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Theme image source:
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fading_Bicycle_culture_in_China_1999.jpg
Li Wei
Looking for me? Are you sure? May I see your ID? Alright, thank you, agent. Did you have a smooth journey? Come, sit here. It's fine, no need to go back to the cabin; it's good here.
Yeah, the wind's picking up, and it's going to rain.
Oh, you're talking about Hu Guangda?
Does the Foundation still remember him?
Yes, Hu Guangda and I were middle school classmates. Or rather… we were like brothers, close buddies—however you want to put it. You get the idea. But I haven't seen him since that incident, so I don't know where he is now. It doesn't matter? Alright then, let's talk about it.
I was 12 that year, attending Songcunpo Middle School, an affiliated school of Site-30. You can still see it from here—on the other side of the river, below that small temple on the slope, the old brown building covered in ivy. See it? That's where I went to junior and senior high. There were 20 kids in our class, all descendants of Foundation employees.
Our homeroom teacher was a man surnamed Wu, in his thirties. He was tall and straight, with a posture as steady as a mountain when standing or sitting. But he was missing one arm, and half of his face looked as if it had been torn off, crumpled, and stuck back on—like a tall pine tree struck by lightning, half its trunk missing.
It was said that Mr.Wu had retired from the MTF. He was previously stationed in Sichuan, specializing in combating anomalous religions. He'd dealt with the golden blood golems of the Sarkic Cults and the human-faced pigs that roamed western Sichuan—real knife-and-gun stuff. Though he probably didn't need either. Young Mr.Wu was once a key member of the Thaumaturgy Division, the youngest captain of a thaumaturgical operations team back then. His great skill was summoning a white Kunpeng out of thin air, which would roar through the forests, moving like the wind—utterly dashing. That's what Hu Guangda, sitting next to me, told me on the first day of school.
I was completely absorbed in his story when I looked up and suddenly met Mr.Wu's gaze. With a flick of his wrist, he slammed a bamboo stick down on the desk with a sharp, stinging crack. All the kids in the room jumped. His face cold, he said:
"Li Wei, I'm calling you."
I stood up slowly. Mr.Wu walked over with firm steps, the bamboo stick in his remaining left hand, tapping it casually against his calf. I noticed the front half of the bamboo had split into pieces, revealing white fibrous stuff inside.
"What did I just say? Repeat it."
Of course I had no idea. During the five minutes he was talking, I'd been listening to Hu Guangda tell me stories of Mr.Wu's heroic deeds in his youth. My mind had long since followed Captain Wu—riding the Kunpeng, soaring on the wind, weaving through the forests and snowfields of western Sichuan. Hu Guangda was a brilliant storyteller, like a radio narrator, making the tales come alive. I was utterly entranced, forgetting entirely about the flesh-and-blood Mr.Wu standing there.
I didn't know what to say, so I just stared down at the empty desk. Mr.Wu looked at me, then at Hu Guangda. Hu Guangda stood up too, meeting his gaze without backing down.
"Don't think your Mr.Yang actually believes in that nonsense plan of yours, and don't think you're so great that you can do whatever you want," Mr.Wu said softly. "If you keep acting like this this year, this term, there will be consequences."
"I've never thought I could do whatever I want," Hu Guangda replied. "Neither do you. That's good. Thank you for understanding me."
"Get out of my class. Go to your Mr.Yang's class."
"Mr.Yang's gone back to the site. If you'd listened to me last time, you could have transferred back with him too."
"You think you're pretty clever, don't you?"
"He'll come back. Don't worry—at least 64% of the time, anyway."
I tensed up, feeling certain the bamboo stick was about to slam down on my desk—maybe even on my back or butt. But the stick moved away from my sight, no longer tapping his thigh. Instead, it was clutched in that red left hand.
"Zhan Ling, recite the Veil Regulations."
"Mr.Wu only has one real eye, you know," Hu Guangda whispered in my ear. "The other one's fake."
Yang Yuqing
Have you seen my watch? Who are you? A city management officer? What do you want? Is it a crime for me to beg? Not a city management officer? Then, then what do you want?
Who? I don't know anyone named anything like Hu Guangda or Hu Guangdo. Go look for someone else, go look for someone else.
I used to be a teacher. No, I used to be… in a big factory, working as a worker. It was a state-owned factory, called… coal power plant No. 30, you know? It's gone now, long gone. After I was laid off… it was gone. No, I was also a teacher before. I worked in a school by the river, teaching junior high school students. Don't believe it? Just because I beg, does that mean I can't have been a teacher? Huh? Why did I go into teaching? I forgot, can't remember.
Hu Guangda, I get it. His mother died early; they were real heroes, died in the line of duty, top of the model workers… There was even a conference, where people learn from their advanced deeds, reciting poems, shouting slogans. It was all about sacrificing oneself to protect… protect what was it? Forgot.
Later? What later? Can chicken blood be eaten as food? Those people who led us in shouting slogans on the stage, those supervisors, directors, section chiefs, department chiefs, they knew long ago that this Factory 30 couldn't hold on. No money, and money doesn't grow out of the ground.
I had a friend who could play the violin. When we shared a dorm, he'd play the violin when he had nothing to do, standing on the balcony playing "Auld Lang Syne" to the trees. On my birthday, he played me a birthday song. Later he was transferred to Sichuan, said the factory there was short of people. When he came back, he was disabled—one arm and one eye were gone, blown off, melted by burning hot water. Even someone like him, after coming back, our factory couldn't even pay out the pension, couldn't squeeze out a single cent. They sent him to teach in Songcunpo, saying it was a job arrangement. Bullshit, what kind of arrangement? We hadn't been paid for a year.
What did you just say?
Who is Wu Hui? I don't know him, don't know him. Hu Guangda was a student; I don't know him either, only saw him a few times. His parents were heroes, but he himself relied on having money, didn't study hard, was just a bad seed. Wait, don't leave. You asked me all these things, aren't you going to give me eighty or a hundred? Huh? Do you want your palm read? Five yuan for a palm reading, ten yuan for a face reading. WeChat? Alipay is fine too.
Hey, have you seen my watch? Where did I put it just now? It was a gift from my friend, I can't find it. Did you take it… You just said, who are you?
Li Wei
I discovered Hu Guangda's secret in the second semester of the first year of junior high.
In early summer, an unprecedented heatwave descended upon this place. Standing on the school's rooftop, I could see rats scurrying across the playground, bare yellow soil in the flower beds, sun-baked slopes glistening, and a dense crowd of tourists in the distance, swarming like ants among the buildings along the river. Heat rose in waves from the aged, cracked ground, inhaled and exhaled by me in my restlessness, leaving layers of dry, prickly sediment deep in my chest.
The rooftop was empty. Above the surrounding walls, amid the cicada songs and sunlight, I paced restlessly, my thoughts drifting as far as the eye could see with each turn of my footsteps. Occasionally, a green train would emerge from a tunnel, trundling slowly across an elevated bridge. I couldn't help but imagine—who was on that train, speaking which dialects, having been caught in rains from which places, and heading toward whose hometowns along those endless, stubborn rails.
It was then that I saw Hu Guangda.
He was wearing a light blue tank top, army-green shorts, and a pair of slippers, emerging unexpectedly from the bushes on the slope. I was shocked, for I hadn't seen where he could have climbed up from. I gripped the railing, tempted to shout his name, but thought better of it and held back.
Hu Guangda had his school uniform jacket tied around his waist, using his lean arms and legs to push through the thick foliage, moving like a fish through the tree shadows. The sun was blinding; I squinted, my gaze clinging tightly to that figure, but in the blink of an eye, he vanished into thin air—right before my eyes.
I stood frozen for a long time, until the class bell rang, then patted the rust dust off my hands and headed downstairs.
Back in the classroom, I saw Hu Guangda sitting there, drinking a bottle of soda.
When he saw me, he lifted his glass bottle, then pulled an unopened one from his school uniform pocket and set it beside me.
"Where'd you get these?" I bit off the cap; the fizzing sound and coolness rushed into my head together. Mr. Wu walked in carrying textbooks and a protractor, frowning as he looked at us.
"F-from Mr. Yang," he said, burping.
I had already met Mr. Yang. A few weeks earlier, I was carrying a stack of homework to the math office, struggling to free a hand to open the door when it was suddenly pulled open from the inside. A man in his thirties stood before me—fair-skinned, wearing a nice watch on his wrist—twisting his head to say to Mr. Wu inside:
"Wu Hui, don't get me wrong, I'm not interested in your precious students—"
"Come in, Li Wei," Mr. Wu said.
The man glanced at me in surprise, as if only just noticing I was there. I didn't dare look at him, hurrying past him. The door slammed shut behind me, making the iron window frames buzz.
Later, I described this scene to Hu Guangda. He said that was Yang Yuqing, his former homeroom teacher, and that Wu Hui was Mr. Wu's given name. The two had been old friends back at Site-30. Later, Mr. Wu had his hands and eyes disabled and was transferred to this middle school, and Mr. Yang followed just a few days later.
Hu Guangda had repeated two grades because he failed his final exams. He clearly knew more about this school and the people within its walls than I did. But I never told him what Yang Yuqing had said, or the fleeting expression on Mr. Wu's face after that door closed.
"Mr. Wu came to check morning reading today, but he didn't ask about you."
"Oh," Hu Guangda said, staring at the blackboard as if in a dream. "He knows about me and Mr. Yang."
"Where were you just now?" I thought of the slope, the blinding green in the sunlight, and that fish-like figure.
"Looking for Mr. Yang at the site."
"No, I saw you climbing up the hill. But the next second you were sitting here. How'd you do that?"
"Third-floor boys' bathroom, window—connects to a portal."
"Connects to the mountain? Did you find it?" I was astonished. In this city, almost all easily discoverable portals had been sealed by the Foundation; the remaining ones were hard to find even with a lantern.
"There are maps. You can buy them. Portals to anywhere."
"Where do you buy them? What do you need this for?" It felt like I was meeting my deskmate for the first time.
"I need to go to another world, a parallel world, to find… something." He hesitated, a rare occurrence, then turned to study me. "You have good eyes. What about your memory?"
Before I could answer, he pinched my leg and said: "You can recite all those regulations—your memory must be better than mine. And you probably run fast too. After lights-out tonight, I'll be waiting for you outside the wonton stand near the school."
I never got the chance to ask why he needed to go to another world, what he was looking for, or how any of this related to the man with the nice watch. Because Zhan Ling turned around to glare at me, and Mr. Wu had already fallen silent, staring at me. In the dead-quiet classroom, a shameful silence pressed down on my chest.
Several classmates turned to look at us, their expressions making me want to punch them.
"Li Wei, wait for me in my office," Mr. Wu said, not looking at Hu Guangda.
Zhan Ling turned back, the soft tips of her ponytail brushing my nose and eyes. She was a good student, one who would get into Site-91 and become a senior researcher, I thought.
"After lights-out tonight, the wonton stand—don't forget." A note was slipped into my hand, torn from a corner of a math textbook.
On Mr. Wu's desk was a photo in a glass frame. Several people stood in it; I recognized Mr. Wu with both arms intact, and Mr. Yang. The man in the middle of the group looked a bit like Hu Guangda.
"Everyone has their own path," Mr. Wu said, sitting behind his desk, marking red checks in a homework book with a pen held in one hand. "Li Wei, do you know what your parents do at the Foundation?"
I shook my head. It was the truth—we only saw each other a few times a year. Even during those rare reunions, they rarely spoke to me. Most of the time, they just did things together in silence, as if the underground rooms and corridors had stripped them of the ability to speak.
"They've found their path, and they'll walk it firmly, even if it's hard and difficult.
"You have your own path too, your classmates do, and so does Hu Guangda." Mr. Wu drew a big red cross, flicked the homework book closed with his red pen, and set it aside. He looked up at me—one eye clouded with bloodshot veins, the other staring emptily ahead.
"Think about it. Think about what you want to do, where you want your future to go… Different people have different aspirations. Understand?"
"Mr. Wu, I…"
The tungsten bulb above flickered and died, its overheated filament like an old man refusing to close his eyes.
Late at night, I lay in the dark, feeling the shake of my lower-bunk roommate turning over and the fading footsteps in the corridor.
Near midnight, when all was silent, my thin sheets were soaked with sweat. I tensed my body, slowly stretched out an arm, twisted my torso, and lifted my upper body into the air. I exhaled. For a moment, the world stood still, then a wave of drowsiness hit. I suddenly felt very, very tired—too tired to open my eyes, too tired to think about what I was doing.
When Mr. Wu wasn't yet Mr. Wu, nor Captain Wu, nor Researcher Wu—when the teenage Wu Hui sat sweating in a hot classroom solving math problems—what future had he wanted? What path had he chosen?
Was it to teach at this school with only 50 children left?
Noon sunlight fell on Mr. Wu's head, each white hair glaringly distinct.
I held my breath, clipping the window latch with my fingertips, and pulled it out gently. Click.
I don't know how long it took, but I found myself outside the wonton stand, sweating profusely and gasping for breath. No one was around. After searching for a few minutes, I spotted Hu Guangda sitting quietly in the dark, not moving. When I went over and pushed him, I realized he'd fallen asleep.
"Hmm…? Oh, you're here," he said, standing up and rubbing his back, looking pleased.
"Guangda…" I wiped the sweat from my face roughly. "Take me to another world."
He looked at me in surprise for a moment, then said nothing.
That night, Hu Guangda led me through a dark neighborhood of old buildings. No streetlights, no windows with light— I had to cling tightly to his hand to avoid tripping over the uneven steps and ditches.
By the time I felt numb, having almost forgotten how I'd gotten there, Hu Guangda finally stopped. We'd walked out of the residential area and stood on a long flight of stairs, with slopes merging into the night on either side. Not far away, the river was ablaze with lights; under layers of neon, a cruise ship glided past.
Hu Guangda pulled me away from the stairs toward a shed made of iron in the weeds.
An old man leaned against the shed door, smoking, while a few skinny children rummaged in the grass. They were so dirty that at first I thought they were dogs. When they saw Hu Guangda, the old man turned, grinning to reveal yellow-black teeth. He wore a loose camouflage uniform, like one discarded after college military training, with cuffs rolled up to his knees and army-green rubber shoes on his feet. His calves, like Hu Guangda's, were lean, wrapped with red cloth strips held on by clear tape.
"This is a Scavenger, sells maps. They know a hundred times more portals than the Foundation," Hu Guangda whispered.
"Here you go," the Scavenger nodded.
Hu Guangda pulled two red bills from his pants and handed them over. The Scavenger rubbed the edges of the bills with his fingers, glanced at me, then turned to go inside. The smell of chili and instant noodles wafted out, and I heard the clink of metal.
"Come in."
The inside was cleaner than I expected. An induction cooker sat on the floor next to a folding bed, with a little instant noodle soup left in the pot. The largest space was taken up by several big iron cabinets lined against the wall, also covered with red cloth strips painted with rune-like marks in ink. On the other side were two chairs and a machine like a film projector between them—nothing else.
The old man stood beside the "projector," holding a metal cylinder the size of a soda can.
"Two people, one viewing, right?"
I looked at Hu Guangda in confusion, who pulled me to sit in a chair. The light clicked off, and we were plunged into darkness. At school, Mr. Wu would sometimes show us safety videos made by the Foundation in the dark—videos often filled with severed limbs and huge, gruesome wounds, but more often with empty freeze-frames where bodies had suddenly vanished. Staring into the darkness, I felt that light, floating feeling you get at the start of a roller coaster.
The projector whirred to life, and the contents of the "can" began to play.
It was daytime, and the location seemed to be somewhere in the peninsula district, as I recognized several landmark buildings nearby. The camera operator must have been an animal, I thought. It crawled quickly along the ground, nimbly weaving through apartment buildings, leaping off an overhead walkway, and scrambling through balconies into one of the buildings.
"Bad luck that day—the unit door was locked, had to crawl in," the old man said in a low voice.
The camera operator moved quickly through the apartment building, seemingly running down stairs to a basement-like space, turning a few corners, and opening a door almost blending into the wall—to reveal a sunlit corridor beyond.
The shed door creaked, and something scurried in. Then came the clink of a stainless steel pot and soft swallowing sounds behind us. The smell of instant noodles hit my nose again. I didn't turn around, but suddenly understood what had recorded this footage.
"What's in the can? Film?"
"Memories. 'Dog' memories—dogs that find paths," Hu Guangda sat up sharply. "Site-30, Office Wing Containment Level. Let's go."
Ten minutes later, we stood before the door that had appeared in the footage. The dark basement was dead silent; my breathing and heartbeat roared in my ears. Snack bags from the previous decade littered the floor, and our footprints were clear in the dusty, fuzzy ground. It seemed no one had been here in a while—both of us were covered in dust and cobwebs. Hu Guangda stepped forward, gripping the rusted red doorknob.
"Once we're in, don't run around, don't make a sound, stay close to me," he said, squeezing my shoulder with his other hand. "No matter what you see, don't shout, don't panic. I'm here."
I nodded.
"You'll see once we're in. You won't know what to expect," he said softly.
"I'll see another world, just like ours, right?" I said. "I'll see you, and me too."
"…Yes, but—"
"But this world will be better than ours. A little better," I pressed on, ignoring his expression. "That's why you're buying maps, searching one by one."
Hu Guangda's mouth hung open, his eyes shining in the dark.
"You're looking for a node, a chance to change everything, a turning point… a way out," I said. "You want to know how to make Site-30 better."
"Did Mr. Wu tell you?"
"Yes."
"What else did he say?"
I thought for a moment. "He advised me not to go with you."
"I first found a portal three years ago, one winter morning before dawn, when I went to check my shrimp traps in the river," he said. "I was walking down a slope path when a van drove past me. In that split second, I saw half a person stuck in the rear bumper.
"The person's head hung down, half their body dragging on the ground, gone in an instant with the van. I thought I was mistaken, but there was a dark trail on the ground. I was scared, wanted to run back, but then thought—somewhere along the van's route, there must be the other half. His gaze drifted, staring into the darkness behind me. "That's when I tripped and fell into a drainage ditch beside the path—but my butt never hit the ground. I just… slipped into another world. I watched myself walk past above, but there was no van that time."
"Portals are that obvious?" I found it hard to believe.
"No. When I went back later, I couldn't find that entrance no matter how hard I tried. I asked Mr. Yang, and he said some portals only open under specific conditions—maybe the weather, time, or that trail of blood. A Scavenger proved it was the last one."
I suddenly remembered what Mr. Wu had said at the start of the semester. "Is Yang Yuqing… no, is Mr. Yang supporting your plan?"
"Not entirely. At first, I searched for portals alone, found a few. Then one time I climbed over the school wall, and Mr. Yang caught me. I told him my plan, and he approved, introduced me to a Scavenger—someone who explores portals, records them, and sells the info… He said I'm a lot like my parents. When the containment breach happened, they were just as single-minded, thinking of others, wanting to save everyone. And they succeeded. I'm their son.
"But you—what I'm trying to say, Li Wei—" his hand on my shoulder tightened, his mouth opening and closing for a long time before he managed five words: "You have to be sure… understand?"
I nodded again. "I understand."
He didn't respond, just turned and pulled the door open. A flood of bright sunlight poured in.
Zhan Ling
I'm sorry, Agent, but the interview time you booked with me is only 15 minutes. There's no need for self-introduction. Please get straight to the point.
Hu Guangda? I don't seem to have any impression. Could you remind me of more details?
…Yes, I went to an affiliated middle school in Mountain City for junior high. That middle school should no longer exist now, along with the facility it was attached to.
In that case, I did have a classmate named Hu Guangda, but he seemed to have disappeared. We never saw him again after the summer vacation of the first year of junior high.
He repeated grades twice and didn't come to class often, so I don't have a deep impression of him. All the teachers knew him, but he had few friends and kept to himself. No one knew what he was busy with. Oh, his deskmate always stuck to him. What was his name… Li… Li Wei? Yes, Li Wei. That skinny kid was very introverted, spoke a bit incoherently, always hid by himself, and rarely played with other classmates. But whenever Hu Guangda showed up, he would run around after Hu Guangda, begging Hu Guangda to take him to various places, like a little follower.
Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Wu… still stuck to his duty as a teacher, even though almost all his colleagues had given up on this middle school and their students. Other teachers just read textbooks every day, muddled through time, and planned to escape, but Mr. Wu still spent hours writing lesson plans, correcting homework, and checking dormitories.
Anyone with a little observation could see that the financial crisis at Site-30 was already irreversible by then. To put it bluntly, the existence of the Foundation, or even the Veil, in Mountain City had become a matter worth discussing. Classmates with some family background, whose parents held important positions in the facility, had already started considering their own ways out.
Of course, a prominent background had nothing to do with me. My father died in a car accident when I was nine. He was run over by a jeep going downhill while crossing the road. The police spent four days finding his upper body one kilometer away. My mother, she was just an ordinary clerk and didn't understand the meaning of most of her work. I wasn't like some people whose parents were honored as heroes and martyrs, being taken care of and admired everywhere. I could only rely on myself, get into the affiliated high school of Site-91 by myself, and leave that city. Since then, I have never seen any of my junior high classmates, and I don't think of them often. To me, they have become shadows left in the past, some… vague faces, which have nothing to do with me now. After all, different people have different aspirations, don't they?
We were the last batch of students in that middle school, and the graduation ceremony was also the start of the memory deletion program. I didn't attend the graduation ceremony because I was on the train to Site-91 at that time. It was very hot that day. Mr. Wu saw me off. He said that Site-30 had started restructuring, and most of the staff would be laid off and return to normal society after memory deletion, so he might never see me again. Before leaving, he gave me a pen.
I walked through the ticket gate and looked back at him. He was still standing there, and several people were staring at his empty sleeves. He kept looking at me. When he saw me turn back, he smiled and waved. My mother didn't come; she had already forgotten who I was.
Later, I heard that some classmates got into middle schools of other Sites, while most of them underwent memory deletion with their parents. The Foundation, including everything related to the anomalous side, had nothing to do with them anymore. But Li Wei was an exception. He vanished from the school during the graduation ceremony, and no one has seen him since.
What happened after that? One night, a man walking his dog saw a man without a right arm on Qianmen Bridge. The man easily propped himself up with his left hand, climbed over the railing, and jumped forward suddenly. The long coat fluttered in the air, very gracefully, like a white bird flying against the wind. It was the dry season then. He fell on the base of the bridge pier. In the end, he was collected with basins and buckets.
Two days later, Site-30 disappeared from Mountain City forever. The story… ends here.
That's all I remember about that middle school and the people in it. Are you satisfied? Maybe I should cherish all this more, maybe I should be sad, even shed tears for the things that will never come back. Maybe. Hu Guangda, Li Wei, they, like all children, didn't care much about their future. And after all, they had nothing to do with me.
After all, I've come so far.
Li Wei
I don't remember much about that first night excursion with Hu Guangda either. The so-called "other world" wasn't all that special. It seemed Hu Guangda had a list in his head of places he needed to confirm during each "adventure." So we barely stopped, weaving through various locations the entire time—of course, avoiding everyone we encountered. Fortunately, the Mountain City in this world was almost identical to ours; all the corners and paths Hu Guangda knew were there. He was quite satisfied, as this meant this world was a good "template."
By the time we returned to our own world through that dusty portal, the sky was already growing light. On the hillside behind the school, Hu Guangda told me to go back first; he needed to go to Site-30 to "report to Mr. Yang."
"I'll come too. I'm not tired," I said.
Hu Guangda scratched his head. "Mr. Yang said this is something only I can do. My background's special, and having you along would make things hard to explain at the Site."
I thought of that man with his delicacy, pale skin and the way he'd looked at me, then let go of Hu Guangda's hand. He smiled and patted my shoulder like an adult, then turned and ran down the hill.
I stood there, humming "Sailor," lifting my arms to let the early morning breeze fill my short sleeves. I hadn't slept all night, yet I was terrifyingly awake—wanting to run like the wind, to leap into the classroom, to laugh for no reason. A few magpies squawked and took flight; overhead, a green train rumbled past. In that moment, I firmly believed Hu Guangda's plan would succeed. Those two Foundation heroes in the propaganda posters—Hu Guangda's parents, standing side by side amid flowers and ribbons—must have been like this in their youth. It was because Yang Yuqing believed his student could achieve the same that he kept supporting him, right?
After that, every night I'd open the dormitory window, climb out of school, and wander through Mountain City's night with my friend. The Scavenger would take out "tin cans" noting down portal routes and activation methods, and in that shed, he'd start the projector for us again and again. During that time, I began to sleep without guilt in front of Mr. Wu; school and classes seemed so childish and irrelevant. Running through those late-night alleys with Hu Guangda, I felt I'd surpassed all my classmates, securing a place in the Foundation's grand vision of protecting something.
The semester passed quickly. In the last math class before finals, I sat dazed at my desk, only realizing the final exam was the next day. What left me even more adrift was that Mr. Wu didn't appear at the door; instead, a bald old man walked in, meeting our stares.
"Your Mr. Wu is on leave today," the old man said shortly, his voice sounding like he had a mouthful of mud caught in his throat. "I'm substituting for the day. Study on your own."
Zhan Ling raised her hand. "Teacher, we haven't reviewed Chapter Twelve yet."
The old man acted as if he hadn't heard, placing his newspaper and teacup on the desk while Zhan Ling's hand remained raised.
The old man didn't glance at her, dragging a stool to the front platform.
"Self-study, got it?"
"Mr. Wu finally went back to Site-30," Hu Guangda whispered in my ear. "I saw him when I left Mr. Yang's place."
I said nothing. Hu Guangda rubbed his eyes, laid his head on the desk, and fell asleep. I stared at the bald old man, finding the sweltering weather oppressive, the cicadas outside annoying. I pulled out my new math textbook and flipped through it—the first few pages made sense, but later pages were filled with random letters and symbols that baffled me. I thought of those half-asleep math classes, Mr. Wu pacing in front of my desk with his distracting lectures. Strangely, I couldn't remember a single thing he'd said.
I wanted to ask Zhan Ling what those symbols meant, but my hand rose and fell. I saw her bent over her desk, head bowed very low.
Another midnight found me lying in the dark, eyes wide open. The lights had gone out as usual, but no footsteps echoed in the corridor. I waited a long time, counting silently. Usually by 150, Mr. Wu would have returned to his upstairs room and closed the door to sleep. I rubbed my face, huddled on the bed, slid the window latch open, propped myself up, swung my legs outside, and jumped.
The moment I landed, I knew something was wrong—someone stood beside me. Before I could stand, a large hand clamped down tightly on my arm.
"You really have nerve, Li Wei."
It was Mr. Wu's voice.
I stared at him, dumbfounded. His face was contorted with extreme anger—I'd never seen him so furious. The hand gripping me trembled. I looked at him confused, not even understanding why he was so angry.
"Aren't you back at Site-30?" I said.
"Look at what you've become! What do you think you're doing? Hmm? Look at yourself!" He was beside himself with rage, his pale lips quivering, his voice exploding from his throat. I heard a roommate shift in their bed—they might have woken up. If they looked outside, they'd see Mr. Wu clutching me like a thief. I said nothing, suddenly lifting my hand to bite down hard on Mr. Wu's wrist. As his muscles relaxed, I wrenched free, ducked down, and ran out of school without looking back.
The wonton stand was empty—Hu Guangda wasn't there. Maybe he'd left early, or maybe Mr. Wu had caught him. I hesitated a second, then kept running, plunging into the unlit old neighborhood. The youngest Thaumaturgy Captain was truly getting old—too old to catch a junior high boy. There was no moon that night; thick clouds filled the sky. My legs moved faster and faster, chasing a faint, elusive breeze. I wasn't good with directions, but this path—Hu Guangda had led me along it so many times, hand in hand. It led to the river, where I could charge straight down the steps into the water.
I had no plan to swim that night. Days of intense heat and drought had dried the river, leaving only a few trickling streams on the riverbed, along with gleaming white pebbles. This was the condition for that portal to open. Hu Guangda had said tonight might be our only chance—with the weather so stifling, a heavy rain was coming.
Thick iron chains lay jumbled along the embankment, black as the vertebrae of some ancient, massive creature. I ran down the riverbed along a long steel rail. Under the bridge spanning the river, the stony beach crisscrossed with streams was empty—no sign of Hu Guangda. The portal waited there, lurking in the vague shadows. I stepped across large stones toward the dry depths of the Jialing River, my feet crunching on desiccated water plants and trash, dust-covered like exhumed corpses.
I looked back. At some point, I'd left our world behind, slipping from reality into a dream—everything changing without a trace.
Daylight broke, and I found myself standing on the same steps I'd just run down.
The sky was a dull leaden gray, layers of dark clouds pressing down on the city. A few rotting boats lay stranded on the pale riverbed. The riverside road bustled with traffic, horns blaring endlessly. Everything seemed the same as before—I almost thought I'd never run down those steps, but had simply sat there until morning.
But I knew—I'd reached where I wanted to go.
I turned, scanning the area. Only a few butterflies fluttered in the tall grass on the slope.
The neighborhood above the steps looked familiar as ever. I started climbing, heading toward the school, suddenly curious to see what "me" was doing in this world. Had he become a good student at school? Had he found his own path—one that didn't involve sneaking out of the dorm at midnight, getting caught like a thief?
I thought about all my possible selves across countless worlds, and my steps grew lighter. A breeze brushed my damp skin; a few raindrops fell on my face. I walked on, unhurried.
Turning past an old building, I froze—for in the distance, I saw Hu Guangda.
He sat in front of an apartment door, twirling a few blades of dogtail grass between his fingers, looking relaxed as if enjoying the cool air. But his slightly trembling hands gave him away. I was about to call out when the door creaked open, and a man and woman stepped out. Hu Guangda looked up, his expression unlike anything I'd ever seen. I swallowed my shout, instantly realizing who they were.
Hu Guangda's father and mother walked past him, glancing briefly in his direction, then strolled away arm in arm.
I didn't look at him again, turning into another alley, my face burning—as if I'd accidentally walked into someone else's private room at a restaurant. I walked fast, almost running, yet had no idea where I was going or even why I was there. Thunder rumbled in the distance; the long-awaited downpour finally arrived. Large raindrops pelted my face and head. I ran in a daze for a long time, stopping only when a piercing chill seeped into my open pores. Looking around at these unfamiliar, identical old walls and windows, I had no idea where to go.
I was lost—finally, truly lost.
Just as fear began to creep in, my hands and feet sweating, I heard someone calling my name.
"Li Wei!"
Someone was calling me—in a completely strange world.
"Li—Wei—"
"Hu Guangda!" I shouted. "Hu Guangda!!!"
Hu Guangda grabbed me from behind. "Why are you here? I thought you weren't coming. Hurry, we're out of time."
He pulled me into a run, heading in the opposite direction I'd been going. He seemed extremely anxious, checking his watch repeatedly.
"I caught a glimpse of you earlier—thought I was seeing things. Then you were gone in a blink. You think you know the way, running around like that?"
"I thought… you might want to stay here…" I didn't know what I was saying. "…with your parents… together…"
Hu Guangda said nothing, his pace never slowing, his fingers digging into my arm. The rain intensified, becoming a downpour, drowning out everything around us. I could barely open my eyes against the onslaught. Tripping on a step, I tumbled down, my ankle searing with pain. Still silent, Hu Guangda twisted around, hoisted me onto his back, and kept running through the rain.
A low rumble echoed from the mountains behind us. I knew what it was—the sound of a reservoir upstream, on a tributary of the Jialing River, opening its floodgates.
Rain streamed down my face. I pressed my head against Hu Guangda's back, hoping to share some warmth, but his arms were as cold as ice, his breathing like a bellows. At some point, we'd left those gloomy alleys and stone paths behind, leaving that quiet, graveyard-like old neighborhood to be swallowed by endless rain—truly becoming an unreachable shore. I felt Hu Guangda's back bending lower, yet he never slowed down.
"Today… it's that day. If in this world, my parents—if they failed…"
He spoke as he crouched, carrying me into the riverbed. I heard another dull roar, but this one sounded like something exploding underground. Hu Guangda didn't look back. The water had risen to his ankles, soaking his old sneakers. He kept running forward as I forced my eyes open, looking back.
Beneath the pitch-black sky, a rust-colored mushroom cloud rose from the direction of Site-30—standing in the pouring rain like a massive, eternal stone monument.
The underground explosions didn't stop. No one had ever told me how terrifying that containment breach could have been, what kind of catastrophe Hu Guangda's parents had prevented. The earth shook continuously, as if about to split open. Hu Guangda stumbled and fell onto exposed boulders, then immediately climbed up, lifted me onto his back, and kept running. I tried to make him put me down—maybe my ankle wasn't that badly hurt. But I knew he couldn't hear me anymore. The rising water lapped at his calves; he was almost crawling on his knees, sliding down one boulder and clambering up another, clinging tightly to me as he struggled forward, reaching for that dying, chaotic portal.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to open them again. For in that moment, all that existed was the howl of the rainstorm—and above it, the roar of a trapped beast, lost at the crossroads of countless worlds. A roar more terrifying, more grief-stricken, more heart-wrenching than the indifferent heavens' unfeeling roar.
It was Hu Guangda's roar.
He kept running—running without end.
The Scavenger
You're finally here. Who passed the message to you? Never mind, it doesn't matter. And you don't need to introduce yourself. I… don't care about your Foundation's affairs.
Li Wei's back. He came to see me, just… yesterday, or the day before. He took all the cans, killed all my dogs. He's become… terrifying, really, really terrifying…
Yes, that missing student from Songcunpo. At the graduation ceremony, he said he was going to the bathroom, and no one saw him again. I'd already made a deal with Site-30: collecting the students' memory cans, fifty-one in total. Just Li Wei's alone… I could've sold it for thousands in a heartbeat.
Shh, keep your voice down. He might still be around.
All my dogs are dead. Did you see? I haven't buried them yet. I daren't go out. He might still be here.
He said he was looking for Hu Guangda. Hu Guangda—back then, that Mr. Yang, also from your Foundation, introduced the kid to me to buy maps. Mr. Yang took a 20% cut of each deal as commission. I wasn't keen at first, but Mr. Yang said the kid had plenty of money—his parents were big shots, and he got a monthly pension after they died. Besides… whatever was in that kid's head would end up mine sooner or later.
Did I get it? I got it, but it was a bit early. The kid ran around like a headless chicken, messed up his own brain. I still had to extract his memories while they were fresh… When I came out with the can, Li Wei was there, staring daggers at me. That boy… forget it. If I'd known this would happen, I should've let the dogs tear him to pieces back then. But it's too late now. I need to run, but I daren't even open the door. When he killed my dogs, I didn't hear a thing. As soon as I opened the door, there he was, glaring at me, a string of heads in his hand, eyes red as a ghost. He must've been to so many places over the years. He knows so many portals…
Yes, he took all the cans from Site-30 and Songcunpo. What's in the cans? Memories, of course. How do you not know that? That's where they put the stuff taken out during memory wipes. Normally, by rights, they should've been sent to other Sites for storage. But Site-30 fell apart, and those leaders were just grabbing whatever they could, weren't they?
That Mr. Yang really screwed me over. He used to be a respectable man. After his friend got disabled and couldn't get his pension, got demoted to teach at Songcun Slope, he had a huge argument with their superiors, quit his job, and followed. But whether he was really sticking up for his friend back then, or had his eye on those students, who knows… Is he still alive? Oh, where is he? Well, I need a new dog. Guess he's still mobile. As long as he can move, he can run.
If you ask me, he found a real cash cow back then. Shame Hu Guangda was such a troublemaker. That's Mr. Yang's own fault, though. If he hadn't been filling the kid's head with talk of heroic parents and protecting humanity, Hu Guangda wouldn't have kicked up such a fuss and gotten himself killed.
But… who are you, anyway?
Li Wei
When I opened my eyes again, it was daylight, clear and bright after the rain.
The first thing I saw was the river—turbid, flowing eastward. I propped myself up and looked around, and saw Mr. Wu. He was kneeling at the edge of the riverbank, motionless.
I struggled to my feet, feeling cold all over. My ankle still hurt, and I was wearing a coat I didn't recognize. I clutched it and walked toward Mr. Wu. He didn't react, like a statue. It wasn't until I stood in front of him that I saw Hu Guangda, sitting in his arms, soaking wet, facing the river, mouth slightly open, his face as blank as a sheet of paper.
My friend was covered in scars. His thin body was bruised and scraped, and the hand that once held mine tightly had a large patch of skin worn away, exposing pink flesh underneath. Mr. Wu looked up at me, his living eye and empty socket both fixed on me, as if he'd never seen me before.
“Li Wei,” he asked, “what happened to him?”
I couldn't answer. The medical department at Site-30 said: severe abnormal spatial distortion affecting the brain, loss of most cognitive functions, with no hope of full recovery. Medical recommendation: memory wipe followed by lifelong care in a regular psychiatric hospital.
That day, Mr. Wu sat on a bench in the medical department corridor for three hours. And Mr. Yang, Hu Guangda's Mr. Yang, never showed up at all.
Hu Guangda's hospital was on the other side of the mountain. I went once, taking a bag of oranges to visit him. But I couldn't find him. The Foundation had changed his name, given him a new identity. I sat at the hospital gate and ate the whole bag of oranges by myself. I never went back. Because I knew the vacant-eyed boy lying there wasn't him.
Today's clouds… and wind, are exactly the same as that day. The urge to run into the wind, that feeling, is exactly the same. Look behind me— that building on the slope, the one with white tiles and blue glass. That's Site-30. It hasn't changed a bit. Maybe I never returned to the world I left. Maybe I took the wrong portal. Maybe… that day never ended. The rain and the people in it are still waiting for me to come back.
Say… Agent, can I see your ID again?
There's nothing on it, just the Foundation logo. Who are you, really? How did you find me? Did that Scavenger tell you?
Ah, it doesn't matter. Because I'll be leaving soon.
Where… doesn't matter. To me, it's all the same. Because I've already taken my home with me. They'll never leave me, just as the world in my eyes will forever stay on that day.
If the Scavenger sent you to find the things I took, you'll be disappointed. But I know you're not here for that.
It's raining, agent. Come closer. Come a little closer and look at me, look into my eyes. What do you see? Who do you see? Do you see the people who vanished from this city? Do you see the figures erased along with their memories, the smiles, the voices? The canyon where white birds skim, the classroom filled with cicada songs—do you see them? The things that ceased to exist after a certain point. The world they protected, the world that abandoned them. Do you see?
They're here, all of them. Packed into cans: the young and vibrant, those who believed in something, the weathered and worn, those whose stories were never told. Their ten years, thirty years, fifty years. I drank them all in, and they rose from the dead. My words are their words, my breath their breath. Where I stand is the ruins of their collapsed tower, left behind by speeding trains. Look at me again. Tell me—who do you see? Do you see him?
The boy running wildly in the rain, carrying another child on his back. After all these years, is he still there?
If you really are what you claim to be, if you've come this far and finally thought to look back… I'm sorry, the rain is too loud. I can't hear what you're saying. Can you come closer? Closer still. Take my hand. Yes, like this…
Look at us. Look at all of us. Tell me…
Tell me, SirFoundation, what becomes of the children who never found a way out?
Are we wasted?
Hu Guangda
So, have you found the path paved with sunshine?
You
The lost children will run wild in the ceaseless storm,
But I can no longer turn back.
Running wild,
No turning back.
Running wild,
No longer turning back.
Running wild,
One day,
Running wild,
We will meet at the end of the road, in that chaotic darkness,
Until thousands of paths and the storm come to an end here.
And reunite.