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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 9: On the Edge of Life and Death
The heavy rain made the neon signs sizzle. When my back slammed against the fire hydrant, a sharp pain shot through the bite mark on my neck—three days ago, Zhou Yi had wrapped it with gauze, his canine teeth sinking deep into my flesh. The bloodied footprints on the asphalt twisted and turned into the alley, resembling the marks my mother left when she dragged me away to escape twenty years ago.
Three shadows jumped down from the air conditioning unit, their military boots crushing the labels of embryos floating in puddles. The flash of a knife cut through the curtain of rain, reminiscent of the red line on my prenatal check-up report hidden beneath my pillow. The reflection from the watch of the leader made my eyelids twitch; its dial was identical to the numbers on Lin's Laboratory petri dishes.
“Zhou Yi!” As I toppled over a trash can, spoiled food containers mixed with rust from the ventilation ducts poured into my throat. When the fourth dagger aimed at my collarbone, the force of a black combat boot kicked away the blade, shaking me so hard that my plaster cast cracked.
The Velcro of Zhou Yi's tactical vest brushed against my cheekbone, and the smell of gunpowder mixed with fresh blood invaded my nostrils. The dull thud of his elbow hitting the fire hydrant echoed in my ears, overlapping with the sound from when I was five and locked inside a safe, banging my head. Rainwater dripped from his jaw onto my eyelids, its temperature identical to that of condensation on an ICU respirator tube.
The three assassins attacked in alternating formations, much like shareholders at a board meeting vying for power. The cold gleam of Zhou Yi’s sword drawn from his waist flashed before me, reminding me of the scraps of paper that flew when Lin Yichen tore up a stock agreement. Blood droplets traced parabolas through the rain curtain, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat displayed on a surveillance screen.
“Damn it!” The force with which he threw me toward the distribution box mirrored that night when he pushed me down a ventilation shaft. The moment my back hit the electric meter box, I felt again the sensation from twenty years ago when my mother shoved me into a closet. The tattoo peeking out from an assassin's sleeve glowed in the lightning—just like the warning sign on the sterilization chamber at Embryo Laboratory.
Suddenly, Zhou Yi let out a muffled groan and knelt on one knee; the sound of a trident piercing his shoulder blade reminded me of Lin Yichen crushing a locator device. His swift motion to twist and break his enemy's wrist carried an intensity akin to cutting an umbilical cord in a delivery room. Blood sprayed onto the rusty iron door, resembling caramel macchiato splashed across my face by Su Ya.
When the second knife lunged at him, Zhou Yi’s pupils contracted to pinpricks, aligning perfectly with the green light pulsing on the ICU Fetal Heart Monitor. He turned to cover me completely, faster than when he shielded me from cigarette butts at five years old. As the knife pierced his back, warmth surged from my collarbone injury.
“...Belt buckle...” Zhou Yi's throat bubbled with blood, reflecting blue light reminiscent of Culturing Solution in a laboratory. He trembled as he tore off his tactical belt and pressed it into my palm; its leather warmth left patterns that matched precisely with the symbols my mother had drawn on my hand before she passed away.
The tightening footsteps of the assassins shook the manhole cover rhythmically, echoing like buttons pressed during a shareholder meeting vote. Gripping the bloodied communicator tightly, I pressed down on the emergency button; an embryo photo that fell from Zhou Yi’s combat suit conveniently covered his chest wound—the child should have been born last Christmas.
“Lin Yichen!” I shouted into the communicator until blood seeped from my gums. Amidst electrical static erupted Su Ya’s laughter, intertwining with her reactions while watching embryo experiment footage. Zhou Yi’s fingers slowly grew cold against my wrist, reminiscent of the chilling draft from a morgue drawer sliding open.
The sound of whiskey pouring over ice echoed in the receiver, intertwining with the rhythm of Zhou Yi's blood dripping onto the tin roof. The sharp snap of Lin Yichen cutting his cigar made my molars ache. "Playing the tough girl now? Zhou Yi is just..."
"His heart is embedded with the tie clip you lost last year!" I pried open Zhou Yi's stiff fingers, revealing the blood-stained platinum clip that glinted with the Lin Family Crest in the lightning. Suddenly, twelve Benz cars screeched to a halt at the alley entrance, the smell of burnt rubber mingling with his fading heartbeat.
The communicator suddenly emitted a ticking sound from an encrypted channel, reminiscent of the alert when Zhou Yi hacked into the laboratory's firewall that night. Lin Yichen fell silent for three seconds, precisely the duration it took for my mom's falling surveillance footage to be deleted. "Clean it up."
As Zhou Yi's pupils began to dilate, the torrential rain abruptly turned into hail. I pressed futilely against his chest, while the red light from the alarm in my pocket swept over the Benz license plate—those numbers matched exactly with the page number from which I had been expelled from the family tree.
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