Chapter Twenty-Six: The Past, Myself, and the Present

As he said, Zhang Lan's identity was far from ordinary. The same went for his parents. They were not dead, only sunk in a deep slumber. The so-called “specters” were entities they could not perceive, so how could he state so certainly that the specters had disappeared? Perhaps they knew more about Zhang Lan than anyone realized... He was right.

Chen Qing sighed. It was as though the only real thing in his world was himself. He shook his head, muttering to himself, “But I am just an ordinary person...”

He had claimed to have seen Chen Qing, yet there was no trace of him in Chen Qing’s memory.

Who am I, really...?

He tried to recall his past, feeling the tangible sensations returning from his limbs, a bitter smile on his lips as memories flashed before his eyes.

Fifteen years ago, his parents took him south for a vacation, but their journey was marred by a thunderstorm, and their flight crashed. Though both parents survived without serious harm and Chen Qing remained healthy, the trauma of the storm and the crash was not so easily erased.

From then on, his parents were in and out of hospitals every other day, undergoing surgeries throughout the year.

In June of the following year, Chen Qing's father passed away, leaving behind three properties and a mother and son. In December, his mother died as well, her estate placed under the care of a special trust.

By February, the aftereffects of the thunderstorm seemed to manifest within him; his physical capabilities soared, his logical reasoning expanded enormously. He could grasp most advanced mathematics and master a new language in a single month.

But as time went on, Chen Qing began to doubt this strange situation.

His acquisition of “knowledge” did not resemble learning. It was not a process of going from zero to one, but more like reviewing something he already knew. He didn’t need to understand these things — he already did.

The seventeenth time he solved a physics equation at first glance, he simply closed his mouth.

“Sorry, I don’t know how to do this problem.”

That’s what he said that day, and every time after, whenever questioned.

“Maybe this is just my gift.”

Privately, he told himself the same thing.

But was this really a gift?

He watched the son his aunt and uncle had raised, who learned things at a normal pace, and frowned. He looked at the curly-haired relatives under the same roof, at old photos of his parents and himself, their bodies slightly bent forward. He saw the double eyelids that ran in the family. Who were they, truly?

He pondered for a long time, and when faced with the choice between a DNA test and leaving on his own, he chose the latter.

The next February, he completed most practical courses in physics and chemistry, but his doubts about his own identity only grew.

He investigated his parents’ backgrounds, returning to their graves. They had been top students at prestigious universities, busy from a young age. But why would such people suddenly take their whole family south?

He didn’t think it was a simple matter.

That night, he opened the coffin and found it empty. Perhaps a groundhog had burrowed through, as the hollow underneath seemed to suggest. But he didn’t examine the hole.

In March, he reviewed his father’s medical records. Surgeries that could have been done in a short time were instead spread out over most of a year.

He thought long and hard, but ultimately buried his doubts deep inside. After all, the world didn’t have so many mysteries, nor so many people plotting against him.

For the first half of his life, he had always believed that.

“But things are different now... Now the world is full of villains, so many shadows waiting to tear a piece of flesh from me.”

He sighed and unfolded the envelope in his hands.

“No. 48, Basement 1, Northwest Road, opens at 2 a.m. Knock three times on the street’s ornamental tree to enter.”

On the first line, he’d marked the location of a so-called “Nightclub.”

“Task received on September 7, 1960: Seek proof of the death of Elden’s specter — task complete.

After entry, find the third bartender from the right and submit the mission item.

Payment has been included by the employer.”

The next line read: “Elimination target: Investigator, notoriously famous. Upon killing him, extract B-1930 from his brain.

He is me — another me created by a containment object.

But he is not the same as me; he is another self, tangible and distinct from the others...

He must die, or everything will be ruined by him.

Abilities held: Duplication, rapid regeneration, fixed-point teleportation, thought reading.”

Chen Qing shook his head at the letter’s contents — decades-old information, probably doubled by now.

He kept reading. The fourth line was about the person he needed to protect.

“I have a niece... or perhaps she’s a niece; she has a unique birthmark in the shape of a triangle on the back of her neck. If she’s dead, then protect her descendants. Guard her for three years and let her experience two extraordinary events.

If convenient... I hope you can take her along for some of the simpler Nightclub missions.”

He sighed; the rest was useless information — the investigator rank distribution at the Nightclub and the divisions among various factions.

At least, with this information, when he turned in the mission, he wouldn’t be completely blind and die inside the Nightclub...

He sighed again, pressing the phone at his bedside, which had been charging for hours. It was already dusk, and though he was famished, he didn’t have the strength to go out for food.

As he hesitated, the lock on his rental apartment clicked.

It wasn’t the sound of a lock being picked, but a key turning in the mechanism.

“Chen Qing?”

Her voice came from outside the door, and Chen Qing, who had half-sat up, relaxed and lay back down.

“How did you get a key to my place?”

He frowned at Jiang Wan as she entered.

“I got it from the landlady. She saw me in uniform and didn’t even ask why I needed it.”

With food in her mouth, she dropped a box of takeout on the table.

“Damn... that old lady...” He pinched his brow, exasperated.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she laughed, changing the subject. “I’m starving. I came straight here after filing my report. Come on, eat!”

Hearing this, Chen Qing glanced at the food on the table. Seeing Jiang Wan had already started eating, he took his own box to the kitchen and transferred it to his own bowl.

“What’s this? Clean freak? Even switching to your own bowl.”

Chen Qing gave a strange smile and explained, “Just making sure you didn’t poison me. Gotta test for toxins first.”

Despite the joke, he sat down at the table and began to eat.

Halfway through dinner, Jiang Wan wiped her mouth and, curiosity piqued, asked what had happened in the Backrooms.

“What happened in there? Why did you take so much longer to leave than I did?”

He countered with a question: “When you left... what was it like?”

She frowned, but answered first: “I saw a path. Walked about ten meters forward and was back at the school.”

“When I opened my eyes, I was standing on the path behind Fourth High’s hill.”

He nodded and began to answer her original question. “You left in the wrong way.”

“The wrong way?!” Her eyes widened in fear.

“Yes, but it’s not a big deal. The rules in that Backroom aren’t that strict. In fact, a wrong code just kicks you out early. The right code takes you to the next round, that’s all — so it took me longer.”

Jiang Wan hesitated, a bit frustrated. “Why did I get it wrong?”

“Because it’s a world in the mirror. Everything is divided by two.

So you have to double the number of pillars, too.”

Jiang Wan was stunned. “But up ahead—”

“Up ahead, we were attacked by half as many entities.

Because they were divided by two.

The final round, they were a single entity, so you didn’t notice them.”

Her face turned pale as she listened. She remembered, when she looked up at the sky, there had only been herself and Chen Qing.

“Yes, just the two of us,” he said with a smile. “There’s not much else to say about what happened. Someone built that Backroom to pass on a message, and the message is with me. Since it was made with anomalous objects, there was no altar. I solved the last puzzle, and it ended.”

She was still pale, but Chen Qing’s words piqued her interest. “The message? What message?”

He shook his head and answered, “Just the dying words of a man at the end of his life. He gave me an address. We can check it out tomorrow night.”

“At night?” she frowned, surprised.

“In broad daylight? You think that fits people in our line of work?” Chen Qing shot her a look. “It’s lucky enough we don’t wear Taoist hats and walk on clouds. What more do you want? Show some respect for our profession, will you?”

She cocked her head but had no counter. Thieves...

Well, not thieves, exactly. People who did this kind of work preferred not to be seen.

Going out at night was only natural.

“But why tomorrow?” she asked, puzzled.

Chen Qing rolled his eyes. “Look at you, still in uniform. Don’t scare everyone off. Besides...”

He hesitated, then replied, “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I really am.”

“If you’re really tired, I’ll stand guard while you sleep! Personal bodyguard, you know. You can even reward yourself and I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”

He clicked his tongue.

After a moment’s hesitation, he actually lay down and began to rest.

But who was he? He was Chen Qing, after all.

Was he the kind of man who’d be outdone by a young woman?

At midnight, after actually sleeping for six hours, Chen Qing’s eyes opened. He looked around the moonlit room.

“Tch. People these days, eat and don’t bother to clean up after themselves.”