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Dear Duan's mother:

Don't worry about the matter I mentioned in my last letter; I believe K-JL will handle it well. I know that the young painter Ma Yuan likes me, and actually, I also have feelings for him. But compared to Professor Ouyang, Professor Ma Yuan is like a hill compared to a mountain, or a stream compared to a great river. I like Professor Ouyang from the bottom of my heart.

I know you introduced Professor Ouyang to me not so that I would fall in love with him. My liking for him isn't solely because he helped me get into the Xidu Academy of Fine Arts, nor is it, as some classmates speculate, that I had any ulterior motives towards him, such as trying to secure a place at the academy after graduation. I admire his knowledge, his talent, his demeanor, and his gentle smile. Although he is 56 and I am only 24, I don't see age as an obstacle. He is in good health, full of youthful energy, which I can feel when I'm with him, especially his childlike heart. He values me so much, treating me like his last disciple, teaching me painting techniques that others rarely know, and recommending my work on various occasions, making me stand out among all the students in the school, satisfying my vanity. Everyone knows there's a Chen Xiaona in the oil painting department, and everyone knows I'm Professor Ouyang's prized student. Being with Professor Ouyang, I feel he is not only a teacher and elder, but also a friend and a lover. What I love most about him are his eyes. His thick eyebrows often carry a smile, and his long, relaxed corners of his eyes make me feel loved, warm, and safe, as if I'm seeing a family member every time I look into his eyes.

Last month, a group of us students went out sketching. He led the way, his agile steps leaping between the stream and the boulders. His flowing trench coat and gray hair made him look incredibly dashing, and I was completely captivated by him. That day, I almost fell into the water. He ran over and grabbed me as I slipped off the rocks, then pulled me up and embraced me—though it was only for half a minute. Our eyes met, and his deep gray pupils told me he liked me. My eyes, in turn, told him I was willing to give everything to this man older than me. No one needed to break the ice. When I returned to his room to discuss painting, a chance touch of our hands was enough to make us lose control, and we embraced almost simultaneously. Can you understand, Mrs. Duan? I gave my love to this man.

However, he was unwilling to marry me. I tested him twice, but he showed no intention of marrying me.

At first, I thought his wife's death had grieved him deeply. But then I saw he poured all his energy into painting and showed no interest in any other woman besides me, so I understood. After all, he was an accomplished painter; he considered his career his greatest passion. He said he had applied to the school to keep me as a teacher as an outstanding student. He knew that Professor Ma Yuan was pursuing me and wanted me to be with him, saying he could maintain a romantic relationship with me. But I love this man to the core; I want to possess him completely, to possess his deep gray eyes, to possess his entire body and spirit. I don't know what to do, Aunt Duan. Can you help me decide? I'm such a troublesome person!

goodbye!

Your daughter, Xiaona

Dear Duan's mother:

Please forgive me for not writing to you in so long.

After receiving your letter two months ago, I felt that what you said made sense, and I gradually grew closer to Professor Ma Yuan by listening to your advice. Besides, after I was assigned to stay at the university, I was assigned to the same teaching and research office as him, while the professor was in another teaching and research office. Although I had more contact with Professor Ma Yuan, I could not fully accept him at that time, because my heart was filled with the professor, and I could not accommodate anyone else for a while.

Looking back now, I feel quite sorry for Professor Ma Yuan. He tried every means to see me back then, but I often gave him perfunctory replies; he would ask me out every few days, and I would make up all sorts of excuses; his relentless confessions only made me want to avoid him like the plague. Take what happened last time, for example, I still feel guilty when I think about it. That day I was in a bad mood and was drawing outside the school when it started raining heavily, so I took shelter under a roadside awning. Unexpectedly, Professor Ma Yuan came looking for me in the rain and brought me a raincoat. I should have thanked him, but instead I showed him unusual indifference. He confessed to me again, saying that he was obsessed with me and asked me why I was sometimes nice to him and sometimes avoided him. I said I didn't love him. He said that wasn't right, that when I was nice to him in the past, it was out of love. I really couldn't explain it, so I just ignored him. But he tearfully confessed to me, making vows of eternal love that almost moved me to tears. I had no choice but to leave in the rain, and he suddenly hugged me and wouldn't let me go. I was afraid the students would see, so I told him to let go. He insisted I admit I loved him, refusing to let go until I did. I got angry and threatened him with my palette knife, but he closed his eyes and ignored me. I plunged the knife in, cutting a long gash in his right tiger's foot. Blood gushed out, staining the ground red in the rain. He finally let go. I ran in the pouring rain, tears streaming down my face…

Professor Ouyang had captivated my heart and soul, making it impossible for me to escape the quagmire of love. From then on, although I treated Professor Ma Yuan better and gradually grew closer to him in our interactions, my body and emotions belonged to the professor. I often secretly went to see him late at night, enjoying his tender caresses and giving him my passionate love. That day, as usual, he returned from his trip and called me over. We partied wildly. He was clearly exhausted from his business trip, covered in sweat, so I helped him take off his shirt—he had never been naked with me before. He lay there naked, occasionally turning over, and I noticed the tattoo on his shoulder and back—a huge wolf's head made of teeth marks and needle pricks, the ash color long since seeped into his skin not fading. My heart skipped a beat, as if someone had stuffed a handful of straw into my chest and then lit it, flickering and burning. Every hair on my body stood on end, my eyes wide, sensing something was about to happen. I asked him when he got the tattoo, and who did it for him. He said it was over 20 years ago, when he was sent down to the countryside in his hometown in Hubei. He fell in love with a woman, and she was the one who tattooed him. A hint of tenderness flashed in his eyes as he recounted the story, but he immediately sighed and said he wouldn't talk about it anymore; it was a nightmare. My head exploded, and I stood there dumbfounded for a long time. My premonition had been confirmed. I had heard my mother tell the story of the She-Wolf Curse more than once when I was a child, and I had seen her demonstrate it more than once. I had even seen her tattoo a wolf's head on the village chief, Wang Nao. My mother said that only she knew the She-Wolf Curse. 24 years ago, my mother ran away from some unknown place in Hubei to the mountains, escaping the trouble she had caused and the hurt she had suffered—all because of this man in front of me! But he had already left his hometown far away, forgotten everything from the past, except for the tattoo that could not be removed from his body. My mother occasionally mentioned that my biological father was a painter who had been sent down to the countryside, but she never said a word about him. I never hoped to see him, and my mother wouldn't let me look for him. Because she killed the painter's wife, he both loved and hated her, and never wanted to see her again. He forgot that she was pregnant with his child when she left. Fate, in a cruel twist of fate, had brought me to him in this way…

I felt an unprecedented sense of shame and humiliation. I had actually thrown myself at my own father, had committed incest with him, and shamelessly believed it was love. If everyone around me knew, how could I face the world? What difference was there between me and an animal? Overwhelmed with remorse, I slapped myself repeatedly, pulling out strands of hair. I locked myself in my room and swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. But I didn't die. After an unknown amount of time, I woke up in the hospital, and Professor Ma Yuan was by my bedside. He said he had come to find me, found me lying on the floor through the window, and broke down the door to rescue me. I cursed him again, asking why he had bothered to save me. He confessed his love to me once more, saying he would protect me with his life. I was so moved that I hugged him. Upon being discharged, I moved directly into Professor Ma Yuan's dormitory. I decided to live with him from then on. Two weeks later, we got married. I didn't tell that other man; he knew nothing, and even flirted with me whenever we occasionally met. Faced with his smiling face, I couldn't tell if it was hate or love. Every time, I felt like a fool, at a loss, and hurriedly tried to escape. Aunt Duan, please help me, what should I do? How can I face this man in the future? This man who gave me the greatest help and the most love, and also the greatest and most humiliating moments; this man who was my mentor, my father, and my lover…

Aunt Duan, please tell me, what should I do? Please help me!

My hands are shaking, so I'll stop here for now. Looking forward to your letter.

Your poor daughter's book

The letter trembled in her hand, and Wu Bingbing felt a pang of sorrow in her heart, tears streaming down her face involuntarily.

Suddenly, the train roared and plunged into the tunnel, a blast of cold wind enveloping her. She felt utterly alone and helpless, as if falling into an abyss; her whole body felt numb as if frozen, and her heart was filled with an indescribable emptiness and coldness.

In the darkness, it felt as if a hand reached out from behind, stroking her head and shoulders, gently comforting her. She felt an indescribable sense of grievance and buried her face in the tea table before her, bursting into tears. The sobs grew louder and louder, turning into an uncontrollable wail…

Chapter Twenty-Two

The snake scrapes its body against the sand, rocks, and tree branches until it tears or bites open its old scales, only then can it crawl out of its molted skin. She, too, like that snake, fled far away with her bloodstained body, completing a beautiful yet cruel metamorphosis.

When Wu Bingbing arrived in Chengdu, she received a call from Zhang Qun and asked about her family. Zhang Qun said it was too late; her mother had already passed away when she got home. Bingbing's heart sank, and she didn't know what to say. Zhang Qun said the examination showed death by suffocation, with symptoms of heart disease. Bingbing took a breath and didn't answer. Zhang Qun said, "My mother was always in good health; she never had any heart problems. I suspect Jiang Lan did it." Bingbing gasped softly. Zhang Qun said, "She came to my house because she saw that business card. Because she couldn't find me, she retaliated against my family. I'm sure it was Jiang Lan."

Zhang Qun also said that the mysterious deaths in the city continue to occur. When I went to the hospital morgue to see my mother, I heard a nurse say that several doctors and nurses had also died in the hospital. It seems that although Jiang Lan's magic has been weakened by her injuries, she hasn't stopped her vengeful killings. How's your investigation going? Have you found out her whereabouts? Have you found the longevity lock?

Wu Bingbing said, "It has been clarified that the Chen Xiaona that Gu Hongsheng met was Wang Xiaoyue."

I have now arrived in Chengdu and am preparing to investigate the aftermath of Chen Xiaona's case.

Zhang Qun asked, "Is your boyfriend with you?"

Bingbing burst into tears; she didn't know how to answer Zhang Qun.

Zhang Qun said, "Alright, I won't ask anymore. You go and investigate. My mother's aftermath hasn't been dealt with yet. Once I've finished my work here, I'll come and help you."

Bingbing asked, "Did you go to my house? For some reason, my mom keeps not answering the phone. Maybe our home phone is broken. Or maybe she doesn't live at home?"

Zhang Qun said, "I didn't want to tell you, but your mother is also sick... though not too serious. Your father's case went to trial; he was convicted of murder and sentenced to death... I heard he didn't confess, and he appealed to the higher court. There's still time; things will get cleared up... Hey, are you listening?"

Bingbing cried so hard she couldn't speak. After a long while, she finally choked out, "I said I would save him. —Dad, wait for me, I said I would save you."

Upon arriving at Xidu Academy of Fine Arts, Wu Bingbing inquired about Professor Ma Yuan and learned that he was now a professor in the Fine Arts Department. Before meeting him, Wu Bingbing encountered a retired female professor on campus. From their conversation, she learned that Professor Ma Yuan was still single. Although he had achieved some success in his career, his life was not very happy. She said that after his wife Chen Xiaona passed away, he had never wanted to remarry.

Wu Bingbing asked, "How did his wife die? It wasn't suicide, was it?"

The female professor said, "She fell off a cliff while sketching. Although it was her own free action, it was still a major event for the school and had a great impact on the teachers and students at the time."

How long has Chen Xiaona been at this school?

"Probably three years? A little over three years."

"Do they have a good relationship?"

"Oh, you'll have to ask Ma Yuan; no one else can tell you."

Ma Yuan is the kind of man who, to put it nicely, has the temperament of an artist, and to put it bluntly, is full of bookishness.

Tall and slender, with shoulder-length hair, her face was deathly pale, and her eyes were heavy with melancholy. He stared at Wu Bingbing for a long time, puzzled, and asked her who she was, why she was looking for Chen Xiaona, and why she was asking about Chen Xiaona.

Wu Bingbing was prepared. She said she was Chen Xiaona's cousin, from her hometown of Hengyang, Hunan, and wanted to ask about Chen Xiaona. Xiaona's entire family had passed away; my mother was her mother's younger sister, and my mother and I were her only remaining relatives. We hadn't heard from her for many years, and we wanted to know what had happened.

Since she was a relative of his wife who had come from afar, Ma Yuan led Wu Bingbing into his home.

Wu Bingbing immediately spotted the framed photograph hanging on the living room wall—it was the same girl she'd seen in Aunt Duan Hong's room, Wang Xiaoyue, the girl she'd been desperately searching for who had escaped from the mountains of western Henan 15 years ago. In the frame, she appeared more mature than before—long, naturally curly hair framing her fair face, exuding an air of dignified tranquility. She was turned slightly to the side, her long, flowing eyelashes and large, deep eyes holding a hint of melancholy, as if deep in thought. Her delicate nose and full lips made her face appear sculpted and perfectly proportioned.

Wu Bingbing stood there, stunned, so much so that she didn't even hear Ma Yuan offer her a seat.

Ma Yuan sat down and asked, "When did Xiao Na's mother pass away?"

Wu Bingbing quickly said, "Oh, it was Xiao Na's second year of school. Xiao Na never came home again."

“She was a homeless bird!” Ma Yuan sighed. “She often said that when she was alive. She also said she came from a very poor background and didn’t want to go back to that remote mountain village… She often joked about herself: ‘The peacock flies southeast, never looking back!’ So, it’s understandable that she didn’t go home after her mother died. If she hadn’t died, she might have gone back to see you now. But she can’t go back—”

Wu Bingbing said, "She wrote to us before, saying that you were very good to her. She also mentioned a Professor Ouyang in her letter—?"

"Yes, Professor Ouyang was her mentor. It's a pity he passed away early."

"Professor Ouyang has passed away? When did he pass away?"

"He went before Xiaona. That winter, he fell ill in his house, and no one knew. He missed a few days of classes before someone went to look for him and found him dead. It was a heart attack, and there were uneaten pills scattered on the ground. It seems that Xiaona found him when she went to his house to return a book."

Wu Bingbing recalled the letter she had read on the way and couldn't help but wonder if Professor Ouyang's death was related to Wang Xiaoyue.

Ma Yuan paced around the room, saying, “You’re her cousin, come and see her room. This next room is her studio; it’s exactly as it was when she left. Nothing has been moved; everything is exactly as it was. Ten years have passed, and I can’t forget her. But over the years, many things have become more and more confusing. I know too little about her past. If I had known more back then, perhaps I could have helped her. Even now, I don’t believe she fell off a cliff while painting and died. I suspect it was suicide, but I haven’t told anyone. You are the only relative I’ve ever met who was related to her, which is why I’m telling you this. I have grounds to suspect suicide. It’s pointless to say all this now. No matter how she died, it hurts me. It’s a pity I couldn’t help her; that’s why she went down that path.”

Wu Bingbing was stunned, unsure how to respond or what he was trying to say.

Ma Yuan asked, "Tell me about Xiao Na's past? Aside from her mother, what else?"

“Her family is poor, and she had a tough past.” Wu Bingbing was considering whether to tell him Chen Xiaona’s true identity and her past experiences. In the end, she decided it was better not to tell him, as that would make him suspicious of her purpose and complicate matters. “Nothing else.”

Ma Yuan pressed further, "I want to know about her past relationships?"

"She started school at such a young age, what will happen to her love life?"

"You're not telling me the truth. You know someone named Yang Li, right?"

"Yang Li? You know him too? He's here?"

"Yes, I've seen him before."

"As far as I know, Yang Li was just a suitor from high school. For him to follow her all the way here is insane! It's outrageous, isn't it?" Wu Bingbing said indignantly.

Next, Ma Yuan told her about Yang Li's visit to Chen Xiaona—

That day, Chen Xiaona went to Tazishan Park to sketch. After finishing her painting, she went to the nearby suburbs, where she was unexpectedly targeted by a male tourist. She ran ahead, and the man followed behind, unable to shake her off.

She ran into a bamboo grove, where the man found her. She first argued with him, and he threatened her viciously. Then she cried and begged, even kneeling down to plead with him.

The man, however, remained relentless...

Ma Yuan wasn't there at the time; a girl ran up to him and told him. The girl had seen it while walking in the park with her mother and didn't know the man's relationship with Teacher Xiao Na, so she didn't dare go directly to support her. By the time Ma Yuan arrived, it was already noon. He called to her, but she didn't respond. When he went into the bamboo grove to look for her, he saw the unexpected scene—she was frantically digging in the soil with half a bamboo pole, her hair disheveled, covered in sweat, her eyes filled with aggrieved confusion; beside her lay the man, clearly dead, the paintbrush still embedded in his chest, the blood staining the soil beneath him red.

Seeing Ma Yuan's panicked state, Chen Xiaona commanded, "Come quickly and help me dig! Bury him! I'll explain why slowly." Ma Yuan walked to the body, pulled out a drawing knife, and began digging beside her without saying a word. She seemed to have just remembered she had the drawing knife, tossed aside the bamboo pole, snatched the knife from Ma Yuan's hand, and continued digging vigorously. As she dug, she said, "His name is Yang Li. He came from my hometown and has been looking for me for years. Because we were engaged a long time ago, he's been chasing me like a wolf, trying to force me to live with him. When I first passed the university entrance exam, he reported me. I've been on the run here for so many years, and he actually tracked me down, saying he'd make my life miserable, so I'm going to kill him! That's my reason." After she finished, she asked Ma Yuan, "Are you scared? If you are, go report him!"...

"Has the body been discovered?" Wu Bingbing asked worriedly.

"Of course it was discovered, it was discovered two months later," Ma Yuan said.

"Was it because she was scared after this was exposed that you thought she committed suicide?" Wu Bingbing asked tentatively, then quickly explained, "I was just guessing."

Ma Yuan sighed again and continued, "From then on, our lives were shrouded in gloom. After learning the whole story, although I sympathized with and understood my wife, and always thought about how to protect her, I buried that matter in my heart and never mentioned it again. But I always had an unspeakable fear, feeling that disaster could strike at any moment. Xiao Na was depressed and silent every day, and had nightmares every night. I often saw her sitting blankly, and even the slightest accident would make her scream. Especially after the body was found in the bamboo forest and the police posted a notice offering a reward for clues about unidentified bodies, she became even more anxious and irritable, and would inexplicably get angry at the slightest thing."

One night when I woke up, I saw her staring at the ceiling beside me, so I asked her what she was thinking about. She suddenly stared at me and asked, "You won't report me, will you?" I was angry at her suspicion. She worried not only about others but also about herself. Once, while she was teaching, she suddenly felt a tightness in her chest and shortness of breath, and abandoned her students to run back to her room, shouting at me, "I'm telling you!"

"I can't take it anymore, I'm going to break down!" Normally, she kept the doors and windows tightly shut, ignoring any outside noise. If I occasionally opened a window to let in some fresh air, she would cry and protest. This went on for six months. Later, her condition improved, and she relaxed a little. During this time, she often went out to paint, sometimes going far away for days or even a week at a time. Seeing how calm she was, I let her go as she pleased. It was around that time that she met a painter from Hong Kong. It seemed that she and that painter developed feelings for each other.

Wu Bingbing frowned and asked, "How could this be? What's the painter's name?"

Ma Yuan said, "Let me think... I'll call him Chen Zhongjie."

"Is it Chen Zhongjie?"

Yes, you know him?

"No, I know from the letters she wrote."

"Actually, he wasn't really a painter, just an art dealer. She came back from painting in Chongqing that day, saying she met this Hong Kong painter while sketching on the Jialing River. He not only sold paintings but also ran a gallery and collected art; he said he admired her paintings and bought three of her studies on the spot, asking her to bring the rest for him to see. She took the paintings back to Chongqing and earned a considerable sum. Later, the art dealer paid for her travel expenses to visit an art exhibition in another city. I was busy with other things at the time and didn't know; she went with that guy without telling me." The art dealer went. After running around for a few days, she returned and stopped mentioning him. But I sensed that their relationship had become complicated, so I took the initiative to talk to her. She admitted that the art dealer had pursued her and that she had feelings for him, but she wouldn't betray me. She wanted to cut ties with him and live a good life with me. I was deeply moved by her confession. Her heart belonged to me, and my heart was filled with hers; we held each other tightly. I had only hoped that after all this hardship, we could live happily ever after, but unexpectedly, she suddenly died two months later…

"How did she die? Could you describe the circumstances in detail?"

"She hadn't returned for a week, and I thought she'd gone out to paint like before. It wasn't until more than ten days later, when the newspaper published a notice for the recovery of an unidentified female corpse, that I compared her figure, appearance, and general circumstances and realized it might be her. It was in 100..." The body was found at the foot of a mountain several miles away. When I rushed to the local police station to identify it, all they gave me was an urn containing her ashes. The police explained and analyzed that she had likely fallen from a cliff, her head smashed open, her body covered in wounds, and she had rolled into a deep pool at the foot of the mountain; it had taken at least several days for her to be discovered; the weather was hot and humid, causing her body to swell and decompose rapidly; by the time it was retrieved, fish had gnawed away most of her flesh. Because they couldn't preserve the body, they took photos and cremated it first, then placed an advertisement in the newspaper to find relatives to claim it. They also returned the painting tools and paints they found on the cliff. Her name's initials were engraved on the sketchbook, along with the longevity lock she often wore. The urn had been kept in her studio, under the white sheet you just saw. Everything in her studio was well preserved.”

Before Wu Bingbing could even bring it up, he opened the cabinet in the corner, took out the silver longevity lock, and placed it in front of her. In an instant, Wu Bingbing was overwhelmed with excitement. She saw the semi-circular silver lock with its glittering chain; the lock's cover featured a snarling wolf's head, its fangs protruding like crescent moons, each tip adorned with a small bell… but one of the bells was flattened, and the lock's cover itself was dented. She turned it over and was even more astonished. On the back was a strangely shaped incantation, not cast but engraved, surrounded by a dense circle of small characters. Upon closer inspection, it read—

The star of Venus, the essence of the White Tiger, yin and yang complement each other, mountains and rivers emulate its spirit, it investigates the laws of heaven, follows the tranquility of earth, no beast can invade it, a thousand evils flee from its form, the stone guardian protects it, wild wolves rush through the calamity, it protects it as it grows up, bringing wealth and longevity. The foolish woman, Xiaoyue, with the assistance of heavenly virtue, her soul transcends a hundred tribulations.

Bingbing said, "Could you give me a few photos of her? Also, could I take this longevity lock back with me, so it can go home and be a comfort to her soul after death? What do you think?"

Ma Yuan said, "Alright, you can take them all. At least she's seen her family."

Bingbing then asked, "You just said you suspected she committed suicide?"

"Yes, I went to the rocky cliff where she fell afterward. She was obviously painting there, depicting the opposite mountain peak and the stream below, with a few pine trees peeking out from the peak. She could have painted from a distance, and her composition was quite good; there was no need for her to walk onto that sloping rock, unless she did it intentionally or took a risk. This reminded me of something that happened last autumn. We went out to sketch together, also on a mountaintop, standing on a rock. As she was painting, she suddenly said to me that she wanted to fly, that she had an urge to fly down into the stream. With that, she threw down her paintbrush, spread her arms, and walked towards the cliff, letting the mountain wind blow her clothes and hair. At the edge of the cliff, she stretched her neck and shouted: Ah!—she shouted three times, then turned her head and said, 'That's enough!' and continued painting. I knew she was feeling down; I sat beside her for a long time without saying a word, my heart aching."

"You mean, she had suicidal tendencies at that time?" Bingbing asked.

"Perhaps," Ma Yuan said sadly. He took a few sips of water, trying to calm himself. "I remember that day when she was painting, she saw a snake on a branch among the rocks and called me over to look—it was a red snake with black and white spots, shedding its skin. Half of its body had crawled out of the skin, while the other half was still inside. Its tail was wagging incessantly, trying to break free from the skin hanging on the branch. Because the skin around its waist was very tight, the latter half got stuck and couldn't be pulled out, so the snake turned around and bit its own belly. After a few bites, the skin broke open; its body slowly slid out, shedding its bright, transparent skin and hanging it on the branch. The snake coiled its body around the branch, turned back to sniff its shed skin for a while, and then reluctantly..." I left. Chen Xiaona watched intently, tears welling in her eyes. I hugged her. She told me that snakes shed their skin every year before hibernation, and she often watched this process when she was a child. She said that some snakes shed their skin in the spring, and watching it was absolutely terrifying. Those snakes would choose an opening in the sandy ground, a hard rock crevice, or between tree branches, and repeatedly scratch it until all the scales were torn, the new flesh inside stretched the skin open, and then they would use their fangs to tear off the outer skin piece by piece. The snake's skin would be mottled and fragmented, and the new flesh growing on its body would be pink and tender, often torn bloody from its own actions. I said, since it's so painful, why do snakes shed their skin in the spring? She said that as a snake crawls for a long time, its scales turn into keratin, making it feel uncomfortable, as if it's bound; it wants to get rid of this layer, it wants to grow a new coat of skin. Because tourists had gathered to watch us paint, she didn't continue, but for many years afterward, I've remembered that conversation. The more I think about it, the more interesting her description of the snake's molting process seems, and I always feel that Xiaona, like the snake in spring she described, died to shed the heavy burdens of the past, to pursue a lighter and freer spirit.

Wu Bingbing listened, nodding as if she understood. She suddenly thought of Huang Qing. Zhang Qun had investigated before, and Huang Qing was a student at this art academy. Since Jiang Lan had used her name to go abroad, she must know Huang Qing, and perhaps there was even a story between them!

"By the way, is there a girl named Huang Qing at your school?"

"Yes. How do you know her?" Ma Yuan asked, somewhat surprised.

"Hmm, that's what Chen Xiaona mentioned in her letter home..."

"Yes, she was a student in Xiaona's graduating class. Xiaona liked her very much and even brought her to her home a few times, saying that Huang Qing looked a lot like her. I haven't seen her since graduation; she probably went back to her hometown."

"Huang Qing and she look very alike?"

"That's what Xiaona said. I don't think they look alike. They're just similar in build and weight, but their temperaments are completely different. However, their face shapes are somewhat similar, but their eyes are different. Xiaona's eyes are big and bright, while Huang Qing is a silly girl with single eyelids and unattractive features. She can't compare to Xiaona."

"Yes, yes," Wu Bingbing agreed verbally, but in her heart she was thinking that he only loved his beautiful wife. Since even the parties involved thought they looked alike, then the two of them must look alike in some way. Perhaps Jiang Lan took advantage of this resemblance and deliberately got close to Huang Qing from that time onwards, and later orchestrated that scheme of escaping unscathed.

"I also want to ask, did you never see that Hong Kong art dealer again after that?"