Leyenda del pueblo de Baima

Capítulo 10

"Ah, no, not yet." I have absolutely no interest in writing right now.

"Damn, I thought you were writing an article. Sigh, I'm doomed for the editor's meeting later. I won't be able to come up with a single topic. Want to have dinner together?"

"No need, I'll order the food."

After sending Lu Chuan away, I reread "Na Duo's Notes: From the Ancient Times" in front of me.

Harbin Rongjie Trading Company?

Marketing Manager Wang Liang...

In the first entry, "A Lost Night in Na Duo's Diary," Xu Xian has already moved abroad. In the second entry, "The Covered Boat in Na Duo's Diary," Xiao Zhang, although we haven't been in contact, as described in the diary, boarded a ghost ship with someone's help, and naturally disappeared from this world forever. That person was certainly not me, because I wasn't "targeted" by Xiao Zhang, nor did I participate in that news interview.

So what about Wang Liang in this journal entry?

I picked up the phone, first dialed Harbin's area code 0451, and then dialed 114 for information.

What phone number do you need to look up?

Harbin Rongjie Trading Company.

"Please wait a moment."

Is it "Sorry, this unit is not registered" or...?

A few seconds later, a different standard voice came through the receiver. When I heard the word "please" in "please record," I couldn't help but smile.

"Please record, 6******3."

I wrote down the number, glanced at my watch, and realized it was past midnight; calling now would likely get no response.

"Who ordered the food?" The takeout I'd been waiting for finally arrived.

"Here, here." I called over the takeout and paid. This place makes pretty good twice-cooked pork rice.

I woke up too early today, and after eating, my blood went back to my stomach, so I naturally felt sleepy. I slumped onto the table, adjusted myself into a comfortable position, and drifted off to sleep.

I woke up several times, but this kind of sleep was only light sleep. The last time I woke up, I felt pretty much done, and when I looked at the clock, it was 1:40 PM. I stretched and dialed the number for Harbin Rongjie Trading Company.

Dial 0 and you'll be transferred to the operator: "Please transfer to Wang Liang."

"Wang Liang? I'm sorry, we don't have anyone by that name here."

I had already thought of this. There are examples of Xu Xian being written as Feng Lide, and Wang Liang this time may also be using an alias.

"Oh, I might be mistaken. May I ask who your marketing manager is...?"

"It's Wang Xiang, I'll transfer it to you."

"Hello, I'm Wang Xiang." It was a loud-voiced man from Northeast China.

"Hello, I'm Na Duo, a reporter from the Shanghai Morning Star. I'd like to ask you about something."

I paused for a moment. Asking so directly would be presumptuous. If he wasn't Wang Liang at all and had never bought that brain-like monster, he would definitely think I, a reporter, was out of my mind. Fortunately, having done so many presumptuous things as a reporter, I had developed a thick skin. After a slight pause, I continued, "Excuse me, did you buy a strange thing two years ago?"

"You mean..." Wang Xiang didn't deny it outright. His tone was as if he had a collection of strange items and didn't know which one I was referring to.

I already had a pretty good idea of what was going on. It seemed that the relevant record in that journal was pretty much accurate: "It was an unidentified object that looked like a brain, which originally belonged to a man named Wang Jie."

"How...did you know?"

"Do you still have that thing? I might know what it is." I didn't answer Wang Xiang's question because I hadn't yet thought about what kind of lie to tell.

"How could that be? I've already had it tested by many institutions, but there's still no result." Wang Xiang's tone was very surprised, but he lowered his voice, as it wasn't appropriate to discuss such a matter in the company.

"If it's convenient, I'll come to Harbin in a couple of days." Saying this, I felt a pang of regret. Although a reporter's income isn't meager, I'm always running around for various things, and I can't get reimbursed, so I haven't saved much money yet. This can't go on. If any organization like X gets involved in something in the future, I'll have to find a way to get some money from them as operating expenses. I've already done several unpaid jobs for them.

"..." There was silence on the other end of the phone. If Wang Xiang was indeed a very curious and straightforward person, as described in that diary, then my sudden appearance as a mysterious figure must be quite a temptation for him.

"I'm going on a business trip to the Jiangsu and Zhejiang area the day after tomorrow, so I can take some time to come to Shanghai." Curious people are always more likely to trust others.

This is the result I wanted most. Not only does it save on travel expenses and avoid having to ask for leave from the newspaper, but more importantly, it addresses the styrene spill area in the East China Sea that is still far from being completely cleaned up. This is a crucial step in verifying Omba's abilities. If the test were conducted in Harbin, Omba wouldn't be able to return to the styrene spill area in the East China Sea. Furthermore, if Omba truly possesses intelligence, it wouldn't react at all to water. As for what kind of monster Omba will eventually become, I'm not worried at all. This differs from "Na Duo," the author of "Na Duo's Notes: From Ancient Times." I believe there are already many monsters in the world. With another powerful intelligent creature appearing in the ocean, how will the original ocean rulers, the underwater people, react?

I exchanged contact information with Wang Xiang, and spent the next few days waiting.

I still couldn't get in touch with Liang Yingwu. Ye Tong contacted me several times, and I didn't hide it from her, so there was one more person waiting.

We recently got a satellite TV installed at home, a private installation, which suddenly brought a whole bunch of Taiwanese channels. Even though I don't usually watch TV, I've become a big fan of the radio. Taiwanese variety shows are incredibly diverse, and even the news is much more entertaining than what we have here. The study of the paranormal in Taiwan is much more open than on the mainland. They can invite all sorts of strange and unusual things, some experts whose claims are debatable, to discuss them openly. Every Saturday night at 11 pm, there's a show I almost always watch: ETTV's "Ghost Stories." The producers carefully select places supposedly plagued by paranormal phenomena, like haunted houses, and arrange for some daring audience members to experience them firsthand at night, then film the various strange sights. In addition, there are ghost sightings where people share their personal experiences, accompanied by music, which sends chills down my spine, even though I've experienced far more dangerous and bizarre situations. This fear of the unknown is innate in humankind.

This Saturday, I watched "Ghost Stories" alone at home as usual. The show ended at midnight. Today, the adventurers went to a dance hall that had burned down years ago, killing many people. As usual, the adventurers screamed in terror after being alone for a few minutes, and the footage from the unmanned infrared cameras flashed by in a blurry way. Watching a show like this is definitely bad for my sleep; lying in bed with the lights off, countless thoughts pop into my head. Fortunately, Wang Xiang will be arriving in Shanghai tomorrow, and thinking about how things will develop, I quickly forgot about the show I just watched.

These past few days, I've been constantly replaying the entire event in my mind, from the moment I saw the first copy of Na Duo's journal until now. This replay helps me better grasp the core of the event. The whole thing has dragged on for too long, so I'm condensing and fast-forwarding it in my mind. The seemingly unrelated clues, after so many repeated "replays," seem to be vaguely beginning to extend their tendrils and intertwine. That's not entirely accurate, because I still can't clearly piece together the whole picture, but I can already feel that there are indeed transparent spiderwebs entwined between the various clues.

It's unbelievable that Liang Yingwu has disappeared at such a crucial moment. I really wanted to rely on his analytical skills.

Upon further reflection, something else came to mind. In all three entries, Wang Xiang and Xu Xian used pseudonyms, but Liang Yingwu used his real name and even revealed the X organization. What's the reasoning behind this? Was this blatant and unvarnished approach meant to specifically point out something? Because if there were any taboos, it should be the X organization that should be concealed, not Wang Xiang and Xu Xian!

Tomorrow, Wang Xiang will bring Omba. If that thing really does turn into clean water and end up in the sewers, then begins to engulf the styrene-contaminated areas of the East China Sea, what will happen next? I've only confirmed the authenticity of three journal entries. What does this incredible prediction signify? It seems I'm still lacking a driving force to propel the entire process forward.

What is the driving force? Is it a genuine lack of motivation, or... an unwillingness to face it?

What was that force that nearly devoured me that I encountered in the Writers' Association compound that day?

Was that a warning? Was it a warning I received because I had discovered something?

Such a silent, traceless, and undetectable power, which plunged me into an abyss while those nearby remained completely unaware, was a dark magic I had never encountered before, nor even heard of.

That day's experience left such a deep impression on me; the feeling of almost being overwhelmed was awful, so much so that I've been subconsciously avoiding confronting it ever since. Now, lying in bed with my eyes closed, I'm beginning to relive what happened.

It was a sense of unreality about the whole world; all the vibrant colors faded in an instant, and all one's senses gradually became ineffective...

The memory is so vivid that when I think back on it now, I feel as if I'm right there again, the air around me so heavy I can't breathe.

I can't breathe.

The whole world fell silent; even the low hum of the air conditioner could be heard.

My heart was pounding, and my sixth sense was strongly signaling danger to me.

But I couldn't move. No matter how much I struggled, I couldn't control my limbs.

This wasn't a nightmare, but... that power attacked me again.

It's not in the Writers' Association compound, but in my own home, that it's dragging me into an abyss once again.

The feeling of gradually drifting away from this world enveloped me again. But I was powerless to stop it. All my resistance and struggle were in vain. I had no idea how I escaped from the Writers' Association compound that day. My mind began to fade away little by little.

"Ring ring ring ring..."

The phone suddenly rang. The ringing sound was like a sharp blade, piercing through all obstacles to reach my ears. I clearly felt that inexplicable strength suddenly weaken. My struggle began to manifest in my limbs; my hands and feet could move again, and although there was still resistance, I frantically paddled, trying to grasp something, trying to drive something away.

The ringing continued, the force began to recede, and my hands grew stronger and stronger. Suddenly, I bumped into the bedside table, which I pushed so hard that it tipped over, scattering the telephone, glass, alarm clock, and a whole bunch of other things on the floor with a loud crash in the night.

The power seemed startled and suddenly withdrew, all the restraints disappeared, and I immediately opened my eyes, only to find complete darkness.

I could hear a sound coming from the phone receiver that had fallen to the ground, but I had no strength left. All my strength had been used up in the struggle.

But the sense of crisis in my heart had not passed. Could it be that the power was still lingering in this room?

I was still in shock and uncertainty when I suddenly heard a roar. I can't describe what kind of sound it was. The sound suddenly rang out in the room, and the whole air seemed to vibrate. I had never heard such a sound before, but I had a feeling that it was like a ferocious beast letting out an unwilling roar.

The sound gradually faded, and the sense of crisis in my heart subsided. The trembling of the space in front of me stopped. Yes, it was the space itself that was trembling, not the air I had initially thought it was, but the space itself. Even in the darkness, I was almost certain of it.

I don't know how long I lay in bed; the "hello, hello" sound from the phone on the floor had stopped. I was drenched in sweat and completely exhausted.

When I recovered a little, I struggled to get up, turned on the light, and picked up the bedside table. The floor was a mess.

The teacup was broken, but thankfully I'd already drunk most of the water. An opened pack of biscuits that'd fallen from the bedside table had spilled out, and three or four soda crackers were soaking in the water. The telephone stand was also chipped, but it wasn't worth much anyway. Thankfully, the alarm clock was still ticking.

After I had mopped the floor and tidied everything up, I remembered to check the caller ID and found it was Liang Yingwu's phone.

Press the back button, and the bell only rang halfway before Liang Yingwu answered.

"How are you? What happened?" Liang Yingwu had obviously guessed that something had happened to me.

"I'm fine now, but... there are a few things..." I answered honestly. I don't like to show off, and besides, even if what just happened hadn't happened, I would indeed need Liang Yingwu's help.

"I'm on my way. We'll talk when I get there."

I couldn't help but feel a little moved. Liang Yingwu sometimes seemed very businesslike, cold and indifferent, but if he truly considered you a friend, he would definitely go to great lengths for you.

When I opened the door for Liang Yingwu, his gaze lingered on my face for three seconds, probably somewhat surprised that my complexion hadn't fully recovered yet.

I made myself some hot tea that Liang Yingwu had brewed, and then sat on the fabric sofa in the living room. I told Liang Yingwu the whole story, from when I received the second notebook to the strange phenomenon in the Writers' Association compound, and then to the terrifying experience just now.

Liang Yingwu lit a cigarette and listened without saying a word, staring at the changing smoke, seemingly lost in thought.

I listened especially attentively when I recounted the return of that mysterious force.

I know this is the key point, so I'm trying to explain my feelings in as much detail as possible, without any personal judgment, so as not to influence him. To be honest, even if I were to make my own judgment, I wouldn't be able to articulate a valid reasoning.

After hearing this, Liang Yingwu stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and stood up to walk towards my bedroom.

"You don't mind if I visit your bedroom, do you?" Liang Yingwu said, turning on the bedroom light.

I grunted; this kid was asking a question he already knew the answer to.

Liang Yingwu turned on the light but didn't enter the bedroom. This certainly wasn't out of consideration for my privacy; given our current relationship, I hadn't really intended to hide anything from him. He was observing the situation inside the bedroom.

He was doing something I myself had never done before: investigating the scene, trying to find clues about that mysterious force.

I wasn't unaware of the importance of doing this. The reason I didn't do it before Liang Yingwu arrived was because I had a gut feeling that the power was truly elusive, and that it would be absolutely impossible to discover anything from such a post-incident review.

"What are you still looking at? I've already destroyed the scene." I said with a wry smile.

My bedroom is laid out clearly. In the roughly ten-square-meter room, a six-foot bed takes up half the space, along with a five-drawer chest, a wardrobe, and a bedside table. The only space left for movement is a narrow, L-shaped area. The floor is still wet, and the sheets are a mess, the marks left from my struggle on the bed.

Both windows in the bedroom were closed. Because the air conditioner was on, I had even closed the door between the bedroom and the living room. Liang Yingwu walked to the window, examined it carefully, and then turned to me. I gave him a look that said, "I haven't moved; it's always been like this."

"When you recovered, the door was closed? Didn't you hear the door close?" Liang Yingwu asked.

I spread my hands in response.

“It looks like no one was here just now,” Liang Yingwu said.

"To be precise, no known large creatures entered my bedroom just now."

“If this power is the same one I encountered in the Writers' Association compound, then everyone else in the office back then was fine, and only I sensed it. It would be strange if you discovered something here today. However, I thought I would be fine once I left the Writers' Association compound, but I didn’t expect it to be unrestricted by location,” I added.

Liang Yingwu sat back on the living room sofa and lit another cigarette.

I stood leaning against the bedroom door frame, looking at Liang Yingwu. After a slight hesitation, I said, "Of course, there is another possibility that cannot be ruled out, which is that I have a mental problem and all of this is my hallucination."

Liang Yingwu looked up at me, and after a long silence, he finally shook his head.

“No, you’ve been through so much, your mental fortitude far surpasses that of ordinary people. How could you possibly have a problem for no reason? Besides…” Liang Yingwu took out his phone and pressed a few buttons: “You know, my phone is specially made by the X organization. It looks like an ordinary product circulating in the market, but it actually has some other convenient functions.”

A strange sound suddenly came from Liang Yingwu's phone. I was jolted. It was clearly the last sound that had suddenly rang out in the room. Although the volume was much lower and it didn't have that oppressive feeling that filled the room, there was no doubt that it was the same roar.