Love on the Turquoise Land – CH 003

Volume 1. Chapter 2.

Nie Jiuluo spent the entire morning cleaning three clay sculptures. The marks of time and age were clearly visible on them: missing heads and legs, many areas charred, and some severely eroded, exposing the underlying skeleton.

Yet, they were still beautiful.

In modern times, with advanced technology and information sharing, talented individuals, no matter how remote, can thrive as long as they had a platform to showcase themselves. But old China was different. Back then, a genius in a mountain valley might never leave that valley in their entire life. Even the most brilliant works were merely displayed around houses, scorned by villagers as worthless things that couldn’t be sold for food.

She felt that the sculptor of these clay figures was a master.

When masters meet, they inevitably feel a sense of mutual respect and admiration. She took many photos and carefully studied the techniques and lines until she was starving and desperately needed to relieve herself before finally leaving the dilapidated temple.

Sun Zhou wasn’t there; she didn’t know where he was. The surrounding straw field served as a natural barrier, but Nie Jiuluo hesitated for a moment and abandoned the idea of ​​relieving herself in the open.

She hurried eastward, and as she left the cornfield, she noticed an SUV parked by the roadside.

It was newer and bigger than Sun Zhou’s, with skid plates over the headlights, a pure white body, rugged and simple, with sharp lines and no embellishments.

In this remote, impoverished area, it seemed unlikely that outsiders would come. A thought crossed Nie Jiuluo’s mind, and she peered through the window.

The car was empty. A lucky charm, a five-emperor coin pendant, hung on the front. Seeing the pendant, Nie Jiuluo knew she had mistaken someone else. Just as she was about to leave, she suddenly noticed a duck sitting in the passenger seat.

It was a yellow plush, flat-billed duckling, sitting upright, its webbed feet pointing forward, looking blankly ahead. Even more astonishingly, it was wearing a seatbelt.

“My god, a duck!”

Nie Jiuluo burst out laughing, quickly clutching her stomach: she desperately needed to pee and was afraid she’d wet herself.

She continued to laugh every now and then on the way to the public restroom.

To be honest, the interior and exterior of the car were quite sturdy, except for that duck that seemed to be following traffic safety rules, which looked out of place. She guessed that the driver either had a child or had an undying childlike heart.

***

Back at the dilapidated temple, Sun Zhou was still nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps he had gone to relieve himself. Nie Jiuluo opened the car door to get something to eat. It was midday, and the surroundings were quiet, with only the occasional chirping of birds. There was a halo around the sun in the sky. Nie Jiuluo squinted at it and even reached out and placed her hand in the center of the halo. A halo around the sun meant rain was coming at midnight; it might rain tonight.

After finishing a simple meal, Sun Zhou still hadn’t returned.

Nie Jiuluo was a little puzzled. The area wasn’t very safe, and Sun Zhou, considering her safety, always stayed nearby; even if he needed to relieve himself, he would go and come back quickly. Besides, it had been so long; even if he had fallen into the latrine, he should have climbed out and washed himself clean by now.

Sun Zhou’s phone was lying on the driver’s seat; calling him was obviously out of the question. Nie Jiuluo cupped her hands to her mouth and tentatively called out, “Sun Zhou?”

Her voice carried, but received no response. She tried walking further away, calling out, “Sun Zhou?”

She entered the straw field.

These straws were a real nuisance, clump after clump, obstructing her view and constantly snagging her clothes. Many stalks had been cut down by villagers as firewood, leaving only short stubble. She was wearing stiff-soled ankle boots, which cracked and splintered as she walked. After a while, she stopped and squatted down to examine the ground.

In one spot, there were several brownish-red patches in the soil, as if blood had seeped in. She touched them; they were already dry.

Nie Jiuluo laughed at her own paranoia: if Sun Zhou had left them, they wouldn’t have dried so quickly. Besides, this was the countryside; villagers were used to slaughtering chickens and geese in the wild, so this was most likely chicken or goose blood.

She looked around and noticed something unusual: not far away, the straw was leaning in one direction, as if some heavy object had been dragged along.

Nie Jiuluo stood up, about to go and see what was going on, when she heard hurried footsteps behind her.

She turned around and saw someone stumbling towards her, their figure obscured by the dense straw, their footsteps rapid and heavy, mixed with the sound of straw breaking, quickly approaching.

Judging from the sound, they were heading straight for her. Nie Jiuluo instinctively took two steps back, and almost at the same time, a disheveled man with blood on his face rushed out of the straw.

Even though she was mentally prepared, Nie Jiuluo couldn’t help but cry out.

The man stopped abruptly.

It was Sun Zhou!

His head and face were covered in blood, the flesh of his neck was torn open at the wound, his eyes were empty, and even after he stopped, his body was still trembling uncontrollably, the trembling even causing his teeth to chatter softly.

Nie Jiuluo sensed something was wrong: “Sun Zhou, what’s wrong?”

This question pulled Sun Zhou back to reality. His eyes focused, his lips moved rapidly, and he suddenly blurted out, “Run!”

Before the words were even finished, he had already darted off like an arrow.

Nie Jiuluo hesitated for less than a second before taking off after him.

Of course, she didn’t know what Sun Zhou was hiding from, but it was a habit: when everyone on the street looked up at the sky, she would also glance at it; when everyone was fleeing in panic, she would never go against the flow.

Whatever, running was always the right thing to do.

As she approached the car, she couldn’t help but glance back in her haste.

There were no zombies, monsters, or deranged killers as she had imagined. In fact, the straw field was almost completely quiet. However, she wasn’t sure if she was seeing things: in a fleeting moment when the wind blew through the straw, she thought she saw a figure.

The engine roared to life, and Nie Jiuluo yanked open the car door. She had barely stepped inside when the car sped off.

“Damn it!”

Nie Jiuluo was caught off guard and almost fell to the ground. In an instant, the world seemed to turn upside down, and her whole body rolled away. Her palms, from desperately trying to brace herself against the ground, were burning with pain. As she quickly straightened up, she felt the scorching air—the lingering exhaust fumes from the car’s departure.

“That bastard Sun Zhou!”

She gritted her teeth in hatred, but before she could curse him, she knew what was important: there were still dangerous things in the straw field. If Sun Zhou ran away, she didn’t want to become his replacement without realizing it.

Nie Jiuluo grabbed a rock, stared at the straw field, and slowly stood up.

It was eerily quiet, each second stretching out endlessly. Fortunately, the straw field remained peaceful, only occasionally brushing against the wind.

It seemed that thing… was gone?

However, even after leaving, she dared not linger. Nie Jiuluo walked cautiously eastward—the eastern part of the village was inhabited, and once she was among the people, she could feel at ease.

She walked faster and faster, occasionally observing her surroundings, and then suddenly stopped.

The white SUV had its trunk door wide open. A man forcefully threw a large canvas bag inside and then slammed the hatch down.

Nie Jiuluo felt no excitement at “finally finding someone” or “being able to ask for help.” Half of the people appearing near the scene were genuine passersby, and the other half were connected—perhaps this was the one who had injured Sun Zhou and terrified him?

If so, her demeanor was crucial: she couldn’t show panic or fear, couldn’t show suspicion, but she also couldn’t completely ignore him.

She maintained a comfortable distance, walking slowly and calmly, her expression indifferent, her gaze sweeping over him casually—the kind of casual, passerby-like glance.

The man also glanced at her, coincidentally, also in the kind of casual, passerby-like glance.

He was a young man, tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, possessing attractive features and a firm, strong jawline. He probably didn’t smile often, because people who smile often have softer eyes and brows.

Nie Jiuluo withdrew her gaze, then casually glanced at his license plate number.

A man with a plush duck in the passenger seat might not necessarily be childlike, nor necessarily a father; he could also be a bloodthirsty psychopath.

Therefore, noting his license plate number was essential.

***

Passing the small shop at the east entrance of the village and seeing the crowds increasing, Nie Jiuluo finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Good, she was safe. She could settle scores later. Her initial concern for Sun Zhou’s injury had long been overshadowed by the anger of almost being run over.

She walked to a dense old locust tree, trying to stay as far away as possible from the old women playing cards beneath it, and then called the travel agency to complain.

Nie Jiuluo was in southern Shaanxi for business, staying for about half a month, but her business was quite relaxed. She didn’t want to waste time in the hotel, so she contacted a travel agency, requesting a chartered car and a customized itinerary to see the temples and sculptures in the nearby counties and townships—the older the better, even if they were dilapidated.

Because it wasn’t a standard route, and some destinations were quite remote, the travel agency quoted double the market price. Nie Jiuluo readily agreed, with only two requirements: first, safety; second, visiting all the designated spots.

“Safety,” she thought, looking at her hands, which were worn raw, preparing for a big argument.

People thought she was mild-mannered just because she was never argumentative.

The call connected, and Nie Jiuluo began her story gently. She never resorted to shrewish outbursts: shrewish outbursts might seem dramatic, but they quickly dissipated and were not conducive to a prolonged battle. After she finished, the person on the other end was trembling, repeating “I’m sorry” countless times.

Nie Jiuluo: “I don’t think this is something that can be resolved with just a few ‘sorry’s. I hired a driver, and when something happened, he abandoned me and ran away. Is that reasonable?”

Travel agency: “Yes, yes, it’s extremely unreasonable.”

Nie Jiuluo: “If I hadn’t reacted quickly, would I have been run over by the car? I can understand that Sun Zhou encountered an unexpected situation, but that’s a different matter. I paid for the service, and I expect it to be commensurate with my money. Even if a driver with nearly ten years of experience is panicked, can he just disregard the safety of his guests like that?”

The travel agency clearly understood the principle that “the calmer the tone, the bigger the problem,” and they were practically begging her: “Yes, yes, Miss Nie, this is absolutely our mistake.”

Nie Jiuluo was just about to launch into a third round of eloquent rhetorical questions to build the atmosphere to a climax when a voice suddenly drifted into her ear: “He went there to cheat on his wife. Oh my, he’s shameless…”

What “cheating on his wife”? Nie Jiuluo was distracted, and all her eloquent words vanished.

“She even lied and said she went to play cards and didn’t come home all night…”

“Her husband went to look for her; oh dear, he’s going to kill her…”

“Miss Nie, how about this: we’ll arrange a driver to pick you up right away. As for Sun Zhou, we’ll contact him as soon as possible to find out what’s going on…”

It seemed that this was the only option for now. Nie Jiuluo was multitasking, but at this moment she was more interested in the gossip that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Objectively speaking, she wasn’t a gossip person, but with gossip already in her ears, there was no need to pretend she hadn’t heard it.

She gave a vague reply, hung up the phone, and took a few steps closer to the group of old women playing cards.

The old women were talking loudly and indignantly, not feeling that Nie Jiuluo’s appearance as an outsider was abrupt at all. They even actively encouraged her to join the discussion, asking her opinion every few words: “Don’t you think so, woman?”

Soon, Nie Jiuluo understood the ins and outs of this rural scandal.

It turned out that last night, a woman from Xingbazi Township said she was going out to play cards and didn’t return home all night. Her husband guessed she was addicted to playing and stayed overnight at a friend’s house, so he didn’t think much of it.

However, by this morning, she hadn’t shown up, and her phone was switched off. Her husband was furious and went to her friend’s house, only to find out she hadn’t gone to play cards at all.

Now she was in trouble. She was missing and unreachable. Her husband threatened to call the police, but her friend, fearing things would escalate, told the truth: playing cards was just an excuse; the woman had a lover in a neighboring village, and she had actually gone to see him last night.

The husband was enraged. He gathered two cousins, got on their motorcycles, and stormed off to the neighboring village to catch her in the act.

As of now, there’s no news of the “fight,” but the women were certain it would be a bloody affair—in layman’s terms, “someone’s going to get beaten to death.”