Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Five: Into the Mountains
There was still half an hour left before the meeting time between Song Bunan and Mighty Falcon.
The sleepless one sat by the window, realizing that he had been sitting there all night as the sunlight filled the courtyard. The cat had long since disappeared. The landlady found him while sweeping the fallen leaves and sighed, commenting on how early young people rise these days.
Alcohol had excited him, and his active mind replayed all his memories—joyful, painful, and those he wished to avoid—all in a jumble. It wasn’t until dawn broke and the sunlight streamed in that some of his agitation began to dissipate.
After finishing the last sip of alcohol at the bottom of his glass, he tossed everything into the trash can and prepared to go to sleep.
“Knock, knock, knock.” The sound of knocking interrupted his movement toward the bed. He turned around cautiously to see the landlady appearing at the window again, holding a tray with a smile. “You’re up the earliest! The first batch of dumplings is for you! The soy milk is just right, with a bit of sugar. Be careful; it’s hot!”
The steaming food was laid out on the table, but Xin Yi decided to wait until he woke up properly before eating. The bed was soft, and he sank into it, unable to stretch out his limbs. The pillow was hard, making a rustling sound with the buckwheat husks inside. He wasn’t picky about where he slept; it was just that the lingering drowsiness kept his rational mind hovering on the edge of not wanting to serve himself. After tossing and turning twice in bed, he finally chose to take out a moisture-proof mat from his bag, spread it over the sheets, and sleep on the floor.
The hard ground pressed against his back as drowsiness gradually washed over him in the cool air. Sunlight streamed into the room, bringing warmth.
In his dreams, he was running through a forest with his team. Judging by their uniforms, it was from a mission over twenty years ago. While chasing their target in the woods, they encountered an explosion. Fortunately, there were no casualties; they only lost their target. The explosion wasn’t their doing, but their furious leader decided they needed to find out who was responsible to report back to their superiors. However, when they reached the site, all that remained were smoldering fires and scattered dirt.
Fuming with anger, they had no choice but to descend from the mountain. Not far from the explosion site, they found a small child who had been caught in the blast under a tree. The child was about three or four years old and covered in blood; his back was a horrific sight. If it weren’t for the faint whimpering when they picked him up, they would have thought they had to bury him right there.
Although he knew it was just a dream now, the sensation of the child’s soft hands in his arms remained vivid, along with the smell of blood that stained his clothes. He couldn’t tell if the child was still alive.
The dream quickly shifted scenes to a home setting. Xin Yi sat on a sofa in the living room while someone busied themselves in the kitchen as if preparing a meal. Who would know where he lived? Xin Yi wondered. He never told anyone about his residence, not even his teammates from Mighty Falcon.
He wanted to take a closer look when he suddenly heard knocking at the door. It started softly with three tentative knocks before escalating into loud banging that grew closer until it was right behind him. He turned around abruptly and woke up from his dream; what met his eyes were sheets hanging down to the floor while knocking continued behind him.
Only two hours had passed since he fell asleep. Sleep deprivation combined with being disturbed made him irritable; blood rushed to his head as he jumped up and rushed to open the door, wanting nothing more than to strangle whoever was outside for being so inconsiderate.
Song Bunan stood in the sunlight, his round face flushed from exercise, sweat glistening on his chin. Without glasses obscuring them, his dark eyes sparkled with mirth as he slightly tilted his head and greeted him with a cheerful "Good morning."
This truly caught Xin Yi off guard. His usual sharp reflexes seemed to have momentarily failed him, allowing Song Bunan to slip in like an eel through a crack. By the time he regained his senses, he found the young man casually seated at the table, sipping on a cup of cold soy milk.
He looked different from the day before. At that time, Song Bunan had been all business, his demeanor polite yet distant. Now, however, he exuded the youthful energy captured in videos, his aura shifting from friendly and comfortable to lively, as if they were already close friends.
“What are you doing here?” Xin Yi asked, his morning grumpiness fading but still maintaining a stern expression. Meanwhile, Song Bunan was already digging into a basket of buns, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster storing food.
He pointed to the phone Xin Yi had tossed onto the bed, signaling for him to take a look.
“The suspect is called Copper Coin. He used a special gas-based drug to kill Old Otter and took something. Song Bunan mentioned that this person has been active in Mang Mountain for years and needs our team to accompany him into the mountains to search. I told him to find you; remember to meet up with the team once you’re in.”
The message had arrived just as he had fallen asleep on the floor.
“I saw you hadn’t replied, so your sister just gave me the address. I asked the landlady for the house number. Get ready; we’re heading into the mountains this afternoon. If you’re still tired, you can sleep a bit more now.” As he spoke, Song Bunan finished off the last of the buns and wiped his mouth. He pulled out a lunchbox from his backpack and handed it over. “Don’t eat cold food; you’ll need energy for the mountains. Here, eat this.”
Xin Yi quickly pieced together what was happening but didn’t reach out for the lunchbox. Instead, he asked how Song Bunan knew about the special drug he had used. He stared into Song Bunan’s eyes, trying to discern any other emotions.
Song Bunan didn’t disappoint. After setting down the lunchbox, he met Xin Yi’s gaze seriously and replied, “Copper Coin is notorious in our circles. Recently, several subordinates of the Zhang Family have ‘accidentally died,’ and after investigation, he was identified as the suspect. The symptoms Old Otter exhibited were similar to those cases. While we don’t know why he targeted someone from Mighty Falcon, having your people in the mountains should help catch him. Besides, isn’t there someone from Zhang Family with your team this time?”
The confidence and shrewdness displayed by Song Bunan now matched what Xin Yi had felt during their previous discussions at headquarters—his eyes sparkled with sincerity yet held a hint of cunning that piqued Xin Yi’s curiosity.
“Why are we leaving in the afternoon?” Xin Yi stepped closer, using his tall and sturdy frame to exert a bit of pressure on Song Bunan, hoping to induce some nervousness in him. His intention was purely mischievous; he wanted to see how this person would react when flustered or scared. Unable to find anything that frightened him yet, he relied on his physical advantage to create an opportunity.
However, his attempt was ignored as Song Bunan turned away and began tidying up the table while casually responding, “You need to eat something and rest first. Then we can check our gear and finalize our route into the mountains. If we get everything done by afternoon, it’ll be fine. Now stop asking so many questions and eat.”
The lunchbox contained rice topped with braised pork wrapped in lettuce, accompanied by corn segments and greens that steamed under the sunlight. The rich aroma of soy sauce wafted back into Xin Yi’s nostrils as he watched Song Bunan get up to offer him a seat, puzzled as he asked why he wasn’t eating.
“I already ate before coming here,” Song Bunan explained as he stood up. “I got a bit hungry again on my way over and thought I’d grab some buns for you while they were hot. I didn’t ask how much you usually eat; if this isn’t enough, there are rice balls with tuna filling too. You eat first; I’ll go ask the landlady about lunch.”
With that hurried exit, Xin Yi found himself without another chance to ask questions. Sitting before the lunchbox, an inexplicable sense of happiness welled up within him.
At the foot of Mang Mountain, a vast area is surrounded by ginkgo trees, their leaves slowly acquiring golden edges as autumn approaches. The artificially planted shrubs remain lush and vibrant, while unknown wildflowers bloom in the gaps. The developers of this tourist spot did not choose to turn the entire mountain into an attraction; instead, they opted for half of the front side. At the end of the man-made plastic path lies Ting Feng Pavilion, where visitors can enjoy a panoramic view of the entire Rongcheng during their leisure time.
Behind the pavilion is a steep mountain path carved out from the vegetation. Some adventure enthusiasts venture along this narrow trail all the way to the summit before concluding their journey. The back mountain connects to other peaks, with no proper paths for walking. Additionally, numerous burial mounds dot the landscape, with towering trees arranged around them, casting shadows that leave this area almost devoid of sunlight. Even at noon, standing atop the mountain and looking down reveals a dark expanse. Those who reach the summit unanimously choose not to continue further; after breathing in the fresh air, they either retrace their steps or descend through other hidden paths.
The branches on either side of the ascent are lush and leafy, forming a canopy that shields travelers from the sun. Even in midsummer, it does not feel overly hot. Autumn arrives swiftly in Rongcheng; after the beginning of autumn, temperatures drop daily, even more so on the mountain.
Song Bunan and Xin Yi arrived at the footpath around one in the afternoon. Although a gentle breeze carried a hint of coolness, it could not compete with the blazing sun overhead, which left their necks feeling parched and wrinkled from dehydration. Xin Yi caught a glimpse of Song Bunan beside him as he changed into a windbreaker. He carried a large backpack that was half his height; despite being stuffed to bursting and thicker than himself, it seemed as light as an accessory on his back.
He was undeniably thin. While Song Bunan changed clothes, Xin Yi observed him closely; his figure beneath the fitted T-shirt could only be described as bony, with ribs clearly visible and arms so slender that he could grasp them entirely with one hand. His pants were cinched tightly with a belt that had extra holes punched in it. The baby-faced appearance was deceiving, making it hard to imagine such a frail physique beneath his clothing. Yet in videos, he appeared different; although his body under a tactical vest was not as muscular as others', it still had some definition. What had he gone through since graduation to end up like this? Xin Yi turned away first to step outside; he realized his concern for this person had crossed into uncomfortable territory—this was not good.
"Are we taking the regular path to the back mountain or will you choose?" Song Bunan asked as he pulled out a dagger from his backpack's side pocket and strapped it to his leg before retrieving a mask that left only his eyes visible. "Let’s take the small path from Ting Feng Pavilion; we need to reach the foot of the back mountain before nightfall," Xin Yi replied.
They ceased further conversation and continued along the path. From time to time, Xin Yi would glance at Song Bunan, observing him trudging along like an armored figure lost in thought, occasionally stopping to take a sip from his water bottle.
A sense of unease lingered within Xin Yi, stemming from Song Bunan's presence just half a step behind him. Despite being an adult who occupied considerable space in his vision, there was something unreal about him—as if he might vanish at any moment when Xin Yi turned around again. Unable to comprehend where this rare feeling originated from, he decided he needed to do something to ease his mind.
He intentionally slowed down and moved behind Song Bunan, feeling slightly reassured by seeing most of him obscured by his backpack. It seemed that Song Bunan remained unaware of his actions, continuing to walk silently with his head down.
Why had things become so incomprehensible again? Xin Yi wondered.
Comment 0 Comment Count