My girlfriend is a Miao demon.

Before the Lunar New Year, Wangshan always seemed shrouded in an unyielding melancholy, its unpredictable weather making one feel suffocated. Although the cold front had passed two days prior, a thin, gray mist still hung in the sky, blurring the distant dark green mountain silhouettes and the nearby red-brick buildings. Even the air was thick with a sticky, damp chill that seeped into one's bones. The camphor trees along the roadside still maintained their lush green foliage, but each leaf was laden with fine dew, hanging heavily. Occasionally, a few yellowed leaves, unable to withstand the season, were swept away by the wind, swirling down and landing on the bluestone paths of Wangshan University. Stepping on them, all one felt was a soft, damp sensation; the muddy water mixed with fallen leaves made a muffled "plop" sound, a far cry from the crisp, satisfying "crunch" of fallen leaves on a northern autumn path.

Xiang Nanfeng pulled his dark gray trench coat tighter, tucking his chin into the collar. His fingertips, damp with the morning air, felt chillingly cold. Standing before the gates of Wangshan University, his gaze swept over the winding cobblestone paths and scattered teaching buildings. He had already decided on his target—Associate Professor Shen Feng of the Chinese Department. However, his previous outbursts at the hospital while searching for Gui Luyao had already been widely reported on television. Furthermore, the expert resources for interviewing Zuo Sigong seemed to be directly connected to higher-ups. Xiang Nanfeng couldn't conveniently ask other center leaders for the middleman's contact information, nor did he have time to try and contact Shen Feng through personal connections. Therefore, he simply came uninvited, arriving early in the morning at the Chinese Department's office to wait for Shen Feng. That's how reporters are, after all. That's how news is supposed to be delivered.

Xiang Nanfeng pulled his trench coat collar tighter, his fingertips still damp with the morning air. He looked up and scanned the nameplates in the office building, finally finding the name "Shen Feng" in room 306.

Who are you looking for?

"Teacher Shen Feng."

A young female teacher who had come out to fetch water came out of an office next door, which had an open door but no nameplate on it. Seeing that Xiang Nanfeng seemed to be looking for someone, she took the initiative to ask him.

"Oh, you're looking for Professor Shen?" The female teacher smiled, revealing two shallow dimples. "Professor Shen went to teach a class. He has classes in the first two periods this morning, teaching the history of ancient literature. And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Xiang Nanfeng, a reporter from Wangshan TV." He pulled out his press card from his pocket and waved it. "I'd like to ask Professor Shen some questions about academic exchanges. Do you know which classroom he's teaching in?"

"Let me check for you, just a moment." With that, she turned and went back to her office, carefully glancing at a printed timetable posted on the wall. She ran her finger over a few lines of text on the timetable before looking up at Xiang Nanfeng and saying, "Science Education 208! You can go there now. It takes about 20 minutes to walk there from here, and you'll only have to wait another ten minutes or so for get out of class to end."

"That's wonderful, thank you so much!"

Following the signs, traversing the fragrant paths, and asking classmates, Xiang Nanfeng found the off-white science building and headed straight for classroom 208 on the second floor. Peeking through the small window in the door, Xiang Nanfeng stopped in his tracks. The young man standing on the podium wore a light gray casual suit, had handsome features, and wore thin-rimmed glasses. He exuded a scholarly air and looked to be no more than thirty years old. Was this Associate Professor Shen Feng?

"‘The common people, so simple and honest, carry cloth to trade for silk. They come not to trade for silk, but to plot against me.’ The ‘common people’ here are definitely ordinary people, that is, the people. But there is a difference between ‘common people’ and ‘people’. ‘Common people’ naturally carries contempt and is a derogatory term…” Shen Feng’s voice was pleasant and his reasoning was clear. He frequently quoted classical texts on the stage, which made the students nod frequently.

Seeing a back door to the classroom, Xiang Nanfeng quietly pushed it open and slipped inside. It was a lecture hall that could hold about two hundred people, but only seventy or eighty students were seated inside, all concentrated in the front rows, with most of the back seats empty. He found a seat in the last row near the edge, trying not to disturb the others. He had barely sat down when the bell rang abruptly, breaking the silence. Some eager students went up to ask questions, but Xiang Nanfeng, not wanting to rush forward, waited quietly in his seat. About ten minutes later, the students finished asking their questions and left the classroom, leaving only Shen Feng at the podium. Xiang Nanfeng then stood up and quickly approached. Shen Feng, realizing someone was coming, was initially startled, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes, before immediately taking a few steps forward, a look of surprise on his face.

"You are... Xiang Nanfeng?" Shen Feng's tone was somewhat uncertain, yet he couldn't hide his surprise.

Xiang Nanfeng abruptly stopped, his prepared opening remarks caught in his throat. He hadn't even introduced himself yet, and the other person had already recognized him? He carefully examined Shen Feng in front of him, confirming that the two were indeed complete strangers and seemed to have no connection whatsoever.

"Teacher Shen, do you know me?" His tone was somewhat surprised.

Shen Feng smiled and extended his hand, his palm dry and warm: "Yes, yes, of course we know each other! Who in Wangshan doesn't know your name, Reporter Xiang? Last year, your series of undercover investigations into the Wayaoshan mine disaster was a national news hotspot!" His tone was full of admiration. "You have courage, insight, and conscience; you're truly admirable! To be honest, several students in our department have become your fans, and some are even considering switching their major to journalism. They all say they want to be a 'literary knight-errant' like you, fighting for justice and upholding the law!"

Xiang Nanfeng quickly reached out to shake his hand, a slightly embarrassed smile on her face: "Professor Shen, you flatter me! It's not that I have the courage and knowledge to conduct an undercover investigation, it's that our station director has the courage and knowledge to actually release it!"

"Haha, not at all!" Shen Feng waved his hand, his tone sincere. "I was really following your reports those days, and I was genuinely worried for you!"

"It wasn't dangerous, it was just that the post-production editing was a bit thrilling." Xiang Nanfeng quickly started to laugh it off. He had come to ask about important and urgent matters, so he pointed to the writing of the Book of Songs on the blackboard and quickly changed the subject. "I really didn't expect Professor Shen to pay attention to people's livelihood news. I thought that you academics only focused on old books."

Shen Feng smiled, clearly realizing that the reporter's sudden appearance on the TV screen must be for a serious matter, so he immediately followed up, saying, "The reporter must have something to ask, right? Why don't we go to the teachers' lounge on the floor?"

"Okay, thank you for your help, Teacher Shen!"

The two walked one after the other to the classroom lounge on this floor and took their seats. Xiang Nanfeng immediately got straight to the point, saying, "Professor Shen, we are kindred spirits. I know you are a distinguished student of Professor Zuo Sigong. Although I have not had the opportunity to be taught by him, I am a loyal reader of his works."

"Oh? You've read the teacher's books too, even to the reporter?"

"Yes, I read Professor Zuo's masterpiece, 'Primitive Magic and Primitive Religion in East Asia,' when I was in college, and it left a deep impression on me. I think this book broke down the disciplinary barriers between anthropology, cultural relics, and historical research, and many of the viewpoints it put forward were extremely subversive, comparable to Edward Tylor's 'Primitive Culture,' the father of anthropology."

Shen Feng's eyes lit up instantly, clearly having found a kindred spirit. He leaned forward slightly, his voice tinged with excitement, and said, "What a coincidence! The reason I took the entrance exam for Professor Zuo's doctoral program was precisely because of this book, 'Primitive Witchcraft and Primitive Religion in East Asia'! Professor Zuo has a very broad academic vision, never bound by the framework of a single discipline. He can always interpret historical and cultural phenomena from different angles, and many of his viewpoints are truly enlightening. I really benefited immensely from studying under him for those few years."

Mentioning Zuo Sigong added a touch of solemnity to the atmosphere in the lounge. Xiang Nanfeng knew he had laid the groundwork and it was time to get to the point. He put down his water glass, leaned forward slightly, and his tone became serious: "Professor Shen, I've come to see you today because I have something to ask you. Professor Zuo came to Wangshan last year. Were you his contact person in Wangshan for that trip? You should be the person who knows the most about his trip, right? I'd like to know, what was the purpose of his visit to Wangshan this time? Was he here to attend an academic conference? Why haven't I found any relevant invitation information? Nor have I found any announcements from any universities or research institutions in the province regarding his lectures or seminars during this period?"

Hearing these questions, Shen Feng's smile gradually faded. He shook his head, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the slight wear on the spine of the book on the corner of the table, and then said:

"You're right, reporter. He didn't receive any invitation from any official organization to come to Wangshan this time, so no academic activities such as lectures, seminars, or discussions were arranged."

He paused, then recalled, "We had dinner together in August, hosted by Vice President Chen of Wangshan University. Vice President Chen had known Mr. Zuo for over a decade when he visited Youdu University for an exchange program; they were old acquaintances. At that time, Vice President Chen warmly invited him to give a lecture at Wangshan University to share his academic research findings, but Mr. Zuo firmly declined."

"Since he wasn't invited, doesn't attend academic conferences, and doesn't engage in academic exchanges, does he have any recent projects to work on within the province or in Wangshan?"

"As far as I know, he doesn't seem to have any academic projects here," Shen Feng shook his head again, answering with certainty. "He's probably here in Wangshan purely for personal purposes. So you just said I'm his contact person in Wangshan for this trip? No, no, no, I definitely don't count as that."

He waved his hand and explained, "He came during the summer vacation in July this year. He sent me an email the day before he came, informing me that he would be coming to Wangshan the next day. But I was on vacation with my child at the time and didn't see the email. By the time I came back from my trip and saw the email, a week had passed. He came to Wangshan on his own and rented his own place. I think it's probably just because we still have this teacher-student relationship that he gave me a heads-up. Including the time when Vice Principal Chen hosted a dinner in August, we had a total of three meals during his visit to Wangshan. Later, I even went to visit him at his place and chatted with him for an afternoon."

"Private purpose? Is he living in the Circle Art City?"

"Yes, that's the place." Shen Feng nodded.

"But that place is very remote." Xiang Nanfeng frowned, his tone tinged with doubt. "As far as I know, the Circle Art City was converted from an abandoned factory that used to produce test trains for the railway company. Most of the residents are non-mainstream painters and artists. They choose to live there because they want to escape the hustle and bustle of the city, enjoy the beautiful scenery, and be able to rent high-ceilinged spaces as studios at very low prices. Professor Shen, what kind of personal motive do you think Professor Zuo would have for renting such a remote place?"

"Well... I can't really say. Maybe he just wants to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city and find a quiet place to read and study? After all, scholars need a quiet environment. Or maybe he likes that postmodern art atmosphere?"

Did he used to like contemporary art?

"I don't think he has any hobbies in that area, at least he's never shown them to me. I only know that he likes traditional folk arts, like paper cutting, embroidery, and clay sculpture."

"So, you also find it strange, right?" Xiang Nanfeng pressed on, "Didn't you ask him anything? Like, why did he rent a place in the Circle Art City? What exactly is he doing in Wangshan, or who is he going to see?"

"Yes, I do think the transportation there is inconvenient and there are almost no amenities. We naturally asked him the same questions when he first arrived, but... he didn't answer them directly. I think that's a private matter, and it's not convenient for me to inquire about it."

"Has he been living in the Circle Art City ever since he came to Wangshan in July? Has he never left?"

"As far as I know, that's how it is. When we first met at the end of July, he told me he planned to go back to Youdu at the end of August because Youdu University starts on September 2nd every year, and he had to go back to attend classes. At the end of August, I went to the Circle Art City to say goodbye to him, and we talked for an afternoon. I saw his suitcase open in the corner, already partially packed, obviously he was preparing to leave and packing his luggage, probably about to check out." He paused, a clear look of confusion on his face: "But for some reason, he didn't leave, he stayed again, and then stayed until November 8th, when he passed away there."

Xiang Nanfeng's heart sank. This was exactly what he had been waiting for, but he still feigned calmness and pressed on, "Could you tell me the specifics? I only know that he passed away suddenly. Could you tell me the details?"

"Of course, I do know some things. But, as a reporter, may I ask why you are interested in Mr. Zuo's case? He has been dead for two or three months now. Have you discovered some hidden secrets? Or perhaps..."

"No, no, please don't misunderstand."

Xiang Nanfeng quickly waved his hand, then sighed deeply, his expression complex:

"How should I put it..."

This was indeed not an intentional deception; he had merely deliberately concealed some of the facts, facts that most people would find unbelievable. Xiang Nanfeng's brow gradually relaxed, and he replied:

"Well, to be honest, I'm not interviewing you as a reporter right now. I'm probably just trying to soothe some unspeakable emotions in my heart as a patient."

As soon as he finished speaking, Xiang Nanfeng slowly removed his baseball cap, lowered his head, and revealed the newly growing hair on his forehead. Beneath the sparse black hair, two long and slightly swollen scars were clearly visible, winding along his scalp, looking truly shocking.

"On November 8th, the night Professor Zuo passed away, I also nearly lost my life." His voice was low and hoarse, and the sense of relief and exhaustion from surviving such a close call must have been deeply moving. "Professor Shen, do you remember that Professor Zuo once gave you a television interview about the discovery of Ming Dynasty religious architectural remains at Shounan Mountain?"

"I remember, of course I remember." Shen Feng's gaze fell on Xiang Nanfeng's scar, his pupils suddenly contracting, clearly startled by the gruesome mark. He opened his mouth, his voice filled with shock: "Could it be that during that interview...?"

"Yes, I was the reporter who did that interview." Xiang Nanfeng looked up and met Shen Feng's surprised gaze. "That was purely a coincidence. All the reporters on our science and education channel were busy that day, and because I had read Professor Zuo's book before and greatly admired him, I volunteered to fill in for him. It snowed heavily that day, you should still remember, right?"

"I remember, Wangshan has never had such heavy snowfall before."

"Yes, after the interview, my cameraman and I were heading back to the city when our car went out of control and overturned into a roadside ditch. My colleague suffered a fracture, and I hit my head and passed out on the spot. Didn't you ask me why I'm suddenly asking about this now, given that Professor Zuo has been dead for so long?"

"Hmm." The reason behind it clearly left Shen Feng speechless, and he responded with his mouth half open.

"That's because I was in a coma for 46 days after the surgery, and I only learned about Professor Zuo's passing two days ago."

"This...this is terrifying!" Shen Feng's face was full of shock. "You just had a brush with death!"

"Yes, I've survived a close call." Xiang Nanfeng gave a wry smile, his tone tinged with helplessness. "So I'm still on sick leave, though I've fully recovered. But after hearing about Professor Zuo's situation a couple of days ago, I suddenly realized I've lost my memory."

Amnesia?

"Yes, it was the day I interviewed Professor Zuo. I asked him what he answered, what we talked about, to the point that I can't remember a single thing about how I got to the Circle Art City, how I got there, or how my car overturned."

"Is it because of the external injury...?"

"Yes, it should be. Of course, I remember interviewing Professor Zuo that day. After learning that fate had played a cruel trick on us, and that we had both suffered a great tragedy, I wanted to see the interview footage from that day. But to my surprise, when I asked around, I heard that the interview video from that day was gone. There was only the test video before the official interview; the main footage was gone. I don't know if it wasn't turned on, didn't record, or if the machine was damaged in a crash. Anyway, it's gone." Xiang Nanfeng said, then sighed again. He looked out the window with a sense of loss. The dim DVD player dispelled the morning mist, but it was like a spent arrow, with no more strength left. "Humans are truly strange creatures, don't you think? I know this has nothing to do with me anymore, but I know that Professor Zuo passed away that day, and that his last images couldn't be preserved. The more I want to know about his final days, the more I want to know why. As for why, I really don't know. Maybe it's just a kind of redemption for me."