking it down and analyzing it repeatedly.

Nie Jiuluo had said that Gou Ya wasn't a di xiao but likely a close relative or variant because di xiao were beasts, not humans.

Perhaps it was simpler: Gou Ya, Lin Xirou, and their ilk were di xiao. The question was, how did they manage to look exactly like humans?

Lin Xirou must have done something.

In the plantation's underground second level, he and Lin Ling had once seen a woman covered in sticky filaments inside a mini plastic greenhouse. What was she for? And where had she gone later?

The Excel spreadsheet with numbered entries and personnel records had originally been stolen by Lin Ling from Lin Xirou's computer. It was currently updated to No. 017, Zhu Changyi. Notably, the list didn't run sequentially from No. 001 to No. 017—it started at No. 003, and every few entries, a number was missing.

No. 003 was Sun Xiong—that is, Xiong Hei.

He and Lin Ling had puzzled over the list for a long time until one day, Lin Ling made a discovery: the surnames on the list perfectly matched the order of surnames in the "Hundred Family Surnames."

For example, "Zhao, Qian, Sun, Li, Zhou, Wu, Zheng, Wang." "Sun" is third, so No. 003 is Sun Xiong; "Wu" is sixth, so No. 006 is Wu Xingbang.

Similarly, No. 014 is Shen Lizhu, and No. 017 is Zhu Changyi.Could these people all be fully transformed Dixa with perfected appearances? Lin Xirou assigned them codes and gave them names. But why scatter them across the country? To minimize risk by not putting all eggs in one basket?

Gou Ya currently has no proper name, only a crude nickname. Following "Zhu" in the sequence "Zhu Qin You Xu" comes "Qin"—could Gou Ya become No. 018 with the surname Qin in the future?

...

As dusk approached, Yan Tuo's headache grew worse the more he thought about it. Brushing off his hands, he stood up and wiped away the extensive analysis he'd drawn with pebbles in the dirt.

In the distance, someone was jogging toward him—it was Xiong Hei.

When Xiong Hei reached him, he was panting heavily, and if Yan Tuo wasn't mistaken, his face showed traces of awkward panic: "Yan Tuo, where's Sister Lin?"

"Didn't sleep well last night. Said she had a headache this afternoon—probably catching up on sleep."

Xiong Hei gave an absent-minded "Oh," making it clear he wasn't actually here for Lin Xirou.

Yan Tuo asked, "What's wrong?"

Ever since that night when Yan Tuo had "confessed his feelings" to him, Xiong Hei had viewed Yan Tuo with much more favor and familiarity. After much hesitation, he lowered his voice: "Yan Tuo, I messed up again... I gave the old man too much of his medicine."