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Chapter 54: Is it a date?
The Black Battalion was formed because of a major event that occurred in the Wangdu District over a decade ago. However, this event was never reported to the Crisis Management Office, so Lei Chi couldn’t possibly find any records of it in the office’s archives.
In the narrative provided by Bian Han, the event took place in autumn, a season when people are most prone to depression and unrest.
Even in a place like the Wangdu District, where few visitors usually come and there isn’t much interaction between different ethnic groups, the Mid-Autumn Festival is special: the largest population groups in Wangdu, the Underground and the Semi-Zombie People, receive a box of complimentary mooncakes from the Disease Control Center when they collect their medication. They don’t enjoy eating mooncakes, as these oily and sweet foods are not suitable for their altered digestive systems. So, as per tradition, they pass these mooncakes on to other residents of the Wangdu District: werewolves, sentinel guides, and other peculiar-looking and behaving special humans.
“This is a major event in our Wangdu District, bringing us closer together and fostering greater familiarity,” added Meng Yu on the side. “This event has been going on for many, many years and can be considered the second most important festival in Wangdu District after the Spring Festival.”
The werewolves and sentinel guides, who can move freely around, became the transporters of the mooncakes. They would receive the mooncakes from the Underground and Semi-Zombie People, along with crudely written greeting cards, and deliver them to other households.
However, strangely, on what should have been days filled with the usual festive atmosphere, Wangdu District witnessed a series of attacks on its residents.
Victims included underground people, semi-zombified people, and even highly skilled werewolves. Most of the victims were injured, and some were found already lifeless, their bodies either displayed in their homes or left in the depths of alleys. The methods of murder varied, as if multiple individuals simultaneously harbored grievances against the special humans, leading to a spree of killings. For a while, fear gripped the entire Wangdu District, with people suspecting their neighbors and even their own family members.
“But none of the dead were Sentinel Guides,” Bian Han informed Lei Chi, “so soon enough, they became the targets. And it wasn’t unjust; indeed, it was the Sentinels and Guides who were behind it.”
On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, when the moon was full, the entire Wangdu District fell into an indescribable fear. Amidst the continuous tolling of bells, Sentinels and Guides began leaving their homes, wandering the streets and alleys of Wangdu.
“Many people were injured,” Bian Han recalled the scene. “I was still in high school at the time; my father forbade me from going out, but he went to check the situation himself. When he returned, he told me that many Sentinels and Guides had gone mad.”
A large number of Sentinels and Guides, whose minds were in turmoil, ran amok in Wangdu, causing chaos for two full days. In the early hours of the third day, a militia composed of underground and semi-zombified people began to act.
This was the first time in the memory of all Wangdu District residents from both groups that the two factions had formed an alliance for some reason. The semi-zombified people, whose joints hadn’t solidified, were agile runners due to their lighter weight, patrolling and scouting on the rooftops of Wangdu. Those with solidified joints moved in groups of five or six, slowly patrolling the ground. Upon detecting suspicious Sentinels or Guides, they immediately informed their rooftop companions.
The underground people remained stationed underground, with shadows lurking beneath every street. Upon receiving reports from the semi-zombified people, they quickly alerted their comrades on the streets and began swiftly digging traps.
Sentinel Guides possessed far greater combat prowess than underground and semi-zombified people, making direct confrontation unwise. However, once the Underground people hollowed out the earth beneath the streets, any Sentinels or Guides stepping onto the thin layer of ground would immediately sink in. The Underground people used rocks and other materials to restrict the movement of Sentinels and Guides, awaiting those who could truly handle these suspicious individuals.
And those who could handle Sentinels and Guides were undoubtedly the Crisis Management Office. Representatives elected by the Underground and Semi-Zombified People were already on their way out of the Wangdu District. However, before boarding the bus to the Crisis Management Office, they were intercepted by werewolves.
Werewolves, a type of special human with combat abilities comparable to Sentinels and Guides, were mostly hot-tempered and harder to manage than Sentinels and Guides, making them a challenging group for internal certification within the Crisis Management Office. Additionally, due to their scarcity, they had relatively fewer political rights, causing most werewolves to naturally resent being ignored compared to Sentinels and Guides: I am also exceptional, I am also formidable, why do you only pay attention to Sentinels and Guides and not me?
Once reported to the Crisis Management Office, the combined forces of the Office and numerous Sentinels and Guides would undoubtedly flood into the Wangdu District.
A tall and sturdy werewolf blocked the representatives of the Underground and Semi-Zombified People, stating, “The affairs of Wangdu District shall be resolved by the people of Wangdu District themselves.”
The Underground and Semi-Zombified people were eventually persuaded. They turned back and joined forces with the werewolves, taking several days to bring all the riotous Sentinels and Guides under control.
“But there are definitely fish that got away,” Bian Han said in a low voice, “For example, even now, we still don’t know what exactly happened at that time to cause so many people to suffer from mental abnormalities. The mad Sentinels and Guides were just a part of it, but they nearly made up half of the entire population of Sentinels and Guides, almost all of whom were young people between twenty and thirty years old, with no abnormalities seen among the young or old.”
These younger and older Sentinels and Guides played a crucial role in controlling the rioting crowd. And precisely because of their help, the resentment sparked by the frenzy of Sentinels and Guides did not escalate to hatred towards the entire group.
Xia Chun lit a Seven Star mint cigarette: “I remember on Mid-Autumn Festival, the clock on the tower kept chiming. There was clearly no one upstairs, but the bell kept ringing incessantly, from morning till night, without a moment of silence. And the strangest thing was, several werewolf children, including myself, were assigned to patrol the rooftops with Semi-Zombified people. Whenever someone approached the clock tower, the bell would stop, but as soon as they left, it would start ringing again. This incident has become one of the most widely circulated strange stories in Wangdu District, and no one knows what’s going on.”
“It’s being struck by a spiritual body,” Bian Han said. “You can’t see it, but I saw it upstairs.”
As a high school student, Bian Han stayed home and witnessed a small white Arctic fox perched on the clock, using its tail to grip the wooden beam and vigorously swing the large bell—a sight he had never seen before or since.
“I don’t know whose it was, but at least I hadn’t seen it before, and to this day, I’ve never encountered a Sentinel with a spiritual body like that of an Arctic fox,” he frowned, recalling, “But the Arctic fox looked strange; its face wasn’t like a fox’s… I can’t quite describe it, but it was extremely peculiar.”
The Arctic fox rang the clock on the tower all day long, and as night fell, it slipped down from the clock tower, disappearing into the densely packed buildings of the Wangdu District.
After the incident subsided, Bian Han told his father about the Arctic fox. However, no matter how his father inquired, the answer he received was always, “I’ve never heard of such a spiritual body.”
Was it the chiming of the bell that drove the Sentinels and Guides mad? This became a knot in Bian Han’s heart. The clock tower was the tallest point in the Wangdu District, and in this relatively small city area, the tolling of the clock tower’s bell could be heard throughout Wangdu. Before the incident, the clock on the tower would chime precisely at six in the morning and evening.
Bian Han later came to understand: it wasn’t that nobody had seen such spiritual bodies before; rather, those who could see them on the clock tower were mostly Sentinels and Guides. At the time, Sentinels and Guides had become targets, and nobody wanted to bring it up again. Perhaps it was too windy, causing the bell to ring; perhaps the bell was too loud, causing discomfort to the sensitive Sentinels and Guides, leading to their emotional turmoil.
Soon, the Underground People, Semi-Zombified People, and werewolves formally formed the Black Battalion, responsible for maintaining order in the Wangdu District. The Sentinels and Guides, gradually regaining their senses, had to exert considerable effort to gain the opportunity to join the Black Battalion. They couldn’t uncover the truth behind the incident, making it a peculiar mystery. Yet, because of this event, the conflict between Sentinels and Guides in the Black Battalion and the other three groups persisted.
“…Wait a minute,” Lei Chi exclaimed in surprise. “People have been killed, and you just let the whole thing go like that? That’s not possible, is it?”
“The injured were residents of the Wangdu District, but those who truly died were all homeless wanderers and unidentified outsiders,” Bian Han told him. “Maintaining stability was the most important thing. At the time, everyone had already regained their senses, so the matter was suppressed.”
The clock on the tower still hung there, but it would never ring again; it was firmly stuck to the wooden beam, unable to sway, and its pendulum had been removed.
Lei Chi found himself unable to overcome this obstacle in his mind. “This is murder, not just a regular event. How could you just… let it go without thoroughly investigating the truth?”
“The affairs of the Wangdu District shall be resolved by the people of Wangdu District themselves,” Bian Han said. “The impact of that incident wasn’t as severe as you imagine. The biggest consequence was the establishment of the Black Battalion.”
Lei Chi persisted, “So let me be frank. The reason that incident during the Mid-Autumn Festival was suppressed so tightly was because of the Black Battalion, right? After a battle, all of your factions realized that united, you wielded more power than divided, and you even used this method to maintain—or, shall I say, govern—the Wangdu District. I guess among all the agreements and exchanges that led to the establishment of the Black Battalion, there must be one declaring that no matter what faction, they are not allowed to investigate the events of that year.”
As he expected, none of the three leaders of the Black Battalion present uttered a word.
None of the three were the first leaders, but they all clearly received many secrets from the previous leaders—though these secrets may not include the specific details of the events of that year; otherwise, Bian Han wouldn’t have questioned the presence of that white Arctic fox.
The special humans gathered on the outskirts of the city wanted to establish a self-governing unit, and such an establishment required a catalyst. Unable to find a suitable one, they manufactured it. The deceased were all homeless wanderers and unnamed outsiders; the specific secrets of that year had already been taken away by the deceased former leaders, and even Meng Yu and the others couldn’t know the complete truth. They were too young; at the time, they were just teenagers, without the opportunity to penetrate the power structure of the various factions.
Lei Chi’s mind stirred: Ling Siyuan was 44 years old when he died, over a decade ago… He was already a capable, Semi-Zombified human.
“…Ling Siyuan has always been the leader of the Semi-Zombified Humans, right?” Lei Chi asked, “Including during the incident that occurred on the Mid-Autumn Festival over a decade ago, he was already the representative of the Semi-Zombified Humans, isn’t that so?”
The three exchanged glances, and finally, it was Meng Yu who nodded. “Yes. Siyuan left the Wangdu District with the representative of the Underground People at the time and was intercepted by the werewolves. He was the representative of the semi-zombified humans.”
Lei Chi: “…”
The case became even more complex: Ling Siyuan was the leader back then, and he knew the truth about the establishment of the Black Battalion. Was the murderer trying to cover something up? Or did Ling Siyuan perceive new secrets and threaten the old folks from the past? But those people were either dead or missing, completely disappearing from the Wangdu District.
Lei Chi didn’t expect that his casual question would lead to new suspicions. Xiao Liu and the other colleagues looked hopeless: Did they have to investigate all the special humans in the Wangdu District?
Unfortunately, the front door and interior of the Atlantis Bar were both under surveillance, but the internal and exit of the safety passage had cameras installed but not activated. The waiter told them that many people conducted business, emotions, and mature discussions in the bar and then proceeded to the safety passage for transactions. Ling Siyuan couldn’t possibly activate the surveillance here unless he intended to anger all the Wangdu District residents engaging in illegal transactions in the passage.
If the killer entered from outside the safety passage, then the surveillance in the bar would be meaningless.
After finishing a cigarette, Xia Chun scratched her head. “In the end, the werewolves are the most law-abiding.”
She smiled, “Isn’t it surprising, President?”
Lei Chi glanced at her and smiled. “Not necessarily. Including the Atlantis Bar, many shops on Bar Street are Ling Siyuan’s properties. The werewolves have been expanding their territory recently, right? They’ve had a few conflicts with the people on Bar Street, and Ling Siyuan was the mediator. Now that he’s gone, how to divide his industries is a new problem.”
Xia Chun’s face suddenly sank; her expression was fierce. She bit down on an unlit mint cigarette, silently watching Lei Chi.
“… Siyuan was a very peaceful person.” Meng Yu, who had been relying on the bar counter without speaking, suddenly spoke: “Xia Chun’s people had conflicts with other bar owners on Bar Street, and Siyuan mediated, but that couldn’t have provoked resentment. Xia Chun’s people aren’t so unreasonable, and not all the conflicting bars belong to Siyuan. …He was a very good person; I’ve known him for many years, and most of the time, he took care of us. Among the four leaders of the Black Battalion, Siyuan is considered our elder brother, and we often listened to his advice, but he wasn’t autocratic.”
Meng Yu’s voice gradually lowered.
Xia Chun put away her cigarette. “Meng Yu is right; Siyuan was an unusually good person.” Xia Chun looked at Lei Chi, “If it was my werewolves who acted, I can assure you, none of the werewolves in the Wangdu District would let the killer go. When Siyuan was still alive, everyone in the Black Battalion got along well. The werewolf population has always been small, and when the Black Battalion was first established, they weren’t taken seriously. It was Siyuan who changed our position in the Wangdu District. Without him, the werewolves wouldn’t have been able to live so comfortably in the Wangdu District.”
She fell silent for a moment before saying softly, “Lei Chi, you should be able to understand. Respect is rare for people like us. Once we receive it, we will always be grateful. Committing such an act against a benefactor, my werewolves wouldn’t do it.”
“Xia Chun, if your werewolves wouldn’t do it, are there any outsider werewolves in the Wangdu District who don’t accept your management?” Lei Chi asked.
Xia Chun was taken aback, gently biting her lip.
Once Lei Chi entered work mode, it was difficult for him to sway with sentimental words. He always managed to find new loopholes in what these people said. And each loophole pointed to new possibilities, making the truth of the case even more elusive.
Meng Yu and Xia Chun both said Siyuan was very good, but Bian Han remained silent. Lei Chi looked at him, and he shook his head, holding his head low and murmuring, “I have a headache again. I’m sorry.”
Seeing him covered in cold sweat, Lei Chi knew that further questioning wouldn’t yield any useful information, so he nodded. “Then go rest; if we need you, we’ll come to find you.”
He didn’t linger at the Atlantis Bar and, after another inspection of the safety passage and basement, Lei Chi and Xiao Liu left through the safety passage, entering the noticeably desolate Bar Street.
Outside Bar Street were the complex structures of the Wangdu District. Stray cats and dogs rummaged through garbage bins. Lei Chi looked up, seeing the clock without its hammer hanging on the clock tower, illuminated by the chilly moonlight.
Mad sentinels and guides… Lei Chi sighed lightly; he had to go find Qin Ge again.
Of course, the prospect of finding Qin Ge didn’t disappoint him. On the contrary, he was looking forward to it.
“Xiao Liu,” Lei Chi asked, “does your girlfriend know what snacks girls nowadays like to eat? Preferably something sweet, please find out for me.”
Xiao Liu: “…Oh.”
He picked up his phone, full of doubts, and saw Lei Chi smiling at a kitten by the street corner.
“Our office’s Bai Xiaoyuan; you know her, right? Her spirit is a sand cat.” Tang Cuo clenched his teeth as he pushed the handle of the chest press machine forward with all his might, the words tumbling out between his teeth: “Every day, she slaps my face… it’s swollen… “
After completing a set, he let out a big sigh and looked up at Gao Shu with a smile, “By the way, I think I’ve developed a bit of chest muscles.”
Gao Shu, who had been observing where Tang Cuo’s face had been swollen by the kitten’s claws, heard this sentence, and his gaze was completely uncontrollable, falling on Tang Cuo’s chest.
But, to be honest, the chest muscles weren’t particularly noticeable. Gao Shu looked openly, shaking his head.
“No chest muscles,” another member training nearby interjected, “But I think Tang’s butt has gotten perkier, and his thighs are tighter.”
Tang Cuo: “Really! I didn’t notice myself, Zhang-ge; you have a keen eye.”
Gao Shu: “…Let’s train elsewhere.”
Tang Cuo said goodbye to the member and followed Gao Shu to the barbell area. “How do you know him?” Gao Shu asked, “We haven’t seen you talk much with him.”
“Zhang-ge is from the Criminal Investigation Department. We met during a team-building event, and later I found out he also trains here. Tang Cuo wiped his face with a towel and asked, “Isn’t this gym offering discounts for Crisis Management Office personnel? I guess that’s why he came.”
Gao Shu has no impression of Zhang Ge. On the team-building day, his attention was mostly on Tang Cuo, with a small part on Tang Cuo’s colleagues from the department, as he was the one with whom he wanted to have a good relationship.
“You and your dad don’t get along, so why give discounts to Crisis Management Office personnel?” Tang Cuo asked.
Gao Shu: “He’s not happy that I opened a gym, so I specifically attract Crisis Management Office personnel to spend money here.”
Tang Cuo: “That’s childish.”
Gao Shu felt a bit embarrassed. “What did you say?”
Tang Cuo smiled and sat down. Gao Shu adjusted the barbell plates for him. In the moment of conversation, Tang Cuo touched his stomach and lifted his shirt to show Gao Shu: “Let’s not talk about chest muscles for now, but it seems like I have a bit of abs.”
Gao Shu glanced and quickly looked away, saying, “Oh.”
He looked quickly, and Tang Cuo thought mentioning Gao Tianyue made him unhappy, so he changed the subject: “Coach, how many abs do you have?”
They had interacted a lot, and Tang Cuo often went to his rooftop to eat and chat. He wasn’t shy about touching Gao Shu’s belly.
“Don’t touch!” Gao Shu whispered.
Tang Cuo quickly withdrew his hand. Gao Shu usually didn’t mind him touching and was happy to show off his muscular physique in front of Tang Cuo. But not today.
“Don’t touch me, and don’t lift your shirt. You don’t have abs,” Gao Shu lowered his voice, “I didn’t take any inhibitors today.”
Tang Cuo retracted his hands. He obediently followed Gao Shu’s instructions to lift the barbell, but in his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder why Gao Shu was having a physical reaction to him.
After thinking for a while, his face turned red, and his hands loosened: “It’s too heavy, Coach.”
Gao Shu: “It’s not heavy; you lifted this much last time too.”
Tang Cuo struggled to complete a set, panting heavily. The imagery he had just imagined made his nose tingle with a headache. Fortunately, he managed to divert his attention in time and control the nosebleed. Rubbing his nose, he thought, No way, if Gao Shu and I both don’t take inhibitors, are we both going to have nosebleeds?
That would be too damn embarrassing. He didn’t want things to develop like that.
“Okay, second set,” Gao Shu urged.
After five sets, Tang Cuo was drenched in sweat, unable to get up from the chair. The abs were an illusion, the chest muscles were an illusion, and he even felt like his butt was an illusion. The only real things were the empty stomach and the sore muscles after each workout.
“Finish a few more sets for your back, then you can go.” Gao Shu checked his watch and said, “I won’t delay you from going home to accompany your sister.”
Lately, Tang Cuo had been rushing to class with him. When asked, he found out that his sister was about to take exams but was still indulging in romance every day. Tang Cuo had to rush home to supervise her studying.
“Is your sister listening to you a lot lately?” Gao Shu asked.
Tang Cuo snorted, “How is that possible?!”
He pointed to his ear for Gao Shu to see, “This was pecked by her parrot. It hurts like hell. Whenever I mention her boyfriend’s name at home, the parrot immediately flies over, chattering and pecking away.”
He felt a bit sorry for him, but his earlobe looked quite lickable. Gao Shu observed for about half a minute, and some unhealthy thoughts, completely contrary to the gym atmosphere, rolled through his mind.
“She’s not at home today; she’s out with her boyfriend,” Tang Cuo said. “I’ll have to find something to eat on my own later.”
Almost as soon as Tang Cuo finished speaking, Gao Shu blurted out, “Then let’s go out to eat.”
Tang Cuo: “Uh, what?”
Gao Shu: “…Yeah, exactly. Let’s go out to eat. Are you up for it? I’ll treat you to top-notch steak.”
Tang Cuo was stunned. He would pay Gao Shu for the steak they ate on the gym rooftop; sometimes he even bought it and brought it over. This was completely different from going out to eat—Tang Cuo had always thought so. As Gao Shu invited him, he was overwhelmed by instant joy. To maintain a stiff expression, he had to stiffly confirm, “Is this a date?”
He even broke out in a sweat, with unmistakable nervousness in his eyes. Seeing him like this, Gao Shu had to remind himself to take it slow: “It’s not a date; it’s a coach thanking a student. You paid thirteen thousand for my classes, right? I’m just properly treating you to a meal, nothing excessive.”
Tang Cuo: “Oh.”
He relaxed a bit, feeling a subtle sense of disappointment: When he invited Gao Shu to the team-building event, he clearly said Gao Shu was his friend. But here, he realized he was still just Gao Shu’s student.
“Let’s go then,” Tang Cuo said.
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