My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 23

Lin Jiqiu was awakened by the sound of the waves. Not by the alarm clock, not by Cheng Ran’s phone call, but by the sea outside the window. It wasn’t fully light yet; a layer of grayish-blue light peeked through the gaps in the curtains, carrying an ambiguity between night and day. She lay in bed listening for a while; the rhythm of the waves was slow, one after another, like some ancient breath.

She sat up and picked up her phone from beside her pillow. 6:23. Cheng Ran had said last night she wanted to see the sunrise—she glanced out the window; the sky was already beginning to lighten, and orange-red light was spreading from the horizon.

She got out of bed, walked to the window, and drew back the curtains.

The sunrise at the sea is different from that in the city. There are no tall buildings to block the view, no reflections from glass curtain walls, only the sky, the sea, and that luminous horizon. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but its light has already filled half the sky. The sea glistens, like a layer of scattered gold.

The ball on my wrist vibrated.

“Awake?” Cheng Ran’s voice came through the earpiece.

“Um.”

“I’m at your door.”

Lin Jiqiu turned to open the door. Cheng Ran stood in the hallway, wearing a dark coat, his hair still unkempt, holding two cups of coffee. He handed her one of them.

When did you buy the coffee?

“The hotel landlady cooked it. I said I wanted two cups, and she asked if it was for my girlfriend. I said no. She said, ‘Then why two cups?’ I said, ‘One cup is for a friend.'”

Lin Jiqiu took the coffee and took a sip. “And then?”

“Then she laughed. That kind of laugh.”

Which one?

“It’s the kind of ‘I know you’re lying’ kind of thing.”

Lin Jiqiu didn’t reply. She leaned against the door frame, looking at the window at the end of the corridor. You could see the sea from there too, but the angle was a bit off, and you could only see a small patch of blue water.

“How many minutes until sunrise?” she asked.

“About seven minutes.”

Lin Jiqiu turned and walked back into the room, Cheng Ran following behind. She walked to the window, pulled up a chair, and sat down. Cheng Ran stood beside her, not sitting down. The two of them stood side by side, looking out the window. The light on the horizon grew brighter and brighter, the orange-red turning into gold, and the scattered gold on the sea surface became a vast expanse of light.

“They’re out,” Lin Jiqiu said.

The sun peeked out from the edge of the sea, then halfway, then completely. In an instant, the light blanketed the sea, making her squint.

Cheng Ran didn’t speak. His senses were processing the data on the light—brightness, color temperature, and the angle of reflection from the sea surface. But he didn’t say anything; he just stood there quietly.

The sunrise lasted about four minutes. After the sun had completely risen above the sea, the light softened and became less glaring.

“Is it pretty?” Lin Jiqiu asked.

“good.”

“good?”

“It’s prettier than the ones in the city.”

Lin Jiqiu smiled. “Have you ever seen a sunrise at the beach before?”

“No.”

“first?”

“Um.”

Lin Jiqiu turned and glanced at him. He was looking out the window, his expression calm, but his ears were a little red—not from the sun, the sun wasn’t that high yet.

“Then this is my first time too,” she said.

Cheng Ran’s fingers tightened slightly on the coffee cup.

The two continued to look at the sea.

At nine o’clock in the morning, Sun Yuan appeared at the entrance of the research institute on time. He was wearing a clean white lab coat today, and his hair seemed to have been combed, but he was still wearing his usual black-rimmed glasses, with a little dust on the lenses. When Lin Jiqiu and Cheng Ran arrived, he was talking to the security guard at the gate. Seeing them arrive, he waved to the guard and walked over.

“How did you sleep last night?” Sun Yuan asked.

“Not bad,” Lin Jiqiu said. “Have you finished organizing the data?”

“It’s all sorted out. Let’s talk in my office.”

The office on the third floor was just as messy as yesterday. The bookshelves were crammed with documents, and in addition to yesterday’s materials, there was another stack of printed copies on the desk. Sun Yuan pulled out chairs for them to sit down, then sat opposite them and pushed a thick folder over.

“These are all the records from the day Fang Lin went missing—diving plan, equipment list, communication log, search and rescue report. There are also some of her personal notes, which the research institute didn’t keep; I found them in her desk.”

Lin Jiqiu opened the folder, and Cheng Ran leaned over to look. The first page was the diving plan: target depth of forty to sixty meters, operation duration of forty minutes, main task is to collect sediment samples around the hydrothermal vent. Diver: Fang Lin. Backup diver: Vacant. A note in the remarks column read in handwriting—”Solo operation, approved.”

“Who signed this approval?” Lin Jiqiu pointed to the remarks.

“The director’s surname is Wang, and his name is Wang Jianguo,” Sun Yuan said. “I was there when he signed it. Fang Lin said she could handle it on her own, and Director Wang hesitated for a moment, but finally signed it.”

“Has there ever been a precedent for solo deep-sea diving?”

“It has happened before, but it’s not common. Solo work is too risky and is generally not approved. This time it’s probably because of the tight schedule—the sampling window for that area is about to close, and if we miss it, we’ll have to wait until next year.”

Lin Jiqiu continued flipping through the pages. On the equipment list page, oxygen cylinders, buoyancy control devices, communicators, positioning beacons, underwater cameras… each item was listed with its model and serial number. Cheng Ran took out his phone and took a picture.

“Was the equipment inspected afterward?” Cheng Ran asked.

“It’s been checked. The oxygen tank still has about fifteen minutes’ worth of energy left, which should be enough for her to return to the surface. But the communicator is broken—when the search and rescue team found it, the casing was cracked, probably from being hit by something.”

“Where is the positioning beacon?”

“It’s broken too. The location where the signal was lost is about 42 meters deep. The search and rescue team searched that area for two days but couldn’t find her.”

Lin Jiqiu flipped to the search and rescue report. The report was written in a very standard manner, with the time, location, participants, search area, and results all filled in, but it always felt like something was missing. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Sun Yuan, you said before that Fang Lin saw ‘something’ underwater. Did she mention it to you, or that she might have seen something?”

Sun Yuan thought for a moment. “She said it once. When we went down there together, she pointed to the depths of the cave and said, ‘There seems to be something glowing over there.'”

“Glowing?”

“Hmm. It was a very faint light, green. She thought it was some kind of bioluminescence and wanted to go take a look. But we didn’t have enough oxygen that time, so we didn’t go.”

“Later, she went down alone, perhaps to see the light?”

“Very likely.” Sun Yuan lowered his head. “If she went there… that cave is very deep. I’ve never been inside, so I don’t know what’s inside.”

Lin Jiqiu and Cheng Ran exchanged a glance.

“Could you show us the entrance to that cave?” Lin Jiqiu asked.

Sun Yuan looked up. “You’re going into the water?”

“I won’t go into the water. I’ll just look at it from the surface.”

Sun Yuan hesitated for a moment. “Okay. There’s a boat this afternoon. I’ll apply for it.”

How long will it take?

“One hour.”

“Okay. We’ll wait at the research institute.”

Sun Yuan stood up and walked out of the office. His footsteps echoed in the corridor, fading into the distance.

Lin Jiqiu leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling.

“What do you think?” she asked Cheng Ran.

“Fang Lin’s disappearance is not a normal one.” Cheng Ran opened his tablet. “There is enough oxygen for fifteen minutes, enough for her to float. The probability of her communicator and positioning beacon being damaged at the same time is very low. Unless it was caused by external force.”

“What external force?”

“I don’t know. It could be a reef, a cave wall, or something else—”

“people.”

Cheng Ran did not respond.

Lin Jiqiu stood up and walked to the window. Outside the window was the sea, a deep blue, different from when it was at sunrise in the morning. After the sun rose higher, the sea turned a bright blue, shimmering and looking quiet and beautiful.

But what lies hidden beneath the surface?

At 2 p.m., Sun Yuan led them to the dock.

The dock wasn’t large, with a few small fishing boats and two research vessels moored there. Sun Yuan spoke a few words with the dock manager, who pointed to a white boat. The boat wasn’t large, and some equipment and ropes were piled on the deck.

“That’s the one,” Sun Yuan said. “I’ll go with you.”

The three boarded the boat. Sun Yuan started the engine, and the boat slowly sailed away from the dock. The sea breeze was stronger than on the shore, blowing Lin Jiqiu’s hair back. She hadn’t deliberately changed her appearance today; she was in male form, and her short hair was somewhat disheveled by the wind.

After about twenty minutes of sailing, Sun Yuan slowed down and pointed to a white buoy on the sea. “The entrance to the cave is below that buoy. The water is about fifteen meters deep, and the cave extends downwards, reaching a depth of over sixty meters at its deepest point.”

Lin Jiqiu walked to the side of the ship and looked down. The water was a deep blue, and the bottom was invisible. Below the buoy, a mooring rope hung straight down into the sea and disappeared into the deep darkness.

“Did Fang Lin go into the water in this area?” Cheng Ran asked.

“Yes. The anchor point is near the buoy. She dives down from here and goes in through the cave entrance.”

“Where did the search and rescue team find the equipment?”

Sun Yuan pointed to a spot further away. “Over there. About fifty meters from the cave entrance.”

Cheng Ran took out his tablet, pulled up the coordinates from the search and rescue report, and compared them. “The equipment was found at that location. But the communication was lost here.” He pointed directly below the buoy.

“So she lost communication near the cave entrance, and then the device reappeared fifty meters away?”

“Hmm. The search and rescue report explains it as ocean currents. But the currents here aren’t strong enough to carry the equipment that far.”

Lin Jiqiu squatted down and put her hand into the seawater. The water was colder than she had imagined, and a chill crept up her fingertips. She closed her eyes and felt it—not with her ability, but with her instinct.

“Cheng Ran, what do you think it could be?”

Cheng Ran stood beside her, looking at the sea. “I don’t know. But I want to go down and take a look.”

Lin Jiqiu stood up and looked at him. “You?”

“It’s not me. It’s you. Your structural deformation allows you to breathe underwater.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. He was telling the truth. She really could. Grow gills, webbed feet, and pressure-resistant bones to become an amphibious being. That was the closest of her abilities to being “non-human,” and she had only used it once.

“Now?”

“Let’s scout ahead first. Don’t go down to the deepest part. Check if there’s anything unusual at the cave entrance.”

Sun Yuan listened from the side, his face turning pale. “You…you can go into the water?”

“Yes.” Lin Jiqiu didn’t explain further.

She took off her coat and shoes, leaving her in only a dark T-shirt and pants. Cheng Ran took a small waterproof flashlight out of his backpack and handed it to her.

“Tie it to your wrist.”

Lin Jiqiu took it and tied it to his left wrist, next to the “Yin” symbol. The sphere touched the metal casing of the flashlight, making a soft sound.

She walked to the side of the ship and took a deep breath.

Then he jumped.

The water was colder than when she put her hand in. She submerged completely, her vision instantly enveloped in a blue world. Light streamed down from above, illuminating the water and transforming into countless tiny beams of light.

She didn’t rush to dive. She first acclimatized to the water temperature, then allowed her energy to flow. Her structure deformed—the texture of her skin changed, becoming smooth, like a dolphin’s skin, reducing water resistance. On either side of her neck, the gill slits slowly opened, the fine folds rhythmically opening and closing in the water, extracting oxygen and sending it into her bloodstream. Between her fingers and toes, webbing grew, thin and transparent, like a frog’s feet.

She looked down at herself—still in human shape, but no longer in human form.

Lin Jiqiu took a deep breath of water—the gills delivered oxygen into his lungs without choking him; it was as natural as breathing air.

She began to descend.

The rope beneath the buoy served as her guide. She gripped the rope, descending inch by inch. The water pressure increased with depth, causing her eardrums to ache. She adjusted the structure of her inner ear to balance the pressure. The pain subsided.

Ten meters. The light dimmed, and the beam of light overhead became blurry. Fifteen meters. The entrance to the cave appeared before them—an irregular opening, about two meters in diameter, its edges covered with seaweed and shellfish. The inside of the opening was dark; the beam of the flashlight shone in, revealing only a few meters ahead.

Lin Jiqiu paused at the cave entrance. The flashlight beam swept across the cave wall—the rock surface was smooth, not naturally formed, but as if it had been polished by something. She touched it with her finger; it felt cool to the touch, and there was no seaweed clinging to it—it was very clean.

This is not normal.

The rocks around the cave entrance were covered with seaweed, but the cave walls were completely bare.

She put the flashlight in her mouth, freeing her hands, and swam a few meters into the cave while holding onto the cave wall. The cave was more spacious than she had imagined, like a tunnel that stretched downwards at an angle.

The flashlight beam shone ahead—there was something there. Not a rock, not seaweed. It was a regular shape, with sharp edges and corners.

Lin Ji’s autumn outing is a little closer.

It is a door.

It’s made of metal and embedded in the cave wall. The door isn’t large, about 1.5 meters high and half a meter wide, its surface covered with a thin layer of marine life, but its outline is still clear. The door has hinges and handles along its edges.

A door. Inside a cave forty meters underwater.

Lin Jiqiu’s heart skipped a beat. She reached out and touched the door—it was metal, cold, and rusty, but structurally intact. There were no words or markings on the door, only a circular groove, like a keyhole.

She shone her flashlight into the groove and examined it closely. The bottom of the groove had threads, indicating it wasn’t a typical mechanical lock, but rather some kind of interface.

She took a picture—her phone was in a waterproof bag and hanging around her neck. The flash underwater cast a stark white light, illuminating the outline of the door clearly.

After taking the photos, she didn’t go any deeper. Oxygen—no, time. Although gill breathing doesn’t rely on oxygen tanks, prolonged underwater work would consume her energy, and she needed to bring back what she had seen to Cheng Ran.

She exited the cave and floated up the rope.

The light grew brighter, and the beam of light overhead became clear again. When she burst out of the water, Sun Yuan’s boat was just a few meters away. Cheng Ran stood at the gunwale, reached out and pulled her aboard.

Lin Jiqiu lay on the deck, breathing heavily. Her gill slits closed automatically, her skin regained its original texture, and her webbed membranes slowly retracted. She took her phone off her neck and handed it to Cheng Ran.

“Inside the cave, there is a door.”

Cheng Ran opened his phone’s photo album and looked at the underwater picture. A metal door, embedded in the rock wall, with a clearly visible circular groove.

“A door?” Sun Yuan leaned closer, his face even paler. “Forty meters underwater, inside a cave, there’s a door?”

“Hmm.” Lin Jiqiu sat up and wiped his face with the hem of his T-shirt. “The door isn’t big, it has hinges and a handle. It’s not naturally formed. It’s man-made.”

Sun Yuan stared at the photo, his hands trembling. “What…what is this?”

“I don’t know.” Lin Jiqiu stood up and wrung out his soaked T-shirt. “But Fang Lin may have seen the same thing. The ‘glowing’ she mentioned—there might be a light source behind that door.”

Cheng Ran zoomed in on the circular groove in the photo. “This interface isn’t an ordinary mechanical lock. It’s a data interface.”

Can you open it?

“We need to find a matching connector.” Cheng Ran looked at Lin Jiqiu. “What we’re looking for might be behind that door.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at the sea. The buoy was still in place, and the rope was still hanging down, leading to that door.

“Cheng Ran”.

“Um.”

“I’ll go down and open the door tomorrow.”

Cheng Ran was silent for a few seconds. “I’ll go with you.”

“you?”

“I’m on the ship. I’m not going down. But I can provide remote support. Your ‘yin’ will send me data.”

Lin Jiqiu looked down at the round ball on her wrist. It was still attached to the wristband, waterproof, and hadn’t gotten wet.

“good.”

Sun Yuan listened to their conversation from the side, wanting to say something but holding back.

“Sun Yuan.” Lin Jiqiu looked at him.

“Um?”

“Don’t tell anyone about this.”

Sun Yuan nodded.

The ship turned around and headed towards the dock. The sea breeze felt chilly on their soaked clothes. Lin Jiqiu sat on the deck, hugging her knees. Cheng Ran took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Thanks.”

“Need not.”

Lin Jiqiu tugged at the collar of his coat. The coat still carried his body heat and the faint scent of laundry detergent.

By the time the ship docked, the sun was already beginning to set. The gold on the sea was deeper than in the morning, like a layer of bronze.

Lin Jiqiu stood up and returned the coat to Cheng Ran.

“Tomorrow,” she said.

“Tomorrow,” he replied.

The two disembarked and walked towards the hotel. Their shadows, stretched long by the setting sun, were cast onto the wooden planks of the dock.