May 1994, weather unknown.
Can a diary without dates still be considered a diary?
This question seems ridiculous. Trapped underground, I’m obsessing over whether my diary adheres to proper form instead of focusing on escape.
Perhaps this means I’m not as panicked anymore.
Indeed, when I first fled from Mana and the others, searching for another exit, my mind was in a haze. After wandering for an indeterminate time and turning countless corners, I gradually regained clarity. A more terrifying realization emerged—I was lost.
Darkness not only blocked out light but seemed to exclude any remaining rationality. I had assumed another upward passage would be nearby. However, the darkness only led me deeper into more darkness.
I was on the verge of madness. I could only grope along the damp, slippery walls, stumbling about like a blind rat. Finally, exhausted, I collapsed into some tunnel.
I had to admit it: I couldn’t find my way back. This cursed sewer was as complex as a spider’s web. Moreover, in the darkness, I couldn’t even mark my path.
I wanted to go home. I wanted to leave this place. Even if my parents scolded me and I couldn’t go to school tomorrow, I just wanted to go home.
At last, I broke down sobbing—the kind that tears your heart out. This drained my last bit of energy. After crying for who knows how long, I fell asleep.
I had a dream.
I was at home, sleeping on that hard wooden bed. The bed legs were propped up with bricks, and I was hugging my little brother. He looked like he did when he was very young—chubby, tiny, with long eyelashes and round cheeks. Honestly, I quite liked him back then. Especially at night, hugging him to sleep, feeling his plump arms, and smelling the milky scent on him would quickly lull me into sweet dreams.
But the little rascal often got into trouble. Even at four or five years old, he still wet the bed. Sure enough, I felt a cold, damp patch beneath me. Half-asleep, I got up, my nose filled with an unpleasant odor. I smacked his little bottom and yanked him off the bed. Of course, he wasn’t happy about it. After struggling a bit, he started wailing at the top of his lungs.
Mom and Dad were quickly awakened and rushed into our room. Mom started fussing, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
My brother cried pitifully, “My sister hit me!”
Tired and angry, I said, “He wet the bed again.”
My brother rubbed one eye with his hand and pointed at me with the other, “It wasn’t me, it was my sister.”
Mom looked at me and immediately smacked my shoulder, “How old are you now? Still wetting the bed?”
I stared at her in disbelief, “How is that possible?”
“Look at your pants!” Mom’s face showed disgust. “And you’re blaming your brother!”
I looked down and was shocked to find my pants soaked through, with foul-smelling liquid dripping from the cuffs and pooling around my feet.
My mind went blank. I looked up at Mom’s stern face and Dad’s serious expression, and cried out, “It wasn’t me!”
They didn’t respond, just staring at me motionlessly. I panicked and stepped forward to grab them, but I slipped on the disgusting liquid and fell.
Then everything disappeared.
I was still in darkness, several meters underground. The only difference was that half of my body was now submerged in ice-cold water. I didn’t know where the water came from, but judging by the foul smell, it must have been filthy. I hurriedly stood up, realizing that most of my legs were submerged. The current was swift; I had to brace myself against the tunnel wall to keep my balance.
I was fully awake now. Mom and Dad would surely come looking for me. But before they could find me, I might drown here!
I quickly got up and walked in the direction of the water flow. After about a dozen steps, I turned back and struggled upstream.
If it was raining heavily outside, the source of this flood might be the exit.
The current was strong, and every step I took against it required great effort. In the darkness, I couldn’t discern directions and could only brace myself against the tunnel wall, gritting my teeth as I moved forward. In the icy, polluted water, countless pieces of debris brushed past my body. Several times, I touched fallen rats, accompanied by squeaking sounds.
I was both startled and frightened. What worried me more was that the water level kept rising as I moved forward, almost reaching my lower abdomen. As I hesitated whether to continue upward, my hand suddenly lost contact with the wall. A more violent current surged from the left, and I lost my balance, falling into the filthy water.
I suddenly realized I must have reached the junction of two tunnels. However, before I could think further, the polluted water had already rushed into my mouth. I struggled to get up, but my hands couldn’t find anything to grip. The sludge under my feet was too slippery to gain footing. I could only flail my arms helplessly as the flood carried me downstream.
This was true powerlessness. I desperately tried to keep my head above water, barely breathing between bouts of choking. Time and again, I attempted to stand, only to be knocked off balance by the surging water. Soon, I had no strength left. A clear thought formed in my mind: I was going to die. The end of the water would probably be my end too. I didn’t know how long I would drift in the flood. But I knew I could no longer keep my head above water. Facing imminent death, I felt panic and fear, but also a tiny bit of anticipation—I simply couldn’t hold on any longer. Let it all end.
Suddenly, the water level dropped sharply. My body fell with it, bouncing several times before landing hard on solid ground. The buoyancy of the water vanished abruptly, awakening my body’s instincts. I found myself lying on my side in shallow water, with the roar of falling water in my ears. I reached out blindly, feeling not only the downward rush of water but also something like steps.
After coughing for a while, I gradually came to my senses and desperately moved to a spot slightly farther from the steps. Although darkness still surrounded me and water still pooled beneath me, it was now only ankle-deep. Judging by the increasingly loud echoes, I seemed to be in a much wider tunnel.
Shivering, I stood up and reached out, wobbling towards the direction perpendicular to the water flow. Sure enough, after a few steps, I touched the tunnel wall. I leaned against it and slid down to sit. With my life no longer in immediate danger, I felt somewhat more at ease. After resting in the dirty water for a while, I mustered my strength and headed deeper into the tunnel.
There would be an exit upstream—this was my only belief. Ahead was still pitch-black darkness, and all I could rely on were the tunnel wall and my two legs, exhausted to the point of numbness.
Walk on, walk on.
I had no choice but to keep moving forward. The numbness from cold and fatigue gradually spread from my legs to my entire body. Slowly, my brain stopped working too. So much so that when my hand brushed past an iron door, I took several more steps before realizing it.
I hesitated, then backtracked to feel the iron door again. Yes, it was iron and circular. Soon, I also felt something like a steering wheel, which I vaguely recalled might be called a sealing valve or something similar. I gripped it, caught my breath, and rotated it with all my might. The iron door made an unpleasant creaking sound. I tried pushing it inward, but it didn’t budge. Then I pulled the door outward—it opened, and immediately, a gust of air hit my face.
My spirits lifted. It seemed I didn’t have to worry about suffocation for now. I breathed deeply, eager to squeeze through the iron door. However, just a few steps in, I stepped into emptiness and fell.
For a moment, I thought I was plunging into an endless abyss. But my shoulder quickly hit a hard surface, and then I tumbled down what felt like stairs.
In the blink of an eye, I was lying on my side on a cold floor, with searing pain in my back, ribs, elbow, and face. The fall left me dizzy and disoriented. However, I quickly realized that the floor my cheek was pressed against was dry. I hurriedly got on my hands and knees, feeling around. An even bigger surprise awaited—I touched something like a mattress!
I threw myself onto it, stretching out my limbs as much as possible. Although the mattress smelled revolting, to me, who had been soaked in water for so long, it felt incredibly comfortable.
My hands moved across the mattress, feeling the tattered fabric and lumpy cotton. Suddenly, my fingers touched a small plastic object.
I froze for a moment, then my heart began to race. Although it seemed unbelievable, I was certain it was a lighter.
I clutched the lighter, collected myself, and flicked the wheel.
A small flame shot out, bringing warm light that danced and flickered. I closed my eyes. The sudden light stung my eyes, and tears immediately welled up.
Then, I began to cry.
Gu Hao peered out from behind the low wall at the school gate. He saw Tai Wei jump down the steps of the teaching building and walk briskly towards him. He quickly threw away his cigarette butt and waved at him. As soon as Tai Wei emerged from the iron gate, Gu Hao asked, “How did it go?”
“Not well,” Tai Wei frowned. “I checked with the Academic Affairs Office. They said there haven’t been any transfers recently. The entire school, including both high school and middle school sections, has 1,214 students. Not one is missing.”
Gu Hao was silent for a moment, then clicked his tongue. “So…”
“The surname was Su, right? It’s quite uncommon. There are only four in the whole school – one in high school and three in middle school,” Tai Wei shook his head. “I checked each student’s registration form. The one in high school is a boy.”
Gu Hao grunted in acknowledgment, falling silent. He lit another cigarette and began smoking quietly.
“Uncle Gu, could you have remembered wrong? Maybe she’s not from this school?” Tai Wei observed his expression. “The situation at No. 4 Middle School doesn’t match up.”
“Impossible. That child wore a uniform identical to this school’s,” Gu Hao furrowed his brow. “Besides, I saw her school badge. It was definitely from No. 4 Middle School.”
“Speaking of school badges,” Tai Wei sighed, “I thought we might find something there, but the school isn’t missing anyone.”
“You’re being paranoid,” Gu Hao snorted. “It’s perfectly normal for teenagers to lose their badges or have them washed into the sewers.”
“You’re right,” Tai Wei looked dejected. “My mentor said the same thing.”
“You go ahead with your work,” Gu Hao waved his hand. “I’m heading home.”
Seeing Gu Hao’s troubled expression, Tai Wei said, “Don’t overthink it. Go home and carry on as usual. She’s not related to you, so don’t worry too much.”
“When things are out of the ordinary, there’s usually something fishy going on,” Gu Hao seemed not to hear him. “No one’s telling the truth. There must be something strange about this.”
“How about I check with the Education Bureau when I have time?” Tai Wei suggested after a moment’s thought. “At least we could find out which school this Su girl attends.”
“No need,” Gu Hao turned to face the campus. “She’s here.”
On the second floor of the teaching building, Jiang Ting sat by the window, staring blankly at the two men talking at the school gate. She recognized the older one and knew what they were discussing.
The geometry teacher at the podium suddenly raised his voice, simultaneously rapping the blackboard sharply with the eraser.
“Pay attention!”
Jiang Ting turned her head, meeting the teacher’s disapproving gaze. She hurriedly looked away, her eyes falling on the compass on her desk.
The sunlight was just right, the temperature gradually rising, and the air becoming dry. Dust swirled on the streets, erasing any trace of the recent heavy rain.
The Beijing Jeep turned onto Fengshou Avenue, then left onto Xiaonan First Road. After driving a few dozen meters, it suddenly slowed down and eventually pulled over to the side of the road.
Tai Wei jumped out of the car, looked around, and walked towards the intersection along Xiaonan First Road.
It was around 10 AM, and there were few pedestrians on the street. The poplar trees lining the road were lush with leaves, rustling in the gentle breeze.
Tai Wei walked slowly, his eyes fixed on the ground as if searching for any suspicious traces—though he knew it was unlikely.
Reaching the intersection of Fengshou Avenue and Xiaonan First Road, he stopped and looked around aimlessly. There were more people and cars here than on Xiaonan First Road, all moving unhurriedly, appearing peaceful and serene. No one paid attention to the young man standing at the intersection, unaware of what had happened on this street.
Tai Wei turned his gaze to the surrounding buildings, his eyes unfocused. His mentor was right; if only there were ever-watchful eyes in the sky, no evil could hide.
He looked back at the ground. There was a manhole covered by the roadside, covered in dust, unremarkable. He walked over, crouched beside it, and tried to insert his fingers into the drainage holes, pulling upward. However, the heavy iron cover didn’t budge. He stood up, looked around, and walked towards a wall.
A ragged vagrant was leaning against the wall, basking in the sun, lazily scratching himself and examining the lice he caught.
Seeing Tai Wei approach, he tensed up, sitting straight. His eyes, hidden behind matted hair, watched the tall young man warily, his hand reaching for an iron hook beside him.
Tai Wei eyed the grimy iron hook, hesitated, then waved the vagrant off. He picked up a tree branch from near the wall and returned to the manhole cover. He inserted the branch into a drainage hole, found the right angle, and lifted forcefully. With a creaking sound, the cover was dragged from its position, revealing the half-meter-wide opening.
He bent down, covered his nose and mouth, and peered into the hole.
Years of grime had caked on the well walls, and the smell was nauseating. Even in the bright daylight, the bottom was barely visible. The polluted water, churning with various debris, flowed and converged somewhere unknown, draining into the rivers and ditches on the outskirts of the city.
Tai Wei gritted his teeth, replaced the cover, and tossed the branch aside.
Even spending just a few hours in the sewer must be unbearable.
It was here that Sun Hui had disappeared nearly two weeks ago.
He leaned against the iron door, silently watching the girl lying on the mattress. She was curled up, motionless. If not for her slightly heaving shoulders and occasional moans, he might have thought she was dead.
He looked around the “room” by candlelight. Apart from the addition of a person, not much had changed. The candle he had used as a “candlestick” in the beer bottle had burned out, the two steamed buns and a piece of bread had been eaten, and the half-bottle of tap water had been completely consumed.
He picked up the candlestick, examined it, and inserted the candle in his hand into the bottle’s mouth, placing it beside the girl.
In this dark underground, even the small candlelight was bright enough. In the sudden strong light, the girl’s breathing became more rapid, her eyes opened slightly, and her eyeballs moved sluggishly a few times. She seemed to want to speak or get up. However, she only moved her fingers slightly before her eyes closed again.
The girl looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, wearing a tracksuit so dirty its original color was indiscernible. Her hair was half-wet, half-dry, sticking to her equally filthy face.
He sat beside the girl, watched her for a while, then noticed a schoolbag next to her body. He picked it up and turned it upside down—the contents spilled onto the mattress with a clatter.
Textbooks. Notebooks. A pair of white sneakers covered in blue spots. A hardcover notebook.
He picked up the hardcover notebook and flipped through it casually. The edges of the pages were still damp, covered in dense writing. He quickly lost interest, tossed it aside, and turned his attention back to the sleeping girl.
The girl’s hair covered most of her face, but even through the grime, one could see her naturally fair and delicate complexion. He hesitated, then reached out and touched the girl’s face.
The girl flinched, seemingly instinctively trying to avoid his touch—a burning sensation transmitted from his fingertips.
She had a fever.
He stood up, looking down at her intently.
Faced with a completely powerless girl, left only with unconscious murmurs, he realized he could do anything, but he had no desire to.
He stood there for a while longer, then pulled the candle from the “candlestick” and walked towards the iron door.
As the sealing valve emitted a harsh creaking sound, the small “room” once again plunged into darkness.