L'agent insensé

Chapitre 3

I woke up so early that day that I went to bed early. I had originally planned to go to the hospital, but since many people wanted to visit Lin Cui, I didn't go in the end.

I went there the next day precisely because I wanted to avoid crowds, but I didn't expect to see a room full of people there, of course, it was Professor Yu and his colleagues from the other research institutes. I almost thought they had been arguing since last night... right now.

Almost everyone spoke, but it was clear that opinions were divided: Lin Cui's side and everyone else's. If this had happened in another situation, I think I would most likely have sided with Lin Cui—I've always preferred to support the minority viewpoint since middle school debates, but in this case…

Lin Cui maintained the same argument as yesterday: Tie Niu was already recovered in 1992, and those who say he was only recovered now are distorting the truth and covering up the facts for some inexplicable reason... Everyone else is just testifying for others and themselves, trying to convince Lin Cui that no one has any reason to carry out such a conspiracy.

I have no choice but to say there's nothing I can do to help.

Just as I was hesitating about whether and when to go up and say hello, Lin Cui noticed me. But at that moment, she didn't care about anything else and only wanted to confirm the facts she remembered. When she saw me, her first thought was to "bring me over as a witness".

"Na Duo! You tell us! On your first day interviewing Sui Xiu, we even took a group photo next to the iron ox. Show them the photo!"

Good heavens! What does this even mean?!

"This can't go on, her problem needs to be addressed..." A buzzing whisper came from behind me, grating on my ears, but that was exactly what I was thinking. I silently opened my backpack and took out a film bag.

Seeing my actions, Lin Cui wore an expectant expression, as if she were waiting for the "truth to come out." She said, "I really don't understand the point of you lying. There's a limit to joking with me. You can all say the same thing inside the station, but you're helpless when someone from outside comes!"

"See for yourself." I tried to keep my tone serious but not cold. "This is the only photo we've ever taken together."

The air seemed to freeze—this is a common description in literature—and I imagine that was the situation at the time.

"Liar!" The sound that broke the silence was, as expected, a loud shout.

"Liar, liar, liar!" Lin Cui seemed hysterical, her eyes twitching as she looked at the film negative in the sunlight.

"Are you saying that this photo should have included me, you, and Tie Niu?" I asked tentatively.

"Yes!" To my surprise, she actually answered that. "It's fake! It's fake!"

The buzzing behind us grew louder.

I tried to remain calm. If this were a digital camera, I could fake it. But this is film. I can't fake it in such a short time. "At this point, I believe the only way is to patiently reason with her using irrefutable facts, rather than emphasizing her various fallacies and deviations. Treating someone in an abnormal state as if they were perfectly normal will only benefit her recovery; conversely, making a fuss will only have the opposite effect."

As expected, Lin Cui fell silent. Although she was still trembling, she no longer seemed intent on arguing with everyone. The buzzing stopped, and everyone watched Lin Cui deep in thought.

Like most people, I have never experienced waking up to find that everything is different from what I remember, but I know that feeling must be extremely painful, as if I have been abandoned by the world.

Lin Cui finally started tapping her head gently with her wrist. I waited for the right moment to grab her, confident that I could be natural and poised even with so many people behind me.

"Okay, take a rest and don't think too much." I gently stroked her head, not caring if the gesture wasn't "natural" enough. "Everything will be alright. Get some sleep, and everything will be fine."

The reality is, of course, not so simple. Getting a patient to sleep is easy; it's not so easy for those watching over them to feel at ease. Outside the ward, almost everyone is listening to the doctor describe the patient's condition.

The doctor's spiel was exactly the same as what you see on TV: "The patient's mental state is still unstable," "She may have suffered a head injury," "We need to observe her further," "Let's do a CT scan," "Right now, we can only give her some mood-regulating medication," and so on. It was all empty rhetoric and utterly unoriginal.

Although I could be a little "reckless" in the ward, I knew I shouldn't get too involved once I got back outside. Even though Lin Cui has no relatives, it's best to leave things here to her colleagues.

The interview could have ended that day—Tie Niu had already been rescued, and although I had promised, at Mr. Yu's request, to wait until the news was confirmed before publishing the article, I could have returned to Shanghai to wait for his message. However, since the publishing house had granted me five days, I was happy to make the most of it. Of course, I was also a little worried about Lin Cui.

The hospital's CT scan report stated that there was no brain damage, and the memory impairment was merely a functional issue, not an organic one. So, she was sent home the next day. Of course, the research institute didn't require her to come to work; even though she was physically fine, the others probably couldn't bear continuing to "confront" her.

The report on the iron ox came out almost simultaneously, confirming without a doubt that "the iron ox is indeed made of iron," and the dating test was also correct. It is definitely not modern, and may even be older than the Yuan Dynasty—but that doesn't matter, as the ancients may have used "ancient iron" to cast the auspicious iron ox for suppression. As for why it doesn't rust, only heaven knows.

People often use "only God knows" to explain things they don't understand or are unwilling to think about, as if saying this absolves them of any further concern and allows them to stop worrying. That's roughly what I meant when I said that, and I was even prepared to include a "questionable" statement in my report. Unexpectedly, the reality turned out to be "only I know."

My advice is that once something becomes "only I know," the best approach is to keep it to yourself and not try to convince more people. Of course, unless you intend to write it down, label it as "purely fictional," and be content with earning a few royalties.

Before leaving Dujiangyan, I planned to visit Lin Cui's home to say goodbye. Although I knew we wouldn't have many chances to meet again, her memory problems made me feel uneasy.

Following the address she gave me, I took a taxi to the residential area. The buildings were arranged in a strange way; I couldn't tell the order at all. They were probably built in phases at different times, and the buildings looked to be of varying ages. As I hesitated, I saw a little girl wearing a red scarf. Asking for directions from people of all ages is one of my habits.

"Little sister, do you know where Building 12 is?"

"Who are you looking for?" The little girl was still quite wary. I don't know what about me makes me look like a bad person.

"I'm looking for room 401, number 12."

"Are you looking for Aunt Lin?" It turned out she knew Lin Cui. "Come with me."

Most young women also live on the 12th floor. Seeing how helpful she was, my slight displeasure from earlier immediately vanished.

We still managed to exchange a few words in that short distance. I learned her name was Nuonuo. As for what kind of guesses a little girl might make about a strange man visiting her "Aunt Lin," or what kind of questions she might ask, you can imagine for yourself. I can tell you, this little girl was absolutely right.

When Lin Cui opened the door, I was genuinely startled. In just a few days, she had become so haggard. Seeing me, she managed a weak smile. Soon after, she noticed Nuonuo behind me.

"Nono, did you bring your uncle here?... Hey, why are you bleeding?"

"She fell." Only then did I notice the little girl's scraped knee. The wound wasn't big, and the small amount of blood had already clotted.

But Lin Cui looked very nervous: "Why aren't you fainting at the sight of blood anymore?"

"Shocked by blood?" Nono repeated the two words strangely. This tone reminded me of... yes, it was exactly the same tone Lin Cui used when she had just woken up and was repeating the "interview".

Seeing Lin Cui's brows furrow immediately, I quickly changed the subject: "What, can we only stand outside the door?" I thought to myself that Lin Cui not only remembered that Tie Niu had been pulled out of the water, but also remembered a little girl who was afraid of blood. Thankfully, she hadn't forgotten the house number.

Before sending Nuonuo away, Lin Cui was clearly restless, answering every question I asked tentatively. I think she might have something she wanted to say to me, but didn't want to argue with me in front of anyone else. It could only be about one thing—her memories.

I've always been fascinated by human memory. In university, I passed almost every exam by cramming in the days leading up to it, relying on my excellent memory. However, once the exam was over, just a few hours later, if asked about the course content, I would remember nothing. It's not a big deal, but thinking about it, it's strange: these memories truly existed somewhere in my brain, once vivid, accurate, and unmistakable—the exam papers are the best proof. Yet, they've vanished. To think they simply disappeared is absurd; the reasonable explanation is that they're dormant in some corner, waiting to awaken again one day in their true form. Occasionally, late at night, while rushing to finish a manuscript and drifting into a hazy, dreamlike state, a couplet from Jiang Yan's poetry suddenly comes to mind, even though just a second before, I thought the only poem I knew was "The bright moonlight before my bed"—and I had to remind myself that the next one wasn't "Two pairs of shoes on the floor."

The memory distortion Lin Cui is experiencing now presents me with a valuable opportunity for observation—though it sounds harsh, I genuinely have this thought. Memory is perhaps what journalists should be most concerned with. Journalists, who often use pens and keyboards to record truth and falsehood, are curious to know what will remain in people's memories years later. Of course, there are journalists who don't consider these things at all, but in my mind, these people don't qualify as true journalists. However, discussing this issue isn't easy. After Nuonuo returned home, Lin Cui sat on the sofa, silent for a long time. It wasn't as if she was thinking about something, but rather as if she was daydreaming, letting time slip by. I guess I have to take the initiative.

"Tie Niu's report is out." I carefully observed Lin Cui's expression—which showed no signs of fluctuation—before continuing, "The size is truly astonishing."

"It is 3.63 meters long, 1.12 meters at its widest point, and 2.34 meters high, or 2.47 meters including the angles."

Lin Cui spoke calmly, but my eyes widened.

She was still turning her head to the side, but she clearly noticed my expression. "Iron Bull's standard data. You might ask why I remember it so clearly."

I nodded; I was sure she could see it.

"Because it's been on my lips for the past ten years."

This is the first time since Lin Cui "had memory problems" that I, a person with a sound memory, have been shocked.

There's no mistake. The dimensions of Tie Niu (the car's) were only available yesterday, by which time Lin Cui had already gone home to recuperate. She couldn't have found out from work. It's highly unlikely that any colleague or friend would specifically call her to tell her about "Tie Niu, which caused her memory lapse." Besides, I don't think Lin Cui is lying to me; the data she provided that she remembers must be accurate.

Could it be that brainwashing truly exists, capable of arbitrarily manipulating people's memories? If so, who is being brainwashed? Is it Lin Cui, or...? The ingrained belief that "truth lies in the hands of a minority" immediately made me feel uneasy. If memory manipulation had indeed occurred here, then modifying one person's memory would naturally be easier than modifying a group's. However, in terms of the content being modified, "erasing the existing memories" is far simpler and more logical than "creating something new out of thin air that also aligns with 'undiscovered' facts."

Thinking about this, I realized my thoughts had become somewhat muddled, or rather, my thinking itself wasn't flawed, but psychological fear prevented me from continuing in this direction. Of course, this "psychological analysis report" was something I did for myself afterward. The apparent reason that made me stop exploring this issue was quite simple: Lin Cui was already mentally unstable and emotionally disoriented, and I couldn't afford to get involved with her messing things up.

Thinking about it this way, it's natural to find a reasonable explanation for everything; it must be that a colleague told Lin Cui about the data on Tie Niu (as for why he/she did this, it's a mystery, but I don't intend to solve it), while Lin Cui said that she knew it ten years ago (as for whether she did this on purpose to deceive me or if she really had a problem with her brain, it's also a mystery, solving it... depends on whether it's feasible).

I composed myself and repeated to Lin Cui, in as calm a tone as possible, the guess that I had shared with Yu Jianguo: Because the part of our brain that manages memory can occasionally have minor problems, it can sometimes create the illusion that the first thing we encounter is something we've experienced many times before, or that the current event happened a long time ago.

When I began speaking, Lin Cui's expression turned disappointed upon hearing my "persuasive" tone. I ignored her, trying my best to project confidence. I even felt as if I were speaking to Lin Cui on behalf of human reason, and I had no reason not to be assertive. Tears welled up in Lin Cui's eyes, and her expression of profound injustice almost softened my heart, making me want to say, "Okay, I believe you. I believe everything you say." But reason told me that this wouldn't help her at all; it might even lead her deeper into her mistakes. So I could only try to maintain a balance between seriousness and kindness.

However, Lin Cui's disappointment quickly turned into despair. When I asked her, "Think carefully, Lin Cui, who told you the data? Did you answer the phone this morning?..." she could no longer contain her emotions and screamed hysterically, "You don't believe me either?! You think I'm crazy too?!"

I quickly explained, "That's not how it works. What I just described could happen to anyone... You know, the human brain is like a machine; it can malfunction a little. You recently had an injury, which might have affected it too..."

Before I could finish speaking, Lin Cui jumped up from the sofa and rushed into a door on the right side of the living room. I didn't even have time to see if it was her bedroom. I only saw a hole in the door, which must have been smashed by a fist. I had smashed my dorm room door while drunk in college, so I was familiar with this kind of mark. I just didn't expect Lin Cui to have such a violent side.

What happened next was like a scene from any soap opera. I gently knocked on the door, trying to persuade her, but to no avail. She wouldn't open it from the inside, repeatedly yelling, "Go away!" To be honest, I hadn't experienced anything like this since breaking up with my girlfriend from college. Logically, I should have just smiled and left; the host was hiding, so there was no reason for the guest to be so rude. But at that moment, I didn't know why, I was worried she might do something foolish. I continued knocking persistently until Lin Cui finally said to me in a calmer tone after she had finished crying, "...Compared to Na Duo, I want to be alone...I know what you said, don't worry, I'll be fine."

Under such circumstances, I certainly couldn't go looking for Taiping Axe, so I could only leave dejectedly, shouting, "Lin Cui, I'm leaving. Call me if you need anything," and slamming the iron gate shut so she could hear me.

On the train back to Shanghai, I tried to tell myself not to think about it too much, but perhaps because the train was too bumpy, I kept thinking about the pleasant feeling of boating on the river—maybe it's just because I haven't been on a riverboat for too long.

Chapter Three: Return to the Peak

On my way back to Shanghai, I finally boarded a riverboat, a dream come true. The ship sailed downstream, propelled by the turbulent currents of the upper Yangtze. After leaving Sichuan, the river widened and the current slowed. Standing on the deck, the river breeze caressed my face, intangible yet alluring and mysterious. At night, the sky was filled with stars, stretching as far as the eye could see, signifying the world's endlessness and incomprehensibility. Yet, this river breeze and water brought me no joy. Lin Cui's sorrow as I left was deeply etched in my heart—a despair and innocence born of being doubted by the entire world—why was she so innocent? Even if everyone proved her memory was wrong, she remained innocent. I felt the world suddenly split into two: the world of others, and her own. She had been detached from the world of others, left to fight against everyone alone. But the more likely explanation was simply that she had fallen into the water and developed amnesia. Why did I imagine it to be so mysterious? But where did the statement "3.63 meters long, 1.12 meters at its widest point, 2.34 meters high, and 2.47 meters including the angles" come from? Only when she said "3.63 meters long, 1.12 meters at its widest point, 2.34 meters high, and 2.47 meters including the angles" did she become so confident, sweeping away her original despair and innocence, her tone calm and brooking no argument.

well.

What happened?

Ever since leaving Lin Cui's house, I've been in a daze, basically in two states: one, I'm constantly thinking about Lin Cui; the other, I'm so tired I can't think of anything else. Good heavens, am I having unrequited love? If it were Yu Jianguo who fell into the water and was pulled out soaking wet, talking nonsense like a completely different person, I'd probably be laughing about it now, or using it as material for a column in the new *Oriental Morning Post*—they love this kind of chaotic stuff, anyway. Is it because Lin Cui fell into the water that I'm so preoccupied with this? Forget it, I've decided to stop thinking about it and find something to do.

Surprisingly, there was a place on the ship where I could rent novels, which was perfect for killing time. I borrowed a set of Huang Yi's *A Step into the Past*. Although I've read this book many times, I felt that its length was just right for filling the time on a trip. Besides, I like Huang Yi; he manages to create a unique and enjoyable story with his limited imagination. *A Step into the Past* is about a guy named Xiang Shaolong who is used as a test subject in a time machine experiment. He ends up being sent to the Qin Dynasty and can't return. However, he knows that a certain historical figure has a promising future as the First Emperor, so he tries to curry favor with Ying Zheng. I nestled under the cabin light and read *A Step into the Past*, becoming completely engrossed until sleepiness overcame me, and I fell asleep with the book over my face.

I had a dream where we were retrieving the Iron Ox again, and someone fell into the water. We pulled out a man who called himself Xiang Shaolong, and he told everyone, "It's 3.63 meters long, 1.12 meters at its widest point, and 2.34 meters high, or 2.47 meters including the angles." When I woke up and thought about the dream, I was secretly startled. I had some thoughts, but I was confined to the limited imagination of Mr. Huang Yi, and still couldn't come up with any constructive ideas.

I got back to Shanghai in the afternoon, and as soon as I got home, I called Yu Jianguo: "Mr. Yu, have you made any new discoveries about Tie Niu?"

"Oh, we have already invited relevant archaeological experts and established a special research group on the Iron Ox. At the same time, the most senior professor from Southwest University of Water Resources and Hydropower is also involved. As is customary, we will first collect all the information about the Iron Ox for background analysis, and a detailed research report will be released in a week or two."

"Even at that time, you still want me to publish exclusives."

"Of course, of course. When will the report on the salvage of Tie Niu be published?"

"It'll be this week. I'll send you the newspaper as soon as it's published."

"Hehe, thanks a lot."

"Oh, by the way, how is Lin Cui doing?"

"Well...sigh, the past two days, when the unit leaders went to visit her, she refused to see them, which made the leaders very embarrassed. Let her rest for a few more days. Don't think you're the only one who's worried; we're all worried too."

"Well, that's the only way... Let's get in touch again."

After hanging up the phone, I calmed myself down, made a cup of coffee, and decided to get the article out no matter what. When the final draft was completed, I briefly mentioned the annual maintenance as background, and titled it "The Iron Ox, Drifting for 12 Years, Slowly Rises." The article was full of dramatic ups and downs, and the several "sparkling" photos of the Iron Ox were very eye-catching. When I finished work at dawn, I wasn't sleepy because I had drunk four whole cups of coffee. I went out to get the morning paper from the mailbox and was very surprised to find a letter—I hadn't received such a high-class thing as a handwritten letter in almost ten years.

The envelope was signed "Lin Jian from Sichuan." It was actually from Lin Cui. I guess Lin Cui started writing soon after I left, which explains why both the letter and the letter arrived. The letter was quite long. In it, Lin Cui wrote down everything she remembered about the Iron Ox: its origins, some legends, research on the patterns on its horns, the identity of the person who made it, and records of that person in ancient texts, etc. "The Iron Ox was cast in the twelfth year of the Zhiyuan era. At that time, Sichuan was flooded, and the Dujiangyan Irrigation System was hanging by a thread. Emperor Kublai Khan personally went to the Imperial Ancestral Temple to pray to Heaven. The following month, it was said that black iron fell from the sky in Hanzhong. Emperor Kublai Khan ordered Wang Yuantai, the foremost craftsman of the time, to lead thousands of craftsmen to melt the black iron and mix it with five other metals to cast a 60,000-jin iron ox. At the same time, the Dujiangyan Irrigation System was extensively repaired. After the iron ox was completed, it was sunk in front of the Fish Mouth to serve as a permanent water diversion point. It is said that after the water ox was completed, Wang Yuantai sat beside the iron ox all day long, neither drinking nor eating, and then one day, he disappeared without a trace..." She said that, for some reason, she believed that if there was still one person in this world who believed in her, it was me. When I saw "this world," I was suddenly stunned. She had said something similar when I was at her house. At the end of the letter, she left her home phone number, saying that she hoped I would call her. After reading the letter, I grabbed the phone without thinking and dialed, only to hear, "The number you dialed does not exist. Please check the phone book." Suddenly, I remembered that phone numbers in Dujiangyan City are 7 digits, and Lin Cui had given me an 8-digit number in the letter. Furthermore, I clearly remember giving Lin Cui all my other contact information, except for my home address. I haven't given my address to anyone in Sichuan either, because I've never remembered my own lane number… How could Lin Cui, who got her own phone number wrong, so miraculously know my address?

I thought for a moment and then called Yu Jianguo again. I started by asking, "Mr. Yu, is there any new news about Tie Niu? Then my manuscript is finalized." Then I asked for Lin Cui's phone number.

Yu Jianguo gave me Lin Cui's phone number and said, "Last night, Xiao Cui's mother, who originally lived in Chongqing, heard that her daughter had some memory problems after falling into the water, so she rushed over from Chongqing overnight."

I said "Oh" and thanked Yu Jianguo. Yu Jianguo chuckled a few times and said you were welcome. After hanging up, I dialed Lin Cui's home number. The voice that answered was clearly Lin Cui's mother. She asked who I was looking for. I was silent for five seconds and then hung up.

Two days later, Yu Jianguo called me first, and the first thing he said was, "It's about Xiao Cui."

I asked, "What's wrong?"

Yu Jianguo said, "Xiao Cui was sent to a mental hospital this morning. It was her mother's idea. Her mother used to be a nurse and, based on her experience, determined that Xiao Cui's memory disorder was caused by excessive fright. We hope that she can recover after a period of treatment."

Yu Jianguo added, "Xiao Cui initially refused to go to the hospital no matter what, but later I called the hospital's care team and we took her in together. Staying there for a while should be good for her both physically and mentally."

I responded to Yu Jianguo twice, my mind filled with the image of Lin Cui and me gazing at the Yangtze River side by side, and my heart felt heavy. After a moment of silence, I realized I couldn't find a suitable response, so I could only say, "That's fine. Xiao Cui does have some problems; sending her there for treatment should be quite beneficial for her."

After hanging up the phone, I didn't sleep well that night. The scene of Lin Cui and I walking along the river that day kept replaying in my mind. The surging river, the proudly standing fish-mouth formation, Lin Cui imitating a leader's voice calling out, "Cuihua, go to the dam!"—all these images flashed before my eyes. I began to regret dialing Lin Cui's number and then hanging up that day. Now she was in the hospital, and I wanted to call her, but it was too late to reach her.

The report was very well received after its publication, and my article was rated as a first-class piece, earning me a 1,000 yuan bonus. From the editor-in-chief to the leaders of the social news department, everyone praised the article, saying I had a truly dedicated work ethic. They instructed me to continue following up on Tie Niu's story and to produce a series of follow-up reports. They emphasized that the follow-ups must be based on solid evidence; our *Morning Star* is a major newspaper, and we must maintain a rigorous approach to publishing, not sacrificing scientific rigor to satisfy readers' curiosity. Thanks to Yu Jianguo's connections, contacting him for the follow-ups was relatively easy, so I agreed.

A few days later, I made several phone calls to the research group responsible for studying the Iron Ox. Although the Dujiangyan Irrigation Bureau attached great importance to the study of the Iron Ox, as Yu Jianguo said, they even invited the chief professor from Southwest University of Water Resources and Hydropower. However, because the information about the Iron Ox was too scattered, it required consulting many documents to collect a complete set, so the research progress was very slow. A week later, I finally received the preliminary report on the research of the Iron Ox, which was sent to me by the research group via email. At first glance, I felt that the contents were familiar, and as I read on, I was increasingly surprised. The main information in this research report was all mentioned by Lin Cui in her letter to me that day. "The Iron Ox was cast in the twelfth year of the Zhiyuan era of the Yuan Dynasty. There was a great flood in Sichuan, and Kublai Khan personally went to the Imperial Ancestral Temple to pray to Heaven. The following month, black iron fell from the sky in Hanzhong, and Kublai Khan ordered the Jianghu blacksmith Wang Yuantai to cast an iron ox to divert the water... It is said that after the water ox was completed, Wang Yuantai sat beside the iron ox all day long, neither drinking nor eating, and then one day, he disappeared without a trace..."

I immediately called the water conservancy expert who sent me the email: "Hello, Professor Xu? This is Na Duo, a reporter from the Morning Star. Thank you very much for sending me the information, but I saw those documents a few days ago."

Professor Xu on the other end of the phone paused for a moment, then said in a slightly angry tone, "How could that be? Our data was absolutely freshly compiled. When we were compiling this data and going through the literature, many of the documents hadn't been looked at for over a decade. The cabinet doors that held these documents were so rusty that we had to pry them open. Don't try to trick me. Yu Jianguo has already spoken to me. The newspapers we give you will definitely be the first to publish it, giving you exclusive, first-hand reports."