Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Stepping outside, they were greeted by the familiar dimness, clearly enhanced by some special material. Song Bunan gestured for Xin Yi to turn off the flashlight and, like him, used his hand to feel along the wall to gauge the path and direction.
"Why do we have to do this?" Xin Yi asked, puzzled as he watched Song Bunan navigate the wall in an oddly peculiar manner. He expressed his confusion bluntly. Song Bunan turned back, equally bewildered, and explained that the walls absorbed light, making it impossible to see corners or exits; what other choice did they have?
Xin Yi switched the flashlight to his other hand and turned on the purple light. "Use this."
The walls that devoured white light revealed a different appearance under the soft purple glow. A neat row of fluorescent arrows appeared in his line of sight, and even at corners, there were considerate signs warning to watch out for bumping heads.
With one hand braced against the wall, he sighed wearily. On the surface, he appeared calm, but internally he cursed the designer of this place. Who would have thought there would be fluorescent paint on such walls? And who could have imagined that his trusty flashlight had a purple light function after three to five years of use? The multiple blows to his expectations left him silent, his slightly lonely silhouette taking on a comical aspect in Xin Yi's eyes.
The steady voice of the man behind him broke through his thoughts. "Did you walk this way too?"
Song Bunan remained silent, kicking the wall in frustration before turning to Xin Yi with a scoff, insisting he hadn’t; he just preferred this method.
Unable to resist a laugh at discovering this stubborn side of the younger man, Xin Yi patted him on the back and said it was good that there was another way to solve their problem. His words earned him a toothy warning from Song Bunan; judging by his expression, it seemed he was ready to snap if Xin Yi said one more word.
The path ahead was smooth, and before long they reached a familiar door. Pushing it open revealed they were still within the Confidential Vault. However, this time they stood at the back of the room, facing the entrance door directly. This position was perfectly situated between two bookshelves painted to match the walls; without careful inspection, one could hardly tell they were there.
Song Bunan suggested they might as well go backward this time but refused to split up again, stating that even if it took longer, they should search together. Xin Yi had no objections to this proposal and continued following Song Bunan as they began rummaging through cabinets for any remaining contents.
If the documents outside were a mix of truth and deception for show, then the materials in the two dark rooms were meant for backstabbing their own people. The documents in the Confidential Vault were purely meant to disgust those who found them. Aside from personnel files detailing family backgrounds, there were also records regarding these individuals' research value.
The upper management of Mighty Falcon scored each participating team member based on annual health check results and performance during missions, conducting thorough analyses and writing down traps that could be set based on their weaknesses in the conclusions. While such content could be seen as an analysis of team members' vulnerabilities in normal documentation, adding that it was for research made it all the more unsettling.
Xin Yi sensed this issue as well; he carefully reviewed the documents at hand and confirmed that everything left behind belonged to confirmed deceased members of Mighty Falcon Team. Once he realized this fact, an inexplicable sorrow surged within him. He tightly clutched the documents and told Song Bunan not to search anymore.
"There's nothing useful here. Let's go." Perhaps his emotional state was too evident; Song Bunan paused in surprise at first but quickly approached him and asked what was wrong.
The chaos around them mirrored his current feelings. After a long silence, Xin Yi pointed at the visible documents they had found and explained that everyone listed on those papers in the Confidential Vault had already been confirmed as casualties. He then handed over his document to Song Bunan, who saw clearly printed in black and white: "Old Otter."
At that moment, everything clicked into place for Song Bunan. He slumped onto the ground in shock, his brow furrowed with distress as he understood why Xin Yi had been acting so strangely. At this moment, even he felt anger rising within him but was overwhelmed by a deep sense of helplessness instead.
It was too late, far too late.
The infiltration of Mighty Falcon was more severe than they had anticipated. All surviving members were ostensibly disbanded to search for clues, but in reality, they were separated to provide convenience for those involved. Except for Xin Yi, who had been openly collaborating with him from the beginning and was therefore off-limits for any direct action, the fates of the others remained uncertain.
Analyzing the information he had gathered, it seemed that Mighty Falcon had been a conspiracy from the moment it was restructured, a scheme decades in the making, aimed at providing healthy and strong bodies for those individuals when the experiments could be conducted on a large scale.
After all, compared to the high-risk methods of finding homeless drifters on the streets or seeking collaborators among various families, cultivating the most suitable candidates from scratch was the correct and safe approach.
"It seems that everyone who can be called 'the elite' is untrustworthy," Song Bunan said as he tossed aside the papers in his hand, grabbing his backpack and preparing to leave, taking the silent Xin Yi with him.
His arm felt stiff as he gripped Xin Yi's shoulder; despite his efforts, he could only make the other man sway slightly. When he turned to meet Xin Yi's gaze, he caught a glimpse of raw sorrow and pain reflected in those eyes. With a sigh, he released his grip and intertwined their fingers again, feeling Xin Yi's body tense during their embrace.
"I can't comfort you, but as long as we're alive, there’s still hope, right? Let's go; staying here won’t help. Right now, we’re all on this ship called the laboratory. At least you still have teammates—teammates you can see," he said, returning the embrace with a firm grip as if trying to meld him into his very being.
Outside, darkness had fallen. Cars came and went around the Mighty Falcon Building, and the bright streetlights cast a stark contrast against the towering structure behind them, making it seem even more desolate. The multi-story building merged with the night; aside from the reflections of external lights in its glass facade, it had lost all its glow.
Xin Yi drove in silence while Song Bunan updated their friends about his experiences that day via text. Shui Su and Xiao Mei were unresponsive; Ming Hua quickly chimed in, advising against discussing related matters further that evening and suggesting Xin Yi take some time to calm down—after all, it was he who was suffering most from this incident.
Song Bunan understood all too well. Everything Xin Yi believed in had crumbled almost instantaneously; a sense of belonging found in solitude throughout his early life shattered overnight. He was even told that their existence was merely one of many backup options. Just before this collapse occurred, he had been risking everything to restore that sense of belonging.
The man did not cry but displayed an even more unbearable demeanor than if he had. Perhaps he was already on the brink of collapse; however, years of ingrained character prevented him from showing it. Sometimes silence felt more painful than hysteria.
He wished that when Xin Yi embraced him back, he could hear him vent his feelings, but Xin Yi did not. After their hug ended, he calmly released him and said flatly to move on.
Those eyes were lifeless; no matter how you looked at them, they held no light—like a deep pool frozen by winter's chill; even striking it with stones would not create a ripple.
Song Bunan understood this feeling well enough; all he could do was let Xin Yi process it himself while hoping that this Big Guy would soon emerge from his suffering. But who could guarantee that? If it were him in such a situation, would he remain so composed? He dared not think about it and simply closed his eyes to feign sleep while inwardly grappling with discomfort yet unable to express it outwardly.
When Xin Yi arrived home, he remained silent, turning into a statue for Song Bunan to command. From showering to lying down, he accepted every instruction without any argument or response. It wasn't until Song Bunan found something to eat and lay down himself that Xin Yi finally made his first move.
Another embrace.
The man held him tightly, his stubbled chin resting on the top of his head, warmth radiating from his scalp throughout his body, causing involuntary goosebumps to rise.
Their intimate gestures stopped at the nightly goodnight kiss, a touch as fleeting as a dragonfly skimming the water's surface, which they had chosen as their so-called safe distance. It was not shyness that held them back; it was simply that their emotions could only reach this point.
Now it was different. Xin Yi's emotions were conveyed to Song Bunan through their shared body heat, making his nose suddenly tingle with unshed tears. Clearly, the matters concerning Mighty Falcon had nothing to do with him.
This silent embrace lingered even as Song Bunan drifted off to sleep. They held each other for comfort; perhaps Xin Yi had cried while he stepped into dreams where he could not see. Or perhaps he hadn’t cried at all, merely swallowed the bitter fruit of solitude during the long night, enduring the pain alone.
He longed to tell Xin Yi not to bottle it up but was repeatedly silenced by the little voice within himself. He thought that if he broke the silence, it might only make things worse for the other person, so he chose to give up instead.
The dreams in his arms were not pleasant. Song Bunan recalled the past after a long time, dreaming of many trivial matters from his childhood. There were moments of being scolded for mistakes, being reprimanded by his brother for poor exam results, and a stranger who held him close during a pain he would remember for a lifetime.
He remembered being injured by explosives that appeared out of nowhere while following a cousin’s child up a mountain to look for mushrooms. Growing up in the city, he was curious about the fungi that thrived in the wilderness. When the child said they were going up the mountain, he eagerly followed along, mimicking how to find and pick those soft little things.
The mushrooms among the withered leaves made him lose track of time and place; he didn’t even look up to see if there were any familiar faces around. He only realized he had wandered into an entirely unfamiliar area when his pockets were full and he decided it was time to go home. Surrounded by dense trees, no matter which direction he searched, there were no familiar paths. After wandering for a long time, he still found himself in the same spot.
A young child cried in the forest, seeking a response from the silence. Just when he heard footsteps approaching and felt joy at the prospect of company, the withered leaves beneath him suddenly gave way. A tremendous shockwave sent him crashing to the ground, and branches from rock transformed into blades that cut through skin and muscle before he even had a chance to cry out.
Numbness and coldness eroded his consciousness completely. In his daze, someone lifted him up; the warmth of their embrace made it impossible to maintain any sense of willpower. Song Bunan fell asleep just like that, remembering only that this person was much larger than himself—like a giant.
Comment 0 Comment Count