Pristine Darkness - Chapter 127

She turned to look at Qiu Shijin, but saw that this formerly bashful and innocent girl was now sporting an enigmatic smile. Then, Jian Yao knew, it had all been an act, from the first day they stepped into this small town.

Jian Yao suddenly jolted.

Wen Rong had unconsciously agreed . . . there was a masked killer no. 3.

He had always existed, and had even poked his nose into all their doings and whereabouts. Now, he was finally beginning to show himself, even if indistinctly.

Who on earth was he?

However, at this point, Jian Yao’s resolve was firm. She raised her gun and trained it on Qiu Shijin. “Where is he?”

Qiu Shijin was supremely indifferent. She chuckled and said, “Everything is going according to his plan. Jenny, you still have one last chance to prevent a disaster from occurring, to prevent my hometown from being destroyed. Do you know why Zhizi Zhou, the former city of Pu Luo, was abandoned many years ago?”

“Why?”

“Because . . .” Qiu Shijin lay there and raised her head, a vague smile on her face, “those so-called experts predicted that there would be a large-scale landslide in this area which would totally destroy the city. This was once the most brilliant pearl on the Jinsha River, but, due to these words, the newly built county seat was moved, and this place gradually became a ghost town. All the people left; the only ones remaining were the hundred or so people whose families had lived in this place for generations, and thus were unwilling to abandon it. I was also born here. But, the devastating landslide that was prophesied never came to pass, even after so many years. I met him three years ago, when he rescued me after I had carelessly fallen into the river . . .”

Jian Yao slowly asked, “Who is he?”

Qiu Shijin smiled, but did not reply. Instead, she said, “Jenny, there’s something even more critical which you must take care of. Only you can prevent it, because you are the only person he cares about now. He has buried all the explosives from the weapons and ammunition on several mountains. Tonight, there will be the biggest rainstorm in ten years. And he will detonate the explosives when the rain is at its heaviest. That devastating landslide and mountain collapse that was predicted 60 years ago might just occur . . .”

A vice-like grip tightened slowly around Jian Yao’s heart. “And after that?”

Qiu Shijin looked at her with blurred eyes. “Jenny, will you stop him? There’s more than half an hour to his planned time of detonation. In this world, it’s probably only you who can stop him. If not, then, after the explosion, this entire small town might be razed to the ground, and the few hundred of us indigenous people who have lived here for generations will be buried under the earth in the space of a night. But, maybe this has always been our destiny . . .”

. . . . . .

Jian Yao had been thinking all throughout her journey.

All that they had experienced when they arrived at this small town unfolded, scene by scene, in her mind. She thought about every word that Bo Jinyan had said to Wen Rong about that third person while in the building.

She also knew that what Qiu Shijin had told her was most probably a trap. Going on her own, there was no certainty that she could change the course of events. However, as a police officer, at this critical juncture, with the lives of several hundred ordinary citizens at stake, she really did not have much of a choice.

Even with all this, she was at peace. She thought about all she had heard, just like that time when Bo Jinyan had been captured by the flower cannibal for the first time. What method had Tommy adopted back then? In reality, it had not been profound. He had merely seized a bus of schoolchildren and asked Bo Jinyan if he wanted to make an exchange. Intelligent and unwavering Bo Jinyan had also made a simple choice; without batting an eyelid, he had offered himself in exchange for the children . . .

Mud underfoot, a row of pitch-black, ramrod-straight trees in front of her. Jian Yao was already close to where Qiu Shijin had said ‘he’ was hiding.

The rain was pouring heavily and thundering in her ear, almost deafening her to the sound of anything else.

The torchlight was deathly white, and could only illuminate a shot stretch of the way ahead through the curtain of rain.

Jian Yao suddenly startled.

Thanks to the rain, she was thoroughly drenched and icy cold, but all the blood in her body seemed to rush to her head in a split second.

Her torch had flitted across one of the trees. She paused and slowly swung the torch back in the same direction.

There was a character on the tree.

It had been cut into the tree. The strokes were clear and defined. So clear, and so familiar.

“J”.

If it could be said that the ‘J’ written in blood on the wall of the home of the deceased gang member was similar to the handwriting at the scene of Feng Yuexi’s death, it was still not enough to determine that they were written by the same person. This ‘J’, with its vigorous style, subtle bifurcation and brash strokes, could never be the second person, it had to be the first person, it had to be . . .

The rainwater blurred Jian Yao’s vision. She wiped the rainwater away and opened her eyes again. As she looked at the ‘J’ again, all the clues which she had ignored from the time they had stepped ashore, which had been left to simmer hazily on the back burner, suddenly came into focus clearly, as if she had received enlightenment* . . .

*T/N 醍醐灌顶 (ti hu guan ding) – lit. to anoint your head with the purest cream; fig. to enlighten people with flawless wisdom or pure Buddish teaching

The tattoo on Ah Hong’s arm was a crooked J! Thus, in the midst of the rolling river, and the supremely kept secret of the location of Buddha’s Hand’s stronghold notwithstanding, a minor gang member by the name of Ah Hong, defying conventional wisdom, had successfully brought her and Bo Jinyan to this location.

When she first met Qiu Shijin, she had been standing at the door. On the wooden door were careless scribbles, like that of a child learning how to write. Amongst them had been a row of English letters, from A to J. Just to J, ending there.

The J that was at the scene of Zhao Jian’s death.

Qiu Shijin’s soft whisper: Hi, Jenny. Everything is going according to his plan.

. . . . . .

But, why had he refused to show himself all this time, until now?

What exactly did he want?

Did he have . . . no way to show himself?

Because he was seriously injured? Someone they knew? Could it be that he didn’t want to be their enemy?

. . . . .

Eliminate all the impossible answers, and what remains must be the truth, no matter how incredible.

Jian Yao raised her head.

She heard footsteps behind her.

“Jenny,” he called. His voice was low and familiar.

Jian Yao looked around. In the rain, in the black night, she saw Luo Lang’s sorrowful eyes, as deep as an abyss.

——

The full-scale, comprehensive attack was launched.

The special forces were split into many small teams which moved out simultaneously. Like an irresistible force*, they relentlessly attacked the defensive line of Buddha’s Hand from all directions. Due to the masked killers’ actions, the core strength of Buddha’s Hand had been diminished. Now that they had lost their leaders, they were like shifting sand, unstable and uncoordinated, even less able to counter the attack.

*T/N 破竹之势 (po zhu zhi shi) – lit. a force to smash bamboo; fig. irresistible force

When the town’s civilian inhabitants saw the battle unfolding, they were terrified and all crouched low with both hands covering their heads. At the same time, the police forces worked to protect and control the civilians.

Bo Jinyan, Fang Qing, and An Yan acted separately. Bo Jinyan took four or five people with him to look for Jian Yao. Fang Qing led a small assault team to continue chasing the gang members who had fled to the mountains. An Yan stayed behind with the forces to continue evacuating and pacifying the people, while looking for any fish who had slipped through the net.

This great act played out slowly in the darkness and rain.