Clothing factory, warehouse.
All the windows in the warehouse had been covered with cardboard. In the deepest corner, five large locked wooden crates were arranged in a row.
On top of the crates, Sun Zhou prowled from one end to the other like a large feline, occasionally scratching the lids fiercely with his claws and emitting low hisses from his throat.
Yu Rong strode in carrying a large rib rack weighing seven or eight jin. When still three or four meters away, she forcefully tossed it into the air.
Sun Zhou leaped up, pouncing like lightning to catch the meat mid-air, then quickly scurried to a corner to tear into it.
Yu Rong walked to the first wooden crate, took out a key to unlock it, and then flung open the lid.
This one contained Number 006, Wu Xingbang, who was the earliest to be captured and the most difficult of the five to subdue.
At the time, Shan Qiang had posed as a taxi passenger and lured him and his taxi to a deserted rural area. While scanning to pay, he caught Wu Xingbang off guard and pressed a stun baton to his lower back. In theory, the transformer’s instantaneous high-voltage pulse should have been enough to knock someone unconscious or even cause shock. Unexpectedly, when Shan Qiang checked after twenty seconds, Wu Xingbang suddenly opened his eyes, roared, and smashed Shan Qiang’s head against the car window.
Shan Qiang was knocked out instantly, while Wu Xingbang went berserk from the electric shock. Fortunately, Yu Rong was waiting nearby with Sun Zhou. While Sun Zhou and Wu Xingbang were locked in an intense struggle, Yu Rong approached with a brick and struck Wu Xingbang’s head from behind, successfully knocking him out. She didn’t forget to notify the other teams that hadn’t acted yet—the electric shock needed to last at least thirty seconds.
Finally came the cleanup: someone from the team with a similar build to Wu Xingbang put on his clothes, casually drove the car back to the city, and brazenly parked it at a bathhouse entrance, then went in for a bath—in short, “Wu Xingbang” had disappeared while bathing.
Now, Wu Xingbang was curled up in the one-cubic-meter wooden crate padded with straw, thoroughly bound, mouth stuffed with cloth, his bloodshot eyes bulging as if about to burst.
Yu Rong watched him for a moment, then slammed the lid shut and locked it.
Then she opened the second crate.
Inside was a woman in her thirties, with delicate features and a scholarly air. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes terrified, and she visibly shrank back when the lid opened.
This was Number 012, Wei Jiao, a private art studio teacher. Gentle in nature and physically frail, she had reportedly been subdued in less than a minute—as the studio was about to close, someone had been sent to inquire about enrollment and was warmly invited into the small conference room to look at materials, where they quickly succeeded.
…
When she walked out of the warehouse, night had fallen. Xing Shen stood in the open space, “looking” up at the sky.
Yu Rong also looked up. In her eyes, there were no stars or moon tonight, just various shades of black layered upon each other.
She walked to Xing Shen’s side.
Hearing movement, Xing Shen turned toward her: “How is it?”
Yu Rong shook her head: “Can’t tame them.”
Xing Shen sighed: “With this new batch of Di Xiao, our Dog family methods don’t work, and your Whip family techniques are useless too.”
Yu Rong pulled cigarettes from her pocket: “I’m an animal tamer. Wild beasts have two basic traits: self-preservation through avoidance, and hunger-driven food-seeking. Correspondingly, there are two foundations to animal taming—the whip and the sweet treat. The whip makes them fear, the treat keeps them fed. Once these two principles are established, taming can begin gradually.”
She lit her cigarette, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled. She had meant to hold it between her teeth but, finding it inconvenient for talking, held it in her hand instead.
“When wild beasts are sent to me, I can tame them. Like Sun Zhou—I don’t care what he was before when he came to me, he was just a wild beast, and I could tame him—but these, you can see it in their eyes, they can think, they have ideas. Whether they’re avoiding danger or seeking food, it’s all to preserve strength and wait for a chance to strike back. How can you tame that?”
She paused, then added: “And they look just like humans, which makes it psychologically difficult.”
Xing Shen smiled slightly: “The uncanny valley effect, perhaps.”
Yu Rong didn’t understand whether he meant Uncanny Valley or Silent Hill, so she changed the subject: “What about the prisoner exchange?”
Xing Shen remained silent.
The “exchange” was a very complicated matter.
He was reluctant to make the exchange: How could they exchange Lin Ling? Wouldn’t that just be pushing her back into the fire? And Chen Fu and the others—wouldn’t releasing them be like letting tigers return to the mountain?
Among all their hostages, the only one he was willing to exchange was Mayi, after all, it wasn’t human—an exchange was just an exchange.
But if they refused to exchange anyone, wouldn’t the situation remain deadlocked? How would they get Jiang Baichuan and the others back?
They could only use the “exchange” as an opportunity to try to achieve their goal of “rescuing their people without releasing the Di Xiao.”
He said: “Still negotiating, progress is slow. Both sides want to exchange, but we can’t agree on how and where.”
Both sides feared hidden schemes, using the “exchange” as a cover for traps.
Yu Rong was about to say something when suddenly, a woman’s scream came from the factory building in the distance.
What happened? Yu Rong extinguished her cigarette and, not waiting for Xing Shen, strode quickly toward the sound.
***
This section had originally been a small processing room, but after people moved in, it was converted into a women’s dormitory, kitchen, and dining hall. Yu Rong lived here, while the others, all men, lived in the large workshop on the other side.
The incident occurred in the kitchen. By the time Yu Rong arrived, everything had settled: Lin Ling sat collapsed in the doorway, clutching a handled milk pan, shaking like a leaf in the cold wind. Datou stood there looking somewhat embarrassed, while in the back, Quecha’s collar and hair were disheveled, her face ashen.
Yu Rong roughly understood what had happened. She extended her hand to Lin Ling: “What happened?”
Lin Ling trembled for quite a while before grabbing Yu Rong’s hand to stand up.
Xing Shen had also arrived, and several men who had been playing cards in the large workshop came to see what the commotion was about, though they only peered in from the doorway.
Datou laughed it off: “It’s nothing, Sister Rong. Quecha and I got a bit… carried away. This little girl is inexperienced, thought I was trying something, grabbed a pan, and started swinging. I just pushed her away, and she fell…”
Before he could finish, Quecha cursed angrily: “You’re fucking lying! You perverted bastard!”
Unable to think of more damaging words, she rushed forward and spat in Datou’s face several times.
Datou wiped the spit from his face. Seeing the crowd of onlookers, he couldn’t express his anger openly and just laughed strangely: “Quecha, this isn’t right of you. You weren’t saying this when you pulled me into the kitchen earlier.”
Quecha trembled with rage.
Xing Shen frowned: “Datou, Quecha is Uncle Jiang’s companion. Is this appropriate?”
Datou snickered: “I refused her! She was the one pulling at me, saying she was frustrated and wanted comfort.”
He spoke loudly enough for everyone outside to hear, and two or three people let out meaningful laughs.
Quecha was so angry she grew reckless. Spotting a cleaver on the chopping board, she grabbed it and swung at Datou.
Yu Rong moved quickly, catching Quecha’s knife-wielding hand.
Datou sneered: “Who doesn’t know how you got with Uncle Jiang? Uncle Jiang’s been in trouble for so long, and we haven’t seen you shed a single tear. You flutter around Brother Shen like a butterfly all day. When he ignores you, you come after me. Now that someone caught you, you’re trying to act innocent and blame it all on me?”
Xing Shen’s face darkened: “What are you so proud of? Keep your mouth shut!”
Datou said: “I… I can’t let people wrongly accuse me. Fine, my bad luck. I’ll stay away from here in the future to avoid being falsely accused.”
He straightened his clothes and walked out with a cold snort.
Xing Shen hesitated—strictly speaking, Datou wasn’t under his command, and he couldn’t control anyone—they were all companions who followed his lead when they chose to, but when faces were lost, they could oppose him as they pleased.
Quecha had been counting on Xing Shen to speak up for her, and seeing his hesitation, her heart sank.
Yu Rong said: “Wait.”
She looked at Datou but pointed at Lin Ling: “Nobody can falsely accuse you—we have a witness right here.”
She instructed Lin Ling: “Tell us what happened.”
Lin Ling didn’t dare speak.
She was an outsider here, living very uncomfortably, afraid of most people—afraid of Datou’s fierce demeanor, and afraid of the lizard tattooed on Yu Rong’s bald head. Swinging the pan earlier had been a moment of righteous impulse, but now being asked to speak up as an outsider in this internal dispute felt like a trap.
Yu Rong hated cowardice most of all. Her eyes flashed: “Speak!”
Datou gave a cold smile: “Little girl, don’t wrongly accuse anyone.”
Lin Ling, caught in a difficult position, steeled herself and spoke: “I was coming back from the bathroom when I heard noises from the kitchen. I came to look and saw her kicking and struggling, with her mouth covered. I was afraid something would happen, so… so I hit him with the pan.”
Yu Rong made a sound of acknowledgment and glanced at Datou: “How do you explain this?”
Since Lin Ling was a guest, Datou couldn’t yell at her for spreading rumors, so he just laughed dryly: “What’s there to explain?”
Xing Shen’s expression darkened: “Datou, apologize to Quecha.”
Datou asked incredulously: “I didn’t do anything, what should I apologize for?”
Yu Rong nodded: “Indeed, what should he apologize for?”
Before she finished speaking, her arm shot out, grabbing Datou’s head and smashing it into the soup pot on the nearby stove.
The pot still contained leftover tomato, vegetable, and egg drop soup from dinner. Datou’s head plunged into the pot, his vision going dark before he rolled to the ground with the pot. When he struggled to his feet, his head was covered in egg drops, vegetables, and tomatoes.
He raged: “Yu, you fucking—”
Yu Rong, matching his build and standing taller, towered over him with an overwhelming presence: “If you’ve got a problem, come find me in the training room. I can tame any beast.”
***
The kitchen incident finally ended. Datou left, Yu Rong left, and Quecha collapsed onto a small stool, head down and silent for a long time.
Lin Ling, who had been standing stiffly, came to her senses and rushed out after Xing Shen: “Mr. Xing, Mr. Xing.”
Among everyone here, she found Xing Shen the most approachable—he had helped her escape and had a gentle, modest temperament.
Xing Shen stopped and turned toward her: “What is it?”
Lin Ling stammered: “Could I… not stay here?”
Xing Shen sighed inwardly: Lin Ling was a guest, one Yan Tuo had earnestly entrusted to them. They had failed to provide comfortable accommodation and let her get caught up in this absurd situation—it was truly unfortunate.
He said: “The lease on this small clothing factory is almost up anyway. We’re considering moving to a more suitable place.”
Lin Ling mumbled: “No, that’s not… I want to live somewhere else on my own. I’m not comfortable living with so many strangers.”
Now with this incident, she was even more reluctant to stay in such a place.
Xing Shen guessed her thoughts: “Are you afraid Datou will retaliate? He wouldn’t dare. Besides, we’re not comfortable with you living alone.”
Lin Ling explained: “Not alone—Yan Tuo mentioned a reliable friend before. I want to contact them and stay there. You just need to get me there safely. Don’t worry, once I’m there, I won’t go out at all, and I’ll keep the curtains tightly drawn until things blow over.”
***
Yan Tuo couldn’t tell whether he woke from cold or hunger.
Probably both.
The cave was too cold—he finally understood why they had given him a blanket, but it wasn’t nearly enough. At first, his hands and feet just itched unbearably, then they swelled like steamed buns, and finally, chilblains appeared, one after another, bleeding and peeling. Even he found it disgusting to look at.
Hunger was certain—this was his third time running out of food. With no sense of time, he couldn’t control his eating. Each time he felt he had held out to the limit before eating, only to realize afterward that he hadn’t waited long enough, with the next feeding still far away.
He was so hungry that his stomach felt like a black hole, empty enough to devour anything.
He wrapped the blanket tightly around himself, curling up as much as possible, holding the small flashlight. The cold affected the flashlight too—he had to keep it warm, and its light was already growing dim.
No wonder Lin Xirou didn’t kill him—death would be too quick. Living torture was harder to endure, especially while fully conscious.
Yan Tuo’s eyes suddenly burned hot. His hair had grown long, as had his beard. At first, he had dared to luxuriate by using some water to rinse his mouth, but later, when even drinking felt insufficient, he gave up.
He couldn’t remember what brushing his teeth felt like anymore. When the cave walls grew damp, he would tear strips from his shirt, using them to wipe his face and body with what moisture he could gather. After time passed, both cloth pieces became as dirty as dish rags.
He had managed to tear open the large plastic bag that had contained the blanket, making rope from strips of plastic to create a makeshift toilet area in a corner of the cave.
He feared that living here too long would make him less human, so he tried to maintain some habits from the civilized world as constant reminders, yet he also feared that eventually he would grow weary and live like a beast that had never seen daylight.
Sometimes, to fight against the darkness and cold of the cave, he would try to think of beautiful things, even creating dreams to resist, but the dreams would quickly end—because of cold, because of hunger, because some part of his body was bleeding and festering.
Was anyone still looking for him in this world? Even if they were, could they find him?
Some people are never found, like Xu Annie’s father. Perhaps Xu Annie had once cried herself to death over her missing father, but later, after too many disappointments, gradually let go.
He pulled the little star from his pocket.
When things got especially painful, he would play with the little star.
Nie Jiuluo had said when a star falls, a day falls.
For him, when the little star fell, it would leave a faint trail of light. He treated it as a shooting star, making wishes as he tossed it.
Once.
Please, give him a hot bath—scalding hot with lots of water.
Twice.
A bowl of noodles—the steamed buns and water were tasteless. He missed sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, and salty flavors. Even green onions seemed fragrant in memory.
Three times…
As the star fell, he suddenly saw a pair of gleaming jade-green points ahead.
What was that?
Yan Tuo’s hair stood on end in fright. In that instant, he forgot about hunger, pain, and cold, focusing only on those gleaming points.
The points were moving—they weren’t lights, they were eyes.
Yan Tuo held his breath, quietly reaching into his clothes for the small flashlight. Pointing it toward those eyes, he silently counted “one, two, three” before suddenly pressing the switch.
In the light, he froze.
Was that a half-crouching monster?
Its skin was iron-black, covered in scale-like patches. Its head was pointed, with what looked like a huge olive pit on its neck. Two long, slanted eyes glowed with an eerie green, and its claws, gripping the ground, were polished and sharp.
Suddenly exposed to light, it made a “ji” sound and stepped back once or twice, then smiled—Yan Tuo thought it was a smile, though perhaps it wasn’t—revealing a mouth full of sharp white teeth.
Then it charged at the iron bars, crashing into them before flying into a rage, its claws frantically scratching at the bars with a shrieking sound. Rust and metal fragments flew in the beam of light as it grabbed the bars and shook them violently.
For the first time, Yan Tuo hoped these iron bars would be sturdy enough.