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墨書 Inktalez
The time has not yet come; all that is needed is to wait.
Sometimes, those unresolved feelings, that uncertainty about the future, test a person's inner strength more than anything else.
Chen Zhe reached out to touch the guitar, plucking the strings while tuning it. The thinnest string produced a delicate, intermittent high note. The instructions had not yet arrived; thinking about anything was just a waste of effort.
Finally, he got it right. Chen Zhe casually strummed the strings and began to sing softly along with the chords. His voice was unique, a rich baritone that sounded comfortable and slightly languid, making it quite popular. During his school days, he had specifically practiced guitar. Coincidentally, his foreign language subject was Russian, so Russian songs became his favorite to sing.
"Вae/6лaгpдne/гпжa/п6eдa,
a
Пьr/ha/kpвn,
/в/лю6вн"
Russia is indeed a strange nation; they bleed and sacrifice on the battlefield, yet their songs before going to war rarely sing of justice and fervor. Instead, they prefer to sing openly before stepping onto the battlefield, dedicating their songs to mothers and lovers.
If it were the Chinese, perhaps it would be more subtle and restrained. Wouldn't it be better to keep those personal feelings inside?
Just like this song, an interlude from an old Soviet film "Desert Day" from the early 1970s. The singer seemed to have lost his mind, contemplating this as he faced death.
"If I'm unlucky in death, then perhaps I'll be lucky in love!"
"Stop singing!" someone next to him slammed the table with a loud bang and stood up abruptly, causing everything on the table to rattle.
The singing and guitar playing came to an abrupt halt as if startled. Chen Zhe looked up in surprise at Zhang Yang's furious expression.
"I thought... you would like it," Chen Zhe murmured after a long pause.
"You are not him, and you can never be him! Be yourself." Zhang Yang spat out angrily, striding out the door and slamming it shut with a loud bang.
As he walked through the narrow, dark corridor, his heart felt heavy. Zhang Yang pulled out a cigarette from his pack, tapped it lightly against the box, and lit it with his lighter, taking a deep drag. The warmth of the lighter still lingered in his hand, slightly burning him. This cigarette belonged to that person too. Three years had passed, yet he was still everywhere.
In psychology, the root cause of sadness lies in separation. But in life, various separations are inevitable; the most extreme being death. The difference is that some people feel the pain of separation much later, while others encounter loss early on.
It was because his sister was murdered by a robber on the eve of her college graduation that Zhang Yang silently chose to study Criminal Investigation after all the sorrow had passed, and without hesitation became a detective after graduation. However, becoming a police officer did not mean he could escape from facing separation. This time, after Xiao Hua was gone, he began to doubt his fate for the first time.
Did the so-called "cursed star" really exist, one that brought misfortune to everyone around?
"Hey, with that long face and looking like a monk in meditation, do you even have any fun in your life?" Xiao Hua leaned in, resting his arm on Zhang Yang's shoulder, the faint scent of cologne wafting over.
Zhang Yang subtly shifted away but couldn't escape Xiao Hua's lean. How did this guy even predict which direction he would instinctively move? Zhang Yang frowned slightly.
"Don't be like that! As future partners, we need to build some rapport, right?" Xiao Hua chuckled lightly, his body shaking with laughter.
How annoying! That was what Zhang Yang thought at that moment.
It seemed to be a deep autumn; several red maples planted in the precinct gradually transformed into a mix of green, yellow, and red colors. The maple leaves twirled down and landed on a middle school student sitting under the tree with a stack of exercises.
The son of the deputy director was still young and often came to find his father after school. But his father was too busy to pay him any attention, so the studious boy sat in the yard doing his homework.
However, this time was different. As Zhang Yang passed through the yard, he noticed a young man squatting by the flowerbed next to the middle school student, intently looking at the student's workbook.
The young man was about the same age, around twenty-two or twenty-three. He wore a black fitted long-sleeve shirt and outdoor sports pants with many pockets, giving off a casual vibe. From a distance, his face was clearly visible—his slender features, delicate facial structure, and skin that was exceptionally fair. Around his neck hung a pure copper cross on a leather cord. The most striking feature was his hair, shoulder-length and straight, resembling a woman's style, with a slightly lighter shade that had hints of flaxen.
He had long hair, fair skin, and handsome features, yet there was nothing feminine about him; it created a peculiar impression.
"Hey? Can't figure it out?" the long-haired man spoke with a bright and cheerful voice.
The boy nodded. "Yeah, calculating this angle is quite complex; there are many conditions to consider."
"Heh heh, look! You have a diagram on your paper! Just by looking at it, all these conditions seem to be satisfied. If you don't believe me, measure it with a ruler. The teacher who set the question accidentally drew the diagram correctly!" The man reached into the pencil case and pulled out the student's protractor, placing it directly on the diagram. "So why calculate? Just measure it with the protractor! It's a fill-in-the-blank question; you don't need to show your working!"
"Oh come on! Big Brother, how can you be so opportunistic?" The boy criticized him seriously.
He burst into hearty laughter. "Being opportunistic is also a skill! You see, you didn't even think of this clever trick!"
The man casually lifted his head and met the gaze of Zhang Yang from a distance, flashing another smile and waving at him in a friendly manner.
Zhang Yang nodded at the man before turning to enter the building. He didn’t like people who took shortcuts; their energy just didn’t match his.
Less than twenty minutes after entering the office, he was called into the deputy director's office. "This mission is relatively complex and carries certain risks. Zhang, I'm assigning you a partner. Xiao Hua, come meet him; this is Zhang Yang."
The opportunistic long-haired man stood beside them with a cheerful smile and extended his hand. "What a coincidence! We just greeted each other earlier!"
"Xiao is here to support us from the provincial department. Don't let his youth fool you; he has plenty of practical experience. Make sure to cooperate well," the deputy director instructed.
So he wasn't a newcomer after all. How could they allow someone like the long-haired man to stay? It was surprising that he could even manage to get by like this.
Regarding this issue, Xiao Hua later responded with a light laugh, "Because I took advantage of the situation."
From this point on, Zhang Yang was surprised to find that during the skills competition, it became uncertain who would take first place.
By the second week of Xiao Hua's arrival in the team, he encountered the routine live-fire test. Zhang Yang's marksmanship was precise, and unsurprisingly, he scored a perfect ten. When it was Xiao Hua's turn, the result was unexpected; he fired ten shots, hitting the bullseye only once while the other nine missed completely.
Holding the gun, Xiao Hua's previously carefree demeanor vanished. He stood tall and poised, even his unique appearance added an air of coldness to him, somehow giving off a hint of exotic charm.
Such an aura could not possibly correspond to that result. Later, when everyone examined the bullet marks on the target's back, they were astonished to discover that all ten of his bullets had precisely passed through the same hole.
Xiao Hua quickly became popular within the team. In any field, those who excel are always favored; the rules are often that simple, and Xiao Hua had such a pleasant temperament.
"Brother Hua, hey! Next time you shoot, please don't do it like that again; it makes things so much harder for us! Can't you miss a little? For you, it should be easy!" his comrades shouted.
"Ah, sorry, sorry!" Xiao Hua scratched his head sheepishly. "I have a bit of OCD; I'll pay attention next time!"
"How did you train, Brother Hua?" "How long have you been in the provincial office? You're so young and already handling cases there..." "Do you have a girlfriend?" In no time, the area erupted into chatter.
Zhang Yang chose not to participate; he wasn't one for conversation or gossip. However, this did not diminish his colleagues' respect and fondness for him. Everyone's attention shifted to Xiao Hua, which didn't bother him at all. Yet Zhang Yang felt an inexplicable sense of unease regarding Xiao Hua.
He sensed a significant difference between them. However, "partner" was a weighty term; partners often leave a distinct mark on one's life.
"Living in this city is truly dangerous. Aren't we detectives? Why does it feel like we're special police?" The commotion continued as Xiao Hua somehow slipped away and sat beside Zhang Yang. "Next month's task should be quite dangerous, right?"
It was indeed a perilous mission, yet he had to entrust his back to someone he hardly knew. Zhang Yang felt not only frustrated but suspected that Xiao Hua must also feel quite uneasy about it.
The frustrating situation arrived sooner than expected. One afternoon, the bureau suddenly received a report from a District Police Station about an individual with a grudge against society who was armed with explosives and had taken hostages on the first floor of a shopping mall.
Scenes that usually only appear on television were unfolding in reality. If there were no life experiences, how could there be dramas? However, the demands made by this person were utterly absurd, far more unrealistic than any plot twist on TV; they were simply impossible to meet. The problem was that he had a gun, and it was pressed against the temple of a Saleswoman, while behind him, dozens of terrified people crouched down, covering their heads.
"This person is mentally unstable; he’s losing control!" When Zhang Yang and his team arrived, their colleagues at the scene reported urgently.
At that moment, the Bomb Man suddenly let out a maniacal laugh: "Hahaha! You’re all liars! If that’s the case, then everyone can die!"
He pressed the gun harder against the hostage's head and flicked open a lighter, preparing to ignite the fuse.
Zhang Yang moved like lightning, drawing his weapon in an instant. His mind raced with thoughts, but before he could level his gun, he heard a gunshot nearby that made his eardrums ring. Almost simultaneously, another shot rang out from a distance.
Standing straight beside him was Xiao Hua. The gun in Xiao Hua's hand still smelled of gunpowder as the bullet struck the criminal between the eyes, killing him instantly. The lighter fell from the criminal's hand, along with the lifeless body of the unfortunate hostage.
In that split second when the criminal was hit, his finger involuntarily tightened on the trigger, shooting the hostage.
"Why did you shoot so quickly?" Zhang Yang suppressed his anger and turned to Xiao Hua. "In this situation, there was a possibility of hostage death; didn’t you know that?"
"I knew. But it was an urgent situation; some losses are necessary losses," Xiao Hua replied firmly. "I will take responsibility."
"Even though he had already lit it, a normal person would hesitate for just a moment at that point; time wasn’t entirely absent," Zhang Yang began to calm down slightly. In fact, Xiao Hua's judgment had not been wrong at all; what Xiao Hua accomplished was something over two-thirds of those present could not have done. Yet in that instant, Zhang Yang had quickly glanced at Xiao Hua because his heart held another choice.
"Did you see that I drew my gun too? If I had shot at his right hand at the moment you fired, it might have resulted in a different outcome," Zhang Yang thought for a moment before speaking up. "Your speed was too fast; I couldn’t keep up."
Xiao Hua looked at his new partner in astonishment. After staring for a long time, he finally said, "You’re right; I was wrong."
It is difficult to determine who is right and who is wrong. There was a classic example: imagine you are driving a train on its tracks, and suddenly, five people appear ahead. You have two choices: continue forward or pull the lever to switch to another track, where there is one person. At that moment, do you let the train continue on its path, or do you actively pull the lever to run over that one person?
Xiao Hua's choice was actually the safest and most prudent. He sacrificed one life to prevent a greater loss. By shouldering the necessary loss alone, he demonstrated a significant sense of responsibility, which is especially commendable for a police officer. However, there was an involuntary excitement in Xiao Hua's tone; he firmly believed that this time, he was wrong.
Making such a precise decision yet still feeling it was wrong, and knowing there could have been a better outcome—this is a rare opportunity for a strong and arrogant person. It signifies that someone powerful enough to stand alongside you has entered your life. Just thinking about joining forces with that person makes one's blood boil with excitement.
In the following month, during a major case they handled together, Zhang Yang and Xiao Hua showcased their skills in seamless cooperation, leaving their colleagues in awe. They had thought both were already strong enough individually, but one plus one truly did not equal two.
It was much greater than two.
The successful resolution of this case earned them both first-class merits. Their investigative strategies and responsive tactics were analyzed by students at the academy, who worshipped them fervently.
No one knew that when it came to being reckless, Xiao Hua was perhaps the most daring of all.
The target they aimed to dismantle was initially thought to be a drug manufacturing factory; however, they later discovered it was actually a contact point for a terrorist organization. During the operation's final stages, Xiao Hua turned his line into a one-way ticket.
If it weren't for Xiao Hua, the factory would have exploded, potentially taking down the neighboring oil refinery as well, resulting in hundreds or even thousands of innocent lives lost. The factory housed heavy weaponry and highly destructive explosives—information they had failed to gather during their intelligence operations. Yet amidst the sudden turn of events, they adapted quickly; not only did they capture nearly all involved parties, but they also prevented an explosion and seized weapons.
The operation was originally planned along two lines. Zhang Yang led his team based on his analysis of the building's blueprints and, like a divine soldier descending from above, accurately located and captured the main criminals before they could react. When he discovered there were still numerous weapons inside the building, Zhang Yang immediately began assigning tasks to his team.
Just as everyone was well-trained and swiftly executing their assignments, an explosion suddenly echoed from another corner of the factory.
It was the location of the control room revealed by one of the suspects and where Xiao Hua's team had gone. The sound of the explosion clearly came from equipment belonging to their side—specifically grenades that had been equipped as a precaution.
Through the radio came cries from another team: "Captain Zhang! Someone is trying to remotely detonate the explosives! Team Leader Xiao locked us out, and then the control room exploded..."
Zhang Yang's mind suddenly went blank. That guy... But if it were me, I would probably do the same. If it were me...
He grabbed the building's blueprints and stared intently at the control room's location. If it were me...
"Let's go, everyone else, follow me!" he suddenly shouted.
When they blew open the iron gate at the end of the water supply pipe, Xiao Hua was gripping the railing behind the gate tightly, already suffocating and on the verge of unconsciousness.
Zhang Yang immediately performed CPR on him, pressing hard on his chest, even breaking one of his ribs in the process. Later, Xiao Hua would always complain about how Zhang Yang owed him a rib.
Xiao Hua coughed up some water and finally regained his breath. If it had been any later, he might have lost that ability altogether. He opened his eyes, dazed for a moment, and then focused on Zhang Yang's blurry face, managing to smile.
"I thought my singing would never end," he said hoarsely, still carrying a hint of jest.
"Just go crazy," Zhang Yang replied coldly.
Xiao Hua shifted slightly; a sharp pain shot through his ribs, causing him to furrow his brow. Yet he quickly smiled again.
"Actually, I was always sure you would find me and pull me out," Xiao Hua said with a playful tone that somehow tightened something in the heart, as if touching something heavy. There was a slight thrill to it. In ancient times, it would have sparked an impulse to ride into battle against the enemy. An endless surge of strength.
Xiao Hua had a quarter Russian ancestry; he learned his reconnaissance skills in Russia and had lived in the frozen tundra of the far north. He possessed both the cleverness and cunning of a Chinese person and the fierce bravery of a Slavic warrior. He could produce melodies from any kind of leaf, and his voice was deep and gentle.
However, he often hummed tunes that were quite old-fashioned.
A
“Goddess of Victory,”
It seems my song will never end.
“Stop messing around. Swear in blood, if you’re unlucky in the face of death, you might just be lucky in love!”
When Zhang Yang learned the meaning of the lyrics he often hummed, he merely scoffed, “Boring!”
Who would think about such trivialities in the face of death? Truly a spirit reminiscent of A Q.
Xiao Hua had a photo tucked away in his notebook, and when it accidentally fell out, everyone saw it. That was the only time Xiao Hua’s face turned red for a brief moment. However, he quickly brushed it off with a laugh.
He definitely had not confessed, Zhang Yang was certain. Because one time, after drinking too much, Xiao Hua had draped an arm around Zhang Yang's neck and urged him to go clarify things with his girl, to seize her without hesitation. Otherwise, he would surely regret it.
Unfortunately, at that time, no girl had yet walked into Zhang Yang's heart.
The girl in the photo had deep facial features, like a sculpture, with chestnut Long Hair styled into a high braid that cascaded down to her waist. She wore a tight-fitting outfit in a golden jungle, complete with arm guards and combat pants, with a short knife tucked into the straps on her thigh. She stood with her back to the camera but turned her head to reveal a radiant smile, one that was candid and exaggerated, as if she had just seen something incredibly wonderful. Her entire appearance resembled Laura from Tomb Raider.
She was Russian, named Nadia. Nadia, Nadia, hope.
Zhang Yang had been with Xiao Hua for five and a half years. Five and a half years—long or short? It felt like just a blink of an eye. Yet it was also not short; over two thousand days and nights spent together tackling thrilling missions and mundane tasks, learning to laugh together in different ways, and quietly cursing their superiors.
The injury from the last chase operation had not yet healed; there was still a bandage on Zhang Yang's shoulder. It was almost better, and he was too lazy to go back to the hospital, so Xiao Hua whistled as he helped him remove the gauze, apply new medicine, and wrap it up again.
With a crisp sound, the Zipp windproof lighter in Xiao Hua's hand sparked to life with a gentle flame. Zhang Yang's hand was already in his pocket, just barely missing the cigarette pack. For some reason, it seemed that Xiao Hua could unconsciously sense his fleeting desire to smoke.
"Here you go!" Xiao Hua tossed the lighter into Zhang Yang's hand. "It's yours now."
Xiao Hua didn't smoke, but he always carried a Zipp lighter with him; it was an essential survival tool. However, Zhang Yang preferred matches; his skill lay in striking them on any surface. When necessary, the scraped match heads had various uses unknown to ordinary people.
"I can't get used to this," Zhang Yang remarked at that moment.
Zhang Yang spoke little while Xiao Hua talked more, though not excessively. Even during their missions together, it was common for them to occupy their own corners and drift off into their thoughts. Sometimes they would execute tasks separately for one or two months at a time. Acting together felt ordinary; it was often unseen and quite normal.
Yet inside, it seemed that something was gradually changing. It felt as if they could not see each other but still believed in one another as firmly as they believed in themselves. Everything seemed trivial; everything remained calm as before. He would surely succeed; there would always be moments when he would smile in the dawn light.
If this could continue indefinitely, it seemed quite nice.
However, if your life were destined to walk on thin ice, you would often have to face the risk of falling through.
Xiao Hua sacrificed himself on May 9th three years ago, as if it were destined. That day marked Victory Day in the former Soviet Union. At the martyr's cemetery, eternal flames would ignite, and olive branches symbolizing peace would be placed on the tombstones, while kind-hearted people bowed their heads in silent mourning. It was a moment to pray for the warriors, far away in the land of a distant lover.
Zhang Yang and Xiao Hua stood silently on a simple elevator suspended by cables with only a flat platform beneath them, gazing at each other from afar. The two elevators struggled to maintain a delicate balance. Below them roared flames like erupting lava, the heat causing beads of sweat to drip from both their foreheads.
Suddenly, Xiao Hua relaxed his body. He gently wiped his neck with his left hand and then, using a knife-throwing motion, hurled an object directly at Zhang Yang's face.
Zhang Yang reached out to catch it and discovered it was the pure copper cross that Xiao Hua had always worn.
"I'm not cursing you, but with your brooding nature, you're bound to have bad luck when you meet a woman you like. May it bless you."
Zhang Yang fastened the cross around his wrist and smiled lightly before suddenly drawing his gun. Nonsense! What time is it? Enough of this trivial talk. I'll take it with me; I will remember you.
Knowing Xiao Hua so well, he understood that Xiao Hua would also draw his gun, so if he was going to act, he had to do it unexpectedly and faster than him.
However, shooting had always been Xiao Hua's strongest skill, and at that moment, he proved that what people had seen before was far from the whole picture.
Both men drew their guns and pulled the triggers simultaneously; the difference was that Zhang Yang fired once while Xiao Hua fired twice.
Zhang Yang aimed at the latch at the top of the elevator that maintained balance on both sides. If he shot down Xiao Hua's side, his own would plunge into the sea of fire while Xiao Hua's elevator would rise, allowing him to survive.
But at that moment, a sly smile crossed Xiao Hua's face. He was so confident, so certain that he could succeed.
Xiao Hua's first shot accurately deflected the bullet fired by Zhang Yang with an almost supernatural sixth sense. Then, calmly raising his hand, he fired a second shot that broke the latch on Zhang Yang's side.
Ha ha, it seems this time my song really won't end. Thinking about it, there doesn't seem to be much more I want anymore.
If one is unfortunate in death, perhaps one will be fortunate in love?
So, my dear girl, you will surely be safe. I give your cross to that child; you both must live and be happy.
“Bang!”
Chen Zhe was startled by the loud sound of the door slamming. His thumb twitched, and his nail caught the thinnest string of the guitar, which snapped with a sharp "twang," striking the back of his left hand. A faint red mark began to appear on his skin.
He paused for a moment, then suddenly smiled lightly.
When you choose this path, you must always be mentally prepared for farewells, even if your body has unknowingly become intertwined with another's, even if parting becomes a bloody shedding of flesh. Life will continue; people must move forward. There is no need for replacements, nor do we wish to become anyone else. Yet since we are destined to walk hand in hand, there will always be moments when you and I become each other's additional weight. Time will turn the bonds of life into wine.
Chen Zhe placed the guitar on the bed, stood up, and opened the door. Really now, the command is coming soon; why throw a tantrum? That guy must be sulking at the end of the hallway, smoking. He should go find him and drag him out to bask in the sun.
Chen Zhe tilted his head to glance out the window in the hallway; the sunlight was so bright it made him squint. Unconsciously, he raised his left hand above his head as if to shield himself from it, narrowing his eyes.
Indeed, it was a brilliantly sunny day.
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