Цзянху Фэн Цинчэна и Мо Сибэя

Глава 3

"You can continue watching."

With his gentle encouragement, Qiuqiu put her eyes on the periscope again. The lens offered a bird's-eye view, as if she were looking at the world from God's perspective—she felt as if she were standing hundreds of meters high in the clouds, looking down at the entire city of Nanming. The clouds were pressing lower and lower, the opposite mountains almost parallel to her, looking down like a giant basin, with countless gray buildings standing within it. This was a dreamlike city, once a paradise and Eden, now a cursed Sodom, having slumbered quietly for a whole year, only to be awakened by a group of uninvited guests.

Qiuqiu looked excitedly at the world through the periscope, even though she knew she wasn't God. She saw herself in the city, her mother Huang Wanran, Cheng Li, and Qian Mozheng. They walked along the sleeping streets, each holding a book with the words "Heavenly Secrets" printed on the cover.

The two words emitted a golden light, making her momentarily dizzy and causing her to fall from the periscope. Fortunately, the old man's strong hands caught her firmly, and he quickly helped the fifteen-year-old girl to her feet.

"What kind of periscope is this? What are you showing me?"

She took a few steps back, full of doubt, and bumped her back against the submarine's bulkhead.

"The World of Celestial Secrets".

The old man's words made Qiuqiu even more confused. She touched the uneven metal behind her and the rivets that seemed to be permeated with seawater, as if she were in the seabed 500 meters deep and entangled by a bunch of seaweed that looked like the hair of a banshee.

Just tens of minutes ago, she was bathed in the sunshine of Nanming City when this mysterious old man rescued her from a ditch and led her to the city park. Suddenly, a deep tunnel opened up in the hidden green space behind the statue. She cautiously descended; the tunnel's sides turned metal, like a secret hatch. She followed the old man into a watertight hatch, which he immediately slammed shut, as if seawater might rush in at any moment. She discovered a submarine world: the narrow, cylindrical metal hull was filled with various pipes and hatches. Entering the pigeon-cage-like crew quarters, the captain's quarters were the brightest and most comfortable. There was also a long, narrow torpedo launcher compartment and a command center densely packed with navigation and communication equipment—a scene from a familiar World War II movie—was it the U-571 or the Seawolf?

She temporarily forgot the pain of midday and admired the submarine with amazement. She touched every part with her own hands, as if she could smell the seawater and engine oil.

Finally, the old man told her that the submarine's name was "Noah's Ark".

Will this submarine take us out of here?

"No, we can't escape."

These resolute words disappointed Qiuqiu, but she hadn't held out much hope anyway. She shrugged and said, "It's okay, I don't care. If I could stay here forever, I'd be happy to."

"You're only fifteen years old, you shouldn't die here."

"So, that's why you rescued me from the ditch?" the girl asked aggressively, but then lowered her head and said softly, "Thank you for saving me."

"Perhaps that's the reason."

The old man's tone suddenly turned melancholy. He sat in the captain's seat in the command cabin, watching the changes on the electronic compass.

“It’s very comfortable here.” Qiuqiu continued to explore the cramped hull. “But submarines are usually very stuffy and hot. The enclosed environment can put enormous mental pressure on the crew, and can even make them hysterical.”

"You have indeed written many books on this subject, but this submarine is special; it is unlike any other."

"Yes, it's very special—for example, I only see you, my captain. Where are your submarine crew?"

"They are all dead."

He answered calmly, straightening his green uniform as if he were still directing his crew.

"You were the only one who survived?"

“No, there are many other people, but I’m the only one here now.” The old man slowly walked into the living quarters, opened a miniature refrigerator, and said, “You must be thirsty. Would you like some fruit?”

Do you still have fruit here?

She hurriedly squeezed to the refrigerator, which was indeed crammed full of all kinds of fruit: bananas, mangoes, coconuts, papayas… almost every type of southern fruit was there, as if a fruit shop had been opened. The girl hadn't eaten fresh food for a week, let alone this dazzling array of fruit; she had even fainted this morning due to malnutrition.

Qiuqiu quickly grabbed a bunch of bananas, eagerly peeled them, and started eating. They were indeed very fresh, as if they had just been picked from the tree. She then tasted mangoes and papayas, and the old man brought her a large glass of freshly squeezed coconut juice, which filled the girl completely. She patted her stomach and said, "Thank you for the fruit! It's amazing! Where did it all come from? Why haven't we been able to find any?"

"This is another 'secret of heaven'," the old man smiled mysteriously, then stroked the girl's hair and sighed, "Poor child."

This stirred up Qiuqiu's melancholy, who had lost both her parents. She lowered her head and said stubbornly, "I'm sorry, I don't need anyone's pity."

"Yes, child, you don't need anyone's pity, you only need to save yourself."

But she felt even more sorrowful, "Is this my fate?"

"No, destiny is not arranged by others. Destiny is the path you walk, the people you meet, and the things you experience. Only after all of this has been done is it your destiny."

The old man spoke to her earnestly, suddenly sounding somewhat like a teacher in a classroom or a missionary preaching.

“Maybe—” Qiuqiu pouted and took a deep breath, “you’re right.”

"I just gave you fruit, now you have to pay me back."

"What kind of compensation?"

The girl immediately became alert.

Tell me—how is the outside world doing now?

"The outside world? Thailand? China? America?"

The old man nodded and squeezed her another cup of fresh jujube juice: "Yes, the whole world, tell me."

"Let me think—" Qiuqiu took a big gulp of coconut juice, her mind replaying the news from the past six months, "Lebanon and Israel have gone to war!"

"It's started again." He gave a bitter laugh, clenching his fists tightly. "War, more war. I'm tired of war!"

Major earthquakes in India and Pakistan.

"There's been so much bloodshed, hasn't there?" Qiuqiu thought back to China: "Dragon TV is running 'My Hero'!"

"What is this?"

"Oh, this is what Grandma likes to watch, but Grandpa doesn't. Oh, by the way, there's the World Cup in Germany this summer."

"Has Brazil become the defending champions?"

"No, the Italians beat France in the final."

The old man closed his eyes and nodded. "That's not bad either."

"But what impressed me most about this World Cup was Huang Jianxiang saying during the Italy vs. Australia match, 'You are not fighting alone!'"

This left the old man completely bewildered, so he could only shake his head and say, "If World War III hadn't broken out..."

Okay! Thank you for telling me all this.

The submarine suddenly fell silent, as if it had truly sunk to the bottom of the sea. Qiuqiu listened quietly, as if waiting for a giant whale from the deep sea to pass by.

Suddenly, she boldly broke the silence: "Don't you feel lonely here all by yourself?"

“Yes, I am very lonely.” The old man sighed, stroking the submarine’s pipes. “In fact, I have been very lonely since I was young, and I have never felt true happiness.”

"Is she still so lonely today?"

He paused for a moment, looking much older in an instant, "and even more lonely. Alone underground, there is no day, no night, just quietly waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"The Last Judgment".

The old man's answer was resolute, as if he had already foreseen the end of the world.

"Then can you tell me—what is loneliness?"

The question posed by the fifteen-year-old girl was far beyond her years. The old man, seemingly having never considered such a question before, pondered for a full minute before slowly answering—

15:00

"Longing to love and be loved."

Elena awakens from the depths of hell.

Before opening her eyes, she felt only numbness and intense pain in her body. She couldn't pinpoint the source of the pain, like a sailboat on a dark ocean, struggling to avoid the danger of running aground.

She tried to struggle to stand up, but the pain in her hands and feet became even more unbearable, and her whole body could only tremble violently, unable to move an inch.

Finally, I managed to open my eyelids with difficulty. The fluorescent light above my head had dimmed considerably, and I was still in the same narrow, enclosed room.

Having just woken from a nightmare, she found herself back in the Transylvanian wilderness, back in that crumbling ancient castle, where she encountered Count Dracula from the 15th century and kissed his blood-red, sensual lips. Then, the Count's fangs slowly grew, biting into her fair neck, plunging deep into her carotid artery, instantly draining all the blood from her body…

Awakening from a nightmare, she had completely lost her sense of time, thinking she had been trapped there for days and nights, and that she had forgotten her hunger and thirst. Her only sensation was fear, a fear surging in from the surrounding walls.

"Henry!" she suddenly remembered how she got there, and shouted in English at the top of her lungs, "You bastard, let me out right now! Now!"

But the only one who could hear this sound was Elena herself.

Her upper body was at a 45-degree angle, and she could see a television set opposite her. It was a Chinese brand, a 29-inch Konka.

The television wasn't on; she wondered when it had been moved to the secret room. She looked around suspiciously, but found nothing else amiss. She continued to struggle violently, but the leather straps binding her tightened, causing her excruciating pain until she had to stop.

Suddenly, Elena noticed a remote control on her right, and her fingers could just reach the buttons.

Whether it was a time bomb or a lifesaver, Elena pressed the remote control without thinking, and to her surprise, the TV turned on.

HELLO!

At the same time, a slightly hoarse male voice came from the TV speaker, and after a flash of static on the TV screen, the picture gradually became clear.

A man appears on the screen—Henry Pepin.

This face immediately silenced Elena; she bit her lip tightly and stared into the Frenchman's eyes on the television.

Henry's eyes were filled with weariness. The camera only showed his head, his cheeks covered with gray beard, and below that was a dirty shirt collar. The background was a scarlet curtain.

"Hi, Elena, are you feeling better now?"

Henry's voice, spoken in French-accented English, blared from the loudspeaker, filling the narrow, enclosed room. Elena felt a ringing in her ears.

"Comfortable my ass!"

She launched into a tirade without restraint, using every filthy word in English, and even Chinese swear words she'd learned in recent years—usually insults to the other person's female relatives and ancestors.

“I knew you’d yell at me.” Henry paused on the screen, frowning and staring intently at the camera, while Elena’s fierce yet affectionate “greeting” abruptly stopped. She immediately quieted down, carefully observing the area around the television for any cameras or similar devices, as Henry might be spying on her from somewhere.

But before she could even scan the room, the jarring French-accented English began again: "I'm sorry, this is the only way I can express myself, because I'm more afraid than you and I don't dare to tell you certain truths."

Before Elena could ask what the truth was, Henry continued, "I admit, I lied to you. I am not a professor at Prapan University, nor am I involved in any Southeast Asian religious art. I have never been to Thailand before—I'm sorry."

He paused for only two seconds, not giving Elena a chance to interrupt, and continued, "I'm very sorry, but from the moment you met me, I haven't told a single truth. I've been filled with guilt these past few days, and I have a feeling that God will punish me for my lies. I have a premonition that God's punishment is about to befall me."

"Serves you right!"

Elena finally blurted out a sentence.

"Do you remember what happened on the first day?" Henry said as she spoke. "Your bus was traveling through the mountains when you suddenly found me lying on the highway, injured and unconscious. I was carried onto your bus, and then you discovered a tour bus that had just overturned at the bottom of a ditch by the roadside, and then the bus that fell off the cliff exploded. Soon you lost your way, strayed into a tunnel, and ended up in the Sleeping City. That night, I woke up under your care and told you my name was Henry Pepin."

He gave a wry smile again. "It's true! It's my real name. I even said I was a member of a French tour group. When the bus was going through that mountain road, it ran over a dog and got into an argument with an old woman. Then I was cursed by her. Soon after, the bus had an accident. I had just opened the window to vomit and was thrown onto the road. The rest of the people fell into the deep ravine with the bus."

Before Elena could even ask, "Is all of this fake?", the Frenchman said the same thing: "Actually, it's all fake! There wasn't a single person on that bus that plunged off the cliff. And I wasn't a member of any tour group. All the wounds on my body were pre-planned; they're just superficial injuries and won't cause any major problems. As for being unconscious, that wasn't faked. I inhaled a gas beforehand, and I'll automatically wake up within eight hours."

"A schemer!"

Elena gritted her teeth inwardly, wishing she could break free of the ropes immediately and dig Henry out of the television screen.

“I’m sorry I’m only telling you this now. But for the dozens of hours I spent with you, I was on edge every single moment, especially after I learned of the tour guide’s death, which was completely beyond my preparation and imagination. I couldn’t face you, and I was forced to make up lies to deceive you—such as my identity as a professor at the University of Paris, and the prophecies about you in Angkor Wat, all of which were nonsense.” Henri Chanmer sighed, his face on camera growing increasingly pale and frightening. “Until the night four days ago, I couldn’t bear it any longer and escaped from your tour group in the chaos. However, I realized that I was wrong from the start! My fate is no longer in my own hands. Once I stepped into this damned sleeping city, there was no way to get out!”

At this point, he suddenly lowered his head, burying his face in his hands. On the television screen, only his trembling shoulders were visible. After a long while, he raised his head again, his eyes red and brimming with tears. He shouted into the camera, “God! I dare not… dare not… dare not face it anymore… I can only wander like a homeless stray dog, hiding from you and from death, roaming the dark corners of the Sleeping City. Yesterday at noon, I was almost caught by Ye Xiao—a sign that the final moment was approaching! This morning, I unexpectedly encountered you again, but I cannot tell you everything directly. I can only say these hellish things through this damned television.”

"My God, who are you?"