She actually got away.
The whole squad was furious—not at her, but at the two of them.
“Eurice—you’re a mercenary. You can fire two guns at once, and your close combat isn’t bad. How does a woman stab you with a fruit knife?”
“And you, Luó—you saw her pull the knife and said nothing? You didn’t even chase her? One dancer with one fruit knife took both of you down? People will laugh us off the field!”
Eurice was injured and had to rest. The punishment fell on Luó Rèn—he was made to wash everyone’s underwear and socks. That didn’t last long, though—because they all soon discovered that anything he washed seemed to fall apart faster.
Mù Dài asked, “You really saw her pull the knife and didn’t say anything?”
Luó Rèn thought about it and nodded.
There’s a saying—bewitched by a ghost. Maybe that’s what it was. When he thought back on it, his thoughts went something like this:
When she pulled out the knife, he’d thought, She’s just playing around. Eurice will grab it, or maybe she’ll just poke him lightly.
When she actually stabbed him, he thought, Well… I guess she took it too far.
When she ran, his first thought was, She’s going to get a bandage, right?
So, absurd as it sounded, she really did get away with her lover and Eurice’s money.
Mù Dài couldn’t help laughing. “How could you not sense danger at all?”
He couldn’t answer right away. After a pause, he said, “Maybe because… they were hugging. And in my mind, a hug is the most intimate act between a man and a woman.”
She didn’t quite understand. To her, a hug was just another gesture of affection, like holding hands.
He continued, “On my first day of mercenary training, we didn’t fight—we sat in a classroom. It was sweltering hot. Eight fans were blowing at once, and a chart of the human body on the wall. The instructor pointed out all the vital organs—chest, abdomen—and taught us how to guard them.”
“In the end, he said, even if you fall in love with a woman, don’t hug her easily. When you open your arms, you’re exposing all your weak points.”
Mù Dài looked up at him. “And yet you still dare to hug me?”
He said, “I’m nervous too.”
His chest rose and fell under her ear, his heartbeat steady and strong.
She said softly, “Your instructor sounds too pessimistic. Probably never found a wife, huh?”
Luó Rèn thought for a moment. That was true—the man had been an American in his fifties, muscular as iron, eight-pack abs like sculpted stone.
Mù Dài smiled. “You always think you’re giving up your defenses when you hug someone. But when we hug, aren’t we protecting each other?”
That thought made Luó Rèn pause for a long time before he finally said, “You’re right.”
The next few days passed peacefully—he cleaned, took care of errands, and even helped Uncle Zhèng hire a helper for the shop.
But Uncle Zhèng just poked him in the forehead. “Luó Little Knife, you get me a helper—is that your way of saying you’ll all disappear again one day?”
Luó Rèn thought privately: That might be inevitable.
He stayed in touch with Shéngùn.
The old “priest” was still freeloading at Yǐn Èrmǎ’s house, and surprisingly, the old man hadn’t chased him out.
Yǐn Èrmǎ was a lonely old man, often dismissed as odd by the villagers. Having Shéngùn around, chatting, helping with farm chores, even telling mysterious stories, made his days a lot livelier.
Luó Rèn reminded him, “You can slowly steer the conversation toward the cursed bamboo slips. If needed, mention what’s happening on our side.”
Shéngùn snorted. “You think I need reminding? I’ve been steering the talk every day!”
After many conversations, Shéngùn began to suspect Yǐn Èrmǎ didn’t actually know much.
For instance, he had no idea each bamboo slip corresponded to a specific verse. He didn’t know the Phoenix Amulet’s power could attach to a human. He didn’t even know that the five elements—metal, wood, water, fire, earth—could suppress the slips temporarily.
The first person who’d told him about the seven bamboo slips had been his own father.
When Shéngùn tried to ask further, Yǐn Èrmǎ got upset. “All I know is—when the Seven Stars shine, I have something I must do. But I can’t tell you what it is.”
Luó Rèn thought the man didn’t seem like a keeper of great secrets—more like a small cog in a much larger plan.
Shéngùn agreed. “If his father gave him this duty, and he’s the last of his line… then what happens if he dies? Who carries it on? That might be our opening. I’ll keep pressing him about that.”
He paused, then added, “Oh—and twice now, I’ve heard him talking in his sleep. Something about a key, and a place called ‘Guān Sì Páilóu.’ There’s something there.”
…
Whatever it was, they’d just have to wait. Luó Rèn had a feeling—whether it was the Phoenix Amulet’s signal or Yǐn Èrmǎ’s secret—it would surface in time.
Until then, he was content to enjoy a few quiet, ordinary days.
But peace, of course, never lasted long.
It was broken by something unexpected—
—a letter from Cáo Yánhuá’s second cousin.
GhostCloudd On WBICDPH Chapter 93