Love on the Turquoise Land

Halfway through the meal, Chen Fu excused himself to the restroom and instructed Han Guan, "Order more dishes. Eat your fill while you can. Once we head into the mountains, we won’t have such luxuries."

So these two were here to oversee matters in Nanba Houtou. Reverse reasoning suggested: were there no dixiao in Nanba Houtou at the moment? If so, did that mean if she took care of these two, the traps set in Nanba Houtou would no longer be a threat?

But then Nie Jiuluo sighed inwardly. She didn’t even know where Nanba Houtou was, nor did she have anyone to mobilize now. In the past, she could just send a message to "Natou," and everything would be handled. But now...

No wonder they said a single tree couldn’t make a forest—strength lay in numbers.

Meanwhile, Chen Fu had entered the restroom intending only to relieve himself. Midstream, his stomach suddenly growled loudly. Cursing the restaurant’s unclean cooking, he hurried into a stall. After finishing, he grabbed toilet paper and wiped.

Just then, the door creaked open, and two men walked in to urinate. Amid the splashing sounds, they chatted.

One said, "What time is it, and they’re still ordering? I just managed to nap after finishing my shift, and now I’m called back."

The other replied, "Ugh, same here. I just got back from a delivery, and now there’s another order."

They sounded like staff—one from the kitchen, the other a delivery guy.

The first one continued, "These scam-marrying gays are getting way too bold. Dragging a woman into marriage—what’s the point?"

The other scoffed, "Don’t you think he’s blind? Such a beautiful woman, and he picks someone so much older and uglier, with a nose more hooked than an eagle’s."

Chen Fu’s heart skipped a beat, and he pricked up his ears.

Honestly, most of their chatter went in one ear and out the other—he didn’t think any of it concerned him.

Except for one detail.

He had a hooked nose.

The first man asked, "Has the beauty come out yet?"

The other replied, "Not yet. Honestly, she should record this as evidence. If there’s a dispute during the breakup, she can expose him and—"

Chen Fu yanked up his pants, shoved the stall door open, and stormed out.

Two minutes later, Chen Fu stuffed the two beaten and unconscious men into the farthest stall, locked it from the inside, then climbed over the toilet and slipped out, returning to the private room as if nothing had happened.

Han Guan was already impatient. "Thought you fell in."

Chen Fu shot him a look. "Ugh, diarrhea. This place’s food looks good but isn’t clean."

Han Guan blinked, not quite catching on, until Chen Fu mouthed at him to keep talking.

Then Chen Fu took off his shoes.

Han Guan vaguely understood, his heart pounding. He tapped his chopsticks against the plate, picked up his teacup, then set it down again. "Bro, your stomach’s weak. I’m totally fine."

Chen Fu stepped onto the bench, slowly straightening up. The bench was attached to the partition—wooden, prone to creaking under too much force. So he had to take off his shoes and move as lightly and slowly as possible.

Han Guan slammed his chopsticks on the table. "Bro Chen, Sister Lin assigned me because she trusts me. In Nanba Houtou, if anyone shows up, I’ll make sure they don’t leave alive—"

He watched as Chen Fu’s head peeked over the top of the partition, then silently withdrew.

Their eyes met, and Chen Fu pointed to the next room.

Han Guan’s head buzzed. He mouthed, "Someone there?"

Chen Fu suddenly cursed, "Damn, this place takes forever with the food and gave me the runs. Screw this. Let’s go."

***Nie Jiuluo cracked the door open slightly, waiting until the bill was settled outside. As soon as she saw the two men leave the restaurant, she hurried out, dialing her driver while walking to have the car brought over immediately.

The girl at the cashier called after her, "Hey! Hey!"

Nie Jiuluo had no time to spare, anxious not to lose track of the two men. The girl, growing impatient, ducked under the counter and rushed out, grabbing her arm. "Hey."

What fresh trouble was this? Just as Nie Jiuluo was about to snap, the girl lowered her voice. "You were seen!"

What did that mean?

A chill shot through Nie Jiuluo’s heart, and she halted abruptly.

The girl pointed toward the private dining area. "While I was tallying the bill, I looked up and saw a head peering down from above the partition—staring right at you—before it ducked back. Scared the hell out of me; I almost screamed. I tried calling you, but you wouldn’t stop!"

Nie Jiuluo’s mind blanked for a moment, unsure how to react. Stiffly, she managed, "Really?"

The girl took it as a normal response. "Men these days are way too sneaky. You really shouldn’t marry him."

Nie Jiuluo didn’t even register what she muttered in reply, her mind fixated on one phrase.

—You were seen.

And from above, no less. The thought was horrifying. Looking back, she hadn’t once glanced upward the entire time.

Instinctively, Nie Jiuluo pulled a mask from her bag and put it on.

Outside, the car had already arrived. The sky had dimmed, the sunlight weaker now, carrying a bleak chill. Nie Jiuluo scanned the surroundings but didn’t spot the two men.

Yet there was no doubt—they were watching from the shadows. In mere moments, she had gone from the hunter to the hunted.

Nie Jiuluo got into the car.

As the car started moving, the driver asked, "Miss, still heading to the station?"

Nie Jiuluo hummed in acknowledgment, then changed her mind. "No."

She gathered her thoughts. "Driver, do you know the way to the countryside—where there’s a reed marsh?"

The driver, a local familiar with rural routes, recognized it immediately. "Ah, Dalikeng Village, right? No one lives there now. Heard there was a car accident a couple of days ago—a vehicle drove straight into a pond. It’s still submerged."

Nie Jiuluo: "Take me there."

This needed to be resolved quickly. A deserted spot would make it easier—for them to strike, and for her to act.

Her suitcase was in the trunk, but thankfully, her most crucial backpack was with her. Nie Jiuluo draped her coat over the front seat and bent to change clothes. Her fingers brushed against her skin—warm, while her hands were icy.

The driver found it odd and glanced in the rearview mirror but tactfully averted his gaze.

Two Di Xiao.

And they were prepared.

Nie Jiuluo took a deep breath. This was her first time facing such a situation. Before, no matter the circumstances, Jiang Baichuan would always be there to inform, arrange, and back her up.

Xing Shen was gone. Now, she didn’t even have anyone to rely on.

Once changed, Nie Jiuluo straightened up. The car had already left the city. Through the rear windshield, she saw numerous vehicles behind them—impossible to tell which one carried the lurking threat.

But it didn’t matter. She’d find out soon enough.

Nie Jiuluo steadied her breathing. Driven by some inexplicable impulse, she pulled out her phone and sent Yan Tuo a message.

—Have you left yet?

Yan Tuo received the message while on the road.His mind was now set on going to the farm. Although he didn’t have an excuse yet, the day-long journey back would give him plenty of time to think of one.

After lunch, he packed his luggage and borrowed Lü Xian’s car—for safety reasons, he had been using other people’s cars during this period. Though Lü Xian was reluctant, Yan Tuo’s promise of “if it gets damaged, I’ll buy you a more expensive one” settled the matter.

Secretly, Lü Xian even hoped it would get damaged—after all, old friends are best, but new cars are more appealing.

...

Yan Tuo steered with one hand and replied: Already left.

After a pause, Nie Jiuluo sent back: Far away?

Yan Tuo glanced at the navigation and the road signs ahead. They hadn’t been out of the city long, so it wasn’t too far, but her question was odd.

He replied with two words: Something up?

The words “something up” stumped Nie Jiuluo. She felt she was being impulsive: no matter what, Yan Tuo was ostensibly on Natou’s side, and it was he who had sent her those two people’s photos. Was there any point in calling him over?

She put on her coat, tucked her knife into her sleeve, and turned to look back again. The cars behind were thinning out, but a gray-white Tiguan remained steadily in sight.

Nie Jiuluo transferred money to the driver and instructed, “Step on it, go faster.”

Looking back again, sure enough, that car also accelerated.

The situation was practically laid bare. Nie Jiuluo told the driver, “When we get there, drop me off immediately and keep driving straight. Don’t take the same route back to the city. Hold onto my luggage for now—I have your number and will contact you later to get it.”

The driver vaguely sensed this wasn’t the usual stakeout for catching a cheating spouse. Moreover, as they sped up, he noticed the car relentlessly pursuing them, and his legs began to tremble: was he caught in some underworld vendetta, about to star in a car chase scene?

As an ordinary citizen, he couldn’t afford the losses of a wrecked car or injuries. Safety and speed limits were the last things on his mind now. For the latter half of the trip, he drove like a rocket. Spotting the reeds in the distance, he slammed on the brakes. Nie Jiuluo jumped out, and before she could even close the door properly, the car roared away.

Nie Jiuluo stood by the roadside for two seconds, ensuring the pursuers wouldn’t think she was still in the car. Only when the Tiguan slowed did she dash into the tall grass.

The place was just as desolate and silent as it had been two days ago. The warm yellow afternoon sun was gone, replaced by a cold white glow.

The grass here was over a person’s height, topped with fluffy white tassels. Her running disturbed them, sending tiny tufts floating around her, rising and falling endlessly.

The car slowly drove down, keeping a wide stretch of grass between them.

Nie Jiuluo didn’t want to end up like Xing Shen, chased and run over by a car. She needed cover.

She quickly headed for the abandoned houses nearby.

Chen Fu was driving, his face grim, lips pressed tightly together, the lines at the corners of his mouth as hooked as the tip of his nose.

Han Guan was uneasy. “Brother Chen, shouldn’t we ask who she is?”

Chen Fu said, “What’s the point? Ordinary people don’t eavesdrop on us.”

Han Guan: “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding? She might’ve thought her fiancé was in our room?”Chen Fu said, "If it was a mistake, you'd realize it after hearing a word or two. Would you listen all the way through? I even took a shit in the middle, and she was still there."

Han Guan swallowed hard. "Then... should we report it to Sister Lin's side?"

Chen Fu sneered. "Let Sister Lin know we were so careless, talking recklessly outside and getting overheard? This could be a big deal or a small one. Do you not know what happened to Gou Ya?"

Han Guan fell silent.

Ahead were the half-collapsed, abandoned earthen houses. Chen Fu stopped the car and jutted his chin toward one of them. "It's behind that one, right?"

Han Guan nodded. "I saw clearly—it flashed there and then disappeared."

Chen Fu curled his lips disdainfully. These were all mud-brick houses, with dense straw still jutting from the collapsed roofs.

He bent down, picked up a German-made submachine gun from the floor, and handed it to Han Guan. "Thirty rounds. Empty the clip before reloading."

Han Guan hesitated. "Empty it?"

Chen Fu snapped, "Of course empty it. Who are you saving it for? Oh, right..." He grabbed a silencer and tossed it over. "Attach this."

Han Guan screwed on the silencer, hefted the gun, then aimed outward. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the trigger. Bullets sprayed out in a fan-shaped arc.

In an instant, dust and debris erupted from the earthen house like thick fog. Though the mud walls were over forty centimeters thick, the submachine gun's bullets could pierce steel plates, let alone mud. The air was filled with the continuous whizzing of bullets.

Amid the dust, Chen Fu spotted a figure darting out and shouted, "Over there!"

Han Guan swung the gun muzzle toward the house where the figure had fled and emptied the rest of the clip. The earthen house trembled violently, as if the person inside was convulsing from the bullets' impact. By the time the clip was empty, half the wall collapsed with a thunderous crash.

From the billowing dust, a figure stumbled out, staggered a few steps, and then ducked into a nearby pump house.

Han Guan said, "Out of ammo."

Chen Fu tossed him a fresh clip while cursing, "Damn, still alive? Tough bastard."

Pump houses were common in rural areas, used for farmland irrigation. Most were built of brick since they housed water pumps, hence also called pump rooms.

The pumps drew water from deep wells and distributed it through pipes. In earlier years, when machinery was valuable, farmers would sometimes stay overnight to guard the equipment.

Later, with the spread of smart pump houses, standalone ones gradually fell into disuse. In the Dali Pit Township area, where even people were scarce, the pump house had long been abandoned. Inside, the machinery was coated in thick dust, pipes were strewn haphazardly, and the deep well in the corner was covered with a mishmash of wooden planks.

Nie Jiuluo leaned against the doorframe, panting heavily, clutching her coat tighter. Her hands, gripping the fabric, were smeared with blood.

She knew she must have been shot—she could feel warm liquid gushing from somewhere on her body. But she didn’t dare look down. The human spirit was fragile; ignorance could sustain endurance, but once you saw and understood, bolstered by imagination, collapse was immediate.

With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and sent Yan Tuo a message: "Reed Marsh."

She had meant to type more, but her hands shook too violently, accidentally hitting send. When she tried to add another message, the screen, smeared with blood, no longer responded to touch.Then, gunfire erupted again from the brick wall behind her, accompanied by the sound of flying debris.

The brick wall wouldn’t hold for long either. Nie Jiuluo lunged toward the corner of the room.

Han Guan had already seen blood on the way to the pump house, so he was relatively relaxed. Besides, a brick wall wasn’t much sturdier than a mud one—just a few levels tougher.

After emptying the second magazine, the brick wall was riddled with a dozen or so holes. Han Guan didn’t bother asking Chen Fu in the car for another magazine. He slung the submachine gun over his shoulder, leaned in to take a look, then signaled back to Chen Fu without turning his head—a thumbs-up: “Done!”

Chen Fu exhaled in relief, fishing out a cigarette from the glove compartment and lighting it. “A damn woman, causing so much trouble!”

Han Guan stepped inside the house.

Nie Jiuluo lay face down on the ground, motionless, a large pool of blood spreading beneath her. Her long hair, thick and soft like satin, shimmered in the fading light before sunset.

Han Guan crouched down, unable to resist running his fingers through her hair. The strands near the back of her head were still warm.

He nudged her face with the muzzle of his gun, wanting to see what she looked like.

At that moment, Nie Jiuluo’s eyes snapped open. Summoning every ounce of strength, she flipped over and drove a dagger straight into Han Guan’s throat.

Han Guan’s eyes widened in shock. Instinctively, his hands flew to his neck—but it wasn’t over yet. Nie Jiuluo pressed a hidden switch on the dagger’s hilt. Though the blade remained lodged in his throat, a smaller, secondary blade slid out from within. With a swift motion, she plunged this second blade straight down through the top of his skull, burying it to the hilt.

The entire sequence took less than five seconds. Han Guan stared blankly at Nie Jiuluo, his still-blinking eyes gradually filling with blood—first bright red, then darkening to black, as if his pupils had expanded to consume his entire gaze.

Nie Jiuluo spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto Han Guan’s face and muttered, “Go to hell.”

She yanked the dagger free, ignoring Han Guan as he crumpled to the side, and gritted her teeth, pressing a hand to her abdomen.

The sudden movement had sent a tearing pain through her stomach. Blood seeped from multiple wounds—so much that she could swear her coat was soaked through.

Still, she refused to look down.

She couldn’t.

After a few drags of his cigarette, Chen Fu suddenly realized Han Guan had gone silent for a while.

Frowning, he glanced toward the pump house. “Han Guan?”

No answer. The bullet-riddled brick house exuded a creeping aura of death.

Chen Fu crushed the cigarette butt in his palm, opened the car door, and stepped out.