Love on the Turquoise Land

That night, Jiang Baichuan was indeed swamped with work. Lao Dao's injuries were critical, and the county hospital said they couldn't handle it, recommending a transfer to a major hospital in Xi'an.

Jiang Baichuan wanted to accompany them, but the matter of the Nanba Monkey Head was still hanging unresolved, leaving him unable to leave. He had no choice but to arrange personnel, allocate vehicles, and ask acquaintances in Xi'an to look after them. It wasn't until past 1 a.m. that he finally stepped out of the county hospital's outpatient hall, reeking of disinfectant.

Everyone else had already left, leaving only a Prado waiting for him outside. Xing Shen hadn't left either, probably finding the car too stuffy, leaning against the hood and gazing at the sky.

He wondered what the sky looked like in Xing Shen's eyes.

Given his age, Jiang Baichuan was utterly exhausted. He wiped his face dry as a feeble attempt to stay alert, then habitually pulled out his phone to quickly skim through the messages he'd missed over the past few hours.

When he opened the "burn after reading" section, he saw that Nie Jiuluo had sent several messages in a row. After reading them one by one, he was momentarily stunned. When he tried to review them more carefully, flames licked across the screen—the messages had already been destroyed.

Fortunately, he remembered each one clearly.

Glancing at the time—1:30 a.m.—he figured Nie Jiuluo would already be asleep at this hour. A phone call wouldn't be appropriate. He'd wait until morning.

Nie Jiuluo woke up early the next day.

Yan Tuo was already unconscious and thus very quiet, but this wasn’t a good sign. Those injured by the Di Xiao followed a pattern: the first stage was mental confusion, the second was unbearable pain, and the third was quiet as a chicken. The boundary between the third and fourth stages was when the roots sprouted.

Of course, individual constitutions and tolerances varied, so the duration of each stage differed. Generally, the first three stages occurred within 24 hours of the injury. The fourth stage was the longest, marking the terminal phase—also known as the "last rally." During this stage, the person would return to normal, even appearing more clear-headed and sharp-witted, giving those around them the false impression that they had "pulled through and were fine." Then, suddenly one day, they would lose all rationality, biting people and dogs alike, no different from wild beasts.

Nie Jiuluo opened the window to check the sky. The clouds were thick, and the sun hadn’t fully risen yet. At this hour, she couldn’t harness the natural fire.

She checked her phone again.

Jiang Baichuan had replied around 2 a.m., leaving a number and instructing her to call back as soon as she saw the message, no matter the time.

Nie Jiuluo went into the bathroom, closed the door, and dialed Jiang Baichuan.

The call was answered almost instantly. Nie Jiuluo suspected Jiang Baichuan had barely slept all night, waiting for her call.

Sure enough, Jiang Baichuan’s voice was hoarse with exhaustion: "Nie Jiuluo, what do you think about this?"

Nie Jiuluo replied, "Uncle Jiang, you’re asking for my opinion?"

Jiang Baichuan gave a bitter laugh. "They say those involved are blind, while bystanders see clearly. I’d like to hear your thoughts."

He wasn’t wrong. She did consider herself a "bystander," someone who could retreat to her little courtyard at any time, sipping the soup Sister Lu had prepared, continuing her sculpting studies, exhibiting her work, winning awards, and then touring with her exhibitions—chasing fame and fortune, living her worldly life steadily and solidly.

People like Banya weren’t part of her other world; they were just a small door within her world. She occasionally stepped through it to settle old debts, but she would never let what lay beyond that door interfere with her real life.

She said, "In my opinion, we should try to peacefully retrieve our people, and then... let the matter rest."Jiang Baichuan didn't quite understand: "What do you mean by 'let it go'?"

Nie Jiuluo said, "Uncle Jiang, we've always believed ourselves to be extraordinary—descendants of the Turbaned Army, keepers of hidden secrets, possessors of abilities beyond ordinary people. Yes, all that is true. But if you're extraordinary, does that mean your opponents must be ordinary?"

Jiang Baichuan fell silent.

"Xing Shen stumbled over this very point. He's the Mad Dog, with Mazha by his side, and Lao Dao is one of the best from the Blade family. He thought this combination was invincible, that kidnapping two people would be effortless. But what happened? One random person from their side crippled Lao Dao. If that person hadn't suddenly left, I doubt even Xing Shen would've made it out."

Jiang Baichuan muttered, "That person... was really a Di Xiao? How could they suddenly lose their scent..."

Nie Jiuluo retorted, "Maybe this branch of Di Xiao that has 'humanized' long ago lost their scent. You just haven't encountered them before."

"What about Gou Ya..."

"Can Gou Ya represent the others? Maybe Gou Ya just happened to be one of the less evolved ones. Do you remember? Gou Ya was carried around in a box at the time."

Whereas that Xiong Hei was clearly operating independently.

Jiang Baichuan said nothing more. He had previously declared, "No matter how they change, their weakness remains the same." Now, looking back, it was indeed an overstatement.

"Uncle Jiang, up to now, on your side, Hua Saozi is dead, four people including Crippled Father are missing, and Lao Dao is severely injured. On their side, they've suffered almost no losses. Apart from knowing about Yan Tuo and Gou Ya, you know nothing else. Can't you see the disparity in strength?"

"Most of the people under you joined the Green Path for wealth. Now it's increasingly becoming a matter of life and death. How many do you think will still be willing to wade into this mess?"

"And Yan Tuo—the first time I looked into his background, I noticed his father's generation had already amassed wealth. Over the years, their assets have only grown. Imagine a group of fully humanized Di Xiao, controlling vast resources and having operated for a long time. Do you really want to clash head-on with them, or is it wiser to cut your losses and 'let it go'?"

Jiang Baichuan was unwilling: "But our people are injured or dead. Are we just going to accept that?"

Nie Jiuluo smiled. "Here's an inappropriate analogy: they have heavy artillery, while you're armed with spears and swords. You've already lost half your forces. Are you really going to send the rest charging in? Even if you still want to fight back, shouldn't you first preserve your strength, improve your equipment, and then plan a counterattack?"

Jiang Baichuan sighed.

He wasn't a fool. Nie Jiuluo had no ties to Banya and the others—she was watching from the sidelines, speaking without personal stakes. But everything she said made sense.

At first, he had been full of ambition, wanting to uncover the truth behind Yan Tuo, confident that with their strength, nothing would be difficult.

But when people get hit, they feel pain and fear. After repeated losses, now even the Gou family might not be able to detect these Di Xiao by scent...

Charging ahead might be brave, but assessing the situation and knowing when to retreat is the wiser choice.

Jiang Baichuan said, "There are two problems now. First, how to ransom our people. We have no direct line of communication with the other side—no one to act as a bridge.""The second thing is, I'm afraid it's not as simple as us wanting to 'let it go' and being able to 'let it go.' We did injure Gou Ya and Yan Tuo first, but they rescued their people, burned down the pig farm, and even killed Hua Saozi. By all accounts, their anger should have been vented by now. But they haven't stopped—they kidnapped Crippled Father, ambushed our people at Nanba Houtou, and injured Lao Dao. I feel like this isn’t just about settling a score anymore. There seems to be something else going on behind the scenes. If only we could figure out what their real goal is."

—No one could bridge the gap between the two sides.

—If only we could figure out what their real goal is.

Nie Jiuluo’s heart stirred, and her gaze involuntarily drifted toward the door.

The person outside might just be able to help with both of those things.

After a moment of consideration, she said, "Jiang Shu, do you remember that Yan Tuo once called me?"

Her reminder jogged Jiang Baichuan’s memory. Back when the incident first happened, he had tried a tactic of "luring the snake out of its hole"—deliberately letting Yan Tuo’s accomplices "accidentally" rescue him. His plan had been to kill two birds with one stone: let them cause trouble for Nie Jiuluo, both to uncover new leads and to force her hand, possibly even compelling her to fully join their side.

But the plan had backfired spectacularly. Instead of "two birds," the stone he threw hadn’t even made a sound. First, Hua Saozi had been killed during Yan Tuo’s rescue. Though she was just Crippled Father’s late-life companion and Jiang had no personal ties to her, Que Cha brought it up often enough that he still felt ashamed. Second, the other side hadn’t gone after Nie Jiuluo at all—they’d only called her once. At the time, he’d assumed the call would be followed by a storm, but instead, it had fizzled out completely.

Jiang Baichuan found the whole thing baffling. "You’re right—why hasn’t he made a move since then? Could he be planning something big?"

Nie Jiuluo replied, "Back then, the call showed up as 'Unknown,' so I couldn’t call back. This morning, I saw another missed call from an 'Unknown' number. Judging by the timing, it was after last night’s incident. Do you think it could be him? I doubt telemarketers would call in the middle of the night."

Jiang Baichuan’s head was spinning. "It’s possible. But why would he contact you again?"

Nie Jiuluo said, "My guess is, just as we have no way to communicate with them, they have no way to communicate with us either. They can’t keep relying on Ma Hanzi to pass messages. If he calls again, I’ll answer and try to sound out their intentions. We’ll… keep each other updated."

Though he was in the warmth of his bedroom, Jiang Baichuan still felt a chill after hanging up the phone.

He had indeed acted rashly. Like Xing Shen the night before, he’d been brimming with confidence, charging ahead—only to realize the situation was completely out of his control.

A knock came at the door. Jiang Baichuan snapped out of his thoughts, adjusted his robe, and cleared his throat. "Who is it?"

It was Xing Shen outside. "Jiang Shu, dinner’s ready downstairs. Should we go down, or have it brought up and eat separately?"

For safety reasons, they hadn’t returned to Banya’s place or booked a hotel after this trip. Instead, they’d rented a three-story house in a nearby village. It was fully furnished, with plenty of rooms, and the landlord provided meals for an extra fee—very convenient.

Jiang Baichuan said, "Have it brought up. We’ll eat separately."

...In the countryside, people aren't so particular. Breakfast was brought directly on a kang table and placed on the bed, ready to eat.

Jiang Baichuan hastily wiped his face and rinsed his mouth before sitting opposite Xing Shen at the table. Unsure how to broach the subject, he politely offered food first: "These fried pancakes are quite good, rustic flavor. Have some more."

Xing Shen picked one up with his chopsticks but had no appetite. "Jiang Shu, today's the 8th."

Jiang Baichuan responded absentmindedly, "Yes, it is."

Xing Shen continued, "We didn't go to Nanba Monkey Head, and last night's incident happened. I wonder how they'll react."

Jiang Baichuan hesitated, searching for a tactful approach. "Xing Shen, last night, Mazha never attacked that big guy. It was strange."

Xing Shen nodded. "Yes, that's never happened before. But Mazha can't speak, so we can't get any answers. This isn't simple. If it happens a few more times, it'll be too troublesome."

So you also think it's "not simple"? That makes things easier. Jiang Baichuan tentatively suggested, "Do you think that big guy might be a Di Xiao?"

Xing Shen didn't respond immediately. After a pause, he set down his chopsticks and raised his head so Jiang Baichuan could see his face clearly.

"Jiang Shu, are you doubting my abilities by saying that?"

Jiang Baichuan sighed inwardly. He knew Xing Shen well—his strong sense of pride was why Jiang had been tiptoeing around the subject. But since Xing Shen was being direct, there was no need to keep treading carefully.

"I just called Nie Er. She said when she left last night, she saw Yan Tuo being rescued and overheard some information. That big guy is indeed a Di Xiao."

Xing Shen: "Impossible."

Jiang Baichuan grabbed a fried pancake with his bare hand, took a big bite, then lowered his head to sip some noodle soup. "It's possible. They've evolved to look just like humans—even that stench is gone now. Not surprising."

"Gou Ya..."

Jiang Baichuan knew he'd bring up Gou Ya. "Isn't there a saying, 'judging the whole by a part'? Gou Ya might just be the 'part,' not representative of the rest."

Having said his piece, he slurped his soup without looking up at Xing Shen. No need to—he already knew the expression would be unpleasant. But it didn't matter. Xing Shen wasn't a child; he could work through it himself. These days, people had to bend to the world—when had the world ever made way for anyone?

A long time passed—so long that Jiang Baichuan had nearly finished his meal—before Xing Shen spoke again. "Maybe A Luo didn't hear everything correctly. Someone like that big guy might just be an exception."

"True, he might be an exception. Or maybe Gou Ya is the exception. Xing Shen, let me be frank—Lao Dao was the best of the Dao family, and he's already lost. If the Gou family becomes useless too, then your old Jiang Shu here will have to start fearing and planning an exit strategy."

Xing Shen's expression remained blank, but the corners of his mouth tightened slightly. "Jiang Shu, what do you mean by that?"

Jiang Baichuan chuckled. "Exactly what you think I mean. We'll do our best to rescue those who've lost contact. After that, we should live more cautiously."

Xing Shen: "What do you mean by 'live more cautiously'?"

Jiang Baichuan felt a headache coming on. He admired Xing Shen, but when he got stubborn, it was truly exasperating.Xing Shen said, "Now there are di xiao that look just like humans. These creatures feed on raw flesh and blood, eating people as easily as playing. We don’t know how many there are, hiding among the populace. Do you really think they’ve emerged to do charity work? Jiang Shu, are we just going to ignore this?"

"Our ancestors, the Turbaned Army, locked the Golden Door when they entered the caves to hunt di xiao. Why? Because they feared the di xiao would emerge into the world. Once these things taste human flesh, it’s like getting hooked on drugs—they can never stop. That Gou Ya has eaten people in Xingba Village. As long as he’s alive, he’ll surely crave more. Are we just going to ignore that too?"

"The three families—Dao, Gou, and Bian—why was the Dao family established? The Dao family hunts di xiao and kills them. A-Luo took up the Life-Death Blade—the Life Blade for hunting, the Death Blade for killing. If di xiao enter the world, it’s her responsibility. Is she going to ignore it too?"

This barrage of "ignore it too" questions stoked Jiang Baichuan’s anger. He slammed his palm on the kang table, nearly spilling the bowl of hand-pulled noodle soup in front of Xing Shen. "You mentioned our ancestors, the Turbaned Army—back then, they were an entire army! In terms of manpower, strength, and equipment, they were the best of their time! But now? If you talk to Nie Jiuluo about responsibility, do you think she’ll abandon her sculptures to chase after di xiao?"

Xing Shen watched the bowl on the table, barely steady, its broth still rippling. The bowl remained intact, but the liquid inside was a turbulent shimmer of light.

He said, "A-Luo should come back."

Yan Tuo was jolted awake by a searing, heart-piercing burn.

It wasn’t a dream—it was real. A cluster of orange-red flames flickered past his eyes as Nie Jiuluo moved the fire starter away.

It was the kind of fire starter used for cupping therapy—durable, long-burning, with a handle and a wire-mesh head wrapped in non-combustible asbestos. Very practical.

The room was bright, the curtains drawn all the way to let in large swaths of warm sunlight.

Nie Jiuluo asked, "Awake?"

She peeled the tape off his mouth and cut the bindings on his hands and feet. "It’s going to hurt a lot soon, so you’ll need to breathe through your mouth. I’m freeing your limbs so you can control yourself. I don’t have the strength to hold you down—you’ll have to manage on your own. Just so you know, the sprouts are already out."

Yan Tuo’s mind reeled, his face paling. "Where?"

Nie Jiuluo pointed to his abdomen, his side, and his thigh. "See for yourself."

Yan Tuo looked down.

Sure enough, in those wounded areas, there were blackish-brown, coiled strands like curled hair. And—maybe it was psychological—but he could swear they were itching.

Nie Jiuluo even described them for him. "Want to touch them? They’re soft, elastic—if you pull them, they’ll spring back."

Touch them? Just looking was nauseating enough. The idea that these disgusting things were growing out of his wounds was enough to drive him mad.

Yan Tuo turned his head away, gripping the edges of the sofa tightly. "Just get started."