Ling Yu rose anxiously, stepped close to the man, and finally stopped in front of him, looking down: “I've said that if I only wanted information, I wouldn't have come looking for a person at all. And my agent says you're the one who sold them the sundial—so right now I want a straight answer about whether you're involved in this.”
She paused, then went on, “All I need from you is one clear answer. If this really has nothing to do with you, I'll drop it—and consider the cooperation my apology.”
The man had already resolved not to sign the contract; now, hearing this, he dared even less—because the thing truly was connected to him.
He fidgeted, not daring to step forward and explain.
Fortunately, at that moment another woman came in from outside—the older sister who had been helping receive customers, presumably. Dust all over her face from standing out front, she looked to the man first thing upon entering.
Then she asked in a lowered voice, “Dad. Did you go to the village behind?”
The man froze, then explained quickly: “No. How would I go back to that godforsaken place? I'm busy, and with this ruined face of mine I can hardly go out.”
The woman seemed to have already seen through him. She did not press in front of Ling Yu; she only turned to Ling Yu, apologetic: “I'm sorry. My father truly doesn't know what any of it was about, so...”
Ling Yu shot her a glance, eyes nearly rolling skyward: “Doesn't know? Looks to me like he knows everything! He just won't take responsibility!” She cranked it up, slapping the table as she spoke, playing the shrewish, venomous part—vowing never to rest until she found her person.
The woman bowed, teeth clenched. “Miss, this is village business. We can't say what exactly it is. We can only say things may be different from what you imagine.”
“And the person? The search is over?”
The woman shook her head. “We will definitely help.”
Ling Yu dropped the aggressive act—some residue of sympathy, perhaps.
She only thought: the man said nothing at all, instead pushing his daughter out to talk.
Because the man understood everything and said nothing—no need to guess; the connection had to be tight.
Her expression cooling several degrees, she said, “Help how?”
The woman looked at the man. “We'll use the village's connections to help you find your person. If after fifteen days we truly can't find anyone, you may go to the police.”
At the word “police,” the man half-rose from his chair—but one look from the woman and he went quiet at once.
Ling Yu caught every beat of it, and while she did, wondered whether the relationship between the two was something other than it seemed.
What she could make out now: the woman could command the man. But was that command the command of family, or of a superior?
Or rather...
Had she walked into a trap within a trap?
Her whole body went taut, eyes fixed ahead. In truth, if she had been arrogant and overbearing, these people would not have been surprised.
But the man's expression did not look feigned. Or perhaps he was being forced by the woman into these things without knowing them himself.
Watching him, she did not think that was it either.
Just then, Chen Mo's voice drifted in from outside. “Well now, I'd like a word with your boss.”
His voice broke the room's quiet. She expected Chen Mo to walk in—but it was Pei Jin.
Pei Jin pushed the curtain aside. The moment he appeared, the woman's eyes locked onto him. He frowned—and before he said a word, the woman spoke as if she knew him well:
“Pei Jin. Why are you still here?”
Her tone carried a distinct anger that Pei Jin could not parse. His first move was to enter, then stand beside Ling Yu.
“You know me?”
His appearance did ease Ling Yu slightly—but she had not expected Chen Mo to have Pei Jin's number.
The woman laughed. “Who doesn't? Back in the day your deeds got you shunned by the entire guide trade.”
Ling Yu, clueless, stood to the side in proper bewilderment. The woman turned her gaze fully onto her: “So. Planning to take someone into the desert again?”
“Hold on—I'm not interested in any of this,” Ling Yu cut back at once. “Whatever history you have with Mr. Pei, I don't know it. But my friend going missing is real. You can't lump these things together, can you?”
“I don't know whether what you say is true.”
The woman's sudden remark made Ling Yu want to laugh. Did she really look like someone who went around cooking up trouble?
Pei Jin felt he perhaps should not have come at this moment, but when Chen Mo's call came he had been startled too—they said something had happened to her, so he had rushed over. Arriving here, he had no idea what the woman's connection to his own past might be.
He thought, then asked: “What Miss Ling wants to ask has nothing to do with me. But what happened to her and the people outside is real. And you should be dealing with that first.”
Seeing him so detached, the woman clicked her tongue. Her mood now was truly no good; on these matters she chose to say not one word.
The room quieted again.
Ling Yu knew she did not want to waste more time here. These matters had run their course anyway—Pei Jin's arrival, whatever else, counted as a final punctuation.
She frowned at the woman. “Fine. If you won't talk, fine. The dead have nothing much to do with you anyway. As for these matters... Mr. Pei is only my guide—and a friend. So don't worry about whether I've teamed up with him to cheat you.”
She put it clearly and marked it plainly: Pei Jin's arrival had only closed the topic. As for momentum, it pushed the pace forward a little, nothing more.
Call it the result of two sides never fully understanding each other. At bottom, she rather had to thank Pei Jin.
With that, Ling Yu led Pei Jin out of the room. The instant she was half through the curtain, she saw from afar that nearly everyone in the shop had raised their heads to watch her—no attempt whatsoever to hide it.
Like a spy hidden in Republican-era shadows who had just been made, about to be marched straight to the interrogation room, waiting only for her to spill everything she knew.
She stared them all back down from a distance, determined not to be the one who lost, refusing to let a single one of them off.
Pei Jin looked around. He found himself recalling the affairs of those years—could not let them go. After all, he felt those were matters that would mark his whole life.
Only once they were fully outside could Pei Jin straighten up completely and survey the surroundings, his gaze finally landing on Chen Mo, sitting at the door. There should have been marks of a fresh beating on Chen Mo's face; it looked part funny, part absurd.
Ling Yu could not help laughing out loud: “And here I thought you were some formidable man. One punch and you went down. By the way... you didn't say anything stupid in there, did you? Just now, why was the whole crowd watching Mr. Pei and me walk out? Don't tell me I'm just that captivating?”
She was no great beauty by any measure—but say it out loud or not, nobody ever minded being called beautiful.
Standing together, the two did look rather well matched, Chen Mo had to admit—though the reality was nothing of the sort.
He shook his head quickly. “No idea. I think the boy said something in the room, and then everyone started looking at me for no reason I could see. Then somebody kicked me. Then somebody went for my face.”