One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

When Nie Lingfeng found Chen Duo, she was sitting on a park bench, hugging a panda plush toy almost half her height, waiting for him. The afterglow of the setting sun filtered through the gaps in the sycamore leaves, casting dappled light and shadow on her. Her pale cheeks were tinged with a warm hue, and her emerald eyes appeared clear and soft in the light, like the finest jade.

She sat very upright, her back as straight as a young poplar tree, but her fingers gripped the plush toy tightly, her knuckles turning slightly white. Hearing footsteps, she looked up and saw Nie Lingfeng turn out from around the street corner; the barely perceptible tension in her eyes slowly dissipated.

"Is it resolved?" she asked softly, as if afraid of disturbing the sparrows returning to their nests in the park.

"Mm." Nie Lingfeng nodded, walked up to her, and naturally took the huge doll. The velvet was soft to the touch and still carried Chen Duo's body heat. "Let's go, let's find a place to stay. It's getting dark, and the dew is heavy at night."

Chen Duo stood up and patted the wrinkles on her skirt—it was a new white cotton skirt she'd bought today, embroidered with pale blue butterflies on the hem. She looked down at her outfit, then up at Nie Lingfeng, a hint of confusion in her eyes: "How long...are we going to hide?"

Nie Lingfeng walked forward, carrying the doll, his voice calm: "Hide until you don't need to hide anymore."

The two found a reasonably clean-looking budget hotel near the park. The sign was a faded blue with white lettering that read "Yuelai Inn," but it was actually a five-story old building with many of the exterior tiles missing, revealing the gray cement underneath. A sign at the entrance read "24-hour hot water, Wi-Fi," but half of the neon light bulb was broken, and only the radical for "hot" was flashing.

The receptionist was a young man in his early twenties with dyed blond hair and three or four earrings. He was engrossed in a mobile game. Intense gunfights and the electronic "Double kill" sound effect emanated from the phone. Hearing footsteps, he didn't even look up: "ID card."

Nie Lingfeng took out two temporary fake IDs from his pocket—given by Xu Si, who said they were "essential for navigating the underworld." The photos were photoshopped, but the chip information was genuine and could pass the verification of a regular system. He placed the IDs on the table.

Huang Mao glanced up, his fingers clattering on the keyboard, but his eyes remained glued to his phone screen. He'd lost. He cursed, tossed his phone onto the table, glanced at his ID, and then looked up at the person behind Nie Lingfeng—Chen Duo was standing there holding a doll, her head bowed, her long hair obscuring most of her face.

The blond-haired man's gaze lingered on her for a few seconds, from her pale face to her slender neck, and then to the sliver of ankle peeking out from under her skirt. A suggestive smile played on his lips, his eyes carrying an unsettling scrutiny.

"A double room?" he asked, drawing out his words, his fingers tapping lightly on the table as if he were tapping on some product packaging.

"Two rooms," Nie Lingfeng said, his voice not loud, but very clear.

"Oh—" the blond-haired man drawled, his eyes darting between the two men before shrugging. "308, 309, next door. Deposit two hundred, room rate eighty per night, check-out before noon tomorrow."

Nie Lingfeng counted out three hundred-yuan bills and placed them on the table. The blond-haired man took the money, took two room cards from the drawer, and tossed them over. The plastic cards slid a short distance across the table. Nie Lingfeng reached out, caught them, picked them up, and turned to signal Chen Duo to follow.

The staircase was an old-fashioned concrete structure, with dark red paint on the handrail that had peeled off and crumbled. Footsteps echoed in the empty stairwell, and the motion-activated lights flickered, casting swaying shadows.

When they reached the third floor, Chen Duo suddenly whispered, "That person... the way he looked at me was very strange."

Nie Lingfeng paused, then turned around. The stairwell light shone down from above, casting varying shadows on his face. He looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

Chen Duo hugged the doll, her fingers unconsciously tugging at the panda's ears, as if searching for the right words: "Like...like looking at goods. Some people in Village Chief Ma's village looked at me like that too. And...when Uncle Liao took me for a checkup, those people in white coats had the same look in their eyes."

She paused, then looked up at Nie Lingfeng, her emerald eyes filled with confusion and an almost instinctive disgust: "I don't like it."

Nie Lingfeng's face darkened. Not with anger, but with a deep, icy chill, like the water beneath a deep winter pool. He reached out and gently patted Chen Duo's shoulder—the movement was light, but steady.

"If you encounter someone like this again," his voice was calm, as calm as the sea before a storm, "tell me. I'll handle it."

Chen Duo looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded: "Mm."

The corridor was narrow, covered with a dark red synthetic fiber carpet, some parts of which were worn white, and emitted a faint musty smell mixed with the odor of disinfectant. The walls were painted a beige color, and several poorly printed landscape paintings hung on them—Guilin's landscape, Hangzhou's West Lake, and Huangshan's sea of ​​clouds.

Rooms 308 and 309 are adjacent. Nie Lingfeng swiped his card to open the door to room 308, placed the doll on the bed by the window, and then quickly checked the room.

The room was small, about fifteen square meters, containing a double bed, a wooden desk, a chair, and an old-fashioned CRT television set placed on a low cabinet in the corner. The air conditioner hummed, a faded red cloth strip tied to the vent, fluttering slightly in the wind. The bathroom was separated by frosted glass, allowing you to see the outlines of the toilet and sink inside.

The window faces a narrow alley, opposite a seven-story residential building, most of the windows lit up. The sounds of cooking, television, children crying, couples arguing, and the gushing of water from the taps... all sorts of sounds mingled together, seeping in through the window cracks, noisy yet full of the warmth and life of everyday life.

It's very ordinary, very down-to-earth, and very...safe.

At least that's how it appears on the surface.

"You stay in this room, I'll stay next door," Nie Lingfeng said to Chen Duo, walking to the window and drawing the curtains—the kind of cheap polyester fabric printed with large peonies. "Lock the door at night and put on the security chain. Don't open the door for anyone, not even the waiters who say they're bringing water or towels."

He turned to look at Chen Duo and added earnestly, "Call me if you need anything, or just call me—I can hear you. The wall isn't thick; if you knock on it three times, I'll hear you."

Chen Duo put her schoolbag on the table, sat on the bed, and hugged her panda plush toy. She looked up at Nie Lingfeng, the light shining down from above, casting shadows of her eyelashes on her face.

"You..." She hesitated, tracing circles on the plush toy's fur with her finger, "Was that person dead?"

Nie Lingfeng was silent for a moment. He walked to the table, picked up the electric kettle, and checked the bottom—it was fairly clean. Then he went to the bathroom to fill it with water. The sound of the water gushing out drowned out the noise outside the window.

He filled the water tank, plugged in the power, and then turned around, leaning against the bathroom door frame, looking at Chen Duo.

"He's dead," he said.

Chen Duo lowered her head, her long hair sliding down to cover her cheeks. She remained silent for a long time, so long that the indicator light on the kettle switched from red to green and made a soft "click" sound, indicating that the water had boiled.

"Is it because of me?" she asked, her voice barely audible, almost drowned out by the hum of the kettle.

"Not entirely." Nie Lingfeng walked over, unplugged the power, poured two cups of hot water, placed one on Chen Duo's bedside table, and held the other himself. "Even without you, the Wang family wouldn't have let me go. I crippled Wang Bing's cultivation and slapped Wang Ai in front of so many people; they've wanted to get rid of me for a long time. You just... gave them a more 'legitimate' reason, an excuse that could be justified at the company."

Chen Duo looked up at him. Under the light, her eyes were like two deep pools, clear but unfathomable. Her fingers gripped the plush toy tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with an almost mechanical self-reproach, like a trained reflex.

"What's there to apologize for?" Nie Lingfeng chuckled, a laugh tinged with helplessness and a rough tenderness. He walked up to her, squatted down, and brought his gaze to her level. "The Wang family is the ones who should apologize. They bullied you, treated you like a tool, and now they want to kill me. They deserve to die; one less threat is one less tormentor to suffer."

Chen Duo stared at him for a long time. Her eyelashes were long and trembled slightly under the light, like butterfly wings. Then, she reached out her hand—a very pale hand with slender fingers, revealing the blue veins beneath the skin—and gently touched Nie Lingfeng's cheek.

The movements were very light, tentative, like a fledgling bird touching an unfamiliar branch for the first time.

"Your face," she said, "is a little cold."

Nie Lingfeng paused for a moment, then laughed: "It's probably because of the wind just now."

Chen Duo withdrew her hand, lowered her head again, and asked in an even softer voice, "Will you... always protect me?"

Nie Lingfeng looked at her, at her drooping eyelashes, at her tightly pursed lips, at her knuckles that had turned white from straining. He remembered how she looked when he first saw her in Biyou Village three months ago—curled up in a corner, her eyes empty and lifeless, like a breathing corpse.

Now, she will say "I don't like it," ask "Will you protect me?", and touch his face.

This is already a miracle.

He reached out and gently stroked her hair—his movements were very careful, as if he were touching a fragile piece of porcelain.

"Yes," he said, his voice soft but each word clear, like a vow. "As long as I live, I will not let anyone hurt you. I promise."

Chen Duo's eyelashes trembled. Then, very gently, she nodded.

"Um."

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