My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 88

Dinner was braised pork ribs, perfectly stir-fried greens, and a side of cucumber salad. When Ayou brought the dishes to the table, he glanced at Lin Jiqiu’s expression, then at Cheng Ran’s face, but didn’t ask any questions. He served each of them a bowl of rice and a bowl of soup, placing them in the middle of the table. Lin Jiqiu ate very slowly, picking up meat with his chopsticks and then putting them down again, as if his body was still adjusting to being still after sitting for so long. Ahua squatted at his feet, not leaving after finishing her food, waiting to see if anything had been left on the table.

“After the communication platform passed, five more floating platforms were discovered along the route, with roughly even spacing.” Cheng Ran picked up a piece of green vegetable with his chopsticks, chewed it a couple of times, and then paused. “The last stop is an underwater equipment storage platform. It’s not a base, nor a transfer station, but more like a forward node.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up a piece of pork rib. “There were no signs of human activity on the platform.”

“It might be running automatically. Or it might be under regular maintenance, but we arrived at the wrong time. In any case, its existence itself indicates that we are very close to the perimeter of the base.” Cheng Ran put down his chopsticks. “An equipment storage platform located at the end of the flight path means that the objects it serves are nearby. Otherwise, there would be no need to move the equipment to this location.”

Lin Jiqiu didn’t reply, but picked up another piece of pork rib.

The next morning, Lin Jiqiu woke up earlier than usual. The sky was the characteristic greyish-white of a late autumn morning; the sun was still low, but it already had a clear outline, radiating a light that hadn’t fully risen. The streets were quiet; the flower shops and cafes hadn’t opened yet, and most of the windows along the street still had their curtains drawn. He stood by the window for a while, watching the silence on the street slowly flow by in the wind, then turned and went downstairs.

A-Zuo was already there. He was checking the buckles of the waterproof backpack, making sure each one was locked in place. A-You was in the kitchen, the range hood off, the pot lid on the stove closed, only trembling slightly as steam escaped from the edges. Cheng Ran sat on the sofa, a printed nautical chart spread out in front of him, marking their previous route, the locations of the floating platforms they had passed, and the coordinates of the equipment storage platform. He had drawn a circle to the south of those coordinates, the handwriting light but the outline clear, as if he had done several calculations on a certain location but wasn’t in a hurry to draw a conclusion, just temporarily circling it.

“The distance between the equipment platform and the base should not be too far,” Cheng Ran said, “and may even be within the same anchorage. If the base needs a forward platform to maintain operations, its location will not be too far off. Conventional deep-sea base layouts usually choose to set up auxiliary facilities within a certain distance of the main structure. Otherwise, additional ships would need to be arranged for each dispatch.”

“So the base is near that platform. Not too far, probably within a few kilometers.”

Cheng Ran put down his pen and tapped the circle with his knuckles. “If we start from the platform and continue southeast, we’ll encounter an underwater highland in about ten nautical miles. The nautical chart shows that it’s a submerged ancient volcano. The base is likely built inside the volcano, or right next to its outer edge. The depth of that area also matches perfectly—our previous estimate of the depth range was 1,000 to 1,500 meters, and the volcano’s depth falls exactly within that range.”

Lin Jiqiu stared at the circle on the nautical chart; the mark left by Cheng Ran’s fingertip on the paper still carried a trace of warmth. He looked at it for a long time, then said, “Let’s go there then.”

Ah You came out of the kitchen, carrying a bowl of porridge and placing it on the coffee table. The porridge was sprinkled with chopped scallions and a few goji berries. “Eat before you go.”

“We’ll leave at noon.” Lin Jiqiu sat down on the sofa and picked up her bowl of porridge. “A-Zuo, have you made arrangements with the ship?”

“It’s all arranged. It’s the same ship as last time. The young man said he can make another trip. He said if we’re going further south this time, we’ll need to bring more fuel. I’ve already told him to bring the fuel drums as well.”

“good.”

He lowered his head and drank his porridge. The porridge was at the perfect temperature, neither too hot nor too cold, sliding down his throat and into his stomach like a warm towel soothing the folds of his muscles. Ahua lay on the other end of the sofa, her tail tip gently brushing the edge of the cushion, neither getting up nor closing her eyes.

Before noon, Lin Jiqiu was already standing on the dock. The ship was moored in its berth, and a young man was carrying a barrel of spare fuel onto the deck. Seeing them arrive, he placed the barrel securely, straightened his back, and nodded. The sunlight was brighter than in the morning, and a few fine ripples were slowly moving on the sea, like traces left by the wind as it moved.

The ship left the dock and headed south. As it passed the breakwater, the view suddenly opened up. Fishing boats and buoys near the shore were left behind; the sea and sky merged into a perfect arc, the boundary indistinct, like a huge block of gray-blue material sliced ​​open, revealing a slightly bright slit. The seawater gradually deepened in color, changing from the turquoise near the shore to a deeper blue. The wind was light, the waves were low, and the ship sailed steadily.

Lin Jiqiu stood at the bow of the ship, binoculars in hand, his gaze fixed on the distance, occasionally sweeping across the line where the sea met the horizon, shifting slightly with the ship’s sway. He mentally reconfirmed the equipment and oxygen tank reserves, the operational plan, and the feasibility of the evacuation route. The backup plan was a pre-prepared map, just waiting to be unfolded at the opportune moment.

Two hours later, the equipment storage platform reappeared in view. Just like when he left, the grayish-white metal structure formed a clear square outline on the water. Lin Jiqiu didn’t let it linger in his sight for long; his gaze immediately moved past it to the distant sea. Cheng Ran came out of the cabin and stood beside him. The tablet displayed a navigation interface; a cursor was slowly moving forward, approaching an unmarked area of ​​sea. The distance was decreasing, and the speed was steady, as if it were passing through an invisible passage.

“It is about four nautical miles from the crater. The water depth is changing, gradually decreasing from nine hundred meters to twelve hundred meters. The seabed topography has begun to show signs of uplift.”

The ship continued forward. There were no markers, buoys, antennas, or any signs of human intervention on the surface. But the color of the seawater was subtly changing—from deep blue to a darker hue, as if sunlight couldn’t penetrate it completely, as if something beneath the surface was blocking its path.

“The water is getting deeper. We’re already close to the outer edge of the crater.”

Lin Jiqiu looked down at the sea. The water was dark, almost like ink, with no refracted light, as if your gaze would be sucked in. The boat swayed gently in place.

“Stop here.”

The young man shut off the engine. Silence fell, broken only by the sound of waves lapping against the hull. A breeze swept across the surface, creating a thin layer of spray that quickly receded. Lin Jiqiu crouched down by the gunwale. The sea was indeed a different color from elsewhere; it was a uniform, almost imperceptible dark color. Smooth as ink, it didn’t reflect light, simply lying there quietly. He imagined what lay beneath the surface—a vast, submerged depression, its bottom covered in grayish-black sediment, its edges sloped by centuries of erosion, covered in fine underwater dust. And the base might be in that depression, somehow embedded within an underwater mountain.

“I’ll go down and take a look tomorrow.”

Cheng Ran glanced at him, then looked away and gazed at the sea ahead.

The ship began its return voyage in the twilight. The sky changed from gray-blue to pale orange, then from pale orange to deep purple, spreading a broad band of light across the sea like a giant blanket being rolled up. The distant floating platform had disappeared from sight, and the sea became empty again. The ship’s rocking was more even than on the way there, like an invisible metronome, adjusting the rhythm of the entire day’s voyage. The young man remained silent, without changing course. Lin Jiqiu sat at the cabin door, watching the darkening sea ahead. The ship headed towards the coastline, passing through the gaps between the marked points, like a needle following an invisible thread, returning in the direction it had come from.