The central air conditioning was off, making the air cold and stuffy. The escalator leading to the subway flashed a “No Entry” sign. On either side was an advertisement for a fashion magazine, the same actress’s face covering the entire wall, with her metallic fingernails and lips shining faintly. In the center of the hall was a turntable with an orange Beetle convertible, and a nearby sign said that customers who spent over 2,000 yuan could enter a drawing to win it. The security guard’s footsteps echoed in all directions, as if several people were moving in the darkness.
Other than that, the place was eerily quiet.
Chu Zihang moved slowly along the wall, nearing the subway turnstile, when he heard voices ahead.
“Isn’t it time they replaced this ad?”
“They’ll change it at the end of the month. You clean the dust off the glass. I’ll sweep the floor over there. Then we can play a game of chess.”
Chu Zihang saw two janitors cleaning an advertisement lightbox in the reflection of the marble wall. The shutter gate behind them was down and locked. To move forward, he would have to cut through the gate.
Chu Zihang began to doubt his judgment. So far, he hadn’t reported this matter to the college, as the conclusion seemed too strange. No matter how eerie the subway station looked at night, it was still an artificial tunnel less than fifty years old. Many of the workers who built the system were still alive, and people came and went daily—if there were truly something abnormal, there was no reason it wouldn’t have been noticed. There were always staff on duty at the station at night, like the two janitors he saw earlier. If there were an empty train running, they would surely notice.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and a new message came in: “Dear user, hello, this is a reminder from Mobile Secretary that you have a lunch appointment at 12:00 with Xia Mi. Please schedule your time accordingly.” Chu Zihang hadn’t signed up for any mobile secretary service—the sender was Xia Mi. It was probably just her fooling around before going to bed.
Chu Zihang hesitated for a moment, then turned around and retraced his steps. Time wasn’t yet that urgent. According to Xia Mi, Caesar’s group was still spending time with their girls. Tonight, he could write a complete report for Professor Schneider, make all the necessary preparations, and go to Xia Mi’s house for lunch the next day, before continuing to investigate the source of the vibrations along the subway lines.
He had even bought clothes to wear to lunch at Xia Mi’s house; they were hanging in the hotel closet. He was someone who always kept his promises. These days, his schedule had been nothing but modeling calculations and calculating models—except for one thing: “Lunch at Xia Mi’s house.”
It was the lone rock in the stream.
He slipped past the Beetle, quietly walked up the steps, and the fluorescent lights cast shadows on the marble floor. He heard the torrential rain pounding on the roof.
He suddenly paused, standing still. Wangfujing Station was on the second underground level, and the Oriental Plaza shopping mall was on the first underground level. He was on the steps between the first and second underground levels, so even if there was a downpour outside, the roof above him shouldn’t be getting rained on. The “birthmark” on his shoulder blades felt like it was burning, and the sound of the security guards’ footsteps seemed to be rushing away at high speed, as if they were running to escape this space. The fluorescent lights flickered, and the air was filled with the buzzing of electric currents. Chu Zihang slowly turned around. The turntable had started rotating again, but now it held the scarred Maybach instead of the Beetle.
It was back, like a ghost returning according to some secret pact.
Chu Zihang reached into the tennis bag and gripped the handle of the sacred blade, Murasame. At that moment, water started leaking from above, cold rain pouring in from all directions, flowing calmly along the marble floor, forming small waterfalls on the steps. Chu Zihang wiped the rain off his face and, carrying the black case, slowly walked down.
He could hear the sound now—a rumbling from deep underground, the sound of tracks vibrating.
Lu Mingfei clung to the railing, cautiously inching downward, looking around.
This subway station was deathly silent—at least it was just silent. If a ticket inspector were to suddenly jump out now, Lu Mingfei wouldn’t rush to them like a lifeline but instead would be scared out of his wits, probably kneeling on the ground and begging, “Spare me, good sir!”
He was indeed in an emotional slump, feeling no interest in life, but that was still different from actually “wanting to die.” When he saw the blue mist pouring in from all directions, his first thought was that the Japanese cult leader, Asahara, was still alive and had returned to release poison gas again. Righteous indignation rose in his heart, but then… he ran away in a panic. There was no exit, and all the paths led to the platform. He had arrived at the place where Zhao Menghua had been.
He was not as clueless as Zhao Menghua! He immediately pulled out his phone to call for help—it wasn’t broken, and it had power! But damn it, as a broke guy… he was out of credit.
The saying “A soldier dies before achieving his goal” probably described this kind of misfortune, right?
He made his way to the platform and quickly hid behind a pillar. The ground was trembling, and bright lights were shining from the depths of the tunnel. A train pulled into the station, its wheels screeching on the rails. It stopped in front of Lu Mingfei. The carriage had a square head, painted in red and white, with a sign reading “Heishitou—Bawangfen.” If Lu Mingfei had a bit of historical knowledge, he would know that this train had never existed. Beijing’s subway Line 1 runs from Pingguoyuan to Sihui East, and many years ago, Sihui Station used to be called Bawangfen Station. Back then, the section from Fuxingmen to Bawangfen was called the “Fuba Line,” but the name was changed quickly. Even then, it never reached the hidden station at the westernmost point, “Heishitou.”
The train door opened, revealing a pitch-black interior.
Luckily, Lu Mingfei wasn’t someone who relied on knowledge—anyone with a bit of common sense would know that this ghostly train was not to be boarded!
The train seemed dead set on picking up Lu Mingfei. Since he refused to get on, it simply stayed there.
But Lu Mingfei was even more stubborn—he was determined not to get on, and in the end, he just sat against the pillar, ready to outlast it.
In this kind of standoff, Lu Mingfei was absolutely confident. Whether it was ten or twenty minutes later, the subway train finally closed its doors and slowly left, disappearing into the dark tunnel. Lu Mingfei looked around, and then carefully climbed down from the platform, crouching low and moving along the tracks, heading into the tunnel.
“Little White Rabbit seems to have a bit of wits!” Chips pointed at the surveillance screen, showing his gradually receding figure.
“That wit is just like a railroad guerrilla’s wit!” Mai looked a bit displeased.
“Railroad guerrillas fought against your Japanese devils,” Chips reminded her kindly.