My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 30

Lin Jiqiu and Cheng Ran emerged from the clinic in the early evening. The sea was rougher, and clouds rolled in from the west, obscuring most of the setting sun, leaving only a sliver of orange-red light on the horizon. The two walked along the main street towards their hotel, their shadows stretched long by the streetlights. Most of the shops were closed, except for the café whose lights were still on, and through the glass window, they could see a few locals sitting inside.

“XK-01 and XK-02 are still missing.” Cheng Ran pulled up a photo of the file records on his tablet. “The records say they were ‘transferred,’ but they don’t say where they were transferred to.”

“They might have moved to another facility.” Lin Jiqiu put his hands in his pockets. “Song Yang said they would come to check the equipment once a week. They came yesterday and found that Song Yang was gone, and they also took Number Five with them. This means they have been monitoring this place and can come over at any time.”

“Then they probably already know about us.”

“Not necessarily. The equipment in the monitoring room can only see inside the rooms, not the corridors. They might know someone has been here, but they might not know who or how many people were there.” Lin Jiqiu stopped and looked at the sea across the street. “They might come again tomorrow. Or they might not. It depends on how much they fear us.”

Cheng Ran was silent for a few seconds. “If I were them, I would come. I would move or destroy all the evidence.”

“So we’ll go earlier tomorrow.”

Cheng Ran looked at her. “You mean, go down again tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is the last time. Open all the remaining doors. If XK-01 and XK-02 are still there, rescue them. If not, at least bring back the evidence.”

Cheng Ran hesitated. He didn’t want her to go down again—Lin Jiqiu could see it in his eyes. Every time she mentioned going into the water, his fingers would unconsciously tighten. But he didn’t stop her, because he knew she was right. Every day that underwater facility existed, another person could potentially be harmed.

Back at the hotel, Lin Jiqiu took a hot shower, lay on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. Cheng Ran was in the next room; she couldn’t hear his voice, but the ball on her wrist was vibrating gently, so she knew he wasn’t asleep. She turned over, pulled the blanket over herself, and closed her eyes.

The next morning, when Lin Jiqiu came downstairs, Cheng Ran was already sitting in the lobby. A tablet and several printed documents were spread out in front of him, and his coffee was finished. She went over and glanced at the printed documents—they were architectural drawings of the underwater facility, hand-drawn by Cheng Ran based on his explorations over the past few days.

“Yesterday I went to that corner at the end of the corridor,” Cheng Ran pointed to a spot on the map. “There’s another passage there, leading to the other side of the facility. There are probably two or three more rooms over there. XK-01 and XK-02 should be there.” Lin Jiqiu looked at the hand-drawn map. Cheng Ran’s strokes were very fine; every corner and every door was clearly marked. She recognized some parts—metal doors, passageways, the monitoring room, the shaft, numbered rooms, door C, and that corner she hadn’t been to before. “I’ll go down with you today.” “Okay.” Cheng Ran folded up the structural map and put it in a waterproof bag, then stood up to pour coffee.

A-Zuo’s car was already waiting at the door. The two drank coffee, left the hotel, and got into the car. The waves on the sea were smaller than yesterday, the sky had cleared, and the sun had just risen, casting a golden glow on the sea. A-Zuo drove the car to the dock; the boat was still there, moored to the dock, gently rocking with the waves. Sun Yuan wasn’t there. A-Zuo said he didn’t want to come today, saying he was “too scared.” Lin Jiqiu didn’t insist.

Ah Zuo started the engine, and the boat slowly moved away from the dock. The white buoy bobbed up and down in the distance, getting closer and closer. Ah Zuo turned off the engine, and the boat drifted to the buoy. Lin Jiqiu stood up, put on his waterproof backpack, and checked his equipment. Cheng Ran also put on his diving suit, hung the oxygen tank on his waist, and hung the mask around his neck.

“Go in.” Lin Jiqiu jumped in. Cheng Ran followed behind.

Underwater visibility was worse than yesterday, probably due to the wind and waves stirring up sediment on the seabed. Lin Jiqiu descended along the rope, Cheng Ran following behind. Ten meters, fifteen meters, the cave entrance. She shone her flashlight on the cave wall—the smooth area was still there. Swimming in, twenty meters, twenty-five meters, thirty meters, a metal door. She took out her matching device to unlock it, and bubbles rushed out. She pulled the door open and entered the passage.

The passageway was dark; the flashlight beams cast eerie white beams in the water. Lin Jiqiu swam ahead, Cheng Ran behind. She glanced at the observation window as she passed—it was still dark inside; the lights in the monitoring room weren’t on. She continued forward, swimming to the door to the right of the observation window and pushing it open. The monitoring room was the same as yesterday. Buttons, dashboards, and screens on the pillars. She glanced at the screen—the larger room was empty today. The chairs were empty, the beds were neatly made, the blueprints on the walls were still there, but the light in the image was dimmer than yesterday, as if someone had turned down the brightness. She ran her fingers over the surface of the pillar.

“Chengran.” “Yes. My signal is fine.” “You stay here. I’ll go upstairs.”

Cheng Ran paused beside the pillar, watching her. “Be careful.” Lin Jiqiu swam to the ceiling vent, pushed aside the mesh, poked her head in, then pulled back to glance at him. Behind his mask, his eyes were bright; even through the water, she could see that focused intensity. She swam up.

A shaft, a bend, a vertical shaft, an iron cover. She pushed it open, and light streamed in. A dry room, concrete floor, concrete walls, an emergency light. She climbed out of the shaft and closed the iron cover. Her gills closed automatically, and her skin regained its original texture. She stood up, walked to the iron door, and opened it. A corridor, emergency lights, numbered rooms. XK-01, XK-02, XK-03… all the way to XK-10. All the doors were closed, just like yesterday. She walked to the bend at the end of the corridor and stopped. Cheng Ran said there was another passage there.

The corridor narrowed further after the turn. One of the emergency lights overhead was out, making it almost impossible to see the path beneath her feet. The walls were covered in scratches, the source of which was unknown. Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, one after another, like some kind of countdown. At the end of the corridor was an iron door, different from the ones she had seen before—it had a turntable, like a watertight door on a ship. She gripped the turntable and gave it a hard twist; it moved, making a creaking sound. After turning it a full full turn, the door opened.

Beyond the door lay a larger space. Not a room, but a cave—a natural one, where seawater seeped in through cracks in the rocks, forming shallow puddles on the ground. The texture of the rocks above was visible, layered upon layered, like folds of time. On the other side of the cave, two people were huddled in a corner, dressed in gray prison clothes, their hands and feet shackled. The chains of the shackles were long, fixed to the wall, allowing them limited movement, but not much further. The two men looked up simultaneously at the sound of the door opening.

Four eyes glowed in the darkness. Not night vision, but fear—the kind of fear that only animals kept in darkness for a long time would have.

“I’m here to save you,” Lin Jiqiu’s voice echoed in the cave. The two people didn’t move.

She walked over, squatted down, and let them see their faces. A man and a woman. The man looked to be in his forties, the woman younger, in her early thirties. Both had wounds on their faces, old ones scabbed over, new ones still bleeding. “What are your names?” “…Lin Xiao.” The man’s voice was very soft, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. “My name is Lin Xiao.” “Zhou Wan.” The woman said, her voice even softer than his, like wind blowing through harp strings.

“Lin Xiao, Zhou Wan. I’ll take you out.” Lin Jiqiu squatted down to examine their shackles. The lock was different from Song Yang’s—not an electronic lock, but a mechanical lock, an old-fashioned one that needed a key to open. She took out lock-picking tools from her backpack and squatted down beside Lin Xiao’s feet. The lock cylinder was old, the pins inside were rusty, and it didn’t turn smoothly. She tried several times, and with a click, the lock opened. There were deep marks on Lin Xiao’s legs, the skin was chafed, revealing tender pink flesh.

“Can you stand up?” Lin Xiao slowly stood up, his legs trembling, but he gritted his teeth and stood firm. Lin Jiqiu turned to Zhou Wan, whose shackles were tighter than Lin Xiao’s, the skin on her wrists already rubbed raw. She unlocked Zhou Wan’s shackles. Zhou Wan swayed as she stood up, and Lin Jiqiu steadied her.

“Is there anyone else?” Lin Jiqiu asked. Lin Xiao shook his head. “Only the two of us. The other rooms… are empty. They’ve been empty for a long time.” Lin Jiqiu looked at the other corners of the cave. There was a door in the wall—not an iron door, but a wooden one, mostly rotten, half-open. Behind the door was a passage, narrower and darker, its destination unknown. She didn’t go in. There was no time. Cheng Ran was still waiting downstairs.

“Follow me. Don’t make a sound.” She supported Zhou Wan, while Lin Xiao held onto the wall, and they walked step by step towards the door. Lin Jiqiu paused as they passed the wooden door. A strange smell wafted from the crack—not seawater, not decay, but the odor of an indescribable chemical agent. She looked for two seconds, then didn’t go in and continued walking.

A corridor, numbered rooms, an iron door. She first led Lin Xiao and Zhou Wan into a small room and had them sit on the concrete floor to wait. “Go down from here. Someone will meet you down there. Don’t be afraid of the water, I’ll guide you.” Zhou Wan’s lips trembled as she looked at the dark well entrance. Lin Xiao remained silent.

Lin Jiqiu went down first. She landed on the floor of the monitoring room—no, in the water. Her gills opened automatically, and she swam to the bottom of the well, looking up. Lin Xiao was the first to come down. She caught him, steadied him, and then swam with him to the pillar. Cheng Ran reached out and pulled Lin Xiao to the pillar so he could sit down. Zhou Wan was second. She was lighter than Lin Xiao, as thin as a leaf, and Lin Jiqiu caught her with almost no effort.

Four people were in the monitoring room. Lin Jiqiu retracted the gill slits and breathed air through his mouth. “Cheng Ran, there’s another passage up there, I didn’t go in. The wooden door is rotten, I don’t know where it leads.” “It might lead to the other side of the sea cliff. It might also be their entrance and exit.” Cheng Ran looked at the pressure gauge on his oxygen cylinder. “I have enough oxygen for ten minutes. You guys go first.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at him. “And you?”

“I’ll follow.”

“No. We have to go together.”

“You can breathe through your gill slits. I can’t.”

“Then let’s go together. You give the respirator to Zhou Wan, and I’ll use the gill slits to carry you.”

Cheng Ran looked at her. “You can’t carry two people.” “I can. Just hold on to me.”

Before he could answer, Lin Jiqiu helped Zhou Wan to the bottom of the well and then pointed upwards. Zhou Wan took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and Lin Jiqiu pulled her up. They traversed the horizontal well, turned, and entered the vertical well. She lifted Zhou Wan to the surface, helping her climb out of the well. Then she went back to get Lin Xiao. Lin Xiao was heavier than Zhou Wan, but he could still cooperate; he held his breath and gripped Lin Jiqiu’s shoulders. She lifted him to the surface and then climbed out herself.

Then she returned to the wellhead and looked down. The water reflected the light of the emergency lights, and she couldn’t see the bottom. She waited a few seconds, and then the water stirred. Cheng Ran surfaced, one hand gripping the ladder on the well wall, the other pushing Lin Xiao. He took the breathing apparatus out of his mouth, mouthed a single word: “Go.” Lin Jiqiu reached out and pulled him up.

Five people were in a small, dry room. Lin Xiao and Zhou Wan sat on the floor, panting. Cheng Ran leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Lin Jiqiu squatted down, retracting her gill slits. She looked at Cheng Ran. “Your oxygen tank is empty?” “It’s been empty for a while.” “Have you been holding your breath since you came here from the monitoring room?” “…Yes.”

Lin Jiqiu took a deep breath and stood up. “Let’s go. Let’s get out of here first.”

She helped Zhou Wan, and Cheng Ran helped Lin Xiao, as they walked step by step towards the iron gate. The corridor led to numbered rooms, door C. As they passed door C, Lin Jiqiu glanced inside. The bed, table, chair, and bookshelf were the same as yesterday, but two blueprints on the wall were missing, torn off, leaving blank marks. They had been here. Yesterday—after taking Zhou Yuanzhou away, they had returned and torn down the blueprints on the wall.

She noted this detail down.

The boat waited beside the buoy. A-Zuo saw their heads emerge from the water and immediately leaned over to pull them aboard one by one. Lin Xiao was the last to board, lying on the deck, looking at the sky, tears streaming down her face and disappearing into her hair. Zhou Wan huddled in the cabin wrapped in a blanket, silent. Lin Jiqiu lay on the gunwale, her gills slowly closing.

Cheng Ran stood beside her, took off his mask and oxygen cylinder, and leaned against the ship’s railing.

“Do you know that person?” Lin Jiqiu asked. He looked at him. “What?” “Lin Xiao. Surname Lin. Same surname as me.” Cheng Ran thought for a moment. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.” Lin Jiqiu didn’t answer. The boat headed towards the dock. The waves on the sea subsided, the sun rose higher, and the sea was covered with shimmering gold. The distant coastline gleamed white in the sunlight; rooftops, trees, and beaches—everything was quiet.

Back at the dock, Sun Yuan was waiting with a doctor. They lifted Lin Xiao and Zhou Wan into the ambulance. Sun Yuan looked at Lin Jiqiu, his lips moved, then closed again. Lin Jiqiu knew why he hesitated—he wanted to ask: Were they both rescued? She herself didn’t know the answer.

Numbers one through ten. Fang Lin, Song Yang, Lu Xinyi, Chen Ke, Zhou Yuanzhou, Lin Xiao, and Zhou Wan. Seven people. Seven people came out alive. What about the others? Disappeared? Dead? Or were they moved elsewhere?

She stood on the pier, looking out at the sea. The white buoy was still there.

“Lin Jiqiu.” Cheng Ran’s voice came from behind. She turned around. “You should change your clothes. You’ll catch a cold if you stay wet.” Lin Jiqiu looked down at herself; her waterproof suit was still dripping wet, and a small puddle had formed at her feet. “You too.”

“I’m used to it.”

“Getting used to being sick is not a good habit.”

Cheng Ran’s lips curved slightly. The two walked towards the car, their shadows stretched long in the sunlight.

Back at the hotel, Lin Jiqiu took a hot shower, changed her clothes, and lay down on the bed. She was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. The image of the rotten wooden door, the passageway, and the smell of chemicals kept replaying in her mind. Where did it lead? She turned over and pulled the covers over herself.

The ball on his wrist vibrated. “Chengran.” “Hmm.” “What do you think is behind that wooden door?” “I don’t know.” He didn’t hesitate. “But we can go take a look. From the land.” “Do you know where the entrance is?” “Sun Yuan said there are many abandoned mine shafts behind the quarry. Some lead to the sea.” Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “Let’s go take a look tomorrow.” “Okay.”

The room was quiet. The sound of waves seeped in through the cracks in the window, softer than before, coming in bursts, like breathing.

“Chengran.” “Hmm.” “How long were you underwater today?” “From the monitoring room to the bottom of the shaft. Less than two minutes.” “You’re lying to me.” “…Three minutes.” “Three minutes.” “Maybe a little longer.” Lin Jiqiu took a deep breath. “Don’t do that again next time.” “You also give your breathing apparatus to others.” “I won’t. I’ll let others breathe through their gill slits.” “Not everyone has gill slits.” Lin Jiqiu paused. “Then don’t let that happen.”

Cheng Ran did not answer.

Outside the window, the white buoy on the sea was still bobbing up and down in the waves, one after another, as if nodding. Lin Jiqiu stared at it for a long time, then closed his eyes.