My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 24

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “The stargazer installed a door in a cave forty meters underwater. What’s behind that door?” “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a laboratory, maybe it’s a warehouse, maybe it’s…” He didn’t finish. “Maybe what?” “Maybe Fang Lin.”

Lin Jiqiu’s fingers tightened slightly on the blanket. “Do you think she’s still alive?” “If she found that door, maybe she went in. If she went in, maybe she’s still alive.” Cheng Ran’s voice was low, as if stating a possibility rather than a certainty. Lin Jiqiu closed her eyes. “We’ll know tomorrow.” “Okay. Sleep.” “You too.” “Okay.”

Silence fell over the headphones. The sphere vibrated again, then slowly subsided. Lin Jiqiu lay back on the bed, listening to the sound of the waves, her consciousness gradually fading.

The next morning, she woke up before dawn. Pulling back the curtains, the sea was still a greyish-blue; the sun hadn’t risen. The wind was a little calmer than the night before, but the waves were still there, white spray crashing against the shore with a continuous roar. She put on the dark waterproof suit—Cheng Ran had asked A Zuo to bring it the night before. It wasn’t a professional diving suit, but it was more form-fitting and better suited her transformed body. She fastened the “Yin” belt to the wrist strap, then added an extra Velcro strap on the outside, in case it got snagged by rocks underwater. Cellphone, flashlight, folding knife, the USB drive Cheng Ran had given her—she packed everything into the waterproof backpack and zipped it up.

When I went downstairs, Cheng Ran was already in the lobby. He was sitting on the sofa, holding a coffee, with a tablet and some printed documents spread out on the coffee table in front of him. A Zuo was standing at the door, holding his car keys.

“Good morning.” Lin Jiqiu walked over. “Good morning. I left you some coffee.” Cheng Ran pointed to another cup on the coffee table. She picked it up and took a sip. It was bitter, a dark roast, low in acidity—just the kind he drank. “Did the landlady ask you again?” “Yes. She said, ‘Your friend got up even earlier today.'” “What did you say?” “I said, ‘He couldn’t sleep.'” “And then?” “She laughed again.”

Lin Jiqiu put down her coffee cup and picked up the printed document on the coffee table. It was the information Cheng Ran had compiled last night—an analysis of the door’s interface specifications, several possible matching methods, and precautions for underwater operations. She glanced at a few pages and put it down. “We’ll talk about it at the dock.”

The three of them left the hotel. The sky was beginning to lighten, but the sun hadn’t risen yet. The sea breeze was strong, making the signs rattle loudly. A-Zuo drove to the pier, where Sun Yuan was already waiting. He was wearing an old sports jacket and carrying a black waterproof case.

“What’s this?” Lin Jiqiu pointed to the box. “An interface adapter.” Sun Yuan opened the box, revealing a palm-sized metal device, shaped much like the groove on the door. “Cheng Ran sent me the specifications, and I had the machining department at the research institute rush one out. It was a bit rushed, so the surface is rough, but it should work.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up the matching device and examined it closely. It was metal, heavy, and had machined lines on its surface. She put the matching device into her waterproof backpack. “Thanks. Wait for me on the ship. Don’t get too close.”

“You’re going down alone?” Sun Yuan hesitated. “Alone. Two people would be more troublesome.”

Boarding. Sun Yuan started the engine, and the boat slowly pulled away from the dock. The sea was calmer than yesterday, but the wind was still there, and the boat rocked gently with the waves. Reaching the white buoy, Sun Yuan slowed down and turned off the engine. Lin Jiqiu stood up, took off her coat, revealing a waterproof suit underneath. She put on her backpack and checked all her gear.

“Communication test.” Cheng Ran opened his tablet in the cabin. “Can you hear me clearly?” “Yes.” Lin Jiqiu pressed the earpiece. “What’s your heart rate?” “Seventy-two.” “Normal. Can the data from underwater be transmitted back?” “Yes, ‘Yin’ is possible. But if the depth is too high, the signal may weaken.” “I’m recording it simultaneously. Be careful.”

Lin Jiqiu walked to the side of the boat, took a deep breath, and then jumped overboard.

The water was colder than yesterday. She submerged herself, the light from above dimmer than yesterday—the sun hadn’t fully risen. She paused for a few seconds, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light, then allowed her powers to flow. Her skin became slippery, her gills opened, and webbed feet grew. She glanced down at herself—thin, transparent webbed feet trembled slightly in the pale blue water between her fingers. She descended along the rope.

Ten meters. Fifteen meters. The cave entrance was in sight. She stopped and shone her flashlight inside. The smooth area on the cave wall from yesterday was still there, without any new seaweed clinging to it. She swam in and continued down the tunnel from yesterday.

Twenty meters. Twenty-five meters. The water pressure increased, but the deformation of her inner ear structure didn’t cause her eardrums any discomfort. The beam of the flashlight swept ahead, the rocks on the cave walls becoming increasingly smooth, as if repeatedly polished by something. Thirty meters. The tunnel’s direction changed from a downward slope to a gentle extension, and the flashlight shone on the door.

Lin Jiqiu stopped in front of the door. Just like yesterday. The metal door was embedded in the rock wall, its surface covered with a thin layer of marine life, but its outline was clear. Hinges, handles, circular grooves. She took the matching device out of her backpack and compared the size—it fit perfectly.

She aligned the connector with the groove and gently pushed it in. It got stuck. She twisted it; the connector turned half a turn, making a click. The door didn’t open. She twisted it again. Click. A third time. Click.

Then, the door opened a crack.

It didn’t spring open; it opened slowly, like some kind of hydraulic device gradually releasing pressure. A string of bubbles rose from the edge of the door, gurgling upwards. Lin Jiqiu stepped back a little, waited for the bubbles to dissipate, and then reached out and pulled the door open.

Behind the door was darkness. Shining a flashlight inside—it was a passageway. Man-made, with smooth, arched walls, about 1.8 meters high and only wide enough for one person to pass through. Every few meters along the walls of the passageway was a recess containing some kind of circular device—perhaps a lamp, but it wasn’t lit.

Lin Jiqiu swam inside. The passage wasn’t long, about twenty meters. At the end was another door. This door wasn’t metal, but transparent—glass, or some kind of synthetic material. She swam to the door and shone her flashlight inside. Behind the door was a room. Not large, about twenty square meters. There was a table, chairs, and shelves. And—a person.

Lin Jiqiu’s breath hitched. The person was curled up in the corner of the room, wearing a black diving suit, the mask removed to reveal a pale face. Long hair was scattered in the water, floating. Fang Lin.

Lin Jiqiu patted the glass door. No response. She patted it a few more times. Fang Lin’s head moved slightly, slowly lifting up. Her eyes opened, and she looked at the person outside the glass door, her gaze slowly shifting from blankness to shock. She opened her mouth, exhaled a string of bubbles, then struggled to her feet and walked towards the door.

Lin Jiqiu pointed to the doorknob. Fang Lin placed her hand on the handle on the inside of the door and turned it. The door opened. It wasn’t locked—it could be opened from the inside. Water rushed into the room from the passageway, and Fang Lin was jolted by the current, but she steadied herself. She swam out, grabbed Lin Jiqiu’s arm, her nails digging into her skin.

Lin Jiqiu was breathing through her gill slits and couldn’t speak. She pointed upwards, then grabbed Fang Lin’s wrist and swam back along the channel. Fang Lin’s flippers were still there, but her movements were noticeably weak, and the pressure gauge on the oxygen tank had already reached zero. She had managed to hold her breath until now.

They exited the passage, passed through the metal door, and entered the tunnel. Lin Jiqiu quickened her pace, holding Fang Lin with one hand and clinging to the rope with the other. They rose. Ten meters. Fifteen meters. The light overhead grew brighter. When she broke the surface, Cheng Ran was already at the ship’s side. He reached out, grabbed her, and pulled her up.

“Fang Lin—down there—” Lin Jiqiu gasped for breath, lying on the deck. Cheng Ran immediately leaned over and saw Fang Lin floating on the water, face up, eyes closed. He jumped into the water and lifted her up. A Zuo and Sun Yuan ran over and pulled the two of them onto the boat.

Fang Lin lay on the deck, her face pale and her lips purple. She coughed a few times, spitting out mouthfuls of seawater, then gasped for breath. Sun Yuan knelt beside her, his hands trembling. “Fang Lin! Fang Lin, can you hear me?” Fang Lin’s eyelids fluttered, and she slowly opened them. She looked at Sun Yuan, her lips trembling, and uttered a very soft sound. “…Sun Yuan?”

Sun Yuan’s tears fell.

Lin Jiqiu leaned against the ship’s railing, soaked to the bone. Cheng Ran stood beside her, draping his coat over her shoulders. “She’s alive.” “Yes.” “What’s behind the door?” “A room. A table, chairs, shelves. And…” She paused. “And what else?” “An observation window. That kind of glass, you can’t see in from the outside. She can’t see out from inside, but she can see in from outside.”

Cheng Ran was silent for a few seconds. “That’s a place where people are imprisoned.”

“Um.”

The ship turned around and headed towards the dock. Sun Yuan helped Fang Lin into the cabin and wrapped her in a blanket. Fang Lin’s eyes were closed, her breathing not yet fully steady, but her complexion was better than before. Lin Jiqiu sat on the deck, took off her soaked waterproof suit, and put on Cheng Ran’s coat. She looked down at the “yin” mark on her wrist; the round ball was covered in seawater and shimmered in the sunlight.

“Cheng Ran.” “Hmm.” “That room doesn’t belong to the Stargazers.” “Why?” “The style is wrong. Stargazers’ equipment is precise, efficient, and function-oriented. That room is rough, simple, like it was temporarily built.” “Then whose is it?” “I don’t know. But Fang Lin should know how long she stayed in there?”

Inside the cabin, Fang Lin spoke. Her voice was hoarse, as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time. “…Fourteen days.”

Sun Yuan’s hand stopped. “You were locked up for fourteen days?” Fang Lin nodded. “Who locked you up?” “I don’t know. They were wearing diving suits, covered from head to toe, so I couldn’t see their faces. Two of them. They pushed me into that room, closed the door, and left.” “What did they say?” “Nothing. Not a single word.”

Lin Jiqiu entered the cabin and squatted down in front of Fang Lin. “Do you recognize those two people? Their build, movements, any distinguishing features?” Fang Lin thought for a moment. “One is tall, and the other is short. The shorter one has a silver ring on the ring finger of his left hand. The taller one walks with a slight limp, in his right leg.”

Lin Jiqiu memorized these words. She stood up and walked to Cheng Ran’s side. “Who do you think it is?” “Rust Bone.” Cheng Ran’s voice was low. “Why?” “A limp. Common in weapon-based organizations, an old wound. Many members of Rust Bone have this characteristic.” “Then why did they lock her up?” “I don’t know. Maybe she saw something she shouldn’t have seen. Maybe what was in that cave wasn’t meant for her.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at the sea. The buoy was still in place, the rope still dangling down, leading to that door. Behind that door, in that simple room, there might be things on the walls that she hadn’t seen yet.

“Chengran.” “Yes.” “I need to go down to that room again.” “Why?” “There’s an observation window there. You can see in from the outside, but you can’t see out from the inside. That means that room is used for observation—observing the people inside. Fang Lin isn’t the first. And she probably won’t be the last.”

Cheng Ran remained silent for a long time. “I’ll go down with you.” “You?” “I’ll wait outside. I won’t go down. But my perception can cover that depth.” Lin Jiqiu looked at him. “Your perception can reach forty meters?” “Water conducts better than air. Temperature, vibration, pressure… the data will decay, but it’s not completely undetectable.” “Then while I go down, keep an eye on that door for me.”

“good.”

The boat docked. Sun Yuan helped Fang Lin off the boat. Several people on the dock looked over, but Sun Yuan waved his hand and said, “It’s alright, she just drowned.” Lin Jiqiu and Cheng Ran walked behind, keeping their distance. Fang Lin was put into Sun Yuan’s car and taken directly to the town’s hospital. Lin Jiqiu stood by the dock, watching the car drive away.

“Let’s go down again tomorrow,” she said. “Okay. You rest today.”

Lin Jiqiu turned and walked towards the hotel. Cheng Ran followed behind. The sea breeze was a little weaker than in the morning, and after the sun rose higher, the sea turned a bright blue. She walked slowly, her steps somewhat heavy. Cheng Ran walked beside her, without saying a word. Their shadows were cast side by side on the wooden path, one on the left and one on the right, occasionally touching.

Back at the hotel, Lin Jiqiu went into her room. She changed out of her soaking wet clothes and took a hot shower. The water was very hot, and it stung her skin slightly. She leaned against the bathroom wall, closed her eyes, and let the hot water pour over her head. The ball on her wrist became warm from the hot water and vibrated gently.

“Are you alright?” Cheng Ran’s voice came through the earpiece. “I’m fine.” “Your heart rate spiked for a moment just now.” “From the hot water.” “…Mm.”

Lin Jiqiu turned off the tap, dried herself, and changed into clean clothes. She lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Outside the window, the sound of the waves was still there.

“Cheng Ran”.

“Um.”

“What do you think that room was used for?”

“Observation,” Cheng Ran said. “Detaining people for observation. It could be some kind of psychological experiment. It could also be an interrogation.”

Fang Lin said they didn’t say anything.

“Silence is also a form of interrogation. It creates fear, it creates the unknown. It makes people scare themselves.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “What did Fang Lin see? What was that ‘glowing’ thing she saw in the water before she went in?”

“It could be an indicator light on that door. Or it could be something else.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know. When you go down tomorrow, take a close look at that door from the outside. Maybe there’s a clue.”

Lin Jiqiu turned over and pulled the blanket over herself. “Okay.”

“You can take a nap. I’ll call you for dinner tonight.”

“Um.”

She closed her eyes. The sound of the waves came in waves, like some ancient breath. The ball on her wrist vibrated gently, its rhythm almost perfectly matching the frequency of the waves. On this unfamiliar shore, her consciousness slowly sank.