Chapter 9

On Saturday morning, even the heavens seemed to find the trip unlucky, casting a dark, ominous shadow over the abandoned factory area in Tiexi District. The atmosphere was thick with a gray haze, almost as if they were about to throw paper money into the air.

Jin Zhaoxuan, Liu Jianjun, and Yin Shaoqing (referred to as "Cyber ​​Amulet"), who "resides" inside a specially made, extra-thick, shockproof power bank, meet up in front of the rusty iron gate of the old water tower. Liu Jianjun is carrying a huge tool bag, which rattles and clanks, making it seem like he's going to a construction site to move bricks rather than explore a mystery.

“I checked the records and asked a few surviving veteran workers,” Liu Jianjun said as he pulled out various tools: ropes, headlamps, crowbars, walkie-talkies, and even a small oxygen detector. “This vertical shaft under the water tower was supposedly dug during the Great Leap Forward in 1958, for the purpose of repairing underwater valves. It was abandoned and sealed off in the late 1970s. The entrance was on the side of the tower base, probably buried by construction debris.”

He pointed to a pile of cement slabs and scrap steel bars on the west side that looked like they had osteoporosis: "We need to move them to a new home first."

The two put on gloves and got to work. Jin Zhaoxuan was in charge of moving the lighter items, while Liu Jianjun used a crowbar to handle the heavier ones. Yin Shaoqing couldn't offer any physical assistance, so he could only provide "off-site guidance" through Jin Zhaoxuan's earpiece.

“Mr. Jin, the board on the left looks like it has osteoporosis. Be careful it doesn’t cause a staged accident.”

"Hey, that patch of ground under your feet looks loose, don't actually step on it."

"..."

After about half an hour of cleaning, a square iron cover half-buried in concrete was revealed. The lettering cast on the cover was so rusted it was almost unrecognizable; one could barely make out "Maintenance Access, No Entry" and the latch was rusted into an abstract art form.

"This is it." Liu Jianjun wiped his sweat and inserted the crowbar into the gap. "Come on, young man, give me a hand!"

As the two strained, accompanied by a metallic scraping sound that could make one's teeth ache for a lifetime, the heavy iron lid, as heavy as a coffin lid, was lifted. A "historical stench" mixed with rust, silt, and an unknown, aged smell rushed out, making Jin Zhaoxuan roll his eyes.

Liu Jianjun peered down, his headlamp shining down. A dark hole, about a meter in diameter, lay before him, its bottom unseen. The walls were rough concrete, with a row of rusty, obviously unreliable-looking ladders embedded in them. Seven or eight meters below, the light was mercilessly swallowed by darkness.

"I'll go first." Liu Jianjun secured the safety rope to a sturdy-looking steel pillar next to him. "Mr. Jin, you follow, keep your distance. The situation below is like Schrödinger's cat; we'll keep in touch via walkie-talkie."

"Understood." Jin Zhaoxuan carefully stuffed the power bank containing Yin Shaoqing into the inner pocket of his chest (and patted it to make sure it was secure), put on a headlamp and gloves, and looked tragic, as if he were jumping off a cliff rather than going down a well.

Liu Jianjun moved with agility, swooping down in a few quick movements. Jin Zhaoxuan took a deep breath of the "immortal aura" filled with the smell of rust, and followed with a death-defying resolve.

The ladder was cold and slippery, and some of the crossbars were so loose they made you question your existence. The further down you went, the more damp and chilly the air became, and the Tyndall effect was clearly visible in the dust and moisture of the headlamp beams. Apart from the two of them huffing and puffing as they crawled and panting, there was only the mournful dripping sound coming from somewhere, which made your heart race.

After descending about fifteen meters, I finally stepped onto solid ground. It was a small platform connected to a low, horizontal passage, barely high enough for one person to pass through, and wide enough to squeeze through sideways. The walls were covered in moss, and the ground was slippery mud, perfectly replicating a scene from some horror game.

“The air chamber marked on the map should be at the end of this passage, near the main foundation of the water tower.” Liu Jianjun compared the old map copy with the map. “Look above your head, there might be a ‘surprise’ (referring to loose cement blocks).

The two crouched low, inching forward like crabs. The passage twisted and turned, and in some places, one had to inhale and pull in their stomachs to get through. Jin Zhaoxuan could feel a slight vibration coming from the power bank on his chest—well, the guy inside was having quite an emotional upheaval.

“Mr. Jin,” Yin Shaoqing’s voice came through the earpiece, trembling slightly with suppressed emotion, “This place… I seem to remember it. It’s very blurry… When I fell, I vaguely ‘saw’ a similar… scene.”

"Don't rush, load the map pack slowly," Jin Zhaoxuan replied in a low voice, feeling like an NPC guiding VR players through the storyline.

After moving about twenty meters, the area ahead seemed to open up a bit. Liu Jianjun stopped and shone his headlamp against the side wall.

Look here.

It was a relatively smooth concrete wall, but upon closer inspection, there was an extremely unnatural vertical crack on the wall, about 1.5 meters long and only one or two centimeters wide. The cement color at the edge was slightly different from the surrounding color, as if it had been secretly touched up later.

"A hidden door?" Jin Zhaoxuan asked.

"Most likely." Liu Jianjun tapped the crack with his hand; the sound was a bit hollow. He took out a crowbar, carefully inserted it into the narrow gap, and tentatively applied force—

The wall remained completely still, as steady as an old dog.

“It’s been around for too long, it might be rusted or stuck inside,” Liu Jianjun frowned.

Jin Zhaoxuan stepped forward to help, and the two of them strained together, bending the crowbar into a beautiful arc, but the wall remained calmly indifferent, as if saying, "What are you looking at?"

"Let...let me try." Yin Shaoqing's voice rang out again, this time with a resolute determination.

"No way!" Jin Zhaoxuan objected without hesitation. "You've just recovered some health, you can't use your ultimate skill again! What if your mana bar is empty?"

“This is the only clue,” Yin Shaoqing insisted. “Moreover… I feel that there is something behind this… something closely related to me.”

His tone made it impossible for Jin Zhaoxuan to refuse outright. He glanced at Liu Jianjun, who silently took two steps back, his eyes indicating: "It's your own business, you handle it, I'll just watch."

Jin Zhaoxuan had no choice but to take out his precious power bank from his inner pocket, hold it in both hands as if it were a royal decree, and point it at the wall.

The power bank's indicator light started flashing wildly, changing from a lukewarm green to a restless orange-red, like an alarm. The surrounding temperature plummeted, and even the headlamp seemed to dim from the cold.

A faint, almost melting, translucent phantom struggled to rise from above the power bank, barely managing to coalesce into the blurry outline of Yin Shaoqing. This time, even maintaining a human form was a struggle; it resembled more of a shivering, icy mist.

The wisp of mist drifted along, brushed against the wall, pressed against the narrow crack, and then... began to slowly "seep" in.

"Yin Shaoqing!" Jin Zhaoxuan's heart tightened. This scene looked exactly like a scene from a horror movie where someone is courting death.

Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

Then--

A soft, thud, like the sound of an old bone shifting, came from inside the wall.

Immediately afterwards, a dull, teeth-grinding grinding sound came from the inside of the wall that had been "unmoved" just moments before. The narrow crack... slowly opened! Dust fell in a flurry.

The hidden door was forced open from the inside!

A narrow gap, barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through sideways, was revealed. A surge of even more stale air, as if pickled by time for eighty years, rushed out, carrying a heavy smell of rust and a... cold, deathly atmosphere.

The power bank's indicator light went out instantly, and the fog vanished without a trace. Jin Zhaoxuan felt a weight in his chest pocket; Yin Shaoqing had returned, but his condition was clearly extremely poor, probably having already experienced an "out-of-body experience."

"How is he?" Liu Jianjun asked with concern.

"We need... emergency hibernation." Jin Zhaoxuan gritted his teeth. "Let's go in!"

Liu Jianjun squeezed in first, sideways. Jin Zhaoxuan followed closely behind, feeling like he was playing a real-life version of Tomb Raider, only the protagonist's equipment was a bit shabby.

The interior space was extremely small, only about three or four square meters, and the ceiling was so low it felt oppressive, less than two meters. A headlamp illuminated the surroundings.

The walls were rough concrete, covered in alkali and moss, a war-damaged version of an unfinished house. Scattered in the corner were several rusted tin cans (perhaps canned goods back then, now just rusty iron). A simple wooden bed covered with moldy canvas (more like a mortuary board). A small iron table fixed to the wall.

On the iron table were a few things: a tin kettle with no bottom left; a notebook wrapped in oilcloth that looked relatively cheap; and some small metal parts scattered on the table that were so rusted that even their own mothers wouldn't recognize them.

There are no words.

Jin Zhaoxuan and Liu Jianjun carefully inspected the table, walls, and even the ceiling (although it was low), and found no trace of writing except for water stains and mold.

“It seems… he didn’t get here. Or if he did, he…” Liu Jianjun’s voice trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Jin Zhaoxuan's heart sank, a huge disappointment washing over him. They found the air chamber, but it was just an empty shell? Could Yin Shaoqing's memories really be a hallucination before his death? Was Takahashi Shinsuke's plan just empty talk?

“No…that’s not right.” Yin Shaoqing’s weak yet exceptionally clear voice suddenly exploded in Jin Zhaoxuan’s mind (saving him the need for headphones), carrying a violent emotional shock, “I feel…there is…a very strong…residue of mine here.”

The power bank on his chest started flashing wildly, like it was going to a disco.

“Under the table…” Yin Shaoqing’s voice was urgent, pointing, “The front right corner…the floor…there…”

Jin Zhaoxuan immediately crouched down and began to feel around according to the "ghost navigation." In the shadow of the seam between the right front leg of the iron table and the ground, his fingers touched a small, slightly raised area that felt different to the touch.

He scraped away the thick layer of grime and moss.

A small, heavily oxidized, thin sheet of metal was exposed, almost fused to the ground—as if it had been forcibly torn from some can. On the metal sheet were extremely rough and blurry marks made with a sharp object.

Jin Zhaoxuan turned his headlamp to its brightest setting, almost pressing his face against it to make out the details.

The marks were too shallow and the corrosion too severe; only a few distorted strokes could be seen, making it impossible to form a character.

But just as Jin Zhaoxuan was staring intently, trying to make them appear with his mind—

The power bank on his chest suddenly became scalding hot (an abnormally high temperature for a ghost vessel)! Immediately afterward, a bone-chilling sensation shot up his arm and into his brain!

"Holy shit!" Jin Zhaoxuan groaned as countless fragmented, chaotic, painful, and dark "first-person perspective" images flashed before his eyes:

Icy, bone-chilling black water filled my senses… My lungs burned as if they were about to explode… My hands flailing about, touching the hard, rough concrete wall… A hidden, half-open opening… I squeezed in with my last bit of strength… I collapsed onto the cold ground, coughing up muddy water… Boundless darkness and cold engulfed me… I could vaguely hear distant muffled sounds (an explosion? an impact?)… The air grew thinner and thinner… My consciousness blurred like the receding tide…

The final thought wasn't a clear sentence, but a surging, indescribable torrent of emotions—a complex mix of feelings towards her adoptive father (hatred? expectation? confusion? all tangled together)... a twisted, intense reluctance to live... and an almost greedy, clear longing for the spring sunshine (even though everything around her was pitch black)...

This wave of "memory sharing" came on strong but went away quickly, like being hit on the back of the head with a mental brick.

Jin Zhaoxuan collapsed onto the mud, panting heavily, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

"Mr. Jin! What's wrong?" Liu Jianjun quickly helped him up.

“…I ‘saw’ it.” Jin Zhaoxuan’s voice was hoarse. “His last feelings and thoughts before he died…were left here. He just…transmitted them to me.”

He looked at the unremarkable piece of metal in his hand. This thing might have just been the shell of a broken pot back then, but in Yin Shaoqing's desperate, dying moments, he probably unconsciously clung to it, "engraving" all his unfulfilled emotions onto it. Eighty years of isolation, coupled with the special "magnetic field" formed by Yin Shaoqing's soul lingering nearby, turned this broken piece of metal into a "USB drive" carrying his final spiritual imprint—a limited edition of a near-death experience.

“He… came in.” Jin Zhaoxuan said to Liu Jianjun, and also to the silent presence inside the power bank, “He found the air chamber and hid inside. But… he might have been injured, he might have suffered from hypothermia, he might have been lacking oxygen… He didn’t make it until someone came, he might not even have been conscious enough to leave a last message. In the end, all that was engraved on the ‘USB drive’ were these jumbled feelings and unfinished dreams.”

Therefore, Yin Shaoqing's soul only remembers the cold despair when he fell into the water and the perceived betrayal (that was the last intense impact when he was conscious). The fragmented process of briefly surviving in the air chamber and eventually dying was forgotten due to blurred consciousness or trauma, until it was reread by this place and this "USB drive" at this moment.

Liu Jianjun remained silent for a long time before letting out a heavy sigh: "At least... we know this child tried to live. Gaoqiao's lousy plan wasn't... a complete waste of time."

Jin Zhaoxuan nodded, his heart a jumble of emotions, like a spilled spice shop. The truth was still cruel, but it held a touch of poignant warmth over the worst-case scenario (his adoptive father was a pure scoundrel), and it provided more heart-wrenching evidence than a complete lack of clues—Yin Shaoqing had been so close to that path of survival, yet so far away.

He carefully wrapped the metal fragment containing the final "scratched code" in a soft cloth and tucked it into his inner pocket. Then he checked the oilcloth-wrapped notebook. It contained no words, only some blurred, smudged stains—perhaps blood or water—and several yellowed pages stuck together, impossible to tear apart. This was probably the more detailed strategy or explanation Takahashi Shinsuke had intended to leave for his son, but it clearly hadn't been delivered.

"Let's get out of here." Liu Jianjun glanced at the oxygen detector. "The air here isn't circulating well. If we stay any longer, we might turn into cultural relics."

Jin Zhaoxuan took one last look at this small, dark, cold "safe house" that had swallowed all the life and hope of a nineteen-year-old boy.

He gripped the metal fragment in his pocket, along with the school badge and glass whistle he had found earlier.

“Yin Shaoqing,” he said in a low but clear voice, pointing to the power bank on his chest, “Let’s go, buddy. We’re not staying in this lousy place anymore.”

The two returned the way they came, climbed out of the shaft, and only when they breathed in the gray but at least flowing air above ground did Jin Zhaoxuan feel the tightness in his chest dissipate somewhat.

Back in the car, Liu Jianjun silently started the engine. Jin Zhaoxuan took out the metal fragment and rubbed it in his hand.

At that moment, he noticed that the indicator light on the power bank in his chest pocket had started to flash a soft glow in a slow but incredibly steady rhythm.

One time, one time, and another.

It was no longer the flickering light of a critically ill patient, but rather like... steady breathing and a strong heartbeat.

Steady, yet resolute.

Jin Zhaoxuan looked at the regular flashes of light, then at the cold metal sheet in his hand, and recalled the intense longing for "spring sunshine" that had just flashed through his mind. Suddenly, he felt a softness and a pang of sadness in a certain part of his heart.

He carefully put the metal piece away, and unconsciously pressed his fingers lightly against the power bank that was flashing rhythmically through his clothes.

“Go to sleep,” he said very softly, in a voice only he could hear, “Next time you wake up… I’ll take you to get some sunshine.”

As the car drove away from the ruins, the old water tower gradually blurred in the gray fog in the rearview mirror.

But some things have quietly pierced through eighty years of darkness and dust, sprouting the first barely perceptible, yet warm, tendrils in the gloomy world.