My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 92

When Ah You saw them return, he brought out two bowls of noodles from the kitchen and placed them on the coffee table without asking any questions.

“Is the sensor area on that door the same model as the sensor area on the control box of the equipment platform we saw at point seven before?” Lin Jiqiu picked up a piece of noodles with his chopsticks, paused, and did not immediately put it in his mouth.

Cheng Ran put down his chopsticks, picked up his tablet, flipped through a few photos, and placed two pictures side by side on the screen. “The appearance and structure of the sensor area are the same. But there are some differences in the details. The sensor area of ​​that door has an extra groove around the edge, which looks like it’s for sealing, or it might be for aligning with some kind of specific latch.”

“What about that ship? Did it go there?”

“Based on the ship’s route and docking records, it did indeed linger near the gap for a considerable period of time when it passed through that channel. At the time, there was no conclusive evidence to prove its connection to the door; we could only confirm that it had stopped near that coordinate.”

“Did it go there, or was it just passing through?”

“It stayed in that position long enough that it didn’t seem like a temporary stop. It was more like it was waiting for a signal or executing a procedure that required a specific location.”

Lin Jiqiu didn’t reply, but picked up the noodles with her chopsticks and put them in her mouth.

After finishing his noodles, he didn’t go upstairs immediately, but sat on the sofa for a while. Ahua jumped off the sofa, walked to his feet, rubbed against the outside of his calves twice, then returned to the sofa and curled up a short distance away. His gaze fell on the printed photos on the coffee table; the door looked very quiet in the dark green light underwater. He looked at it for a long time, then got up and went upstairs.

The next morning, sunlight streamed into the living room from the east. A-Zuo was tidying up the cables of the underwater detector by the door. Lin Jiqiu stood by the window looking at the street. After a while, he turned around, walked to the sofa, sat down, and picked up the stack of photos on the coffee table to look at them again.

“If that ship had been stationed at that location, its crew would likely have seen the door. Because when the ship was anchored there, it should have been able to see the area around the door. If they had seen the door, they would probably know where it led, or at least know that the door wasn’t abandoned.”

“Most people on the ship simply follow orders and don’t ask what the specific tasks they are performing are. But there is indeed a possibility that someone knows, or at least has seen, what the task is.”

“Then find the person who knows. Not an ordinary crew member on the ship, but the person in charge of that ship.”

Cheng Ran put down the tablet and looked at him for a while. “The ship doesn’t belong to us. We don’t have direct access to its navigation records and call records. But since the ship was called and assigned by the Heavenly Palace Division, its scheduling records should still be in some internal system of the Heavenly Palace Division.”

“Zhao Yuanshan?”

“We may not know directly who the person in charge of that ship is, but he had access to the communication system of the Tengu Division when he was at the deep-sea station. If some data exchanges between that ship and the deep-sea station still go through the old channels, perhaps these records still linger on some node that has not been completely erased. The connection between that ship’s number and those records may be found in the old channels.”

“Can you still get in touch with Zhao Yuanshan?”

“His contact information is still available, but he has been silent.”

“Send him a message. Don’t write too much, just ask him if he remembers the ship, or if he is still in a safe place.”

Cheng Ran took out his phone, typed a few lines, and sent it. The message interface showed that it was sent successfully, and then he waited.

The morning passed slowly. Ah You was preparing ingredients in the kitchen, Ah Zuo was repeatedly flipping through the equipment list, Ah Hua changed positions twice, and Ah Ju jumped down from the windowsill and back up again. Lin Jiqiu was also waiting, but he didn’t keep checking his phone.

Cheng Ran’s phone vibrated in the afternoon. He picked it up, glanced at it, and then turned to Lin Jiqiu. “Zhao Yuanshan has returned.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he remembered the ship. He said the ship’s captain’s surname was Yan. He wasn’t an ordinary crew member, but a full-time employee. He had worked as a technician at the deep-sea survey station for several years.”

“Does he know him?”

“I know him, but we’re not close. He said Captain Yan hardly talks, but he’s very steady. He only found out after the deep-sea survey station closed that Captain Yan had been transferred to work at sea on cargo transport. Zhao Yuanshan said that if you want to find Captain Yan, you can try your luck at the old port. He said that Captain Yan is used to spending some time at a certain fixed dock after returning to port.”

Which port?

Cheng Ran turned the screen towards Lin Jiqiu, which displayed a short address and a dock number.

“Beitang Port. Old cargo terminal, berth number seven.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at the address once and memorized it.

As evening fell, Lin Jiqiu sat on the sofa, watching the edge of the stack of photos on the coffee table illuminated by the slanting light streaming in from the window. The underwater image of the door was frozen in time on the paper, covered with a thin layer of sediment, yet its edges remained clearly defined. He imagined what that door would lead to—perhaps a deeper passage, perhaps a flooded hall, perhaps a control room still in operation. Perhaps that door was always placed there to be opened, and behind it, something awaited discovery.

Two days later, at Beitang Port. Lin Jiqiu stood by berth number seven of the old cargo terminal, holding nothing in his hands, simply standing there, looking at the calm water below the pier and the few ships moored in the distance.

A dark-colored sedan slowly drove along the edge of the dock and stopped about ten meters behind Lin Jiqiu. The car door opened, and a figure emerged from the window and stepped to the ground. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, just a dark gray coat; he was short with broad shoulders. He stopped, glanced at Lin Jiqiu, and then walked to the edge of the dock, stopping about two meters away from him.

“Were you introduced by Zhao Yuanshan?” Captain Yan’s voice was not loud, but had a hoarse undertone.

“He told me to come find you.”

There was a moment of silence. Captain Yan looked at the water, his gaze not fixed on any particular spot, but rather seemed to be fixed on the mooring lines and worn-out piles along the edge of the dock, washed by the waves. “You need to see that ship?”

“I wonder if its lingering near that door was intentional.”

“It was intentional.”

Can that door be opened?

“It used to be possible.”

“And now?”

Captain Yan turned and glanced at him. “I don’t know. The last time I got close to it was before the deep-sea station was evacuated.”

Have you been inside?

“No. I just parked the boat there and waited. The boat has a signal receiving device. After arriving at that location, I stopped for a while, waited for a signal confirmation, and then left.”

“Waiting for what signal?”

“I don’t know. I only know that it will appear, and it will only appear in that location.”

Is that spot still usable?

“I don’t know,” Captain Yan said, turning his head slightly. “But that shipping route still exists.”

Lin Jiqiu nodded. “Thank you.”

Captain Yan didn’t reply. He withdrew his gaze, paused on the water for a moment, then turned and walked towards the car. He stopped before getting in. “If you really want to get close to that door, you don’t need a signal. If you want an answer, you can wait there.” Without waiting for Lin Jiqiu’s response, he closed the car door, started the engine, and drove away from the dock along the same route he had come from.

Lin Jiqiu remained standing, gazing at the water in front of the berth. He realized that the door had existed long before his intervention; it had always been there, waiting. And the answer to that question seemed to be waiting in another way—not in any recorded documents, not in the command system, but only in Captain Yan’s hint, “No signal is needed.” Like a folded thread, its unfolded shape was not yet fully discernible, but he had already seen part of its outline, closer to its center than before.

He turned and walked back, the setting sun casting a long, thin shadow of the dock behind him, stretching all the way to the shore like a dark mark laid out on the water.

Back in the car, A-Zuo started the engine. Lin Jiqiu sat in the back seat and rolled down the window to let some wind in.

“He said it used to be able to open. He said he stayed in that location to wait for signal confirmation. He said it’s still possible to go now.”

Did he say anything else?

Lin Jiqiu thought for a moment. “He said it’s fine without a signal.”

Cheng Ran glanced at him. “That door is unrestricted. It’s still waiting there.”

“Then go drive it.”

The highway stretched into the night, streetlights illuminating the road in short bursts. A-Zuo didn’t accelerate quickly, maintaining a steady speed following the lights. Lin Jiqiu didn’t look at his phone or flip through the stack of photos. He simply sat there, occasionally glancing out the window at the roadside trees illuminated by the lights. They flowed past the window one after another, then seemed to stand still for a long time, as if the distance between the trees had been deliberately widened.