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墨書 Inktalez
Under the powerful signal interference of the simulator, my Motorola phone was giving me no peace of mind. I glanced at the phone signal again and, feeling uneasy, headed towards a nearby hotel.
Inside the hotel, someone was checking out. I waited for a moment until the person, Fatty, left before approaching the receptionist. "Hello, I'm here to find someone," I said, handing over my business card along with an introduction letter stamped by my department of Cultural Relics.
The cashier appeared to be a local, short with dark skin and lacking in vigilance. After glancing at the introduction letter I handed her, she casually asked, "Who are you looking for?"
I immediately presented her with the information on Xiao Guolin. It was detailed, including his name, address, workplace, ID number, and approximate check-in time, along with a photo of Xiao Guolin.
"This is from half a year ago. Why are you looking for him now?" the cashier asked while operating her computer.
"He's missing," I replied solemnly. That statement wasn't entirely untrue.
Soon, the cashier responded, "We have no record of this person; he hasn't stayed here."
The situation had smoothly failed. I thanked her and stepped outside, jotting down this hotel in my notebook as I made my way to the next one.
As the Tuk-Tuk driver had mentioned, there were many hotels in the area. By nearly noon, I still hadn't finished checking a single street. Most hotels cooperated well and helped me look up check-in records from that time; only three hotels were suspicious and insisted on seeing police verification materials, which I obviously did not have. None of the hotels I investigated had any information on Xiao Guolin's stay, which left me disappointed. As I approached the time agreed upon with Fatty, I returned to the post office entrance.
From a distance, I spotted Fatty sitting on the steps of the post office smoking, a black leather bag tossed in front of him. I couldn't help but wonder why he was out gathering information while he seemed to have gotten involved in smuggling instead. Were you planning to wander around with that bag this afternoon? The thought irritated me.
I walked over and pointed at the bag. "What's going on with that?"
"Trophy," Fatty replied with a raised eyebrow and a grin.
"What are you doing here? Do we have time to mess around with this?" I said irritably.
"Why are you getting so worked up? This is a trophy," Fatty replied, sounding quite aggrieved.
"What do you mean by trophy? Explain it to me."
Fatty chuckled. "I was just wandering by the river when I ran into a couple of guys who tried to rob me. I gave them a beating and tossed them into the river." He pointed at the bag in front of him. "This must belong to those two; they probably stole it too. They floated down the river, and I thought it would be a waste to leave the bag there, so I brought it back."
I couldn't help but laugh in frustration. "You're a walking disaster; trouble follows you everywhere. Did anyone see you?"
"Of course they did! There were people on both sides of the river, and someone on the opposite bank even cheered me on. But there weren't many people around, so the atmosphere was a bit off," Fatty said lightly.
I stared at him for a moment, my expression likely one of exasperation. I really couldn't do anything about him; he wouldn't listen to advice, and I couldn't beat him up either. With his temperament, how could I trust him to go off on his own? And those thieves—why did they have to target him? Of all people, they picked him; he should have thought twice given his build.
But then another question crossed my mind: with the security situation being so chaotic here, was Xiao Guolin really alone? I wondered. If he came here alone, would he be able to return safely? The reality was that not only did he return unscathed, but he also had time and energy to write me a letter, which made it more likely that he had someone accompanying him.
I took a cigarette from Fatty and sat beside him on the steps, smoking in silence for a moment before thinking: if someone was traveling with Xiao Guolin, that person wouldn't be from the Archaeology team or from his leader's Task Force. They wouldn't acquire anything through smuggling channels, and based on my experience, they should have plenty of resources and equipment. So who was this person accompanying Xiao Guolin, and what was their purpose?
Fatty sat with me for a while before growing impatient. "Qiangzi, can we eat first? It's pointless just sitting here staring into space. Let's find a restaurant where I can eat my meal while you ponder your thoughts; we won't interfere with each other."
His suggestion made me realize I was hungry too, so we found a restaurant to fill our stomachs. As we ate, we exchanged information about our respective situations. On my end, I had come up empty-handed except for confirming that Xiao Guolin hadn't checked into any hotels or inns. Fatty had more success; he managed to get a rough idea of the types and scale of smuggled goods in the area. It was shocking—cars, beef, cigarettes, and alcohol were all involved in smuggling on a scale beyond my expectations. However, Fatty hadn't discovered any smuggling of Cultural Relics; there were even scraps of cloth and foreign garbage being smuggled but no Cultural Relics at all. Both Fatty and I found that hard to believe.
After our brief exchange, we decided to continue with our plan after lunch. Fatty reassured me, "There's no rush; we have time. We'll eventually find some leads."
In the afternoon, I bought a map and followed it, marking my progress along the way. This method was more intuitive than jotting things down in a notebook. I had a plan and did my best, but as dusk approached, I still hadn't found anything. Checking the time, which was when we had agreed to meet, I had no choice but to give up. When I returned to the post office, Fatty was already waiting there. He was probably back early to rest after his money-making ventures.
Back at the hotel, both of us were exhausted. After taking a shower, we lacked the energy to go out for dinner and decided to order room service instead. The temperature here was high, so Fatty ordered a case of beer to cool down. However, the local beer had a low alcohol content; after a few bottles, I felt bloated rather than drunk. I didn't have Fatty's capacity for alcohol, and after just a few bottles, I started making trips to the restroom. The hotel bathrooms were outside, one on each floor, and after several trips, I became annoyed and pressed the bell to call for a bottle of white liquor.
Fatty laughed heartily at me. "If you can't handle your beer, don't challenge me! Otherwise, I'll just drink white liquor too—how about we have a drinking contest?"
I shot him a glare. "Forget it. It's people like you who lack decorum when drunk."
Fatty chuckled sheepishly and dropped the subject. He usually had a high tolerance for alcohol and rarely got drunk; however, he had once gotten into trouble while intoxicated. I wasn't clear on the details since I was in college at the time, but he almost faced disciplinary action from the military because of it.
As I waited for the server to bring up the liquor, I suddenly heard hurried footsteps coming from the stairwell. It sounded chaotic—three or four people were approaching our room. Fatty and I exchanged glances; I immediately focused on the bag on the floor while Fatty sprang up and grabbed two bottles of beer, rushing toward the door.
The door slammed open with a loud bang, revealing two dark muzzles aimed at Fatty—one high and one low.
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