Night and Echo
The resort is built by the sea, with thick carpets covering the corridors, swallowing up footsteps and leaving only the soft click of the door lock. Hu Li swiped his card to enter the room, first locking the door chain, then drawing the curtains, checking the locks on the windows and balcony, and finally placing his luggage on the luggage rack.
The phone screen lit up briefly, the location icon at the top remaining lit. She called the front desk, gave her surname and room number, and asked the security guard to patrol more that evening. His message was still in the notification bar: "The front desk has instructed you to remember to turn on location services. Don't walk alone at night, and send me a message immediately if anything happens."
She replied, "I'm in my room, don't worry."
Hot water poured down, creating a thin mist that fogged the mirror. She put her hair up, slowly dried it with a towel, and changed into a loose-fitting knitted cardigan. Outside the balcony was the dark sea, with a few distant ship lights like eyes swaying in the wind.
She sorted the documents she had photocopied today into transparent folders: excerpts from local history archives, microprinted reprints of old newspapers, and oral lists. The top one was labeled "Master Lian from the Port Area." She tucked the folder into the innermost compartment, pulled out a sketchbook, and wrote a few words on the title page:
"Wind, Waves, and Purple Vitex (Winter)"
She paused here and sent a message to her best friend Xiaomin: "I've checked into the resort. See you the day after tomorrow."
After ten o'clock, she heard a few soft footsteps at the end of the corridor, stopping, walking, then stopping again. It sounded like someone was leaning against the wall making a phone call. She put her phone on silent, walked to the door, and glanced through the peephole—it was empty. She went back, her heart still beating a beat faster than usual.
She moved her chair behind the door, sat down, picked up a pen, and casually listed a few questions: Ask directly—who was there that night, what were the circumstances, was it an accident or intentional, just the facts.
Her pen paused, and she remembered her mother's words: "She was there during that accident." Was this just her mother making things up in the heat of the moment, or was it a part of her memory that was missing? She wasn't sure. She had to keep searching.
IV. Call
She thought for a moment, then dialed his number. After he answered, she didn't say much, only, "I'm in the room."
His voice was steady: "I know. Hang the door chain properly, and let me know you're safe before you go to sleep."
"good."
She paused, then smiled and said, "I'll eat breakfast on time tomorrow morning."
He gave a soft "Okay".
After hanging up, only the soft sound of the sea breeze lapping against the railing remained in the room. She closed her sketchbook, leaned back in her chair, and listened as her breathing gradually calmed. The night silenced all sound, leaving only her heartbeat.
She had an appointment with Master Lian the day after tomorrow, so she had nothing planned for today. She opened the curtains a crack to let in the cool light, then closed them again. A transparent folder lay open on the table; she removed the duplicate photocopies, reorganized them according to the "Time-Place-People" column, and casually wrote on a sticky note:
"Master Lian / Friday" "Oral History of the Old Port Area" "Clippings from Old Newspaper Offices" "Local History Database Search Code".
She still felt uneasy. Why didn't she have any memories? She stared at the blank pages of her sketchbook, and a thought suddenly popped into her head—she had been drawing since she was a child, and many paintings remained in her hometown. Perhaps the answer wasn't here, but in those paintings.
She turned to the back of the title page and wrote a line:
"Back to my hometown—picture albums, loose pages, and old sketches under the bed in my room."
She put down her pen, leaned back in her chair, and whispered to herself, "I'll finish exploring this part of Hong Kong first, then I'll go back and look through it."
She didn't send him these thoughts. She just sent him a brief update: "Going to the restaurant for breakfast later. I'll just walk around the resort today and check on the maintenance of the filming locations I've been eyeing. Even if there are reporters or anyone with ulterior motives, they'll only see me wandering around here." A while later, he replied: "Got it."
She placed her phone face down on the table and took a deep breath. Her mother's words echoed in her ears again—she was present during that accident. Was it just her mother's emotional imagination, or was a part of her life truly missing? She wasn't sure. She could only keep searching.
It was two o'clock in the afternoon, the sunlight was soft. Xiaomin dragged her luggage to the resort lobby, still wearing her work badge, and waved to her from afar. The lobby was crowded, so she winked at Xiaomin: "It's not convenient to talk outside, let's go to my room first."
Once inside, the door chain locked. Xiaomin tossed her coat onto the sofa and let out a long sigh: "Finally, you can speak like a human being. What's going on? So secretive and cautious, is something serious happening?"
Hu Li poured two cups of hot water and got straight to the point: "I'm here to investigate an old matter. My mother called the other day and mentioned an accident, saying I was there too, but I was probably too young to remember much. I need to confirm if it's true or not; I'm afraid it's just her imagination in the heat of the moment. If it is true, how am I supposed to face Tianlang? Also, a couple of days ago at the cultural center, someone was following me."
Xiao Min raised an eyebrow, her guard up: "Looks?"
"Mask, baseball cap, collar looks like an ID card."
Hu Li: "I have an appointment with Master Lian tomorrow to ask about what happened back then."
Xiaomin thought for three seconds: "Okay. My project meeting ends tomorrow morning, and I'll go and make an appointment for you this afternoon to ask Master Lian about the situation back then. You just stay at the resort and don't give anyone any topics to talk about or take any pictures. Let's keep a low profile until everything is clear."
Hu Li nodded: "Okay. I'll send a message to my mom later."
Xiaomin patted the back of her hand: "Don't worry, I'm here for you. Leave the rest to me."
Back by the window, she thought for a long time before finally composing and sending the message: "Mom, I'll be coming home soon."
A moment later, the person on the other end replied, "Okay. We'll talk about it later."
Her tone seemed calm, but as she read those two sentences, a chill ran through her heart, like a sea breeze. She didn't make another call; she simply placed her phone face down on the table.
8. Self-dialogue at dusk
Dusk painted the horizon a pale orange. She looked at the photocopied clippings again, then turned to the last page of her sketchbook and drew a few lines along the coast. The lines were broken and discontinuous, like someone stopping mid-sentence.
She wrote in the corner of the page: "Just the facts." Then she added a smaller line below: "Don't scare yourself."
She saved Master Lian's number and sent it to Xiaomin, along with a simple list of three key points for the interview: who was there that night, what were the circumstances, and was it an accident or intentional? Xiaomin replied, "Received."
She reorganized her bag: sketchbook, sticky notes, disposable raincoat, and a spare pen—she wouldn't go out today, just walk around the park.
That evening, Xiaomin brought up dinner—hot noodle soup. The two sat on the edge of the bed to eat. Xiaomin looked up at her and said, "If you're really scared, call your wolf over."
Hu Li shook his head: "No need. Don't let him worry about this."
Xiaomin raised an eyebrow: "You are 'us' now, he has the right to know."
Hu Li closed the disposable chopsticks: "I'll talk about it when I'm sure."
Xiaomin didn't press further and changed the subject, talking about her business trip arrangements and the repeated crashes of the large screen in the next venue. Eventually, they both laughed, and the tension eased a little.
On Friday afternoon, Xiaomin arrived at the small shed by the old wharf as agreed, introducing herself as "an oral history consultant, helping a friend with the background of their work." Master Lian, wearing an old cotton-padded coat and holding a hot tea mug, raised his chin slightly upon seeing her: "Go ahead and speak."
Xiaomin turned on the recorder: "Do you remember the drowning incident at the beach one year? I think the boy's surname was Mu?"
Master Lian thought for a moment: "In summer, it's windy. That beach is on the side, so there are fewer people. Most tourists are on the other side; occasionally, a few people will come over to take pictures. First, there were two kids who were looking at the sea from the breakwater. A white van stopped by the roadside over there, and some people got out to watch the waves."
What were the circumstances like at the time?
"The weather changes in an instant. The wind was already strong that day, and the sea conditions were bad, so I finished work early and went to mend the torn fishing nets. After a while, the wind got even stronger, and the waves started to get bigger. I was busy pulling in the nets and didn't pay much attention. Not long after, I heard someone shouting; by the time everyone got over, it was too late, and the person had been swept away by the sea. That patch of purple vitex blooms in the summer, and at that time, the purple flowers were in full bloom. The petals stuck to my wet sleeves and then slid off. I remember it very clearly."
Was it an accident, or was it deliberate?
Master Lian glanced at her but didn't reply immediately: "Some say it was an accident, some say it wasn't. That night, when we called for roadside assistance, it took ten minutes to get through; another car stalled on the road. Whether it's a coincidence or not, I can't say for sure."
Xiaomin pressed further, "What's your opinion?"
Master Lian slowly said, "I'll only tell you what I saw. Someone rushed into the vent to block the wind; he was thin and wearing a coat. Someone was calling out names from behind. As for who was who, I don't recognize them. Whether it's true or not, the wind decides."
He added, "If you need to check a car, ask Lao Zheng. He used to do security outsourcing for the port area, so he remembers the license plates from that period. I'll ask him if he agrees to leave his contact information."
Xiaomin nodded: "Thank you. That's enough."
Early Friday morning, the wind picked up. She pulled her scarf up and walked along the embankment to the small shed. Master Lian was already there, wearing an old cotton-padded coat and carrying a mug of hot tea. He nodded to her when he saw her: "You're here."
She gave a brief greeting and placed the recorder on the table: "When I'm creating my work, I need some solid information. I'll ask about the matter at hand, not the people."
Master Lian smiled, the lines at the corners of his eyes furrowing together: "Go ahead and speak."
She went through them one by one: "Do you remember who was there that night?"
Master Lian thought for a moment: "In winter, at a windy spot. A white van stopped briefly at that intersection, and some people got out to watch the waves; they were wearing dark coats. Old Huang and his friends who often hang out by the dock were also nearby, along with two students who looked like students, carrying painting tubes, seeking shelter from the wind."
She wrote down the key words: "What were the circumstances like at the time?"
"The weather changed quickly. It was overcast at first, and then a strong wind suddenly came. The tide wasn't too high, but the wind whipped the waves into something like shattered silver. The purple vines by that low wall don't bloom in winter; only dry stems and withered leaves remain, which stick to your clothes when the wind blows."
She took a breath: "Was it an accident, or was it deliberate?"
Master Lian glanced at her but didn't reply immediately: "Some people say it was an accident, some say it wasn't. That day, when we called for roadside assistance, it took ten minutes to get through; another car stalled on the road. Whether it's a coincidence or not, I can't say for sure."
She pushed the recorder forward one centimeter: "What do you think?"
Master Lian slowly said, "I'll only tell you what I saw. Someone rushed in wearing a coat. Someone was calling out names from behind. As for who was who, I didn't recognize them."
Master Lian thought for a moment and said, "If you want to check the car, ask Lao Zheng. He used to do security outsourcing for the port area, so he remembers the license plates from that period."
"Could you leave me your contact information?"
"Let me ask him if he agrees." Master Lian didn't agree too quickly, but moved the teacup closer to his hand and changed how he held it.
She understood his reservations: "I understand. Thank you for seeing me today."
Master Lian raised his hand: "You young lady, you speak frankly. Good."
After meeting her friend, Xiaomin took a detour back to the resort. The two "bumped into" each other at the entrance of the coffee bar and chatted like ordinary best friends: she mentioned that the large screen in the venue was finally working properly, and Hu Li replied that "the breakfast at the restaurant was so-so." As they talked, they subtly glanced around—at the benches by the entrance, the reflections in the glass, and the elevator entrance. Seeing no suspicious people approaching, they walked together along the park's paths.
Walking to the fountain, Hu Li whispered, "Any success?"
Xiaomin: Yes. We'll talk about it when we get back to the room.
After Xiaomin left, she wiped her face and sent him a message: "The field trip went well today. I also gave you a quick tour of the resort; everything was in order and the details were all perfect. Don't worry about returning tomorrow."
The reply came back: "Okay. Don't go out tonight."
She replied with "Received". She then sent another message to Xiaomin: "Don't come tonight, I'm going to rest early." Xiaomin replied with an OK gesture immediately.
She sat back down at the table and, following Xiaomin's dictation, wrote down the keywords in a list: white van / thin coat / two children carrying painting tubes / stalled once on the road / rescue call delayed by ten minutes. With each item she wrote, her heart sank a little deeper.
She didn't think about it any further, but simply opened her sketchbook and drew three waves from memory.
Night deepened, and the corridor fell silent again. My phone vibrated; it was my mother's second message: "Let me know before you come back."
She stared at the sentence for a long time before replying with a single word: "Okay."
She placed her phone face down on her sketchbook and turned off the light. In the distance outside the window, a low, mournful whistle sounded, like a long question mark.
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