Histoires de fantômes

Chapitre 217

I immediately drew my gun. The man was over two meters tall and very strong; using a gun would make it easier to subdue him. "Who are you? Stop—" In the dream, my language didn't seem strong enough. Perhaps subconsciously I was treating him like an ancient person speaking classical Chinese, so I deliberately slowed down my speech to make sure he could hear me.

He was fleeing rapidly forward, the long hem of his battle robe trailing on the ground.

I took off after him, gun raised and aimed at his knee: "Stop, I'm going to shoot—"

A strange floral fragrance wafted from all around, and before we knew it, we had entered a vibrant flower garden. All sorts of flowers were in full bloom, but I didn't recognize any of them; they were completely different from what I usually saw in flower shops.

I had already pushed my lightness skill to its limit, but I was still nearly twenty steps away from him and could no longer get close.

The sound of a guqin filled my ears, its melody melodious and varied, sometimes playing from a single instrument, sometimes as if thousands were playing together, the sound so harmonious and pleasing to the ear that it evoked feelings of sadness and exhilaration. The music seemed to come from all directions, and I felt as if I were in the "emperor's seat" of a high-class theater. The music flowed into my ears in a graceful and varied way, and I suddenly felt weak all over, my gun involuntarily drooping.

Another figure flashed before my eyes, and the gun was already in his hand. I had to tilt my head back forcefully to see his face, even though we were three steps apart.

His eyes weren't flat like in the painting, but rather had a strange, three-dimensional structure, like a composite of a transparent sphere and a cube displayed in a science museum. If that cube was his eyeball, it would rotate 360 degrees with every turn, incredibly flexible.

"What is this?" he asked, surprisingly speaking fluent Mandarin.

"Pistol, who are you? What are you..." The word "thing" was abruptly cut off in my throat. Even though the other party's appearance was far removed from that of a human, I shouldn't have used "thing" to describe him. Since he had a "human form," I should have used an equal human term of address.

"A pistol? A gun?" He held the gun in his palm, his eyes darting around in a series of rapid movements before suddenly shooting out two beams of light that enveloped the gun.

I took three steps back, gathering my strength to defend myself.

“I understand, it’s just a slightly more sophisticated weapon than a crossbow.” He pushed his hand forward, and the gun returned to my hand.

Apart from his eyes, his body and limbs are exactly the same as those of an Earthling, giving the impression of an ordinary person wearing a strange mask.

"Who are you?" I asked, realizing it was a question I'd never answer. Was he an alien? A god? A monster? A mountain spirit...? Maybe he was none of those things, just a mutated Earthling, like some people born with two heads or three arms—a rare exception among deformities.

He stared down at me, his cube-shaped eyes rolling and swirling. He paused, then mimicked my tone: "And you? Who are you?"

I ran my hand over the gun handle to make sure he hadn't tampered with it, then immediately stepped back and aimed the gun at his face.

He looked up in astonishment, as if pondering something, then looked down and asked urgently, "You want to kill me? But you are not them, so why do you have the same physique and thoughts as them? Where did you come from..." After this sentence, he uttered more than a dozen strange syllables, like the sharp and short highest note of an ancient zither.

I shook my head, focused my mind and steadied my wrist, making sure I could deliver all the bullets accurately into his head within seconds.

"Did you understand what I said?" He sat down on the spot and patted the ground next to him, gesturing for me to sit down as well.

I shook my head, and the gun barrel immediately tilted downwards, still pointing at his vital parts of his face.

“Listen to those voices. Some of them can understand them. You are more intelligent than them, so how could you not understand them?” He rubbed his hands in confusion.

He was still wearing a helmet, exactly the same as the one worn by the commanders in the Terracotta Army of Qin Shi Huang, with a red tassel dyed with yak blood on the tip. Two ribbons were sewn on the sides of the helmet, crossed and knotted tightly at his chin, as if he were about to charge into battle at any moment. But now they were in a quiet palace, and there was no need for such elaborate attire; he was exhausted.

"Them? Who are they? And who are you?" My mind was a little blank, partly because of the fragrance of flowers, and partly because of the omnipresent sound of the piano.

He extended his right ring finger and lightly drew a few lines on the ground, writing two words.

"I am 'Afang,' the Qin general Afang who struck fear into the hearts of the armies of Qi, Chu, Yan, Han, Zhao, and Wei. Here, that is my only identity. You are not one of them, so you don't know me, just as I don't know where you come from. Why is there that strange element in your body? Oh, let me think, they call it... it's called..."

Part Three: The Square-Eyed Monster, Chapter Nine: Drinking Together on a Cold Night, Heartbreakingly Melancholy

I understood every word he said, and I could also see the two characters "Afang" on the ground whose strokes were somewhere between large and small seal script, but I couldn't connect them to understand the whole thing yet.

General Afang of Qin? There is no record of this name in history. The most powerful general of the Qin Dynasty should have been Meng Tian.

“They call it the ‘flower of life,’ another name for it is ‘zinc.’ You have a lot of this stuff in your body, so your life limits and level of intelligence are significantly different from theirs. Why is that? It’s really strange. I’ve met tens of millions of people, and you are the only unique individual. Why…” He twisted his hands together tightly, his voice growing increasingly confused.

Of course I understand that zinc is a vital element that participates in the metabolic processes of many enzymes in the human body, and directly participates in the synthesis of nucleic acids and proteins, cell differentiation and proliferation, as well as many metabolic processes. It is an essential substance for important physiological processes such as human growth and development, reproduction and heredity, immunity and endocrine, nerves, and body fluids.

In simple terms, within a certain safe range, the higher the zinc content in the human body, the stronger the vitality and the more the body's potential will be stimulated.

That's not the important question. What I really want to know is where Suren went, or how he got to the palace through the tunnel.

"'They' refers to Earthlings. I don't know where you come from, just as you don't need to know where I come from. Where we come from is not important. The key question is, what should we do on this blue planet, what can we do, and what should the outcome be? You see, I'm trapped here now, unable to accomplish anything. At my starting point, there are many of my kind who are eagerly hoping that I can complete my mission. If I live, they will all die; if I die, they may have a chance to survive—but I just can't die. Don't you think that's pathetic?"

I was starting to lose track of what he was saying, so I raised my hand to interrupt him: "Regardless of who we are, have you seen a girl who barged in? Her name is Suren. Also, how do we get through the stone formation in the tunnel? Have you been here for over two thousand years...?"

He lowered his head, traced a few lines with his finger, and slowly shook his head: "No, her name isn't Suren, it's Tang Qing. Her image is recorded on the magnetic control board. Please follow me. As for the stone formation, it will come to you whenever you want, once you understand their voices… Actually, I've been waiting for you all along. Remember that golden egg…"

The sudden appearance of the name "Tang Qing" only made me more confused.

He suddenly stood up, strode past me, and walked deeper into the corridor.

I felt the air vibrate because he was moving so fast; it felt like a sharp blade slicing through the air. At his rapid speed, air resistance was almost negligible.

I turned around quickly, and he was already thirty paces away in the shadows.

A palm strike that can travel beyond distance? A blade that can travel beyond distance? Could this strange person possess the superpower of "teleportation"? This speed exceeds the initial velocity of a bullet, so firearms pose no threat to him.

"Wait a minute—" I should also ask him if he has seen his elder brother Yang Tian. Intuitively, this is the "second Epang Palace" that Su Lun has been searching for. Since the eccentric Epang has been imprisoned here for more than two thousand years, he must know something.

I suddenly woke up from the dream and sat up. I then realized that my hand had been gripping the gun handle the whole time, and that part of my hand was so hard that it was slightly warm. My palms were also covered in cold sweat.

I grabbed a pencil and quickly wrote down this strange dream on a piece of white paper: a Qin Dynasty general named "Afang", who had met Tang Qing, came from a mysterious place, and was on a huge mission concerning the survival of a large group of people—so why did he say that his people could only survive if he died?

Tang Qing is in the palace? Su Lun isn't in the palace? He's not from Earth? Is he an advanced extraterrestrial being? Is my body structure abnormal? Does he mean I'm an alien too…?

I kept listing question marks on the white paper, my handwriting so messy it looked like gibberish, the pen tip repeatedly piercing the paper, drawing one hole after another.

This dream stemmed from Li Kang's book. I don't understand what's buried in my subconscious, why I imagine strange people as aliens who can survive underground for two thousand years. Therefore, the importance of the original document is becoming increasingly apparent.

Without realizing it, I drew an egg on the paper and highlighted the words "Golden Egg" next to it.

A golden egg? Or a metal egg? If that's the case, wouldn't the device the monster entered be like an "emergency escape pod" on an airplane?

I've seen escape pods on the private planes of heads of state more than once in the documents; their outer shells do indeed resemble smooth "eggs." Suddenly, it dawned on me: the reason Li Kang had been so reluctant to show the original was because the secret passed down from his ancestors was—a golden egg! There was a giant golden egg in the stone house!

Compared to the enormous golden egg, what is 500,000 RMB? Based on the current international gold price, its value is at least 500 million RMB or even more.

I underestimated Li Kang's appetite. Offering that price only made him secretly laugh, no wonder he kept rejecting me.

Once the knot was untied, I realized that it was already dark outside the tent, and my watch pointed to 11 p.m.

The dream was long, and I spent a long time doodling and thinking, which is why it's been delayed until now.

Regarding the origin of the name "Epang Palace," a few researchers with a penchant for historical research have diligently explored it. Their preliminary conclusion suggests that Qin Shi Huang, Ying Zheng, particularly favored a close attendant named "Epang," even more so than the most favored treacherous minister of the time, Zhao Gao. Epang was undoubtedly a man; researchers have even found unofficial historical records describing his height, physique, and mannerisms. Furthermore, Epang once led a large army on a southern expedition, reaching as far as the small kingdom of Yelang.

This conclusion was regarded as "sophistry" by official historians. After all, in their eyes, the origin of the name "Epang Palace" had no practical value. After all, it was a site that had been burned to ashes. It would be pointless to study it in a way that ignores the essentials.

What you think about during the day, you dream about at night.

I frowned and gently released the pencil.

"If Li Kang truly believes in the ancestral album, he must be hiding something from me. Otherwise, he wouldn't have followed the expedition team so steadfastly without ever looking back."

As the ancients said, "No one gets up early without a reason." Everyone has their own purpose in doing anything, especially in the 21st century where profit is paramount. At the very least, I don't believe that Li Kang stayed with the expedition team out of guilt towards Su Lun.

What lies behind the stone pillar? Where does that music come from? And who is this strange man...?

I believe in my sixth sense. Sometimes, dreams are a subtle manifestation of my sixth sense, so I will remember every detail that appears in my dreams instead of forgetting it in the blink of an eye.

The wind started to pick up outside again, and the curtain was rolled up from time to time, letting in the temporary lighting from the camp.

I suddenly felt like going out for a walk, to get some fresh air, and to cool down my feverish mind. Behind the stone pillars, there must be an even more mysterious world hidden. If I couldn't quickly come up with an effective way to get through the stone formation and stop here, I was afraid that wasting time would be detrimental to Suren.

As soon as I stepped out of the tent, the first thing I saw was Gu Qingcheng sitting alone on the hood of a jeep about ten steps away, arms crossed, facing due south, sitting quietly like a statue.

The north wind kept whipping her hair, making it flutter and fly around.

Apart from the four sentries patrolling around the camp, there wasn't a soul in sight. She sat alone, lost in thought. Her profile, like a delicate paper cutout, especially her sharp chin, revealed to me the bewilderment and helplessness in her heart.

Her figure and appearance were very different from Gu Zhijin's, and her temperament was completely different as well.

I hesitated for a moment at the tent entrance, and she called me softly, "Feng, are you awake?" Then she turned her head, tossed her black hair, and her deep eyes were like two pools of moonlight, with cool, rippling waves.

It was a cold and quiet night. A few months ago, I had spent dozens of such nights with Suren in the Egyptian desert, but now a different girl was standing in front of me.

I smiled at her and said, "Miss Gu, you have quite the refined taste!"

She tightened her black leather trench coat around her, frowning and forcing a bitter smile: "Elegant mood? I'm just having trouble sleeping because of the work ahead. Uncle Wei gathered a lot of information today, but it's also quite frustrating. Just as you and I predicted, after reaching the star-shaped structure in the center of the tunnel, deciding which direction to proceed next has become the hardest decision. Sometimes, I really admire those people who can lie down and snore loudly, able to sleep soundly no matter what difficulties they face..."

I know that I was among the people she was referring to.

"Feng, you're so worried about Miss Suren's safety, how can you sleep so soundly?"

She shrank her neck and pulled her trench coat collar up tightly, covering all her hair.

I smiled faintly: "Those who know me say I am worried, those who do not know me ask what I seek. Oh, vast heaven, who are they?"

To save Su Lun, I'm willing to give up everything, even Guan Baoling, whom I truly love. Sometimes, I'm confused about whether I love Su Lun more or Guan Baoling more. If I could only choose one, would I lose sight of the bigger picture?

Gu Qingcheng smiled and raised a bottle of whiskey beside her: "Want a drink?"

As I approached her, I could faintly smell the aroma of wine in the air.

Beside her were two square glasses and a silver-plated ice bucket filled with glistening ice cubes.

Cold weather, cold liquor, ice—drinking it like this, one sip and the chill will seep straight to your heart. But it is precisely from this boundless, endless cold that the warmth of whiskey can truly emanate, making it unforgettable.

"The 'Heartbreakingly Ecstasy' drinking style of the Macanese? A beauty like Miss Gu actually enjoys such a rough way of drinking?"

I know that the creator of "Heartbreak Wine" was a famous gambling king from Macau. It is said that one winter, he lost all his tens of millions of dollars, leaving him with only a bottle of 1982 Scotch whisky. He was desperate. Right in front of the Grand Lisboa Casino, he drank the entire bottle in one gulp with ice from the seafood market. Then, in his despair, he rekindled his hope, borrowed money, and made a comeback. He was unstoppable, and finally achieved the legendary status of a gambling king. Even today, his gambling luck remains incredibly strong.

“Yes.” She unscrewed the bottle cap and filled two glasses.

The glistening ice cubes floated on the surface of the glass, like a layer of fine and eerie Arctic ice floes, while the crimson liquid exuded a deep and alluring charm in the dark night.

"Faced with a desperate situation, one must be put in a life-or-death situation to survive; that is the essence of this wine." She handed me one of the glasses; her five fingernails had just been trimmed, neat, white, and clean. One could imagine that she and Gu Zhijin, who specialized in collecting guqin (a seven-stringed zither), must also be highly skilled players.

The wine glass was so cold that it almost froze my right hand instantly.

She picked up another glass, looked down at it, and sighed softly, "Feng, have you ever doubted my true purpose for coming here? People speak the truth when they're drunk. I hope that after we finish this drink, we can all be truly honest with each other and stop hiding anything, okay?"

The north wind was as cold as the wine glass, and by the end, her tone was so indifferent that it seemed to surpass the combined effect of the wind and the wine.

Her eyelashes drooped deeply, straight forward, like a bamboo curtain in front of a summer corridor, carrying a 100% classical Chinese flavor, rather than the long and upturned Western style of Guan Baoling.

I laughed: "Cheers! A thousand cups of wine are not enough when drinking with a bosom friend."

Perhaps only by relaxing at the right time under excessive pressure can one avoid exhausting oneself. The mysterious disappearance of Su Lun was an incredibly heavy blow to me. If it weren't for Gu Qingcheng's arrival, I wouldn't even be in the mood to smile; my heart would be filled with regret and anxiety.

"Clink," the two glasses clinked together, and the ice cubes rippled gently, refracting colorful, cold light.

Through the cup, I saw Gu Qingcheng's eyes filled with a faint worry, and deep within them, it seemed as if two resentful flames were flickering.

The cold wine went down our throats, its aroma filling our mouths and teeth, causing us to shiver almost simultaneously.

Two blushes instantly appeared on her cheeks, and the saying "Wine doesn't intoxicate people, people intoxicate themselves; flowers don't bewitch people, people bewitch themselves" floated into my mind.

"Good wine, cough cough..." Gu Qingcheng coughed lightly, covering her mouth with her hand, and a blush quickly spread across her face.

On the little finger of her right hand, she wore a sparkling metal ring that constantly reflected a dazzling light.

The burning sensation from the strong liquor surged up from my chest, leaving a hot, burning feeling in my throat, and my face must have started to turn red.

I have no secrets. My purpose in coming to the southwestern border is to search for the missing Su Lun. Of course, finding my elder brother Yang Tian is my lifelong goal, but there's no need to tell Gu Qingcheng about it.