Love on the Turquoise Land

Nie Jiuluo stated the facts: "Not necessarily. If it's something exceptionally good, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, missing it would be quite regrettable."

This was indeed... hard to refute.

Yan Tuo thought for a moment: "Well, the opportunity's already missed since you weren't awake... Let's get to the main business."

Main business—there was so much of it, they'd have to tackle it one thing at a time.

Starting with the most urgent, Nie Jiuluo began with the pump house: "Where are Han Guan and Chen Fu?"

Fortunately, photos had been taken for documentation. Yan Tuo pulled up the images and handed them to Nie Jiuluo: "Scroll through—there are about ten. At the time, his body was very light, completely withered. I doused him in gasoline, lit him up, and threw him into the pump well."

Nie Jiuluo flipped through the photos one by one, occasionally zooming in to examine details, then nodded: "This... basically checks out. He's considered dead."

Good news. Entry 015, Han Guan, could now be permanently deleted from the Excel spreadsheet.

"How did you kill him? What was the vital point? The top of the head?"

Nie Jiuluo nodded: "Two major vital points—the crown of the skull and the seventh vertebra of the spine. Fatal injuries to these two spots will ensure 'death' for at least three to six months. That's exactly what I did to Gou Ya back then."

Yan Tuo: "Only three to six months? Can't they die permanently? What about Han Guan..."

Nie Jiuluo hesitated: "My knife is different."

Ah, so that was it. Yan Tuo pressed further: "What if I used your knife? Could I kill them then?"

Nie Jiuluo's answer was cryptic: "That depends. If you stole my knife, it wouldn't work. But if you borrowed it with my sincere permission, then yes."

This knife had quite the personality. Yan Tuo raised an eyebrow: "Is your knife... sentient?"

Nie Jiuluo lowered her lashes: "Believe what you want."

Since it was up to him to believe, he might as well. The knife was hers, so her rules applied. Besides, why steal when borrowing was an option?

Yan Tuo returned to the main topic: "If the injuries aren't to the crown or the seventh vertebra, but just ordinary fatal wounds—like slitting the throat or stabbing the heart—using regular knives or scissors, how long would the 'death' last?"

Nie Jiuluo: "You need to understand—slitting the throat or stabbing the heart is fatal to humans, but for dixiao, it's just an ordinary injury because it's not fatal. Ordinary injuries heal much faster. For example, a slit throat just cuts off breathing, and a stabbed heart just stops it temporarily. The transition from stopped to resumed breathing, or from a still heart to a beating one, happens quickly—three to five days, ten days to half a month, depending on constitution."

Yan Tuo's expression changed. He said, "Wait a moment."

As he spoke, he stood up, and before the words had fully left his mouth, he was already out the door.

Nie Jiuluo was puzzled and turned to look outside. The sound of the security door opening echoed, followed by hurried footsteps descending the stairs.

Waiting a moment was fine—she was exhausted after talking so much.

Nie Jiuluo leaned back against the cushion, breathing lightly but deeply to regulate herself. After a while, she picked up a sculpture book and tried to peel off the plastic wrap, but with only one hand, she struggled for a long time without success.

Determined, she brought the book to her teeth and bit down—her teeth were much more efficient. With a sharp rip , the plastic tore open.

Just as she was about to repeat the trick on another book, the door opened, followed by the sound of rolling suitcase wheels approaching. Nie Jiuluo quickly put the book down and resumed her poised, artistic posture.

After all, she was an "artist," and she had to maintain appearances.Turning back, she saw Yan Tuo pushing a large, wheeled suitcase into the room before closing the door and locking it securely.

Nie Jiuluo lowered her voice, "Is there... a person inside?"

Yan Tuo shot her a glance, "In your mind, my suitcase is just for transporting people, is that it?"

Wasn't it? Nie Jiuluo thought to herself, her eyes fixed on the suitcase.

Yan Tuo laid the suitcase on its side by the bed, entered the combination, and with a soft click of the lock, the lid popped open. Inside was a large cloth bag. He reached in and pulled back a corner of the fabric.

Nie Jiuluo thought, Well, it's still a person.

And a "familiar" one at that—Chen Fu, his face ashen and lifeless, his mouth sealed with tape.

Nie Jiuluo took a deep breath and slowly bent down to look.

There was a bloody hole in Chen Fu's throat. Of course, several days had passed, so the wound was no longer bleeding but had darkened to a dull brown. And from the wound, like a spider spinning silk, dozens of tangled silver threads had sprouted.

"Good," Nie Jiuluo exhaled, leaning back with difficulty. "It hasn't fully formed yet. When it turns into a complete membrane and starts to swell, it'll be about time."

She was also a little surprised, "Where did you keep him? In the car?"

Yan Tuo nodded with a bitter smile, "Nowhere felt safe. Carrying him around was the most secure option. The first couple of days, I kept him at home and couldn't relax for a second. Got lucky—if the police had stopped me for a random check, well... no amount of explaining would've helped."

Nie Jiuluo asked, "Do you want him dead?"

She was willing to do the job herself. Besides, most of her injuries were thanks to Chen Fu.

Yan Tuo shook his head, "I want to get some information out of him. It's just... he refuses to talk."

He pulled the cloth bag shut and closed the suitcase lid. Initially, he thought about sliding it under the bed but found the idea unsettling. Then he considered placing it in the corner, but it felt like someone was crouching there. In the end, he left it in the living room temporarily.

When he returned to the room, a thought struck him, "Do you want some water?"

During their long chat at the braised food shop last time, he had served her quite a few cups of tea.

Nie Jiuluo didn’t really want any—after all, she wasn’t in a position to visit the bathroom easily—but her throat was dry from talking. After hesitating, she said, "Just a little."

Yan Tuo frowned, as if puzzled by her request for just a little, then suddenly caught on. Unable to help himself, he chuckled lightly and said, "Okay."

Nie Jiuluo was irritated by his laughter. Annoyed, she tore open the plastic wrap of a book with her teeth, gathered the shreds, and rolled them into a small ball in her palm, crushing them until they made a continuous rustling sound.

She heard Liu Changxi ask Yan Tuo, "Xiao Tuo, where are you sleeping tonight? The sofa isn’t comfortable—want to squeeze in with me?"

Yan Tuo replied, "There’s a bed in the room. I’ll just stay up with her."

Nie Jiuluo glanced at the foldable canvas cot set up for the auntie. She imagined Yan Tuo lying on it—hardly any room to turn over, and the spindly legs might not even hold his weight.

A while later, Yan Tuo came back with two cups of water.

His was plain, while hers was fancier—a reddish brew with red dates, goji berries, and longan, perfect for someone who had lost blood and needed replenishing.

Both cups were still a bit too hot to hold, so he set them on the nightstand to cool.

With Han Guan and Chen Fu temporarily out of the picture, there was still plenty to deal with. Nie Jiuluo followed the timeline, "So, what happened next? How did you save me? Did you take me to the hospital? Did anyone notice?"Yan Tuo answered off-topic: "Do you know about Kua Fu?"

How could she not know? Nie Jiuluo cautiously verified, "The Kua Fu who chased the sun?"

Yan Tuo gave an affirmative hum.

Nie Jiuluo found it odd: "Isn't that just a myth? Even elementary school kids know it."

"Then tell me about it."

Seeing Yan Tuo's serious expression, Nie Jiuluo decided to recall it properly: "I think it's about a giant who raced against the sun, trying to catch it and make it obey? Anyway, he chased it relentlessly but failed, got extremely thirsty, and eventually died of thirst."

That was roughly the gist of it.

Yan Tuo seemed thoughtful, his expression quite solemn: "Hmm, alright. Now I know your level of understanding."

Nie Jiuluo was speechless.

A myth—what level of understanding was needed? At most, her version was more concise while others might embellish it with flowery language.

Yan Tuo lowered his head and pulled out another book from the bag at his feet.

On the spine was printed a line of text: Chinese Myths and Legends , by Yuan Ke.

Nie Jiuluo glanced sideways: "What, does printing it in a book make it more profound?"

As if anticipating her question, Yan Tuo opened the title page to show her: "The author has passed away. He was a master of contemporary Chinese mythology, systematically studying Chinese myths since 1946 and once served as the chairman of the Chinese Mythology Society. He wrote over twenty specialized works on mythology, some even included in foreign textbooks. So his books are closer to scholarly texts than mere legends."

Ah, so that was the case. The level was indeed high. Nie Jiuluo noticed a subtitle on the cover: Chinese Myths and Legends—From Pangu to Qin Shi Huang .

But she still didn’t understand why they were suddenly discussing mythology—unless...

"Does it mention the Di Xiao?"

Yan Tuo shook his head: "What if I told you the Di Xiao are descendants of Kua Fu? What would you think?"

Nie Jiuluo had no thoughts because she didn’t understand at all. Nor could she fathom why, after just a few days apart, Yan Tuo had assigned the Di Xiao an ancestor. Surely he hadn’t followed the Di Xiao last night and seen Kua Fu?

Yan Tuo said, "Your knowledge of the Di Xiao comes from the Qin Shi Huang era and the Turbaned Army, which is indeed ancient. But you yourself said the Di Xiao were already a legend by the Qin dynasty. That means their origins go even further back—their roots predate the Qin dynasty entirely."

That might be true, but Nie Jiuluo couldn’t help interjecting: "But there are no historical records from before that."

Back then, due to her Turbaned Army background, she had specifically read Records of the Grand Historian —all 130 volumes of it. The Qin and Western Han dynasties occupied 126 volumes, while the pre-Qin era had only four, a mere few dozen pages covering the Five Emperors, Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties. It was understandably sparse.

With no historical records, how could one trace their origins?

Yan Tuo said, "Precisely because there are no records, we can look to mythology. Many believe that myths, though seemingly fantastical and absurd, contain truths—just heavily processed and exaggerated, buried deep."

With that, he flipped to a previously marked page and showed her the lines highlighted with a marker.[The Kuafu clan, it turns out, are descendants of the great deity Houtu. Houtu is the ruler of the underworld, also known as Youdu... This is a dark kingdom, hence called "Youdu." The guardian of Youdu's city gates is that famous giant, Tubo.]

The Kuafu clan? So Kuafu isn't just one person, but an entire clan?

Nie Jiuluo was incredulous: "How did you suddenly think of Kuafu?"

Yan Tuo replied, "I'm not that clever. It wasn't me who thought of Kuafu. I heard the name 'Kuafu' from their mouths—they called themselves 'descendants of Kuafu, the lineage that chased the sun.' Then, when I bought you books at the bookstore, I asked the staff to recommend some mythology-related books, especially those mentioning Kuafu."

"There's really very little material, mostly children's picture books with content similar to what you described. I finally found this relatively professional one. Don't be fooled by its thickness—only two or three pages mention Kuafu. But just these few lines made me think of a lot."

As he spoke, he took out a pen and circled the words "Houtu": "Does this sound familiar to you?"

Nie Jiuluo shook her head: "I've never heard of any great deity Houtu. But in historical dramas, I often hear the phrase 'Huangtian Houtu.'"

For example, "By the heavens above and the earth below, I swear to become sworn brothers with so-and-so," and so on.

Yan Tuo: "Right, that's what I thought of too. So I looked it up. Actually, 'Huangtian Houtu' refers to heaven and earth. Houtu means 'earth.' Let me rephrase it: 'The Kuafu clan are descendants of the earth.' Doesn't that make more sense now?"

Nie Jiuluo froze, a faint chill creeping over her skin.

Dixia—they come from the earth. Descendants of Kuafu, the Kuafu clan, descendants of the earth... It does seem like they could be connected.

Yan Tuo continued reading: "This is a dark kingdom, hence called 'Youdu.' In ancient times, didn't 'Youdu' refer to the underworld? The underworld is underground, where there's no light—isn't that 'dark'? Dixia have always been underground, so they're literally in a dark kingdom, aren't they?"

Even though Yan Tuo was the one doing all the talking, Nie Jiuluo suddenly felt her mouth go dry. She picked up her cup and, forgetting her need to ration water, took a big gulp: "That does sound... somewhat logical."

With that groundwork laid, the rest would be easier. Yan Tuo exhaled, picked up his cup, and gulped down a large mouthful of water: "I'll tell you everything that happened from the wellhouse up to now—my side of the story. You'll also need to explain how you ran into Han Guan and Chen Fu and why you almost died there. Sound good?"

Sounds good. Both sides of the story need to be pieced together.

Nie Jiuluo nodded.

Yan Tuo hesitated: "Is your body... up for it?"

Nie Jiuluo: "That depends. If you ramble on forever without getting to the point, even if I'm interested, I might not be able to stay awake."

Yan Tuo silently took the jab, then added, "I'll cover the things you care about, like Jiang Baichuan and Gou Ya, so don't worry. I'll try to be as detailed as possible. Feel free to record—I don't mind. Interrupt or ask questions anytime while I'm talking. There's a lot to cover, so I might get thirsty. I'll pour my own tea."This passage sounded all too familiar to Nie Jiuluo, and then it hit her.

Damn, he really holds a grudge.

What a coincidence—so does she.

She quietly made a mental note of it.