Mystery in the Jungle: After the Noise Subsides
I. Entering the Mountains: Coordinates Swallowed by Greenery
As the SUV bumped along the winding mountain road, Lin Xia pressed her forehead against the cool car window. June sunlight filtered through the layers of camphor leaves, casting dappled patterns of light on the windshield like the flickering film reels of an old movie. In the passenger seat, Chen Mo gripped the steering wheel, his outdoor watch flashing green, the altitude reading climbing at a rate of fifty meters every ten minutes.
"Three kilometers to the starting point of the hike." He turned his head, his voice muffled by the folk songs playing from the car stereo. "Have you checked your backpacks? Don't forget the compressed biscuits and first-aid kit."
Zhou Ziqi, sitting in the back row, immediately patted the bulging backpack next to her, her ponytail brushing against Lin Xia's shoulder: "Don't worry, Captain Chen, I even repackaged the mosquito repellent into smaller bottles." As soon as she finished speaking, Lao Zheng, sitting on the other side, took out a tin box from the side pocket of his backpack and shook it. The scent of menthol mixed with leather sweat spread in the enclosed space: "Back when we were exploring in the Greater Khingan Mountains, we relied on this stuff to keep ticks away."
In this hastily assembled team, Chen Mo was a senior leader from an outdoor sports club, Zhou Ziqi was a recent college graduate, Lao Zheng was a retired geological engineer, and Lin Xia was an illustrator whom Chen Mo had dragged along to "cure urban ailments." Three days ago, they saw a hiking guide for "Luoxia Valley" on a forum. It was said that the evening light at the bottom of the valley would turn the entire forest amber, and now, that legendary secret realm was hidden in the gradually thickening greenery ahead.
The car stopped beside a craggy rock, and the GPS signal disappeared completely after displaying a "No Service" message. Chen Mo unfolded a waterproof map, his fingertip tracing a winding dotted line: "Start hiking through the valley from here. We expect to reach the first campsite around 3 PM. Remember to keep in formation and don't stray too far apart."
The sound of the stream preceded the sight, like a string of crumpled silver bells. As Lin Xia crossed the river on the moss-covered stones, she suddenly recalled the forests she had seen in picture books as a child—sunlight filtering through the gaps in the leaves, dewdrops clinging to the ferns' downy hairs, the air filled with the scent of pine resin and damp earth. Old Zheng squatted in front of a clump of Paris polyphylla, taking pictures, muttering, "This stuff is the most effective cure for snake and insect bites." Zhou Ziqi, meanwhile, kept snapping photos with her phone, the stream reflecting rainbow-like halos in her lens.
The initial journey resembled a meticulously planned nature tour. Chen Mo would stop occasionally to identify plants, Lao Zheng would pick up quartzite from the stream to explain its geological structure, and Zhou Ziqi's laughter startled several blue-black thrushes. Lin Xia lagged behind the group, her sketchbook gradually filling with crooked tree shadows and fern outlines. Until the sun began to set, the stream suddenly made a sharp bend before a steep rock face, and the surrounding vegetation became exceptionally dense. Thick vines, like spiderwebs, entwined around the pine trees, and sunlight was fragmented, scattering across the ground covered in a thick layer of humus.
“Wait a minute,” Chen Mo suddenly stopped, his brows furrowing. “This road doesn’t seem right.” He crouched down and parted the fallen leaves, revealing several broken, withered branches with blackened ends. “These marks are at least half a month old.”
Old Zheng leaned over to take a look, then touched the marks on a nearby maple tree: "These knife marks are too shallow; they don't look like they were left by a professional hiker." Zhou Ziqi held up her phone and spun it around, but the screen still showed "Searching for signal." Lin Xia then realized that, without her noticing, the sound of the stream had become distant and indistinct, leaving only the rustling of the wind through the treetops, like some kind of low whisper.
II. Lost: In Familiar Folds
The first to realize something was wrong was Zhou Ziqi. When she saw the single garlic orchid growing in the crack of the rock for the third time, her phone fell to the ground with a "thud": "Captain Chen... are we going in circles?"
That pale purple orchid did look familiar. Lin Xia remembered drawing its twisted roots an hour earlier, next to a stone shaped like a tortoise. And now, that stone lay in the same position among the fallen leaves five steps away, its surface covered with moss exactly as she remembered it.
Chen Mo's face darkened. He took out a compass from the side pocket of his backpack. The brass pointer trembled slightly in the sunlight, but stubbornly pointed in one direction. "Strange," he muttered to himself, "the magnetic field seems a bit chaotic." Old Zheng took the compass and adjusted it repeatedly. He then took a coin from his pocket and tossed it into the air. When the coin landed, it strangely rolled down the slope.
"Don't scare yourself." Old Zheng tried to remain calm and patted the dirt off his pants. "It's normal for the magnetic field to be abnormal in a small area in the mountains. There might be iron ore underground." But he didn't dare to look Chen Mo in the eye when he spoke. The compass that could never be steadily pointing was like a thin needle, gently piercing the thin film called "control" in everyone's hearts.
The tension began to spread from the silence. At first, it was just that the steps became heavy, and the sound of breathing was particularly clear in the quiet forest. Later, Zhou Ziqi stopped taking pictures, and Lao Zheng stopped explaining the rocks. Only Chen Mo was still leading the way, the sound of his trekking poles digging into the soil carrying a deliberate rhythm. Lin Xia could hear her own heartbeat, like a small drum pounding erratically in her chest. Sweat slid down her forehead and into her eyes, stinging them so much that she couldn't help but squint.
"Stop for a second." Chen Mo suddenly turned around, his voice a little louder than usual. "Now is not the time to panic. Lin Xia, give me your sketchbook."
Lin Xia frantically pulled out her notebook. Chen Mo unfolded the waterproof map and compared the landmarks on the sketchbook—the solitary garlic orchid, the tortoise-shaped rock, and the strangely branched pine tree—one by one. "Look," he pointed with his trekking pole to a blank area on the map, "we may have deviated from our original route and wandered into this unmarked secondary forest."
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