Love on the Turquoise Land

Yan Tuo hesitated to start the car.

Nie Jiuluo guessed his thoughts: "Do you really want to go back and save her?"

Yan Tuo said, "Or you could say something to talk me out of it."

Nie Jiuluo smiled, reluctant to speak but hardening her heart nonetheless.

"First, she won’t believe you. Wu Xingbang is not just her lover but also her benefactor. There’s no way you can convince her in such a short time. Second, even if you save her, where would you take her? Chen Fu alone is already giving you enough trouble. Third, rescuing her now might alert the enemy. Don’t forget, Lin Ling is still counting on you."

Not to mention the people on that Excel spreadsheet.

Yan Tuo fell silent for a long moment before letting out a deep sigh and slowly starting the car.

As the car moved, Nie Jiuluo truly felt its weight—the wheels turning with such difficulty.

The rest of the day was spent on the road. The two spoke little, exchanging only necessary words during breaks, like "Do you want water?" or "Need to use the restroom?"

Nie Jiuluo had Yan Tuo throw away the packed meal they’d brought—given Xu Anni’s blunt temper, she might’ve spat in it.

Dinner was at a roadside wonton shop. The thin-skinned dumplings were filled with shepherd’s purse and shrimp, floating in a steaming broth with shredded egg, seaweed, and scallions—a vibrant, hearty meal.

Midway through, Nie Jiuluo called Sister Lu, saying they’d arrive around ten that night and asking her to prepare in advance. She specifically mentioned they’d have a guest and to clean the spare room.

She hadn’t asked Yan Tuo beforehand about staying over, but since the call was made in front of him and he didn’t object, it was settled.

After hanging up, Yan Tuo asked, "Any news from Xing Shen?"

Nie Jiuluo checked her Weibo and shook her head.

She had just told him about it that morning, so his asking again showed how anxious he was.

Yan Tuo realized he was being impatient and smiled self-deprecatingly. "I regret not building a network of allies over the years. But then again, who could I have brought into this? They’d probably curse me for dragging them into such a mess."

Now, Xing Shen and his group had become the lifeline he desperately clung to.

He wondered what they were like—whether they’d be easy to get along with.

...

At half past ten that night, the car turned into the alley where Nie Jiuluo lived.

Despite the day’s gloom, Nie Jiuluo couldn’t contain her excitement as they neared home. From a distance, she spotted Sister Lu standing at the gate, craning her neck to look.

Sister Lu didn’t recognize Yan Tuo’s car but suspected it might be them, so she kept staring. Nie Jiuluo giggled and rolled down the window. "Sister Lu!"

Sister Lu hurried over with a smile. "I was just thinking you should be here by now."

As the car stopped, Sister Lu opened the door, her cheerful expression turning to shock at the sight of Nie Jiuluo’s crutch and sling. "Wh-what happened to you?"

Nie Jiuluo brushed it off. "I was checking out some grottoes and fell, broke my arm. Luckily, Mr. Yan here—" She gestured to Yan Tuo, who had just stepped out. "He took me to the hospital and drove me back."

Sister Lu quickly moved to support Nie Jiuluo, smiling gratefully at Yan Tuo. "Thank you, Mr. Yan."

Yan Tuo adapted seamlessly to his new role. "No problem."He opened the trunk, took out the luggage, and helped carry it into the courtyard. As soon as he reached the central yard, a faint, delicate fragrance wafted over, prompting him to remark, "It smells so nice."

At his reminder, Nie Jiuluo also noticed it. "Is something blooming?"

Sister Lu pointed to a corner of the yard. "It bloomed a couple of days ago, and it's doing really well. Lao Tang said it's because of the warm winter—it bloomed early."

Only then did Yan Tuo notice the two-meter-tall plum tree in the corner.

It was a white plum tree, its sparse yet elegant branches slender yet strong, as if supported by an inner skeleton. The branches were dotted with blossoms—white petals with yellow stamens, each one lively and delicate. Of course, there were even more buds, some slender, others plump and ready to burst, all bathed in the faint glow from the house. The tree was a silent riot of flowers.

He was a little surprised. "You know how to grow flowers?"

Before Nie Jiuluo could answer, Sister Lu laughed. "Miss Nie doesn’t. She hired a gardener—Lao Tang. He comes every two weeks. He used to work at the city botanical garden before retiring, specializes in tending flowers and plants. Really skilled."

Ah, that made sense. Yan Tuo remembered now—Nie Jiuluo did have a gardener.

He couldn’t help but look at the white plum tree again. It was thriving, wild and unrestrained. He couldn’t even recall the last time he had truly stopped to admire flowers.

Lost in thought, he heard Nie Jiuluo ask, "Yan Tuo, are you hungry? Should Sister Lu make you a bowl of noodles?"

Yan Tuo shook his head. "It’s late. Eating too much will keep me awake."

Nie Jiuluo instructed Sister Lu, "Make him a bowl. I’ll have some too, just a small portion for both."

Yan Tuo was both annoyed and amused. She didn’t even listen to his opinion—why bother asking?

Well, since it was just a "small portion," he might as well eat a little.

The guest room was on the first floor, tidy and clean. Yan Tuo placed the suitcase containing Chen Fu in the wardrobe and lay down fully clothed for a short nap.

In just a brief moment, he dreamed of the farm, of the underground second level.

In the dream, everything was pitch black, the air thick with the damp scent of earth. A hoarse, sorrowful voice murmured intermittently, "An'an, my An'an..."

Yan Tuo tried to follow the voice but couldn’t find anyone.

As he groped through the darkness, a faint light appeared in the distance ahead. A small, frail figure of a girl walked alone in the light.

Yan Tuo shouted, "Xinxin!"

Then he jolted awake.

When he woke, the light was soft, and the silhouette of the white plum tree was reflected on the window—apparently, the tree was right outside his room.

From outside the door, Sister Lu’s voice came, "Mr. Yan, the noodles are ready. I’ve taken them upstairs. Miss Nie can’t walk easily, so you should go up to eat."

To be honest, going up to the second floor made Yan Tuo a little uneasy. The last time he was here, he had caused quite a scene and even knocked over a clay sculpture before leaving.

Now, returning felt like revisiting the scene of a crime.

As he stepped onto the final stair, the large studio came into full view. Yan Tuo let out a sigh of relief. Good, everything seemed fine.

He stole a glance at the Water-Moon Guanyin statue he had toppled. Had it been repaired? It was hard to tell through the plastic covering.

Nie Jiuluo suddenly spoke up, "Stop looking. Keep staring, and I’ll make you pay for it."

Yan Tuo was startled, his thoughts exposed. Deciding to brazen it out, he sat down at the worktable and eyed his small bowl of noodles.To avoid spills on the workbench, the bowl and chopsticks were placed on a small black lacquer tray with gold designs. It was such a tiny bowl—a delicate, translucent rice-patterned porcelain bowl containing a small portion of dragon beard noodles simmered in chicken broth, topped with shredded chicken, wood ear mushrooms, a few goji berries, chopped scallions, and two slices of water chestnut.

Yan Tuo said, "Well, you bit me too."

Was he trying to pick a fight with her?

Nie Jiuluo retorted, "And who was it that drowned me?"

Yan Tuo countered, "Drowning... no broken skin, no blood. But a bite leaves a scar for life."

Nie Jiuluo shot back, "Drowning leaves psychological scars for life too."

Mentioning psychological scars left Yan Tuo at a loss. Matters of the mind weren’t something he dared to comment on. "Well, I did save you afterward," he said.

Nie Jiuluo replied, "Didn’t I save you too? And I even treated you to a bowl of noodles."

If they kept this up, it would never end. Yan Tuo took the initiative to make peace. "Let’s clink bowls and call it even, alright?"

Nie Jiuluo gave him a sidelong glance, held her pose for a couple of seconds, then pushed her bowl over to clink against his with a clang . She burst into laughter—considering the matter settled.

The noodles were truly delicious. Yan Tuo even drank every last drop of the broth. The portion was just right—not heavy on the stomach yet endlessly satisfying.

Suddenly, he remembered something. "Sister Lu always calls you 'Miss Nie'?"

For a live-in housekeeper who’d been with her for so long, it seemed oddly formal.

Nie Jiuluo explained, "That’s Sister Lu’s insistence. She says since it’s an employer-employee relationship, boundaries shouldn’t be blurred. So I let her call me that."

"What do people close to you call you?"

Nie Jiuluo answered casually, "They call me A'luo."

"A'luo."

Yan Tuo murmured it once under his breath and said, "Sounds weird."

Nie Jiuluo frowned. "Weird how?"

Lao Cai called her that. Xing Shen called her that too. Jiang Baichuan was used to calling her "Nie Er," but otherwise, he’d call her A'luo as well.

Yan Tuo rubbed the side of his nose with a bent finger. "Just feels a little strange, that’s all."

Nie Jiuluo huffed. "That’s because you’re not used to it. Say it a few more times, and it’ll feel natural."

Yan Tuo gave an "Oh" and nodded.

Then he’d call her that from now on.

...

After the meal, Nie Jiuluo pushed the tray aside, picked up a pen, and pulled out a pale golden strip of paper from the pile of stationery on the table.

It seemed she intended to write something, but with one hand, it was awkward to manage. She instructed Yan Tuo, "Hold the end of the paper for me."

Yan Tuo stood up and walked over, bending slightly to hold the edge of the paper for her.

Nie Jiuluo twirled the pen in her hand, pondered for a moment, then lowered her head to write.

She had changed into a deep-space-blue silk satin loungewear robe. As she bent her head, her hair cascaded to either side, revealing the pale nape of her neck and a tiny, gold-embroidered star at the back of the collar.

Some clothes are flashy on the outside, meant to be seen by others. Others are beautiful in subtle ways, known only to the wearer. Yan Tuo loved that little star—it only half-revealed itself when her hair was brushed aside. Just imagining it was lovely.

He glanced at what Nie Jiuluo was writing.

—1. Met Xu Anni. 2. Yan Tuo brought me home.

She thought for a long time before writing "3. The noodles were really good."

After finishing, she added the date and set the pen down.

Yan Tuo had a vague idea. "Is this a diary? Seems a bit lazy."

Nie Jiuluo handed him the strip of paper. "Since you have hands, help me tie a knot."Yan Tuo was baffled. "Tie a knot? A knot in the string? But wasn't the note torn?"

Nie Jiuluo was almost amused by his confusion. "Can't you be more careful? Tie a gentle knot, the kind that flattens the creases. And don't start from the middle—here, yes, right at the edge."

Yan Tuo followed her instructions and began folding. After a couple of folds, he realized what she was doing—he had seen this before. Back in school, many girls in his class loved folding these: lucky stars. At the height of the trend, they would fold bottle after bottle, giving them away as gifts. Once the fad passed, they’d toss them out just as quickly.

Soon, it was done. He pinched the five corners inward, forming a plump little star.

Nie Jiuluo took it from his hand, tossed it into the air, caught it, and handed it back to him. She pointed to an old-fashioned double-door wardrobe against the wall. "Here, help me toss it into the door god's mouth on the right side. The right one, don’t get it wrong."

Yan Tuo obediently went to toss it in but couldn’t resist turning back to ask, "What does tossing it up and catching it mean?"

"It represents a day passing. The events of that day are concluded."

He hadn’t expected that. She really was someone who loved rituals. Yan Tuo pointed at the door god Yu Lei’s mouth. "And tossing it in? Does that mean your day is devoured?"

Nie Jiuluo had never seen someone so bad at extrapolating. "It means the door god is guarding it for me!"

Yan Tuo nodded vaguely. "Can I open the wardrobe to take a look?"

Nie Jiuluo waved her hand, signaling "go ahead."

Yan Tuo opened the wardrobe door.

Inside were two large glass jars filled with stars, likely custom-made to fit the wardrobe’s dimensions. They had wide openings for easy dropping. The left jar was completely full, the right only half-full. Upon closer inspection, he noticed labels along the edges marking time spans.

Nie Jiuluo said, "My ancestors were Bashan hunters. Their custom was called 'a share for those who see.' Since you’ve seen it, I’ll let you pick one to look at."

Yan Tuo hesitated. "Isn’t that inappropriate? These are all your **."

Nie Jiuluo thought for a moment. "I’ll open it first. If it’s something I can show you, then I will."

That sounded fair. Yan Tuo glanced around and reached deep into the left jar labeled "2002-2012" to pick one out. As he withdrew his hand, the surrounding stars rustled and shifted to fill the gap—it felt strangely satisfying.

He handed the star to Nie Jiuluo. It was white, its paper already slightly yellowed.

Nie Jiuluo carefully unfolded it with one hand, glanced at it, then slid the opened note toward him.

Yan Tuo picked it up and read. The note recorded two things:

—Won a prize for the clay figurine I made, 500 yuan. Scratched that lecherous old man’s car. Serves him right. 2011.10.18

Nie Jiuluo explained, "Back then, the city organized a National Day celebration. The art category included painting, calligraphy, and handicrafts. I made clay figurines and won a prize. The judge said I had talent and encouraged me to seriously consider this path, saying I’d achieve great things."

At this, she sighed softly and glanced around at the various works of art scattered around the room. "Great things" might be an overstatement, but she had achieved something modest. Being able to support herself with her skills was deeply fulfilling.

Yan Tuo asked, "And this old man...""It was the old man from the interest class, teaching beginner sculpture. So disgusting—when correcting your hand posture, he’d always ‘accidentally’ brush against you or touch you. And it wasn’t just me. I asked around, and plenty of girls had been taken advantage of by him. So I waited for him in the underground parking lot. When I saw him coming, I took my keys and scratched his car—scratched it until his face turned white."

Yan Tuo was taken aback. "Was there anyone else in the parking lot at the time?"

"No, it just happened to be empty."

Yan Tuo felt a pang of fear for her recklessness. "How could you dare to do that? How old were you then?"

Nie Jiuluo shrugged. "I already had some martial arts skills back then. But even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been afraid of him. I told him, either you fix the car yourself, or you take me to the police station. I’d tell the officers that you tried to assault me, and I scratched the car while defending myself. I’m so young and pitiful—who do you think they’d believe? You should’ve seen his face—it turned the color of liver."

Yan Tuo gave a wry smile. "You really... where do you come up with all these ideas?"

He folded the white paper star back along its creases.

Nie Jiuluo watched him fold. "Because ordinary kids, when they’re bullied, the first thing they do is run to their parents for support. But you didn’t have that, so of course you had to prepare early."

Since her teens, every time she heard or saw stories of victims, she’d imagine: What if it were me? What would I do? How would I protect myself? And how would I strike back—elegantly and disdainfully? Whether it was harassment or anything else, she had a countermeasure for every move.

Scratching a car? Pfft, small potatoes. She hadn’t even pulled out the big guns yet. The old man was too spineless—he folded after one move.

She handed Yan Tuo a long strip of paper. "Want to learn from me and write something down? When you’re old and bored, flipping through it will be pretty fun. It’ll also exercise your memory and help stave off dementia."

Yan Tuo laughed helplessly. He took the strip and idly wound it around his finger. "I’m heading back tomorrow morning."

Nie Jiuluo froze, then after a long pause, said, "So soon."

Come to think of it, it made sense—Yan Tuo wasn’t here for a vacation. If she hadn’t insisted on him staying tonight, he might’ve skipped dinner and rushed back immediately.

Yan Tuo said, "Just... please help me contact Xing Shen as soon as possible. If there’s a chance in the future, I’ll come back to borrow your knife."

If there’s a chance.

If everything goes smoothly, and he can come back to borrow the knife.

Nie Jiuluo smiled. "Sure."

Yan Tuo smiled too. Privately, he really wished it could be her—someone to accompany him through what lay ahead. But he also didn’t want it to be her: she had no personal vendetta, no blood feud. Why drag her into something so dangerous and filthy?

He said, "It’s been a long day. You should get some rest."

Back in the guest room, Yan Tuo didn’t turn on the light—Sister Lu was already asleep, and only one lamp under the eaves remained lit in the courtyard, casting the shadow of white plum branches onto his window.

If he turned on the light, this shadow painting would vanish.

Yan Tuo unfolded the strip of paper in his hand. It was pale gold, faintly glowing in the dark.

He picked up a pen from the table.

What should he write?

Yan Tuo sat for a long time before finally writing under the dim light: The plum blossoms are so beautiful.

When he finished, he gently opened the window, plucked a small, delicate blossom from the nearest branch, tucked it into the folded crease of the paper, and slowly shaped it into a star.

The plum blossoms are so beautiful. May this little courtyard remain peaceful forever.

Goodbye, A Luo.