Nie Jiuluo was pragmatic: “That’s not necessarily true. If it was something especially good, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, missing it would be quite regrettable.”
That statement was… hard to refute.
Yan Tuo thought for a moment: “Well, the opportunity’s already missed—that’s what happens when you’re sleeping… Let’s talk about important matters.”
Important matters? There were so many, they needed to be prioritized.
Starting with the most urgent, Nie Jiuluo began with the pump house: “What happened to Han Guan and Chen Fu?”
Fortunately, he had documented everything with photos. Yan Tuo pulled them up and handed them to Nie Jiuluo: “Scroll through, there are about ten photos. His body was very light, completely withered. I doused it with gasoline, set it on fire, and threw it into the pump well.”
Nie Jiuluo scrolled through one by one, occasionally zooming in on details. Finally, she nodded: “This… should be fine. He can be considered dead.”
This was good news. Excel entry number 015, Han Guan, could be thoroughly deleted.
“How did you kill him? Where was the vital point? The crown of the head?”
Nie Jiuluo nodded: “There are two vital points—the crown of the skull and the seventh vertebra of the spine. Fatal wounds to these areas will keep them ‘dead’ for at least three to six months. That’s where I struck Gou Ya back then.”
Yan Tuo: “Only dead for three to six months, not permanently? Then Han Guan…”
Nie Jiuluo hesitated: “My knife is different.”
Ah, so that was it. Yan Tuo probed further: “What if I used your knife? Could I kill them?”
Nie Jiuluo’s answer was cryptic: “That depends on the circumstances. If you stole my knife, you couldn’t kill them. But if you borrowed it with my sincere permission, then you could.”
What a temperamental knife. Yan Tuo raised an eyebrow: “Has your knife gained sentience?”
Nie Jiuluo lowered her eyelashes: “Believe it or not.”
If it was a matter of believing or not, he might as well believe. It was her knife, her rules. Besides, why steal when you could borrow?
Yan Tuo returned to the main topic: “Then if they’re not wounded in the skull crown or seventh vertebra, just ordinary fatal wounds like a throat stab or heart puncture, and it’s done with regular knives or scissors, how long would they stay ‘dead’?”
Nie Jiuluo: “You need to understand—throat stabs and heart punctures are fatal to humans, but for Di Xiao, they’re just ordinary wounds, not fatal. Ordinary wounds heal much faster. A throat stab just stops breathing, a heart stab just stops the heart temporarily. From stopped breath to breathing again, from the stopped heart to beating again—that happens quite quickly, three to five days, maybe ten to fifteen days, depending on their constitution.”
Yan Tuo’s expression changed. He said: “Wait here a moment.”
He stood up as he spoke, and before the words had fully left his mouth, he was already out the door.
Nie Jiuluo was confused and turned to look toward the door. She heard the security door opening, followed by rapid footsteps going downstairs.
The wait was fine—she was tired from talking so much anyway.
Nie Jiuluo leaned back against the cushions, taking slow but deep breaths to regulate herself. After a while, she picked up one of the sculpture books and tried to remove the plastic wrapping, but with only one hand free, she struggled to make any progress.
She wrestled with the book, bringing it to her teeth—her teeth were much more efficient, tearing the wrapper open with a single rip.
Just as she was about to repeat the process with another book, the door opened outside, followed by the sound of rolling luggage wheels approaching. Nie Jiuluo quickly put down the book and arranged herself gracefully against the cushions.
After all, she was an “artist,” and tried to maintain an artistic image.
Looking back, she saw Yan Tuo pushing in a large wheeled suitcase. He closed the door and locked it.
Nie Jiuluo lowered her voice: “Is there… someone in there?”
Yan Tuo glanced at her: “In your mind, is my suitcase only used for carrying people?”
Isn’t it? Nie Jiuluo wondered silently, keeping her eyes fixed on the suitcase.
Yan Tuo laid the suitcase down by the bed, entered the combination, and with a soft click of the lock, opened the lid. Inside was a large cloth bag containing something substantial. He reached out and pulled back one corner of the bag.
Nie Jiuluo thought to herself, see, it is a person.
And a “familiar” one at that—Chen Fu, with a dark complexion, looking deathly, 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, and the wound was no longer bleeding freely. It had turned almost dark brown, and around the wound, like spider’s silk, dozens of chaotic silver threads had formed.
Relieved, Nie Jiuluo exhaled and painfully leaned back: “It hasn’t healed completely yet. When the threads form a complete membrane and start to swell, that’s when it’s almost done.”
Then, somewhat surprised: “Where did you keep him? In your car?”
Yan Tuo nodded with a bitter smile: “Nowhere felt safe, so keeping him with me seemed most secure. I kept him at home for the past couple of days and couldn’t relax for a moment. I was lucky—if I’d been stopped by police for inspection, well… no amount of explaining would have helped.”
Nie Jiuluo asked: “Do you want him dead?”
She was willing to do it, especially since most of her injuries were courtesy of Chen Fu.
Yan Tuo shook his head: “I want to get some information from him, but… he refuses to talk.”
After speaking, he fixed the cloth bag and closed the suitcase lid. He initially meant to push it under the bed but thought that seemed creepy. Putting it in the corner felt like someone was crouching there, so he finally left it in the living room temporarily.
When he returned to the room, he suddenly thought of something: “Would you like some water?”
Last time at the braised food restaurant, he had served her quite a few cups of tea.
Nie Jiuluo didn’t want to drink, considering she couldn’t easily use the bathroom, but talking so much had made her throat dry. After a moment’s hesitation, she said: “Just a little.”
Yan Tuo frowned, as if not understanding why she only wanted a little, then suddenly seemed to get it and couldn’t help but laugh softly, saying: “Alright.”
His laugh irritated Nie Jiuluo. In her annoyance, she tore open another book’s plastic wrapper with her teeth, gathering the torn plastic in her palm and rolling it into a small ball, making it crinkle continuously.
She heard Liu Changxi asking Yan Tuo: “Little Tuo, where will you sleep tonight? The sofa isn’t comfortable, would you like to squeeze in with me?”
Yan Tuo: “Isn’t there a bed in the room? I can stay overnight there.”