Love on the Turquoise Land

Looking back now, Jiang Baichuan still felt endless emotion: That year, they were truly greenhorns venturing into the Green Loam. The knife-wielders couldn't handle their blades, the dog handlers couldn't work their noses. After secretly informing the entire village, fewer than twenty people were willing to risk it. Their makeshift training relied on elderly recollections and some handwritten manuals left by ancestors that hadn't been burned during the Cultural Revolution.

He said: "Crippled Father is a founding member. When there was no news and no way to save him, that was one thing. But now that we have a lead, if we turn a blind eye, is that right? Others would be disheartened too. Besides, this decision wasn't mine alone—I consulted Xing Shen and the others."

This wasn't just about saving Crippled Father. At its core, it was about whether to save a comrade. Everyone was a "comrade," everyone might face the same predicament. A vote for Crippled Father now was a vote for their future selves who might fall into similar straits.

Nie Jiuluo asked: "So where should I... Banya or Shihe County?"

"Go to Shihe first. I'll contact you with details later."

Nie Jiuluo hummed in acknowledgment. As she was about to hang up, something suddenly occurred to her: "Jiang Shu?"

Jiang Baichuan: "Hmm?"

"Back when my mother had the accident in Green Loam... you saw it with your own eyes?"

Jiang Baichuan was taken aback: "Why bring that up now?"

Then he said: "I saw it. The di'ao dragged her away, biting and tearing. There was a trail of blood. We couldn't outrun those beasts—couldn't catch up. Later, we only found one shoe. Your father nearly lost his mind. If several people hadn't restrained him, he would've charged straight into the Black-White Chasm... Why ask about this now?"

Nie Jiuluo said: "No reason. Just wondering."

Que Cha took a taxi back to the villa alone.

Originally, she'd returned with Da Tou and the others. When their car entered the city, Jiang Baichuan called to say the basement was too small and no longer suitable for Sun Zhou—they needed to move him elsewhere.

The new location was clearly not something she should know about. So the car pulled over, depositing her solitary figure on the roadside.

Que Cha felt deeply unsettled. It wasn't that she particularly cared about being involved, but this feeling of being "treasured when useful, discarded when not" was truly fucking infuriating.

Approaching the villa, she happened to look up and saw someone standing on the rooftop.

Xing Shen?

When she left, Lao Dao had also driven away with Xing Shen. She thought she might never see him again.

Que Cha's gloomy mood instantly brightened. Tilting her head back, she called out: "Xing Shen, step back a bit! Don't fall!"

Xing Shen looked down, slightly lifting his sunglasses to avoid color distortion from the lenses.

He saw a human-shaped soft glow below with graceful contours. From the voice, he recognized it as Que Cha. Her light had color—a pale sparrow hue that easily brought to mind the phrase "sparrow-colored dusk."

The first time he'd encountered this phrase, he didn't understand its meaning. Even after consulting dictionaries yielded nothing, he naturally assumed "sparrow color" referred to that gentle, faint twilight shade.

Sparrow-colored dusk—a very faint warmth and tranquility.

A'Luo was different. A'Luo was moon-white. Many people thought moon-white meant white, but it was actually a very pale blue—the faint, elusive blue of a distant cold moon. A'Luo was that cold moon, hanging far, far away from him.Footsteps pounded behind him as Que Cha rushed up in one breath: "Xing Shen, you... you, step back a bit. There's no railing on the edge. Don't... don't go any further. Where's Lao Dao? Didn't Lao Dao keep an eye on you?"

Xing Shen chuckled. In the soft, sparrow-colored light, her movements were clumsy and tense—this must be what they called being at a loss.

He said, "I'm fine."

Que Cha was terrified: "You should come down. There's no railing up here! If the wind blows—"

As if on cue, the wind came. Que Cha reflexively crouched down, afraid that standing too upright would send her flying.

Xing Shen settled onto the sofa in the living room.

In the kitchen, Que Cha rummaged through cabinets, busy preparing a drink for him: "Xing Shen, we have white peach oolong, jasmine black tea, freshly squeezed orange or pear juice, and coffee. What would you like?"

Xing Shen: "Coffee, please."

Que Cha acknowledged and excitedly got to work. For a fleeting moment, a pang of guilt crossed her mind: Was she being disloyal to Jiang Baichuan by being so giddy?

But then she reconsidered—what had she actually done? She wasn’t planning anything with Xing Shen. Her feelings were probably just like a young girl fawning over an idol. At her age, she no longer had the fantasies of a teenager. Just being able to meet and talk with him was enough.

Soon, she returned with a tray carrying two steaming cups of coffee, a creamer, and sugar cubes.

After sitting down, she prepared Xing Shen’s cup first: "The coffee I bought is a bit bitter. Adding some sugar and cream will improve the taste..."

Xing Shen said, "It's fine. I prefer black coffee—the more bitter, the better."

But he spoke too slowly, and Que Cha’s hands were too quick—the sugar and cream were already stirred in.

Que Cha reacted swiftly, immediately swapping her cup with his: "I actually guessed you’d like it bitter, so I left yours plain."

Lying to his face was a first for her. Her cheeks burned, but she consoled herself—at least Xing Shen couldn’t see it.

Xing Shen smiled and said, "Thank you."

That smile left Que Cha dazed. She stared at him blankly, thinking: How wonderful.

So refined, polite, elegant, and handsome. His youthful face, when he smiled, was like a spring breeze. If she inhaled deeply, she could almost catch the fresh scent of budding blossoms warmed by the early spring sun.

At seventeen, she had fallen for Jiang Baichuan. Back then, he was twenty-one years older than her. Men aged well—at thirty-eight, he still looked barely thirty, handsome, mature, and wealthy.

Que Cha had thrown herself headlong into that love, dismissing all the young men and promising talents around her. Only now, fifteen years later, did she realize for the first time how wonderful youth truly was.

She lowered her head and took a sip of coffee. This cup, sweetened with sugar and cream, tasted bitter on her tongue. She wasn’t sure if it was the aftertaste or the bitterness already in her heart.

Que Cha searched for conversation: "What have you been busy with? Just got back?"

The moment the words left her mouth, she noticed the shift in Xing Shen’s expression. Just moments ago, his mood had been light; now, it had clearly darkened.

Que Cha knew she’d misspoken: "I... I shouldn’t have asked. I just... always say the wrong things."She gave an awkward laugh, nervously running her fingers through her hair, then felt disgusted by this high-school-girl-like fluster. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t like she was giving a speech in front of a scrutinizing crowd—Xing Shen didn’t even have eyes! What was she so panicked about?

Que Cha pinched her thigh hard, ordering herself to act normal.

Xing Shen tightened his grip on the cup. The heat of the coffee seeped through the porcelain, burning into his fingertips.

He said, “It’s nothing. I went to see my… ex-girlfriend.”

Ex-girlfriend?

Que Cha’s first thought was that the girl must be really something, willing to date Xing Shen—after all, he was blind. No matter how good his other qualities were, most girls would steer clear.

So she blurted out without thinking, “Then… why did you break up? That’s such a shame.”

Great, another wrong thing to say. Such personal matters weren’t for her to pry into. Que Cha stammered again, “F-forget I asked. I’m just like this, really…”

She even forced out two awkward laughs.

Xing Shen said, “Because once, I was determined to do something, and she strongly opposed it.”

Que Cha really wanted to ask what it was, but she didn’t dare pry further. She just lowered her head, took a sip of coffee, then another, ears perked up, hoping Xing Shen would say more.

“She was furious—I’d never seen her so angry since I met her. She liked sculpting clay back then, just starting out. She said she wanted to sculpt me. She had a real talent for it; it looked just like me, almost finished. But to show how angry she was, she smashed it.”

He paused here, as if transported back to the day the sculpture was destroyed: Nie Jiuluo had treasured that sculpture while working on it—no looking, no touching. Even standing too close would make her flare up, as if a heavy breath from him could topple it. Yet when she smashed it, she was utterly resolute.

Jiang Shu was right. If she wanted something, she’d go after it. And if she didn’t want it anymore, she truly didn’t.

He said, “She told me, ‘Xing Shen, if you insist on doing this, fine. But we’re done. Forever.’”

Que Cha cautiously offered her opinion, “That serious?”

Then added, “Actually, a lot of things boil down to miscommunication. If you just sat down and talked it out properly, maybe you could… understand each other.”

Xing Shen smiled and said, “No understanding possible.”

Que Cha racked her brain but couldn’t imagine what it could be. “Honestly, as long as it’s not illegal, criminal, or morally corrupt, I think you should just do what you want. When you’re young, you tend to fight over little things, but years later, you look back and realize it wasn’t worth it at all. What was it you wanted to do so badly back then?”

Xing Shen said, “I blinded myself.”

Que Cha nearly jumped, spilling her entire cup of coffee on herself. “What?”

Xing Shen didn’t respond. In the soft, sparrow-colored light before him, a dark brown stain spread.

He set down his cup and said, “Your clothes are dirty.”

Before leaving Anta, Nie Jiuluo went to see Zhan Jing one more time.Over the past couple of days, she had gathered some new information: In his younger years, Zhan Jing had indeed worked as a Chinese language teacher at a middle school. Around 1999, he was dismissed due to "moral misconduct." The so-called misconduct involved his interference in the marriage of a young couple. The husband had reported him to the school administration, accusing him of being unfit to teach. Fearing the scandal would escalate, the school fired him to hush things up.

Nie Jiuluo did the math—1999, she would have been four years old. Her parents were indeed a "young couple" back then. A year later, her mother had her accident, and another year after that, her father jumped to his death.

...

The foot massage parlor where Zhan Jing worked was small, and he juggled multiple roles—cleaning, preparing foot baths, and even cooking meals for the technicians.

At a little past eight, Zhan Jing finished his shift on time. Rubbing his sore lower back, he stepped out of the parlor, past a poster featuring a pair of delicate feet splashing in water, emblazoned with the words "First-class service, masterful technique."

Nie Jiuluo approached him. "Let's talk," she said.

They chose a dimly lit, quiet bar for their conversation. Zhan Jing had never been to such a place and was visibly uncomfortable, sitting on the edge of his seat as if ready to bolt at any moment.

He stammered an apology to Nie Jiuluo. "Xi Xi, I... I said some nonsense the other day. Don't take it to heart, okay?"

That day, the sudden sight of that jade necklace had unleashed a flood of memories, shattering the fortress of caution and near-cowardice he'd built over a lifetime of hardship. He'd said many things in a fit of hysteria.

Later, he calmed down and felt ridiculous. Pei Ke had been dead for twenty years. Two whole decades—old faces, old stories, like soup gone cold. What was the point of reheating it? Whether cold or hot, he'd be the only one drinking it anyway.

Better not let the past affect the younger generation.

Nie Jiuluo said, "Since you've already said some, why not say more? What exactly happened between you and my mom back then?"

Zhan Jing looked up at her nervously.

She smiled. "Relax, I'm an adult. I've been in relationships, seen all kinds of messy stuff. I can handle it. My parents weren't saints—just ordinary people with emotions. It's rare if they got along well, normal if they didn't. Just tell me."

Zhan Jing stared at her for a long moment. Her features bore a slight resemblance to Pei Ke's, but their personalities were nothing alike. They say character determines fate. If Xiao Ke had been like Xi Xi, her life... would have been very different.

After a long hesitation, he finally spoke. "Did you know... your parents lost a child before you?"

Nie Jiuluo nodded. "Yes, it was very sad. The baby died in the womb. My parents were devastated. Even after I was born, they'd introduce me to others as 'the second daughter.'"

Zhan Jing couldn't bring himself to look at her, his head bowed so low it seemed glued to his chest, his voice barely above a whisper. "That first child... was actually mine."

A faint buzzing filled Nie Jiuluo's ears, like the flutter of a fly or a moth. She even raised a hand to swat at it, but there was nothing there.Zhan Jing suddenly thought of something and quickly raised his head, flustered as he clarified, "But don’t get the wrong idea—she didn’t cheat during the marriage. Your father knew about it. I... Pei Ke and I broke up because of some misunderstandings, and in a fit of anger, I left town. After that, she... she found out she was pregnant. But she was stubborn and didn’t... didn’t contact me. Your father had always liked her, so he told her he was willing to take care of her and would treat the child as his own. Back then, in a small county like ours, gossip was terrifying. So Pei Ke... accepted your father."

"After I returned, I found out about it and even asked Pei Ke to meet and talk. She refused. She told me Xihong was a good man, and she had decided to live a proper life with him. The past was in the past."

Zhan Jing was filled with regret but had no way to fix things. He could only settle down with a job, silently watching Pei Ke from afar—and the child who would soon be born.

"But what I didn’t expect was that, ** months in, the child wasn’t able to survive. It was said to be due to hypoxia in the womb. Pei Ke was devastated, and I was heartbroken too. But later, I thought maybe it was for the best. They were still young; they could have their own child someday."

Sure enough, within two years, Nie Xi was born, and Zhan Jing gradually moved on from the heartbreak. Through an introduction from a colleague, he even started dating a girlfriend.

"Then, when you were about three years old, one day after work, I suddenly saw Pei Ke waiting for me at my door. She looked terrible—she must have been crying, her whole face haggard. I quickly let her inside. Then, Pei Ke told me... she suspected..."

At this point, he glanced fearfully at Nie Jiuluo, his voice dropping even lower. "Based on a lot of small details and clues, she suspected... that your father had done something to make her... lose the baby."

Nie Jiuluo said, "Oh."

She didn’t know why she was so calm. Maybe it was because she had already braced herself for the worst.

Perhaps provoked by her indifference, Zhan Jing suddenly grew agitated. "Your father... the truth is, he hated that child from the start. He just pretended to be kind to win Pei Ke’s trust, and then he sabotaged things behind her back. How terrifying is that, right?"

"Pei Ke was introverted and didn’t have many close friends, so during that time, she often came to me. I... I’m not afraid of you laughing at me, but I still had feelings for her, so I paid extra attention to her troubles. Later, your father secretly went to the school, and I lost my job."

Back then, issues related to personal conduct were enough to socially ruin someone in a small county. With his job gone, his girlfriend left him too.

This incident solidified Pei Ke’s resolve to leave Nie Xihong. She filed for divorce.

Nie Jiuluo’s lips felt dry. She picked up the glass of lemon water in front of her and lightly moistened them. "Logically, I should have been four or five by then—old enough to remember things. But I don’t recall them ever having big fights."

Zhan Jing smiled bitterly. "In our time, most people cared about saving face. Even if a couple slept in separate beds at home, they’d still act harmonious in public. They wouldn’t argue in front of you—you were just a child.""Anyway, things were at a standstill for a while. Then one day, Xiao Ke told me she was going on a trip with your dad for a few days. She also said it was about time, and that they'd probably officially break up after returning."

A surge of bitterness rose to Zhan Jing's throat, then welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. "After that, she never came back. No body, not even ashes—just said she was buried out of town. Xi Xi, can you really believe it was just an accident? Even if it was, as long as your dad was there when it happened, I'm convinced he's absolutely involved!"