Nan Xian jumped off the bed almost instantly.
She was tense all over and rushed to her suitcase, carefully checking her belongings.
Everything is still there; nothing is missing.
She breathed a slight sigh of relief, then remembered something and dialed Ding He's number.
Once the call connected, she asked, "Did you come into my room today?"
Ding He: "I've been following the production crew's schedule all day. Except for when I woke you up this morning, I haven't been into your room again... Sister, is something missing?"
"No, I was just asking. You should get some rest."
After hanging up the phone, Nan Xian looked around again.
She stared at the cup that had been turned around for a long time, then stood up, put on her coat, and went out.
As soon as it got dark, the village of Buxian became even quieter.
Every house had its lights off, and there wasn't a soul in sight on the road. Not even a dog barked; the silence was eerily quiet.
As she walked, all she could hear was the howling wind and her own breathing.
From a distance, she saw a dim, yellow light, swaying like a leaf drifting in a storm.
She quickened her pace and finally saw the person holding the lantern clearly—
She's a fool.
She stood in front of the small tile-roofed house, her gaze blank and her movements stiff, staring blankly in the direction of the path, as if lost in thought.
She held an oil lamp in her hand, its appearance extremely ancient. The tiny flame flickered in the wind, seemingly about to be blown out, yet miraculously brightening again just as it was about to dim.
Nan Xian called the silly woman several times before she came to her senses.
Her gaze lingered on Nan Xian's face for a moment, and a clear light suddenly shone in her cloudy eyes.
She freed one hand and grasped Nan Xian's wrist, uttering two words clearly and haltingly—"Come in!"
Nan Xian did not struggle; she obediently followed the simpleton into the small tile-roofed house.
The two entered the house. The simple-minded woman closed the door and repeatedly checked that it was locked before she sat down shakily, holding onto the edge of the table.
“Someone came into my room today. I guess they might be looking for that cinnabar peony,” Nan Xian said succinctly, stating her purpose.
The old woman put down the oil lamp and tried to comb her messy hair with her two old, thin hands. She paused slightly when she heard this.
She frowned, and after a long while said, "That's not a good thing, they're going to hurt people!"
Nan Xian nodded, "But what's strange is that the first time they were so eager to give me the Vermilion Peony, but this time they've done everything they could to prevent me from getting it. Why is that?"
The old woman finally combed her hair. Her gaze fell on Nan Xian's dantian, and she pointed at it, saying, "Your soul is protecting you. You are not afraid."
Nan Xian was stunned. "My... soul?"
As soon as she finished asking the question, a flash of inspiration struck her, and she remembered the light she had seen in her dantian a long time ago in a special hospital.
Could that be the soul that the silly woman was talking about?
"Your spirit is powerful enough to eat that bad thing!" The old woman suddenly grinned, a hint of girlish cunning and charm appearing on her aged face. "They're not powerful enough; they'll die!"
"Death?" Nan Xian's heart sank. "Wait, what do you mean? Touching that cinnabar will kill you?"
The silly woman took out the brocade pouch containing peony cinnabar from her bosom, poked the ribbon with a finger, and chuckled, "Touch, touch, and you'll die!"
Nan Xian stared at her fingers, her face turning deathly pale instantly.
He Mingxiao... touched it.
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