The conversation about Ling Yechen’s family circumstances swiftly pivoted, shifting instead to her otaku interests, such as cosplay.
When two enthusiasts of the ‘two-dimensional world’ found themselves together, the discussion invariably turned to their shared passion.
This particular discussion ultimately concluded with the mention of Yoshihiro Togashi, a mangaka notorious for his frequent hiatuses, often attributed to his passion for mahjong.
Ling Yechen sighed, “I truly wonder if Yoshihiro Togashi will ever be able to continue drawing.”
“It’s hard to say if he hasn’t already turned into a zombie,” Jing Lan retorted.
A heavy silence then settled between them, quite naturally.
With the future of the two-dimensional world abruptly severed, discussions on related topics suddenly felt rather dull.
“Then, let’s talk about your book,” Ling Yechen suggested. “Does it always remind you of your ex-girlfriend whenever you see it?”
Ling Yechen gestured towards *Distant Starlight*, clutched in Jing Lan’s hand.
A wistful expression crossed his face as he gently thumbed through the book’s pages.
“It’s quite normal to assume so, yet that’s not truly the case,” he began. “I carry this book with me simply because I enjoy reading it. It’s not as though every time I take it out, I’m compelled to reminisce about her.
“To be brutally honest, I’ve actually forgotten many things about her,” he confessed.
‘Could that truly be the case?’ Ling Yechen pondered, a flicker of doubt in her mind.
After all, she herself had died once before him.
He had even been the one to take her life.
It seemed he had once resolved to keep her alive in his heart forever.
A question then formed quite naturally on her lips: “Then, will you forget… the band’s drummer? Izayoi — Ling Yechen’s stage name…”
The abruptness of the question left Jing Lan momentarily stunned, but he quickly recovered, responding with a subdued tone, “That’s different. Forgetting that girl was, in fact, her own wish… But Yechen, he’s actually the kind of child who needs protection.
“Ah, never mind,” he quickly interjected. “Can we perhaps avoid discussing this for now? Let’s just talk about this book instead?”
The two of them lapsed into silence amidst the darkness. Ling Yechen felt a slight uncertainty about how far her probing conversation could go; Jing Lan seemed willing to divulge much, yet he was clearly still unaccustomed to it.
‘Once he’s willing to tell me everything, I’ll likely be just like the Ling Yechen of the past.’
‘Like her in what way?’
‘Treated as a friend, just as before?’
‘Probably not exactly the same, though.’
‘At the very least, she would be treated as a girl.’
A shiver of both fear and excitement ran through Ling Yechen at this thought.
Just then, from a darkened corner of the convenience store, Keke’s languid murmur drifted out: “Hey… quiet down, you noisy brat…”
Her dream talk, surprisingly, was in Sichuan dialect, making Ling Yechen wonder if it was a lingering effect from her university days there.
Although their casual chatter had been kept to a very low volume, the profound stillness of their surroundings perhaps amplified it, still disturbing Keke’s sleep.
“Let’s step outside for a walk,” Jing Lan proposed.
He mused that with the city’s lights extinguished, the night sky would be free from light pollution, allowing Orion and Carina to display their magnificent constellations in full glory.
Gently turning the doorknob, Jing Lan stepped out of the convenience store and into the parking lot.
Yet Ling Yechen did not follow. Jing Lan turned, illuminating the area with the small light from his power bank, and discovered her lost in thought, her hand still on the doorknob.
“What’s the matter?” he inquired. “Did something come to mind?”
Ling Yechen softly closed the door, then turned to face him.
“Do you truly believe Officer Niu merely forgot his keys?” the girl whispered, her voice barely audible.
This was a question that had also stirred suspicion in Jing Lan’s mind.
“There is indeed a possibility that someone secretly took the keys, opened the warehouse, and stole supplies,” Jing Lan acknowledged. “However, if Officer Niu had already considered this and thoroughly checked the warehouse, finding nothing amiss, then the only remaining conclusion is simple forgetfulness.”
Ling Yechen murmured softly, “I just recalled what Niu Xiaoma mentioned: he said his father considered himself a simple man, and that the most crucial aspect of doing things well was to proceed systematically and flawlessly.”
“Yes, though he tends to be a bit overzealous,” Jing Lan conceded.
“That’s why I instinctively feel he wouldn’t have forgotten his keys,” Ling Yechen continued.
This insight stemmed from Ling Yechen’s own experiences. From childhood, she had been raised in an environment where meticulous order was paramount, and she was far from unintelligent. These two factors combined had always ensured her excellent academic performance.
Once good habits were ingrained, errors became exceedingly rare.
Jing Lan, ever sensitive to the slightest anomaly, pursued the thought with keen interest. “So, what scenario do you imagine,” he probed, “where a thief steals the warehouse keys but takes absolutely nothing from inside?”
Ling Yechen quickly conceived of one possibility: the thief had stolen the keys but, lacking the opportunity to use them, was forced to return them to a secure location.
Such a possibility certainly existed.
Yet, in the realm of deduction, this was merely a “mediocre answer.”
Ling Yechen was determined not to settle for a mediocre answer.
“Actually, I have a theory,” she began. “If the keys were indeed tampered with, then the fact that nothing was stolen from the warehouse actually makes perfect sense.
“The people here simply have no reason to steal, do they? The camp’s supplies are still quite abundant, and the daily allocations are sufficient for everyone. Even if the officers aren’t particularly friendly towards us, they’re still willing to distribute ample food.”
Considering all this, was the probability of simply forgetting the keys still higher?
Jing Lan shook his head slowly. “If there truly was someone who stole the keys, yet nothing went missing from the warehouse, one scenario I can envision is this—
“The thief might have devised an entirely different plan for theft, awaiting a more opportune moment. In essence, the initial theft of the keys was merely for reconnaissance.”
Jing Lan uttered these words, seemingly startling himself in the process.
A rather conspiratorial theory was beginning to take shape.
Jing Lan shook his head uneasily, murmuring to himself, “That doesn’t quite add up. If stealing the keys was solely for reconnaissance, it defies normal logic. Scouting wouldn’t even be necessary; opening a door with a key is a simple action that hardly requires prior assessment, does it?”
“No!” Ling Yechen exclaimed suddenly, her gaze fixed on the door. “It wasn’t for reconnaissance! This might be something I’ve done myself!”
“Something you’ve done?” Jing Lan echoed, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Before Ling Yechen could elaborate, she stated, “I believe it’s imperative that we go inspect the warehouse.”
****
It was 0:30 AM on January 23rd.
Officer Niu sat slumped in a rattan chair, smoking and lost in a daze.
His gaze drifted over the nearly empty parking lot.
A profound silence enveloped the surroundings. Officer Niu’s mind drifted back to a night many years prior, when he had learned that the young man recently released from prison had committed murder once more. He had sat on a rooftop then, smoking cigarette after cigarette, the world around him just as eerily quiet.
Not far off, a door creaked open, and the boisterous shouts of several men drifted into the night.
Four men, smelling strongly of alcohol, emerged, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders.
Zhao Long was supporting the heavily intoxicated pilot, Gao Fei, as they staggered back. Trailing behind them were Xiao Sun, the driver, and Teacher Chen, whom they had rescued from the school earlier that day.
The quartet had spent several hours drinking and playing cards.
Pilot Gao Fei’s son, attending university in the north, was now missing and presumed dead. Drowning his sorrows, Gao Fei had consumed cup after cup, quickly descending into a state of profound intoxication.
The four men eventually approached Officer Niu.
“Why are you sitting out here, sir?” Zhao Long questioned, his voice thick with concern as he steadied Gao Fei. “Can’t you sleep?”
Officer Niu cleared his throat. “I couldn’t rest easy,” he explained. “I wanted to personally watch over the warehouse.”
Zhao Long halted, chiding him gently, “You’re just worrying yourself needlessly! You forgot your keys, and now you’re becoming paranoid! Go get some sleep; I’ll take over watching here.”
“I appreciate your kindness,” Officer Niu replied. “In about half an hour, go settle our pilot comrade, then come relieve me. I believe it’s essential that we establish a night watch system for the outdoors from now on.”
“It should have been done ages ago,” Zhao Long agreed. “It’s only safe if someone stands guard outside the buildings; merely having two people on duty inside isn’t sufficient.” With that, he helped Gao Fei towards the office building.
Officer Niu watched the two remaining men, then lit another cigarette.
“Xiao Sun, this is the last time, understand? No more drinking after tonight. Alcohol must be treated as a vital resource.”
Xiao Sun, the driver, grinned guilelessly. “Today was a special occasion; we were simply delighted to meet Teacher Chen. We ended up having a few extra drinks. Old Niu, you’re certainly diligent. We’re not sleepy yet, so why don’t we keep you company and chat for a bit?”
Officer Niu chuckled, “Excellent! It’s always good to have two more people on duty.”
All three shared a laugh.
Xiao Sun then queried, “Did you remember to bring the keys this time, sir?”
“I’m not carrying the keys anymore!” Officer Niu declared. “I’ve learned my lesson! I’ve placed them directly with the two youngsters on night duty inside the building; it’s absolutely secure!”
“That’s an excellent idea!” Teacher Chen echoed. “Having more people keep an eye on the keys is truly foolproof.”
Officer Niu then fell into conversation with Teacher Chen, discussing their individual experiences before moving on to the terrifying spectacle of zombies swarming the school.
Having heard Teacher Chen’s vivid account of the night the zombie crisis erupted, Officer Niu drew deeply on his cigarette, rendered speechless.
After a long pause, he slowly exhaled a puff of smoke, then turned to Xiao Sun behind him. “I recall your son wasn’t at the school, was he? Perhaps he managed to survive?”
“He should be fine,” Xiao Sun replied.
“What do you mean ‘should be fine’? If we get the chance, we could—”
Officer Niu turned back to resume his conversation, only to find Xiao Sun holding an iron hammer aloft.
Before he could fully register the sight, the hammer descended swiftly, striking the back of Officer Niu’s head.
He collapsed forward with a heavy thud, not uttering a single sound.
Almost simultaneously, Teacher Chen had reached the warehouse door, sliding a knife into the crack.
With a gentle twist of the blade, the lock clicked open. The warehouse door slowly swung inward.
The designer of this door had, in fact, considered the risk of it being pried open with a blade.
A metal plate had originally been installed in front of the latch bolt’s receptacle, designed to block any blade attempting to slide into the gap and depress the latch.
However, on the now-open doorframe, this metal plate was bent out of shape, no longer capable of obstructing an invading blade.
****
Ling Yechen had once been forbidden by her parents from playing the drums due to poor exam results.
Her drum kit was confined to the utility room at home.
It was then that Ling Yechen had resorted to such a trick: whenever the utility room door was open, she would subtly tamper with the anti-pry mechanism of the lock, typically a metal plate situated in front of the latch bolt opening.
By carefully bending this plate while the door was ajar, she could render it ineffective.
This allowed her to pry open the door and joyfully play her drums whenever her parents were away.
She dreamed of becoming a drummer like Larry Mullen.
Even good children occasionally commit mischief.
For adults to do so, it was even less surprising.