Love on the Turquoise Land

Western Zhejiang, Anta County.

In recent years, though the government has advocated for "common prosperity," even the wealthiest provinces inevitably have counties and cities lagging behind.

Anta was one such place. It wasn’t necessarily impoverished or backward—just that the winds of change outside were blowing too fiercely, making it seem all the more sluggish in comparison.

The moment the intercity bus pulled into the station, it was swarmed by taxi drivers who had been waiting for some time.

—"East Tower, East Tower, fifty per person!"

—"Anyone heading to North Tower? Just one more passenger, we leave as soon as you board, no waiting!"

—"Metered fare, metered fare, pay by the meter!"

...

Nie Jiuluo remained seated calmly, listening to the accented Mandarin. Having been away from home for so long, she no longer spoke the local dialect, but she could still understand it.

Only when most of the passengers and drivers had dispersed did she finally step off the bus.

The station was small, bustling only when a bus arrived. Now that the commotion had faded, it felt desolate, the setting sun casting a cold, indifferent glow as it sank slowly.

Nie Jiuluo wheeled her suitcase toward the exit.

Nie Dongyang stood at the exit, clutching a rolled-up magazine and scanning the crowd. After nearly two decades apart, he hadn’t changed much—just a little grayer, a little more jowly.

When he spotted Nie Jiuluo emerging from the station, he froze for a moment, then hurriedly flipped open the magazine to compare the portrait inside. His face lit up with delight, and he waved the magazine at her. "Xi Xi! Xi Xi!"

Nie Jiuluo walked straight over, wearing the flawless smile she reserved for interviews. "Uncle."

Nie Dongyang grinned. "I thought you weren’t on this bus when I saw everyone else leave."

Nie Jiuluo smiled back, twisting her ankle slightly to show off the stiletto heels of her boots. "High heels. Can’t walk fast."

Nie Dongyang praised her. "Ah, look at you, all grown up and famous—even in magazines now! Impressive, impressive. Come on, let’s get in the car."

Nie Dongyang drove a brand-new Volvo.

Settling into the back seat, Nie Jiuluo casually looked up the model. The total price was around 300,000 yuan—300,000, huh? That was nearly half the value of one of their family’s smaller properties.

As the car pulled onto the road, Nie Dongyang made small talk. "Xi Xi, it’s been so long since you’ve been back. When Yunyun showed me the magazine, I didn’t even recognize you at first... Why’d you change your name?"

Nie Yun was Nie Dongyang’s daughter, her cousin, just a year older.

Nie Jiuluo replied, "Stage name."

"Oh, a stage name," Nie Dongyang mused. "Artists are something else—even get two names. Oh, right, the list."

As he spoke, he handed her a sheet of paper filled with writing.

It was an itemized list of expenses for the memorial ceremony, totaling 26,000 yuan—incense paper, offerings, live fish for the grand ritual, fees for the tent builders, and musicians. Nie Jiuluo skimmed it briefly before saying, "Thanks for handling this. I’ll transfer the money to you."

Nie Dongyang waved it off. "Ah, no rush."

Even as he said this, he fumbled for his phone, ready to pull up his payment QR code for her to scan. But Nie Jiuluo didn’t press further, taking his "no rush" at face value. Instead, she rolled down the window and gazed at the passing streets.Nie Dongyang had no choice but to put his phone away again. After a pause, he continued explaining the arrangements to her: "Xi Xi, your uncle won’t be able to host you today. There’s a lot to do tomorrow, and I still need to brief some people when I get back. You’ll need to wake up early tomorrow—I’ll pick you up from the hotel at 7:30 a.m. We’ll burn paper offerings and pay respects at the site. It’ll just be busy for that one day. In the evening, we can relax. I’ll have your aunt pick a nice restaurant, and we’ll have a family dinner together and catch up properly."

Nie Jiuluo said, "No need to book a restaurant—it’s a waste of money. I’d rather eat Auntie’s home-cooked dishes. Let’s just have a simple meal at home."

Nie Dongyang also thought this was more practical, but he still insisted out of courtesy: "Home cooking isn’t fancy enough, though. It wouldn’t feel right."

Nie Jiuluo laughed. "We’re family—no need for formalities."

The hotel was located in the city center, surrounded by plenty of restaurants. Nie Jiuluo grabbed a quick dinner at one of them. She had originally planned to return to the hotel to rest, but as she reached the lobby, she changed her mind.

She wanted to walk down the street where her old home had been, to see if the trees that used to shed bugs after being sprayed were still there. She also wanted to find the spot where, if she looked up, she could see the building where her father had last stood.

But imagining it was easy—actually doing it left her utterly lost. After all, nearly twenty years had passed. Even if Anta had developed slowly, it was now unrecognizable—many old streets had been extended or widened, places that weren’t streets before had become streets, and landmarks like schools and hospitals had relocated...

She couldn’t recognize anything anymore.

The night wind was chilly, frequently lifting the hem of her coat. She hugged her arms and shivered. A hometown was far more than just a geographical location—it was a combination of place, specific years, specific people, and specific memories. Alter any part of it, and it was no longer the same. For those who had been away for years, returning wasn’t really a return to their "hometown"—just to a place where others now lived.

So, there was no point in pretending to be sentimental here. There was nothing left to reminisce about.

She pulled up the navigation on her phone and plotted the shortest route back to the hotel. But she had only walked a short distance when her sixth sense suddenly screamed a warning.

Someone was watching her. Or rather, following her.

Nie Jiuluo wondered if she was just being paranoid, so she deliberately walked a bit farther to confirm.

Sure enough, there was someone—keeping a distance but tailing her. Their "stalking" skills were amateurish at best. Twice, she pretended to fix her hair in front of a shop window, using the glass reflection to get a clear look at the person.

It was a thin old man, around fifty or sixty, who looked quite refined but somewhat dull. He wore a faded casual jacket and a pair of sneakers with cracked sides. His movements weren’t very agile—once, he nearly tripped when his foot slipped.

What the hell? Lately, why did she keep running into strange people targeting her? Under normal circumstances, she might have assumed it was just a creepy stalker. But given the current situation, she couldn’t help suspecting this might be one of Yan Tuo’s associates.

She continued striding forward, the heels of her boots clicking sharply against the ground with purpose.

After about ten steps, she suddenly stopped, turned around, and marched straight toward the old man.The old man couldn't match her stride and was practically jogging to keep up when suddenly she turned directly toward him. Panicked and flustered, he squatted down to tie his shoelaces—except they weren't loose, there was nothing to tie—then began frantically patting the ground as if he'd dropped something.

He hadn't been searching for more than two seconds when a pair of suede square-toed ankle boots planted themselves right in front of him.

The old man had no choice but to look up, then hesitantly stand.

Nie Jiuluo demanded, "Why are you following me?"

Her gaze and tone were equally aggressive.

The old man forced composure: "N-no, I wasn't."

Passersby were already starting to glance their way. Clearly uncomfortable with the attention, the old man's pale face flushed crimson instantly. He didn't even dare look at Nie Jiuluo now.

Nie Jiuluo pressed, "I saw you. You've been tailing me for two blocks since First Foods."

Hopeless at lying and confrontation, the old man crumbled immediately: "I mistook you for someone... I just thought you looked pretty, like someone I know... Sorry, so sorry..."

His voice trembled. For a man his age, he resembled nothing so much as a schoolboy caught cheating on an exam, on the verge of tears: "Sorry, so sorry..."

He raised his hands above his head, either in surrender or to hide his shame, backing away repeatedly before turning to hurry off: "Sorry, so sorry."

Had this been some shameless old pervert, Nie Jiuluo would have just scolded him and been done with it. But this didn't seem the case—the "performance" felt overdone. Puzzled, she found herself following him instead.

Already nervous, when the old man heard the click of boot heels persistently behind him and turned to see her actually pursuing him, he became utterly distraught, eventually breaking into a full panic-stricken retreat.

Nie Jiuluo suddenly found it amusing—she'd become the creepy stalker harassing some harmless old man.

The old man darted through the gates of a residential complex ahead, its towering buildings looming within.

Nie Jiuluo stopped, ready to let it go, when the voice of the complex's security guard called out: "Lao Zhan, back already... Hey, why you running?"

...

Sweet-talking information out of people was one of Nie Jiuluo's specialties, especially when dealing with a bored security guard who'd probably chat with a dog given the chance. Within ten minutes, she'd learned everything about "Lao Zhan."

His name was Zhan Jing, an old bachelor. Rumor had it he'd once been a middle school teacher but was fired for "lifestyle issues," after which he'd hopped between unstable jobs—six months here, half a year there. Recently, he'd been doing odd jobs at a foot massage parlor, returning around this time every night.

Over a decade ago, a well-meaning matchmaker set him up with a woman. The woman was enthusiastic, regularly buying groceries, cooking, and doing laundry—all one-sided effort for a month. When he showed no response, she flew into a humiliated rage, publicly accusing him of harassment and threatening to sue.

The scandal made waves before eventually fading, but since then, Zhan Jing had avoided women like the plague, terrified of giving anyone ammunition for gossip.

...

Well, he sounded more like a pitiful old man than someone who could be Yan Tuo's accomplice. Nie Jiuluo touched her face—maybe she really did resemble someone he knew.For her, this was just another entry in the day's ledger, a folded star tossed into the box and promptly forgotten.

As Nie Dongyang had said, the next day was exhausting.

Nie Jiuluo had been on the go since early morning, acting as a mere tool—lighting firecrackers when told, kowtowing when instructed. The only thing she couldn’t do on command was cry. Fortunately, she had come prepared, clutching a bottle of eye drops in her hand. She squeezed them hard into her eyes as she bowed her head, and when she looked up again, her tears flowed freely—perfectly convincing.

Nie Xihong’s nineteenth death anniversary was thus concluded without a hitch.

Of course, the schedule wasn’t over yet. The next item was the family banquet.

Nie Dongyang had long since moved to a new place—a spacious high-end apartment with three bedrooms, two living rooms, and two bathrooms. Nie Jiuluo had never been here before and entered with eager curiosity. "Uncle, you don’t mind if I take a look around, do you?"

Nie Dongyang was happy to show off. "Ah, no need to be so polite. Go ahead, look wherever you like."

From the kitchen, the sound of movement was followed by her aunt’s raised voice. "Is that Xi Xi? Has Xi Xi arrived?"

Local customs varied. For death anniversaries here, relatives like sisters-in-law and nieces—those one degree removed—weren’t required to attend.

Nie Jiuluo started her tour with the kitchen, greeting those busy inside. "Hello, Auntie. Sis Yun, hard at work?"

The kitchen was steamy and fragrant, the clay pot chicken on the stove already boiling vigorously. Her aunt had grown at least twice as plump as before, her face flushed as she wielded a spatula in one hand and sprinkled salt with the other. "Xi Xi, I can’t step away right now. Go sit down—the food will be ready soon."

Nie Yun was washing vegetables nearby. She had shot up in height, but she was too tall now, looking gaunt and slightly hunched. She gave Nie Jiuluo a polite, shy smile, tinged with a hint of self-consciousness.

Nie Jiuluo left the kitchen. Amid the clatter of pots and pans, she faintly caught her aunt scolding Nie Yun. "What are you so afraid of people for? You’ve got no presence at all. Anyone would think you were the one without parents..."

Nie Jiuluo smiled. She took that as a compliment.

After her tour, she had a rough idea: the apartment was large, but there were no surveillance cameras. Her uncle and aunt had old-fashioned tastes—the master bedroom furniture was solid wood, with locks on the dressing table and wardrobe. If there were any valuables, they were probably stored there.

Dinner would still take a while. Nie Dongyang pulled Nie Jiuluo to the living room to watch TV—a local channel’s version of a citizen challenge show, where ordinary people participated in games and failed in hilariously varied ways, making Nie Dongyang roar with laughter.

"Uncle, I need to use the bathroom," Nie Jiuluo said.

Nie Dongyang grunted in acknowledgment, eyes glued to the screen.

The bathroom was next to the master bedroom. At the door, Nie Jiuluo deliberately shut it with a loud click, then slipped into the bedroom. She pulled out a pair of silk gloves from her pocket and put them on, then twisted the pearl at the end of her bracelet—she could even pick handcuffs, so household drawer locks were child’s play.

She methodically picked each lock and checked inside. There was one minor scare: her aunt came to use the bathroom, saw the door closed, and called out, "Someone in there?"

Nie Jiuluo quickly dropped to the floor beside the bed. Then she heard Nie Dongyang bellow, "Xi Xi’s using it! Wait a bit, or use the other one."

Her aunt muttered an "Oh" and shuffled back to the kitchen in her slippers.

Nie Jiuluo exhaled in relief and stood up. Everything was going smoothly. In the third drawer from the bottom of the wardrobe, she found what she was looking for.

Pei Ke’s jade and platinum necklace.She stared at it for two seconds, then picked it up and slipped it into her pocket. She replaced it with the fake she had brought, closed the drawer, and locked it.

The family dinner began pleasantly enough, filled with polite conversation and mundane topics. Her aunt asked if her clay figurine business was profitable. Nie Yun looked slightly embarrassed and quietly corrected her mother, "It's called sculpture."

Nie Jiuluo smiled. "It's similar to making clay figures. The income... varies. Around a few hundred thousand, give or take."

Her aunt gasped. "A few hundred thousand!"

She immediately turned to chide her daughter, "Look at you—you don’t even earn a fraction of that."

Nie Yun’s head drooped even lower.

...

After a few rounds of drinks, Nie Jiuluo set down her chopsticks. "Uncle, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you while I’m back."

Nie Dongyang looked puzzled. "Huh?"

Her aunt’s expression darkened slightly, and she kicked Nie Dongyang under the table—she had warned him earlier. Celebrating the death anniversary was one thing, but bringing this girl back was another. Now that she was grown up, wealthy, and assertive, what if she came to reclaim her parents’ property?

Nie Jiuluo continued, "When my parents passed away, you handled their affairs, including the house and everything. Do you remember my mother’s necklace—the one with a jade pendant and a platinum chain? Since it was something she wore close to her heart, it holds sentimental value. Could I take it back with me this time?"

Nie Yun seemed to recall it and let out a soft "Ah," about to say something when her mother kicked her under the table.

Her aunt said, "Xi Xi, are you sure you’re not mistaken?"