Pristine Darkness - Chapter 130

As the member of the Special Cases Unit of least use in armed combat, An Yan’s work tonight was with the rear guard – he was following a small squad down the street to apprehend gang members and evacuate the citizens. At the same time, he could provide any IT-related technical support that was needed.

The rain was so heavy that An Yan could not see clearly through his spectacles. He fished out his spectacle cloth, carefully wiped the lenses, and put them on once again. He thought about all the information he had gathered as he searched – the abandoned city of Pu Luo, the devastating landslide that the experts had predicted, the heavy rain that night . . . all of these gave him a sense of great unease. However, he had always been a rational person who did not rely on his gut instinct, so his will did not waver.

Then, his squad arrived at a little building on the street corner, with the sign of the Red Cross over the door.

An Yan had heard Bo Jinyan mention Wen Rong. Right now, he was in the hands of the police, gravely injured and unconscious. He had also heard Bo Jinyan’s repeated warnings before they parted ways: Wen Rong said he had prepared a reciprocal gift for them, so they had to be especially careful when taking action. A tremor of apprehension went through An Yan. He indicated that the special forces officers should follow him into the building.

Before they entered, An Yan rapidly swept his eyes over the entire area, and even paid careful attention to every corner and crack in the wall. He did not discover any strange wires or switches and confirmed that, at the very least, no bombs had been placed in the surroundings. He entered the building with the special forces team.

The building was not very big, consisting of an inner and an outer room. At one glance, it was absolutely empty. Having learned from his previous experience, remained on high alert, like a hunting dog. He turned on the bomb detection device he carried with him, but there was still nothing to cause alarm. He relaxed slightly.

Then, an officer who had entered the inner room shouted, “There’s a big box here!”

An Yan immediately ran inside.

The inner room was a very simple bedroom. The bed, table and window curtains were all tastefully quiet colours. It was just that there was a big box in the empty space next to the bed, about 2 metres long, 80 cm wide, and 50 cm high. It was made of metal, painted silvery white, and one end had power cables. The top appeared to be a cover, which was currently sealed tight, and had a liquid crystal control panel. The faint sound of gurgling water could be heard.

An Yan’s heart shuddered.

Looking at the dimensions of the box, it was just right for someone to lie down in.

“Open it slowly,” he said.

Several of the armed police officers pushed the cover together with him. It was exceedingly heavy, but not impossible to move. With everyone putting in effort, the cover slowly, bit by bit, slid open.

The first thing An Yan saw was a lock of jet-black hair floating in the water.

Suddenly struck dumb, he heard Bo Jinyan’s words ringing in his ears:

He said . . . he had left a reciprocal gift for us.

Perhaps it was to harm our companions.

. . . . .

Some kind of intense, unspeakable emotion surged up in An Yan’s heart. By some inexplicable coincidence, he thought of Gu Fangfang calling him, six days ago, after which he had had no contact with her. He had  been involved in the planning of the comprehensive attack at headquarters, and had been so busy that he had forgotten about the lack of contact . . . the torch in his hand fell to the ground as both hands grasped the cover tightly and pushed against it frantically. The special forces members beside him were all shocked and rushed to stop him, saying, “An Yan! What are you doing? Be careful, it might be a trap!”

However, An Yan paid them no heed, and only yelled, “Let go!” Some of the special police officers, on seeing him like this, simply joined him in pushing. Finally, with a loud clatter, the heavy cover was pushed open!

Inside, lay a person.

Ropes went around her entire body. It was clear that she would have been unable to struggle free and escape, especially with the heavy cover over her. The inner surface of the box was clean, flat and smooth, and there were no marks of struggle. The water had covered her fully. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes were tightly closed, and her brow was slightly furrowed. She was so beautiful and young; she was still wearing the T-shirt and shorts she normally wore at home, and her long, shapely legs were the epitome of youthfulness. There was no way of knowing how long she had been submerged in the water. The water was still rising slowly, and would soon overflow.

An Yan stood there, dumbfounded.

“Quick, let’s rescue her!” A special forces officer carried her out of the water.

“Is she still breathing?” someone asked.

“Not breathing . . . who is she?”

An Yan burst into a blood-curdling, mournful scream. All at once, he fell to his knees and hugged her ice-cold body.

——

No matter what, Jian Yao’s skill was no match for the butterfly killer’s.

When she regained consciousness, she discovered that she was lying on a boat. The cabin was not very big, and it was somewhat old-fashioned, clean and tidy. A lamp which gave off a yellow light was suspended overhead. The boat was rocking gently with the waves. The cabin door was open, and a man was sitting in the prow.

Jian Yao recalled the scene before she had lost consciousness, when she and Luo Lang had locked eyes, and she broke out into cold sweat. She had totally never considered that Luo Lang was both the butterfly killer and . . . the leader of the masked killers? She thought about their various interactions in the past year or so, as well as the profile she and Bo Jinyan had drawn up of the butterfly killer. Whether in terms of emotion or logic, this fact (that Luo Lang was both killers) was just unreasonable, even inexplicable  . . .

Harbouring all sorts of suspicions, Jian Yao got up and walked towards him.

He sensed her approach, stood up, and turned to watch her. He was holding a cigarette between his fingers, but his manner of holding it was different from ordinary people – he held it between the middle and ring fingers. He squinted slightly, looked at her for a brief moment, then walked into the cabin.

Jian Yao stopped. Aided by the feeble light in the cabin, she saw his face clearly. It was indeed the same face, even the birthmark next to his eyebrow was the same. There was no way on this earth that it could be someone else. Moreover, on this earth, no one else would look at her with that expression. So heavy, deep, and mournful, exactly the same as when he had fallen off the cliff.

But why did Jian Yao feel that something was different?

A thought abruptly came into her mind like a bright spark: the profiles of the butterfly killer and the masked killer were completely, distinctly different . . .

When he was only a few steps away from her he stopped and stood still, seemingly finding it difficult to speak. He lifted his hand and drew on his cigarette. Jian Yao watched his manner of smoking and her heart gave a sudden lurch.

“Jian Yao,” he said hoarsely, “I’m sorry, I’ve let you down. I’ve done something to disgust you once again.”

Jian Yao stared at him with those eyes which could see clearly between right and wrong. She said, “Since you know that I will be disgusted, why did you keep doing it?”

Her words appeared to have struck a sore spot as Luo Lang shivered slightly.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t control myself. I . . . . no matter how hard I tried to restrain myself, I could only think of being with you.” He said, “Jian Yao, listen to me, I would never harm you. I’ve spent so much time staying by your side to protect you, yet receiving nothing in return . . . this boat is heading for the China-Myanmar border. If you will only come with me, I won’t need any other love story, and I won’t need any other life. Pu Luo has already collapsed; everything and everyone will be buried beneath the mud and rocks of the landslide. We survived, and I will take you away. I will make you forget everything that has happened, and only remember me and our warm and happy future.”

The hair on Jian Yao’s body was standing on end. For a split second, she almost believed that these crazed words came from his heart. However, when she looked into Luo Lang’s eyes once again, those eyes were bright with treachery, and she was suddenly enlightened! The simplest, and yet the most inconceivable conclusion, leapt into her mind.

“You are not Luo Lang!” she blurted out.