Nie Jiuluo shared the same thought.
If Di Xiao could turn people into revenants at will, given Lin Xirou’s twenty years of careful planning, the world should have been crawling with revenants by now.
Yet in reality, Lin Xirou hadn’t even managed to control Yan Tuo. This could only mean that the process of creating revenants wasn’t so straightforward.
She spoke softly, “But in that case, isn’t Lü Xian in danger?”
The thought jolted through Yan Tuo’s mind, and he instinctively reached for his phone.
Nie Jiuluo stopped him. “Don’t. At this point, he won’t be able to escape just because you tell him to.”
—He’s already inside the farm, and there are probably people watching his every move.
—If he tries to run, he’ll need a reason. Even if you tell him the truth, would he believe it?
—And even if by some miracle he manages to escape, he won’t get far before being caught and brought back.
She had a sudden idea: “What if he tells Lin Xirou he has weak essence syndrome, or that he’s impotent?”
Yan Tuo couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s had three girlfriends before. Besides, since Sister Lin chose him, wouldn’t she have investigated his background?”
Nie Jiuluo suggested, “What about making an anonymous call to report illegal detention at the farm?”
Yan Tuo sighed. “That farm isn’t just a major taxpayer in that township—it’s one of the biggest in the entire county. They’ve got connections everywhere. Want to bet that the moment you make that report, someone will tip off the farm?”
Unable to think of a better solution, Nie Jiuluo asked, “You’re not thinking of going back to rescue him, are you?”
Yan Tuo gave a bitter smile. “You’re overestimating me. Without a viable plan, what would be the point of going back to save him, other than sharing his fate?”
After sitting in silence for a while, he opened the car door to throw away some trash.
Nie Jiuluo felt melancholic as she watched him through the car window. She saw him walk to the garbage bin at the street corner, forcefully pushing the trash bag in. She noticed the Longmen Grottoes advertisement board standing at the corner, its Buddha statue looking majestic yet compassionate. Beyond the billboard stretched the increasingly high, distant, and serene blue sky.
Perhaps this was why she always wanted to be an ordinary person, dealing with ordinary troubles.
After the incident with Lü Xian, the afternoon drive became more sluggish than the morning’s journey. Nie Jiuluo even took a nap. When Yan Tuo woke her, she remained dazed for quite a while, only seeing a deep red sunset sinking in the distance ahead of the car, dyeing half the sky in its hue.
Yan Tuo announced, “We’ve reached the hotel.”
“Oh,” Nie Jiuluo responded groggily, gathering her “delivery” from lunch as she got out of the car.
…
Yan Tuo had chosen a five-star hotel with a family suite, allowing them to stay together but with separate bedrooms. This arrangement provided both immediate support and privacy.
After settling Nie Jiuluo in, he still needed to meet with his business partners. Though called a “meeting,” it coincided with a company event, so he probably wouldn’t return quickly. Yan Tuo left the dedicated phone with Nie Jiuluo, asking her to monitor the situation with Lü Xian.
Before leaving, he asked, “Anything else? Tell me now so I can take care of it—once I’m gone, you’ll be on your own.”
Now equipped with her four-legged walker, Nie Jiuluo felt more confident. After some thought, she said, “Don’t drink too much, okay? I won’t be able to handle you if you come back drunk and making a scene.”
Yan Tuo replied, “Either I won’t drink at all, or if I drink too much, I just won’t come back.”
After Yan Tuo left, Nie Jiuluo spent a long time getting ready for bed. She was quite happy he wasn’t around—the awkwardness and inconvenience of having someone help with personal tasks could be more uncomfortable than doing them alone. When alone, you see your clumsiness and deal with it; besides being more difficult, nothing else really matters.
After finishing her routine, she settled comfortably in bed, leaving only the bedside lamp on. She first dialed the dedicated connection to confirm she could hear activity from Lü Xian’s end, then opened her delivery bag to begin her “work.”
She had indeed bought “professional materials,” mostly odorless modeling clay, commonly known as “rubber clay”—having been away from her workbench for so long, her hands had grown rusty, and though it wasn’t real clay, practicing with a substitute was better than nothing.
Nie Jiuluo pinched off a piece and began kneading it slowly: when sculpting, newly handled clay is called raw clay, and like kneading dough, it must be continuously worked to familiarize both hands with clay and clay with hand, until both enter a state of harmony, allowing mind and hands to work as one.
In the earpiece, Lü Xian was doing something, moving around, drinking water, dragging chairs, and humming tunes to himself.
In the past, Nie Jiuluo would have found this annoying, but now she only felt sympathy—this melancholy spread through her body and transferred through her palms to the clay, making even the modeling clay seem filled with heavy emotions.
Once the clay reached the right consistency, she opened her phone’s photo gallery to look for reference images for practice.
…
By 10:30 PM, Yan Tuo still hadn’t returned, but there was significant activity from Lü Xian—he had gone out for a night run, panting and gasping for breath.
After about fifteen minutes, the running sounds changed to walking, and Nie Jiuluo heard Lü Xian muttering between heavy breaths: “I’d… I’d rather die fat… no more running… working out… isn’t meant for humans…”
Soon after, the background noise changed, indicating he had moved from outdoors to indoors.
Nie Jiuluo had heard Yan Tuo describe the farm hotel’s layout—it was only two stories tall, with no elevator, so Lü Xian would have to climb stairs.
Sure enough, the muttering continued: “Damn, still have to climb stairs.”
Several seconds later, very abruptly, Xiong Hei’s voice came through the earpiece, accompanied by urgent knocking: “Sister Lin, Sister Lin, something’s happened!”
Nie Jiuluo froze, immediately stopping her work and holding her breath to listen carefully to the activity on the other end.
She estimated that Lü Xian had reached the second floor just as Xiong Hei was knocking on Lin Xirou’s door.
Footsteps grew louder as Lü Xian jogged over: “Brother Xiong, what happened?”
Xiong Hei’s voice was irritated and rough: “None of your business, go about your affairs.”
Almost simultaneously, a door opened, and Lin Xirou asked, “What’s the matter?”
Nie Jiuluo couldn’t hear what the matter was—presumably, Xiong Hei and Lin Xirou either communicated through gestures or whispered. When Lin Xirou spoke again, her tone had changed: “I’ll go take a look.”
…
The footsteps gradually faded away, and Lü Xian gave a disgruntled grunt before entering his room.
This round of surveillance came to an end.