Chapter 39

The house was too big. The limited human energy couldn't soak through, and it sent out a smell of deep lifelessness.

It was a lifelessness that sunlight, fresh flowers, and lamps were all powerless to dispel.

He stood in the vestibule, hesitating.

Reasonably speaking, this ought to have been his home. But every time he set foot in the spotless vestibule and faced the room filled with sunlight coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, there was dread in his heart.

Faint music came from upstairs, a melodious female voice repeatedly reciting the refrain. He stood for a moment in a trance, as if he dimly knew that something was about to happen. He slowly began to walk, heading inside.

The sensation of the sunlight falling on him became strange, clammy and chill, not like sunlight, but like the wind during a rainstorm. It blew over his forearms, left bare by his summer uniform, raising a layer of fine gooseflesh.

He went up to the second floor. The music became louder and louder, the familiar melody sticking in his chest like a fishbone caught in the throat. His breathing became labored, and he halted, wanting to run away.

But when he looked back, he discovered that everything behind him had dissolved into darkness; everything seemed to be fixed, written and rehearsed. Before him there was only one road, one direction.

The all-encompassing darkness enveloped him from all sides, compelling him to go up the narrow stairs, compelling him to push open that door—

A loud roar. He thought that something had exploded beside his ear. Then he looked down and saw the woman fallen onto the ground.

Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and her body was suffused with a rigid pallor. But her eyes were open—it seemed that while her body was dead, her spirit still lived.

The woman stared straight at him, two trails of bloody tears flowing from her eyes. She coldly asked, "Why didn't you save me?"

His breath tightened, and he backed away.

The woman staggered to her feet and reached out a death-mottled hand. "You can feel everything. Why were you avoiding me? Why didn't you save me?"

The hand was surrounded by the consuming darkness. The dark seemed to be alive, heartlessly swallowing her up. She let out ceaseless screams and questions, struggling with all her might to reach out her hand to grab him, but she was ceaselessly pulled into the darkness.

He instinctively took that icy and livid hand, heard the screams, felt that he was falling unstoppably. Suddenly, something pulled him from behind. His back pressed against a warm and solid body, and a pair of hands came around him, traveled up, and covered his eyes.

He smelled the faint scent of cigarettes on those clear-knuckled hands. Then, in the cracks between the fingers, there was a burst of light—

Fei Du started awake.

He was sitting in his own study. Going through a dull project plan, he'd read halfway through and fallen asleep.

It was afternoon. A cool wind full of humidity was pouring in from outside the window. At some point the wind and clouds had risen outside, and a storm was brewing. The roaring sounds and flashing lights in his dream had been thunder and lightning. His phone was ringing interminably, displaying three missed calls—no wonder he had heard that music in his dream.

Fei Du took a deep breath. As he got up to close the window, he answered the phone. "Hello?"

Zhang Donglai's shouts crashed into his ear. "It's the middle of the day, Master Fei. Which beauty's body were you reluctant to climb off of? I've called you so many times, and you haven't picked up!"

"The thunder is too loud. I didn't hear." Fei Du's head was still rather heavy. He rubbed the center of his brow. "What do you want?"

"The wind is great, the rain is great, the sun is great! Darling, come out and play!"

Fei Du came up to the window and felt that the water vapor in the air was about to start drizzling. The plants by the window were drooping their heads. "Where are you having fun on a lousy day like this?"

Zhang Donglai said, "There's a new cross-country racing field in the West Ridge Ecological District, it's super cool. They've developed a special 'death course,' only open when the weather's bad. The stronger the tempest, the more stimulating—how do the words go? Storm petrel, let the tempest strike harder! (11)"

Having heard this, Fei Du felt that mud had splashed onto his outer ear along with these words. Indifferently, he said, "You're courting death?"

"Listen to yourself, how elderly is that! It doesn't sound anything like the liveliness of a modern young man. In a person's life, once he's eaten things and seen things, what else can he do? Isn't playing around courting death the only thing left to do?" Zhang Donglai said volubly, "If you don't want to drive, then don't drive, just show up. Let me tell you, they have an accompanying club at the racing field, they've brought over a little artistic troupe. There's all types and temperaments of beauties in it, tall, dark-haired, lovely great girls, qin-playing little artists, a whole other class from those snake spirits, completely in accordance with your troublesome taste. It's a rare opportunity. Hurry up and come here, don't sit around at home nursing your infatuation with an old man—hasn't he already found someone, anyway?"

"You're pretty well-informed." Fei Du snorted. He was a director-general who had grown up in comfort; he had no interest in playing around courting death in the rain in front of a lively stupid little cunt. He meant to refuse and hang up; the words of the refusal had already risen to his lips. "I'm not…"

Just then, Fei Du leaned beside the window and suddenly saw his own dimly lit study and somehow remembered his disordered dream just now…as well as those tobacco-scented hands.

More than a month had passed since Tao Ran's housewarming feast. Fei Du, who had previously harassed Officer Tao nearly every day, hadn't even called him. First, it was that he knew there was someone Tao Ran liked and it wouldn't be proper to disturb him; second, it was that every time he saw that miserable game machine, he felt wrong all over.

Today was even worse; he was being plagued by nightmares.

"All right." Fei Du changed his answer at the last second. "Send me the address."

Nearing the end of July, Yan City's rainy season was also coming to its tail-end, but the uninterrupted rain not only showed no sign of laying down its arms, it was instead growing even more demented.

Two hours after getting off work, Luo Wenzhou retraced his steps. He left his car at the City Bureau's gates and didn't even take an umbrella, just put a hood over his head and charged into the building through the rain.

"Captain Luo, second floor conference room, hurry!"

Luo Wenzhou shook out his dripping jacket, displaying three bloody scratches on the back of his hand. He raced up to the second floor and finally released the breath caught in his chest. "So what's going on?"

"I don't know. I also just got here." Tao Ran carelessly rolled up his umbrella. "What happened to your hand?"

Luo Wenzhou irritably scratched at the wounds on the back of his hand, which had already stopped bleeding. "A lightbulb blew out at home. I was just changing it in the dark when the venerable old man called to urge me on to death, and I was so urged that I accidentally stepped on the ancestor's tail—Director Lu!"

Speak of the venerable old man and the venerable old man will appear.

Lu Youliang quickly gestured at the two of them, blowing towards the conference room like the wind. Luo Wenzhou and Tao Ran hurriedly followed.

"Today is the last day of the city's 16th Middle School's recruitment summer camp. The school organized a visit for the students participating in the summer camp to West Ridge's Paleolithic Man's Ruins Memorial Museum. They rented a mid-sized bus. On it, aside from the driver, were a chaperoning teacher and eighteen elementary school students who'll be entering the graduating class when school starts. Around five in the afternoon, the visit ended and they departed on their way back, originally planning to return to the school at seven. Now they've lost contact with the bus and everyone on it."

To disturb the City Bureau's Criminal Investigation Team late at night, it took only a thought to be sure this wasn't a car accident. Luo Wenzhou and Tao Ran exchanged a look, neither of them speaking. Director Lu opened the door of the conference room. The people inside the conference room were about to stand; Lu Youliang raised his hand and pressed it down. "Don't mind me, keep talking!"

The conference room's projector changed at this, a huge realistic map spreading over it.

"The missing bus's license plate number is Yan NLXXXX. It comes from the Heng Tong Leasing Company. The driver is Han Jiang, male, forty-one, fifteen years' driving experience. The chaperoning teacher is Hu Lingling, thirty-two, teacher at the 16th Middle School, Yan City native. At 5:05, the bus set out from the back entrance of the West Ridge museum and drove onto the national road. Around six, some of the students' parents learned that there had been a sudden outbreak of extreme weather and a portion of the road had been sealed off. They called the teacher to confirm and received the information that they had already detoured, but the road conditions were poor, and they estimated that they would arrive an hour to two hours later than planned.

"Around 7:40, the parents called again to ask where they had gotten to, but the chaperoning teacher Hu Lingling's phone had been turned off. At this time the parents hadn't realized there was a problem and quickly called a child's phone. When it connected, they heard the sounds of children crying and screaming, and a man's voice shouting and swearing. Before they could ask what had happened, after four seconds, the call was hung up.

"The parents then called the police. There were several children on the bus whose phones had child tracking monitors, but when they were traced they showed up as having been scattered at the foot of a hill; the conjecture is that they'd been forced to throw them out. But there's also a child wearing sneakers with a GPS chip in them, which shows that their position has already diverged from the planned route and reached West Ridge County's southern mountain district and is still advancing."

"Was the kidnapper on the bus, or a hijacker encountered along the way?" asked Luo Wenzhou. "Have they made contact with the outside world of their own accord, raised any requests?"

"Not at present."

"Luo Wenzhou." Director Lu raised his head. "This matter involves several of the city's districts and counties. All departments, as well as a special police team, need to cooperate closely. You'll take the lead in making arrangements and report directly to me. Can you do it?"

Luo Wenzhou stared. For a moment he could clearly feel several gazes falling on him; fortunately his psychological quality was extremely good. His expression didn't flicker, and he nodded as though nothing were the matter. "Yes."

"Everything must be done to ensure the safety of the children. Quickly!"

The rain fell heavier and heavier, showing no sign of stopping.

The girl sat beside the chaperoning teacher. Her floral-patterned dress was already dampened by the threads of rain floating in through the bus's window, but she didn't dare to go close it.

She heard Teacher Hu's pleading voice. "Dage, what do you want? The things on the bus, the money, you can take all of them, we won't say anything at all, we definitely won't tell anyone else… I have the contact information for some parents here, if you're in some difficulty, you can contact them immediately…"

"Be quiet." The man sitting next to the driver coldly interrupted her. The knife in his hand flashed. "You do whatever I tell you to do and keep your mouth shut! Keep driving ahead!"

The young teacher looked up imploringly and exchanged a look with the bus driver through the rearview mirror, expecting the middle-aged man holding the steering wheel to think of something.

But the driver only gave her an alarmed look, then avoided her gaze, closely following the thug's orders.

After the bus loaded with students had changed its route, it had run into a car broken down by the side of a muddy little road.

That stretch of road was narrow, and it was firmly blocked by the other car. The bus couldn't quite get by. The driver and the teacher had to get off the bus and negotiate with the car's owner. The car's owner was a young man who cut a sorry figure, but he was well-spoken. The three adults combined their forces to shift the broken-down car aside a little. When they had, with difficulty, cleared the road, Teacher Hu hadn't yet straightened her spine when a knife was held to her back.

The windshield wipers creaked as if they were overloaded. The bus had thoroughly driven into the West Ridge mountain district; near and far, all was deserted and lifeless. A flash of lightning came down, lighting up the thug's ashen face.

"Drive to that empty space up ahead," he said. "Then stop the bus."

The bus obediently stopped at the indicated place. The sound of the engine cut out. All around was increasing stillness, and the atmosphere was increasingly terrifying.

The teacher's heart was in her throat. She heard the girl next to her give an uncontrollable sob and hastily covered her mouth. She desperately shook her head at the children around her, telling them to keep quiet and not enrage the thug. Then she secretly took a deep breath, tried to force down her panic and fear, and quietly reached her hand into her bag.

"You." Holding a chopper to the driver's neck, the thug pointed to Hu Lingling. The teacher's hand froze inside her bag. The thug's cold gaze fixed on her. "Don't hide in the back getting up to little tricks. Come to the front."

In this perilous moment, Hu Lingling felt what she'd been looking for and pulled out her hand. She surreptitiously put the thing in the hand of the student she was holding, then stroked the girl's hair.

The girl's eyes opened wide. The teacher didn't speak, only used her eyes to signal in the direction of the window. Then she slowly stood up, flashed her empty hands, and, following the thug's request, walked to the front.

The girl wearing the floral-patterned dress tightly squeezed the self-protection alarm device the teacher had put in her hand. She held it behind her.

Not three kilometers away, the rich kids who had lost their minds wreaking havoc came brainlessly back indoors. At first they'd said they were going to play with off-road cars, but halfway through they'd felt it wasn't satisfying their craving, so they'd changed to cross-country motorcycles and gone a lap, howling, getting soaked and frozen to the marrow.

Fei Du unbuttoned his collar button and threw his helmet aside. He accepted a towel and pushed back his soaking wet hair. He was forced to admit that the entertainment of courting death really did relieve one's mood.

"President Fei won't be leaving today?" The beautiful young lady who'd passed him the towel looked at him. Her Cheetah perfume mixed with the smell of damp to assault the senses, strong but severe, according perfectly with blood that was boiling after driving wildly on a rainy day. Accompanying the young lady's refined manners, it was a contrasting allure simply tailor-made to suit his taste.

Next to him, Zhang Donglai was grinning like a dog. Even using his toe to think, Fei Du would have known who had arranged this.

In fact, staying for a night would be no great matter, but Fei Du looked at the girl and inexplicably couldn't work up the interest. He thought the wildness of the Cheetah was missing something, as if a person craving hell's tabasco peppers had been served a plate of steak sprinkled with black pepper.

His heart itched a little; he wanted a certain stronger flavor, and if it wasn't there he wasn't planning to make do. So he suavely smiled at the young lady. "No, I have something to do at the office tomorrow morning and have to get back early. I'll be going back to the city in a while."

The young lady was a little disappointed. "It was so hard to get you out here, and it's so dark out and the roads are bad. Going back now is very unsafe."

"More unsafe than fooling around in the mud racing cross-country motorcycles during a thunderstorm? I actually wasn't planning on coming today, but I had some mystical premonition that if I didn't come I would regret it all my life." Fei Du looked down at the young lady and said, distributing honeyed words for free, "Having seen you, I know that my premonition was accurate. The trip has been worthwhile. It would be worth it even if I had to go under the knife today."

The young lady blushed at his look and didn't answer at once.

Fei Du picked up a bowl of ginger tea and was planning to finish drinking it and go when the club's owner came out. "Master Fei, if you want to leave, you'll still have to wait. I just heard that the road is closed. There's a lunatic who kidnapped a bus of school kids on a field trip nearby, they don't know where he's headed. The special police have been dispatched."

Fei Du froze at once.

The lunatic who had kidnapped the school kids was keeping watch at the bus's only door, holding a knife in each hand. Safe in the knowledge that he had nothing to fear, he looked at the only two other adults on the bus and tossed an old model dumb phone at Teacher Hu. "Now I want you to call them."

Teacher Hu looked at the girl in the floral-patterned dress, then turned her head and looked at the bus driver curled up feebly to one side. She slowly accepted the phone and a hard copy of the student roster. She dialed one of the parents. "Hello… I…I'm the chaperoning teacher Hu Lingling, we were on our way when a hijacker… Ah!"

The thug had jabbed at the back of her neck with the tip of his knife. The sharp pain mixed with cold sweat tore at the teacher's nerves.

"Don't say anything extra. Tell them. Say I want money, whether they pool their resources or whatever, collect five million yuan, as quickly as they can. Before it gets light, deliver it to the place I indicate. When they're ready I'll call again to tell them where to deliver the money. If they want to call the police, I don't care. These little whelps are in my hands, anyway. If I see police cars, I'll strike. For each police car I see, I'll slaughter one whelp. If I can't get away, then I'll blow up the bus and give them a taste of scorched sparrow."

The phone disconnected with a click. Luo Wenzhou looked up.

"Boss, we can approximately locate it. The position is basically identical with the GPS information from the child's shoes. How do we go over there?"

Luo Wenzhou was silent for a moment. "How is the investigation into the driver and teacher's personal lives going?"

Lang Qiao paused. "Didn't she say they met a hijacker on the way…"

Luo Wenzhou said, "How would a single hijacker know that the bus was full of children? Even if he did know, even provided he was armed, how could he be confident in dealing with two adults on his own?"

Lang Qiao was startled. Just then, a call came from Tao Ran. "Captain Luo, we're at the driver Han Jiang's residence. He's sold off a good deal of his furniture. The people around here say that he may have a gambling addiction."

Luo Wenzhou frowned.

Hu Lingling's heart was beating very fast. The kidnapper was making a wild display of arms in front of her, the blades in his hands flying up and down before her eyes.

This can't go on, she thought, her eyes again meeting those of the girl in the floral-patterned dress. The girl seemed to understand her expression. She curled her small body up next to the window and swiftly pulled on the alarm device and threw it outside.

The sharp sound of police sirens exploded beside the bus. The knife-wielding thug froze on the spot; in that instant, Hu Lingling suddenly stood and threw herself at him. The two of them rolled out of the half-open bus door. She ignored the pain of the cold blade slicing into her body, loudly calling to the driver, "Drive! Drive quickly!"

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Author's Note:

(11) In fact an accurate quote (of the translation) of Maxim Gorky's poem, "The Song of the Storm Petrel", about a storm petrel delighting in a tempest, but actually a revolutionary call to arms that was later used in Soviet propaganda.

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