Chapter 266: Shadow Puppets and Lamplight (32)
In the courtyard of Third Uncle Bai’s home.
Although Third Uncle Bai had used the excuse of feeling unwell to leave, his absence actually didn’t affect anyone. On the contrary, it made everyone feel more at ease.
The only downside was that dinner was now out of the question.
Because of Zhang Wubing’s disastrous seasoning skills, a perfectly good pot of noodles had been ruined. So, while everyone mourned the wasted noodles, they took turns scolding Zhang Wubing.
The most vocal among them was An Nanyuan.
Since he was quick to act, he was the only one who had grabbed a bowl of noodles when everyone else was still coming downstairs. That meant he was the first—and only—person to suffer through Zhang Wubing’s cooking, which tasted so bad it nearly sent him to the afterlife.
Now, An Nanyuan sat in the kitchen, staring daggers at Zhang Wubing while swirling warm water in his mouth to wash away the lingering taste.
Zhang Wubing sheepishly rubbed his nose, looking everywhere but at An Nanyuan.
Zhao Zhen stood nearby, both amused and exasperated. “Nanyuan, you actually trusted Director Zhang’s cooking skills? He clearly doesn’t look like someone who can cook. How could you believe in him so completely? You picked up such a huge bite of noodles and didn’t even hesitate to eat it.”
Zhang Wubing seized that lifeline and nodded eagerly. “Exactly, exactly. How could you trust me like that…”
“I thought it was a bowl of thick, soy-sauce-covered Binhai-style noodles!”
An Nanyuan cried, full of despair. “Other people’s dark, gooey-looking dishes usually taste amazing. Why doesn’t that rule apply to Director Zhang’s food? Director Zhang, do you have some kind of reverse constitution?!”
Zhang Wubing, who had just been trying to defend himself by following Zhao Zhen’s lead: “……”
Zhao Zhen looked at An Nanyuan, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Should he be impressed that this guy debuted through a talent competition? He sure had a way with words—calling that inky, medicine-like bowl of slop “thick soy-sauce-covered noodles”… Would a true Binhai chef approve?
At that moment, Lu Xingxing, who had struggled to make it downstairs after hearing there was food, finally reached the kitchen. He had barely taken a few shaky steps before the scene hit him: everyone was either sitting or standing with tense expressions. The atmosphere in the room was sharp as a drawn sword.
They all stood in the kitchen, still faintly smelling of noodle broth, but not a single person was actually eating.
Lu Xingxing: “?”
“You bunch of animals! Even the donkeys in the commune aren’t as hungry as you!”
Lu Xingxing stared at them, horrified. “I only slept for a little while, and you didn’t save me a single bite? Is this how you treat a friend?”
Everyone: “Uh…”
Zhang Wubing tried to make himself as small as possible and rushed over to the hot water kettle, pouring a cup of warm water and bringing it back like a peace offering.
“There… there’s no more noodles.”
Zhang Wubing said guiltily. “Why don’t you drink some water to tide you over, Xingxing? When Brother Yan comes back, he can make more. My Brother Yan’s cooking is actually pretty good. At least it won’t poison anyone.”
As he spoke, his voice grew quieter and quieter, until it was no louder than a mosquito’s hum.
Lu Xingxing stared at him, puzzled. His gaze swept the kitchen, and thanks to the sharp observation skills he had developed under Yan Shixun’s training, he immediately noticed several bowls of noodles sitting on the stove next to An Nanyuan.
Though the broth in the bowls looked dark and hard to identify, it glistened with oil under the light. For someone like Lu Xingxing, who had lost too much blood and desperately needed energy, it was incredibly tempting.
“What are you talking about? Aren’t those noodles right there?”
Lu Xingxing pushed past Zhang Wubing and gave him a strange once-over. “You won’t even let me have a bowl of noodles? Are you seriously that stingy because you’re sick? Don’t worry—if I eat one bowl from you, I’ll pay you back ten when we get back to Binhai.”
Saying that, Lu Xingxing walked over to An Nanyuan’s side and reached for a noodle bowl.
But Zhao Zhen quickly rushed forward to stop him.
“Hey, hey, hey! You’re already injured. Don’t go ruining your health any further. Don’t do something you’ll regret!”
Lu Xingxing realized that both Zhao Zhen and An Nanyuan were staring at him, visibly tense.
His hand hovered in the air. He looked at the bowl of noodles in front of him, then at the obviously guilty Zhang Wubing, and slowly began to piece things together.
“Zhang Dabing, you…”
Lu Xingxing stared at Zhang Wubing in horror. “You really are something else. No wonder you live with Brother Yan and Master Aunt! You even inherited this from Master Aunt?”
Zhang Wubing: “Ah yes, yes… Wait, what?”
Originally bracing for a scolding, Zhang Wubing had just started nodding apologetically when he froze in confusion.
He looked up, completely baffled, and stared at Lu Xingxing. It took him several seconds to realize that Lu Xingxing was talking about Ye Li’s cooking skills.
Back in Binhai, Zhang Wubing had often used the excuse of working late or claiming it was unsafe to go home at night to wrangle a stay at Yan Shixun’s house.
Given his constitution, saying he was afraid of running into ghosts at night was the perfect justification—so good that even Ye Li couldn’t argue against it.
But the truth was, Zhang Wubing’s real goal had been Jing Xiaobao. He didn’t want that sweet-talking little ghost to stay alone with Brother Yan and steal away the affection that should’ve belonged to him.
But at the same time, he also ended up provoking Ye Li.
After all, with Zhang Wubing around, much of Yan Shixun’s attention had been diverted. Even the things he used to worry about became topics for late-night conversations with Zhang Wubing that often went on until the early hours.
This stirred a strong sense of dissatisfaction in Ye Li.
—He hadn’t even had a single chance to sit by candlelight and chat late into the night with his beloved exorcist.
As a result, Zhang Wubing was naturally turned into Ye Li’s food-tasting guinea pig, joining Jing Xiaobao in sampling Ye Li’s cooking attempts.
Ye Li saw them as tools to help him improve his culinary skills, but both Jing Xiaobao and Zhang Wubing began to feel like trash bins rather than taste testers.
Eventually, Jing Xiaobao fled back to the underworld in the middle of the night, crying that being the King of Hell was far easier than eating Ye Li’s food.
Zhang Wubing, with tears in his eyes, called his family’s chauffeur and begged to be picked up, claiming that even bowing his head to Father Zhang would be easier to swallow than Ye Li’s cooking.
Ye Li: “…”
Still, at the time, although Ye Li was very displeased by their lack of support for his cooking, he was overall quite satisfied that only he and Shixun were left in the house.
And this kind of scene was something Lu Xingxing had the “privilege” of witnessing a few times as well.
It left a huge psychological shadow on him.
What Lu Xingxing didn’t expect, however… was that even this—Zhang Wubing somehow managed to inherit from Ye Li?? It really proved the saying, “Only a real family steps through the same door.”
Lu Xingxing and Zhang Wubing stared at each other in disbelief, while Zhao Zhen and An Nanyuan looked between the two of them, thoroughly confused.
After Lu Xingxing explained everything to them, emphasizing just how strikingly similar Zhang Wubing’s cooking was to Ye Li’s, even someone as composed as Zhao Zhen couldn’t help but marvel.
“This kind of thing can be inherited? Wait, no—Director Zhang isn’t actually related to Brother Yan’s family, right? ‘Inherited’ might not be the right word.”
Zhao Zhen, who had taken care of himself since his child actor days, earnestly asked Zhang Wubing, “Director Zhang, how did you manage this? I thought cooking was just one of those things people naturally picked up once they entered a kitchen?”
An Nanyuan, who could only make instant noodles, felt personally attacked: I think you’re dragging me down with you.
But Zhang Wubing wasn’t having it. A surge of emotion rose from deep within, a competitiveness rooted in his very soul, and he declared, “No way! If he cooks badly, then I must cook *worse* than him!”
No matter what they were comparing, he absolutely refused to lose to that guy from Fengdu!
Everyone else: “…Uh… this isn’t something you need to compete over.”
It was the first time they’d seen someone insist on one-upping someone else in terms of bad cooking. Director Zhang, wake up! What are you even doing?
As soon as the words left his mouth, Zhang Wubing seemed to snap out of it and jolted back to his senses.
He blinked, noticed everyone staring at him, and forced himself to double down with a stiff expression, saying, “No way, my dad can only have one good son. Of course, it has to be me who inherits from him!”
Bringing this up reminded Zhang Wubing of Jing Xiaobao, and he immediately got genuinely angry.
Zhang Wubing: See? I’m the real family here! That Jing Xiaobao who showed up out of nowhere—where did that little ghost even come from?
The room fell into a long, awkward silence, until An Nanyuan said expressionlessly, “Right, Third Uncle Bai had already made the noodles and just needed to add a few spices to finish the dish—and you still managed to turn it into that. Of course it’s a rare talent, beyond the reach of ordinary folks.”
An Nanyuan put his hands together in mock prayer and added solemnly, “Thank you, Director Zhang. Thanks to you, now all we can do is drink water.”
Lu Xingxing clutched his rumbling stomach and could only bow his head in defeat as he gulped down hot water.
Zhang Wubing: “…”
T-There’s a murderous aura. QAQ
He quietly took a step back, terrified that someone might lose their temper and do something to him. Like a rabbit, he bolted away.
Song Ci watched all of this unfold.
But unlike usual—when this picky young master was extremely particular about the quality of life—this time, he said nothing.
He simply sat on a stool by the kitchen door, with his back to the light and warmth of the kitchen, quietly watching Xie Lin in the distance, his eyes filled with worry.
Earlier, when Xie Lin came back from outside and mentioned seeing his sister, it made Song Ci deeply concerned about his condition.
Even though the young master suspected Xie Lin hadn’t been taking his medication properly again—something he’d done before—there was no doctor around in this remote mountain area.
All he could do was suppress the growing anxiety in his heart, force himself to stay calm, and resolve that once they left Baizhi Lake, he would immediately drag Xie Lin to see a doctor.
Although Xie Lin had tried to explain things to Song Ci, it was clear Song Ci didn’t believe him.
In fact, from Song Ci’s long-term observations of Xie Lin, his worry had only intensified.
Ever since Xie Lin returned, he had been completely absentminded.
Even when people spoke to him or greeted him, he responded distractedly. His smiles were clearly perfunctory—anyone could tell his mind was still fixated on that “sister” he saw outside and hadn’t come back from it yet.
Song Ci pressed his lips together, frustration written all over his refined features.
The truth was, many people hadn’t told Xie Lin the full story. But Song Ci—who had been the one to save Xie Lin multiple times—was treated as his guardian and was told everything.
Xie Lin… could never find his sister.
The DNA report from back then already concluded that the kidnapped Xie Jiaojiao had almost no chance of survival. She was most likely caught up in an internal dispute among the kidnapping gang and was killed in the chaos.
Before, Song Ci had even used his family’s connections to try to help Xie Lin find Jiaojiao.
Although the proud young master never understood why someone would stake their entire existence on someone else’s life or death—to the point of not even valuing their own life—he still tried.
Because if finding Jiaojiao could bring Xie Lin back to himself, make him the vibrant, passionate idol of years past—the man who once stood atop the stage, raised his arm, and had thousands cheer in unison for him—then it was worth it.
Song Ci didn’t mind helping Xie Lin find Xie Jiaojiao again.
—To help Xie Lin find the meaning of his life again.
As the person closest to Xie Lin and the one who understood him the most, Song Ci, although displeased, still knew that Xie Lin had never truly cherished himself.
Xie Lin’s life belonged to Xie Jiaojiao.
Whether it was leaving the village for the county to be waiters, or being discovered by a sharp-eyed director and rising to fame in the entertainment industry, everything Xie Lin did from the very beginning had been to support Xie Jiaojiao and give his little sister the best life possible.
From a youth who grew up in a daze living off the charity of others, to a beloved and dazzling song god… all that was missing was Xie Jiaojiao.
Song Ci looked at Xie Lin standing in the courtyard with a complicated expression.
Ever since returning, Xie Lin had been standing there, head tilted back, staring at the house across the way. No matter who spoke to him, he seemed distracted and unresponsive.
With a sigh, Song Ci finally couldn’t bear seeing Xie Lin in such a dejected state. He turned and went upstairs, planning to check the pockets of his coat to see if he had brought Xie Lin’s medicine.
Just as Song Ci stepped upstairs, Xie Lin finally made up his mind and started walking toward the main gate.
In the darkness, Ye Li raised his lashes slightly and looked indifferently at Xie Lin approaching again. He lifted his arm to block him.
Xie Lin looked at Ye Li in confusion, unsure what he intended to do.
But without Yan Shixun present, Ye Li clearly had no interest in outsiders. He didn’t even bother to offer a single word of explanation.
As a ghost deity who paid no mind to the human world, Ye Li never saw himself as someone like Nuwa, sacrificing for the greater good, nor did he ever intend to imitate those popular gods with countless followers on Earth. He never considered kindness or salvation his responsibility.
Fengdu’s divine duty was judgment and death.
The only reason Ye Li remained by the courtyard gate at that moment was because Yan Shixun had asked him to protect the others—so he did.
—Only Yan Shixun could actually use a ghost deity as a gatekeeper.
He was the last remaining ghost deity between Heaven and Earth, a being so hard to summon that even the Dao itself had to exhaust all means.
As for offering extra explanations to others…
Ye Li stood coldly in the dark. Even with Xie Lin staring directly at him, he had no intention of speaking.
For thousands of years, the Lord of Fengdu had never responded to the human world.
Whether it was a virtuous monk or the founding master of a sect, in the eyes of Fengdu’s ruler, they were all treated equally—with indifference and silence.
The only exception had been someone with the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation favored by ghost deity.
Expecting a ghost deity to kindly explain things?
That was a bigger dream than dreaming itself.
Xie Lin patiently waited for a moment and even signaled to Ye Li several times with his eyes, but Ye Li remained motionless.
Helpless, Xie Lin had no choice but to speak politely, “Excuse me… Mr. Assistant, I’m planning to step out for a bit. Would you please let me pass?”
Ye Li lowered his lashes again, taking on the appearance of someone who had fallen asleep, maintaining the posture of blocking Xie Lin with his arm, without saying a word.
Xie Lin said many things, but Ye Li remained as unresponsive as if he couldn’t see or hear him at all, which gradually ignited a fire in Xie Lin’s heart.
He had only joined this episode of the show as a last-minute replacement due to Song Ci’s connection. Whether it was Yan Shixun or Ye Li, he didn’t know them well. He only knew a few things Song Ci had told him—like how this assistant next to Yan Shixun was actually his lover in disguise.
But now, Ye Li’s refusal to let him go to the house across the way made Xie Lin increasingly angry. His tone grew heavier, edged with accusation.
Only then did Ye Li finally lift his lashes slightly. Shadows under his feet quietly spread, enveloping Xie Lin and brushing away the karmic consequence of his disrespect toward the ghost deity.
Though Fengdu was a city of the dead, it was a righteous deity acknowledged by Heaven and Earth.
To insult a ghost deity—whether or not the deity minded—Heaven and Earth would not tolerate it.
Ye Li didn’t care how others treated him. The only one he valued was Yan Shixun.
Still, he didn’t want Xie Lin’s fortune to suffer over something so trivial.
However, now that Xie Lin had spoken to this extent, Ye Li was no gentle saint nor a benevolent Buddha who would feed his flesh to an eagle.
In his view, all beings—people, gods, or ghosts—must bear the consequences of their own choices.
The living possessed this freedom.
—If that was truly their will.
So Ye Li glanced at Xie Lin and finally asked his first question: “You’re willing to bear the consequences?”
This was different from when Xie Lin had gone out earlier. Back then, Yan Shixun had been right across the way. Even if Xie Lin had gone there, he would have remained within Ye Li’s protection and entered Yan Shixun’s line of sight—there would’ve been no risk.
But now, Ye Li could tell with a glance that Xie Lin was anxious, his heart set on the house across the street, eager to go find someone—but Yan Shixun wasn’t there.
Due to the presence of the ebony statue guarding the shadow puppet play here, even Ye Li, when facing the version of himself from a thousand years ago, lost the ability to communicate with Heaven and Earth and couldn’t see the truth hidden beneath the statue’s power.
Xie Lin had no idea what Ye Li was thinking. He just sneered and said, “What I do is my business. I appreciate your good intentions, but no thank you.”
Ye Li withdrew his arm and no longer blocked the way, melting back into the surrounding darkness.
Meanwhile, Xie Lin, now emotionally stirred, strode out the gate and headed straight for Zheng Shumu’s house across the street.
Ye Li tilted his head slightly and saw Xie Lin knocking on the door.
The song god, usually so composed and graceful in front of everyone, now looked like an anxious young man, standing outside the Zheng family’s home, urgently hoping for a definite answer—yes or no.
Or perhaps…
He simply wanted to catch a glimpse of the little girl who reminded him of his sister. To ease the pain of missing her. To give himself the strength to keep living through the suffering.
Xie Lin waited for a moment before faint sounds came from inside.
Someone seemed to be approaching the door.
The door cautiously opened a crack.
A little girl stood there, pouting unhappily, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand as if someone had just woken her from a dream.
“Who is it?”
Zheng Tiantian blinked sleepily, then looked up at Xie Lin in surprise and said, “Big Brother, what are you doing here?”
When Xie Lin saw her smiling face, he couldn’t help but smile back.
But as soon as he heard her words, he realized how completely unreasonable his visit was.
Even though he was desperate to understand why seeing Zheng Tiantian reminded him of his sister—why she felt so much like her—he had no reason to bring this up to a strange little girl.
Xie Lin pressed his lips together, afraid of scaring her.
As he struggled to come up with an excuse, Zheng Tiantian obediently stepped aside and gestured for him to come in.
“Come in and talk, Big Brother.”
She frowned and said unhappily, “I don’t like leaving my door open. I always worry a naughty pet might run out.”
“You have pets?”
Xie Lin asked casually as he stepped through the threshold at her invitation.
The heavy door slowly closed behind him with a deep, muffled thud.
Not far off, in the shadows, Ye Li half-lowered his gaze and silently observed everything.
When Xie Lin’s figure disappeared from view, Ye Li disinterestedly looked away and turned his gaze back toward the kitchen in the courtyard.
He had an inexplicable feeling.
Tonight, Zhang Wubing was particularly annoying to him.
And just now—that laughable competitiveness…
Ye Li stared coldly at Zhang Wubing and let out a nearly inaudible snort of disdain.
It always reminded him of that ghost deity in the underworld from a hundred years ago.
At that moment, Zhang Wubing seemed to sense something and turned his head, gazing from the warm, well-lit kitchen toward Ye Li standing in the dark courtyard.
But the foolish child who was always tearfully clinging to Yan Shixun’s leg now looked at Ye Li with nothing but a calm, clear gaze.
It was as if he had walked through life and death countless times, had stared directly into the collapse of heaven and earth, had witnessed the cries and bloodshed of all mankind—pain that pierced his eyes—while the wails of countless ghosts went unheard and unanswered.
Then, all that suffering and rage had accumulated deep within his soul, slowly settling, becoming heavy and composed.
Zhang Wubing’s eyes were dim and lifeless, but as he turned his gaze and lowered his head, a slight smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
The mist rising in the kitchen curled around him, and his back was straight as a rod. Only the pale nape of his neck was visible.
Like a crane, standing tall and graceful amidst the swirling fog.
Zhang Wubing tilted his head slightly, as if he had sensed something. The smile on his lips deepened.
Yan Shixun…
The sky was pitch dark.
The field ridges were cloaked in shadow.
The tall plants, as high as a person, covered the entire field, making it impossible to distinguish one place from another.
Yan Shixun had been following the tracks of the woman and the ghost infant, but when the silhouette of a boy suddenly appeared before him, he stopped abruptly.
The boy was skin and bones, with hair as wild as weeds. He wore ill-fitting clothes—too short at the sleeves and hems—and each piece of fabric was a different color, clearly patched together from discarded scraps given by others.
He wandered along the field ridge like a lost soul, occasionally bending down to feel along the ground.
His exposed bones were so fragile that it seemed he might collapse at any moment and never get up again.
Yan Shixun understood what the boy was doing.
He was gathering grain.
Whatever food had been left behind in the fields by others was precious sustenance for this boy.
Judging by his appearance and clothing, he lived a life where clothes barely covered his body and food was never enough. He was so hungry that he could only pick through what others had thrown away to survive.
But now, among the scattered grains, there was something else…
Yan Shixun’s gaze fell on the ghost infant.
That mass of black, grotesque darkness had just finished draining its mother of every last ounce of life and was now sleeping peacefully in its blood-soaked swaddling cloth, its cheeks pink and soft.
But the noise from the boy seemed to wake it, and the ghost infant let out a few soft, unhappy cries.
The boy, startled and wary, looked over in alarm.
Yan Shixun instinctively wanted to step forward to stop him, but the boy was quicker, stumbling toward the bundle.
When he saw the crying baby clearly, his face registered obvious surprise—followed quickly by angry glances around him.
He probably thought this was a child someone had abandoned, thrown away like trash, and he was furious to find out who had done it.
But the infant’s cries quickly pulled him out of his anger. Panicked and clumsy, he scooped the bundle up from the ridge.
His movements were awkward but careful, as though terrified that his bony arms might hurt or frighten the baby.
As the infant was cradled in the boy’s arms, she tilted her head up, blinking her round, shiny eyes at him, waving her plump little arms like lotus roots, and giggling.
The boy’s expression immediately softened, melting into pure tenderness.
“You were a life that was thrown away. So was I.”
Yan Shixun heard the boy speak gently and affectionately to the ghost infant: “They didn’t want you, but that’s okay. I do. From now on, I’ll raise you. If I have one bite to eat, you’ll have one too.”
The boy held the ghost infant’s tiny hand and made a vow that would last a lifetime: “I’ll protect you.”
Suddenly, thunder and lightning exploded across the sky, shattering the night with a deafening roar. The world seemed to tremble.
It was as if the great cosmic force—the Dao—was roaring in rage, ready to smite the ghost infant.
Yet the child was now held in the arms of a living human. That embrace became a shield the Dao could not bypass. The thunder and lightning raged uselessly across the heavens.
Yan Shixun watched it all unfold and suddenly understood why this ghost infant—who had been a harbinger of great misfortune since birth and had drained her mother’s life away—was still alive.
—Because of the vow and protection from a living person.
The Dao might be merciless, but it would not, without cause or karma, harm an innocent life.
Even if the Dao saw all, even if it knew what the future held, as long as that future had not yet come to pass and cause-and-effect had not been set into motion, it could not act before the living being bore the weight of its sins.
It was because the Dao bound all things equally that it could be called the Great Dao.
But this invisible constraint also gave the cunning ghost infant a loophole to exploit.
As the boy raised his head, lightning split the sky, illuminating the earth—and his face.
Yan Shixun’s sharp eyes widened slowly.
Even though the boy’s face was still young and malnourished to the point of being gaunt, Yan Shixun could still recognize the familiar traces within.
Yan Shixun knew very well that once this boy grew up, that face would cause countless people to go mad with admiration.
This boy would usher in a golden age. His name would be sung across the country, from north to south. People would revere him as both idol and deity, zealously attaching every praise and virtue to his name.
He was…
Xie Lin.
Then that ghost infant…
Realization struck Yan Shixun. His dazed gaze dropped to the ghost infant, who was giggling in delight.
He remembered what Song Ci had once told him about Xie Lin.
Xie Lin had a sister he picked up off the street—no blood relation—but he loved her dearly, even treating her as the meaning behind his life and struggle.
Xie Jiaojiao…
“That’s your sister. She died in your mother’s womb and was born as a ghost infant. Your mother named her Zheng Tiantian.”
Yan Shixun’s voice was hoarse as he said to Zheng Shumu beside him, “She’s also Xie Lin’s missing sister—Xie Jiaojiao.”
Zheng Shumu let out a long sigh. Then, he quietly closed his eyes and turned his head away, no longer willing to look at the scene before him.
“Mr. Yan, if it were you, what would you choose?”
Zheng Shumu’s voice was low and bleak. “When someone you love, someone you regret and feel guilty toward, might one day bring about the end of the world—but what she destroys are only things you already hate… would you stop her? Or… how would you treat her?”
“As a family member, or as an exorcist?”
Zheng Shumu gave a bitter smile.
He was smiling, but it looked worse than crying. There was no light in his cloudy eyes, only blood-red tears welling up from their depths.
Zheng Shumu slowly walked to the side. He crouched down, reaching out to gently gather the skin-and-bones skeleton lying lifeless on the ground into his arms.
Blood-red tears fell, one by one, onto the remains.
The woman had been completely drained by Zheng Tiantian. All that remained was a hideous skeleton.
And yet, even in death, her eyes were wide open, staring unblinking in the direction Zheng Tiantian had gone.
As if, in her final moment, she wanted to call out—
Tian Tian.
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