Mechanic Min Qiu and her sister Min Min grew up together in Tofu Doufu Village.
The name “Tofu Doufu” sounds fragile, yet the village is as solid as a rock.
In a mere 0.5 square kilometers of the village’s towering structures, 950,000 people are crammed together.
The place is a chaotic labyrinth, where outsiders inevitably get lost. From morning to night, it’s filled with the cries of children, the quarrels of couples, coarse curses, and flirtatious whispers, brimming with the raw, almost saturated essence of human life.
This is the black market’s domain, a “no-man’s-land” even the “White Shield” police avoid.
The sisters are twins, but they don’t look alike.
Their mother’s whereabouts are unknown, and their father’s identity is uncertain.
Min Min only learned about their origins from neighbors’ gossip as she grew up.
Their “father” was a hot-tempered black market doctor. Over a decade ago, a prostitute confronted him at his doorstep, cradling two infants, demanding he claim them as his own because he’d been her client ten months prior.
The “father” refused, leading to a fiery shouting match. The prostitute won, leaving the babies behind and strutting off triumphantly.
Among her many unsavory clients, she had shrewdly chosen the one with the best prospects.
Grumbling, the doctor bent down to examine the two red-faced, crying infants.
His limited charity initially led him to decide to take only one.
But the sisters seemed to share a bond: whichever one he picked up, the other would wail inconsolably.
Frustrated, he cursed under his breath, then scooped up both, slamming the door so hard the frame shed dust.
Min Min and Min Qiu took his surname, Min.
Dr. Min treated them as apprentices, friends, confidants for his rants, and tools to pass the time—but never as daughters.
So, they didn’t have parents, only each other.
Min Min was drawn to medicine. Barely taller than a table, she’d stand on tiptoe, unfazed, watching Dr. Min skillfully tie off the blood vessels of a bleeding patient.
Min Qiu, meanwhile, apprenticed with a neighbor—a female mechanic with an explosive afro—assisting her with odd jobs.
By sixteen, Min Min had officially taken over her father’s practice.
Dr. Min, a non-smoker with a disciplined lifestyle and healthy diet, was tragically diagnosed with lung cancer.
Knowing it was incurable, he, like others in Tofu Doufu Village with terminal illnesses, let the disease run its course.
In his final days, wearing homemade oxygen gear, he sat beside Min Min, watching her treat patients, occasionally coughing and offering guidance.
One day, after Min Min completed a surgery on her own, she turned to find Dr. Min had passed away silently in his seat.
Dr. Min was stern and irritable, never smiling at them. When they made mistakes, he didn’t spare them for being girls, unleashing scathing tirades without mercy.
Yet he never let them lack for necessities, taught them his trade, and, before dying, left them his modest home as a foothold.
Young women running a business inevitably attracted thugs looking for easy targets.
But the sisters, a formidable duo, made their lives vibrant and thriving.
Min Qiu was quiet but fiercely tough, her ruthless fighting skills keeping trouble at bay.
Min Min, sharp-tongued and diplomatic, preached harmony for prosperity. Her charm won allies, and her bluntness knew no bounds. As a doctor—a vital role in such a crowded place—she was well-respected in Tofu Doufu Village.
Min Min was a true homemaker. By day, she posed as a special worker to evade random checks by plainclothes officers. At night, she closed the door, hummed tunes, cooked, and lived colorfully.
Min Qiu, rarely home, repaired appliances for neighbors from dawn to dusk.
Carrying a massive toolbox and wearing durable work clothes, she roamed the 0.5 square kilometers of the village.
Min Qiu’s work was entirely different from Min Min’s.
She left before dawn to find jobs, often returning late at night under the stars.
The sisters rarely saw each other.
When Min Qiu left, Min Min was still asleep.
When Min Qiu returned, Min Min was already in bed.
Only when Min Qiu’s warmed hands gently stroked her cheeks would Min Min stir in her sleep, mumbling, “Food’s in the pot… heat it up.”
Min Qiu, saying nothing, would hug her briefly before preparing her meal.
When business was slow, they’d spend leisure time together.
Their home was tiny, most of the space taken up by various equipment.
The two squeezed onto one bed, freshly showered, wearing only t-shirts and shorts. Their skin, pressed together, sparked faint static.
Min Min, sprawled across Min Qiu’s stomach, boasted about her recent earnings, tallying them like a contented hamster hoarding grain.
Min Qiu, assembling a ship from scrap metal and tin, glanced down at her briefly and said softly, “Your hair’s still wet.”
Min Min tilted her head, unbothered. “It’ll dry soon.”
Unlike Min Min, Min Qiu was a doer.
She pulled out an old hairdryer, its cracked handle wrapped in layers of tape but still functional.
In the warm, plastic-scented breeze, Min Min nodded to herself, thinking: Good days.
She suggested, “Sis, let’s get a new hairdryer.”
Min Qiu was concise: “Don’t waste money.”
Min Min waved her savings card. “We’re earning now!”
But Min Qiu replied, “Not enough. Need to save more.”
Min Min grinned. “You’re as money-obsessed as me!”
Min Qiu said, “Saving for you. I don’t need it.”
Min Min opened her eyes. “Sis, your desires are way too low. Besides tools and parts, don’t you want anything else?”
Since her mechanic mentor drank herself to death, Min Qiu had become like a shadow—eschewing makeup, new clothes, as if she needed only sunlight, air, and water to live.
Min Qiu answered, “I don’t want anything.”
Min Min stretched out her arms, hooking them around Min Qiu’s neck. “No way! Think of something you want, and I’ll go buy it right now.”
This time, Min Qiu thought for a long time, and her answer completely surprised Min Min: “I want… to go out and see the world.”
Min Min, outgoing and cheerful, had never considered leaving.
Curious, she tilted her head. “Go out to do what?”
Min Qiu didn’t answer, only gazing at a sliver of moonlight on the horizon—the tiny, faint patch of light each household’s window in Tofu Doufu Village could claim.
“Our window’s too small,” Min Qiu said. “I want to see the moon freely.”
Min Min’s heart trembled. After a moment’s thought, she clapped her hands, scrambled up, and ran out in flip-flops.
She was gone for an hour.
When she returned, half her body still outside the bedroom, she reached in and flicked off the light.
Min Qiu, wearing goggles and surrounded by sparks as she repaired a phonograph, turned in the darkness.
She saw her sister standing in the doorway, holding a paper lantern glowing with soft, moon-like light, enveloping her entirely.
Min Min grinned brightly. “Look, sister, I’ve plucked the moon for you!”
Min Qiu, rarely smiling, pressed her lips together in a faint grin.
Min Min laughed too.
But after that night’s conversation, she knew her sister was different.
She wouldn’t stay here forever.
Sure enough, a year later, the “Columbus” project began.
The “Columbus” project was a voyage initiated by a few university students, crowdfunded by all of Silver Hammer City’s citizens.
At first, big companies dismissed it as a hormonal whim of youth, paying it no mind. But, astonishingly, donations surged at a staggering pace.
Within a week, the funds were enough to build a real ocean-faring ship.
This small island had confined too many restless, free spirits.
They longed to venture far—or to entrust others to do so.
Even if what awaited was the unknown, or death.
Min Qiu signed up.
Min Min wasn’t surprised.
Upon hearing the news, she didn’t dissuade her, only stayed awake all night.
At dawn the next day, as Min Qiu rose, Min Min hugged her from behind, softly calling, “…Sister.”
Min Qiu, stirred, her voice still warm from sleep, responded, “Hm?”
“I really want to know what you’re thinking,” Min Min said, pressing her warm cheek against Min Qiu’s back. “So no matter how far you go, you have to come back. I want to see the world you see, the moon you see.”
Min Qiu didn’t speak, only reached back, gently stroking Min Min’s hair with tenderness.
From then on, Min Qiu rarely returned home.
As a mechanic, she was fully involved in building the “Columbus” ship’s interior.
Only then did Min Min realize her sister’s talent far exceeded fixing household items.
She was born a lover of machines, a servant of freedom.
On the day the “Columbus” launched, all of Silver Hammer City erupted in cheers, as if a long-awaited child had overcome countless hardships to be born.
Even the Silver Hammer Evening News anchor teared up, stumbling over words in excitement.
This fervor, yearning, and anticipation permeated every corner of the city.
A stagnant city came alive for a single ship.
The “Columbus” carried 35 crew members, all carefully selected youths, including Min Qiu.
On departure day, Min Min left Tofu Doufu Village for the first time to see her sister off.
But the crowd exceeded her imagination.
A hundred meters from the “Columbus,” the outer dock was packed, impossible to push through.
Amid the ecstatic crowd, Min Min took off her jacket, waving it frantically to stand out.
She shouted and cried, “Sister, come back! You have to come back! I haven’t seen the whole moon yet! Come back and tell me about it!”
…
Min Qiu embarked on the journey prepared to die.
After the voyage began, she uploaded a backup of her consciousness into a self-made storage device.
This technology, long existing in Silver Hammer City, was ethically fraught—akin to immortality or cloning—and circulated only in black markets and elite circles.
Min Qiu’s reasoning was simple.
The ocean was perilous. Even without storms, whirlpools, or reefs, they could easily exhaust food, water, and energy before finding inhabited land.
Before departing, she and every crew member knew this was a journey toward death.
But as long as her consciousness survived, she could share her world with Min Min.
A bright moon rises over the sea; one day, they could share it across the horizon.
…
At this point, Shan Feibai raised an eyebrow.
He cut to the chase: “How did the ship sink?”
Ning Zhuo sneered.
The official story was that the “Columbus” capsized in a sudden, massive storm.
Five young survivors, barely escaping death, returned to Silver Hammer Island, saying they’d exhausted all efforts but couldn’t overcome nature’s fury.
Most died in towering waves, while a few lucky ones escaped on lifeboats.
This heartbreaking tragedy crushed the crew’s families and shattered the city’s confidence in voyages.
No one ever proposed building another ship for a new expedition.
No one could bear such intense disappointment and pain again.
But unbeknownst to all, something returned before the survivors: Min Qiu’s memory box.
Before dying, she’d uploaded her final memories to a hard drive, sent back via a self-made drone powered by solar energy and auto-navigation.
The box evaded storms, seagulls, and all misfortune, destined to fly through Tofu Doufu Village’s tiny window into Min Min’s hands.
In Min Qiu’s memories, the days were clear and sunny.
The day of the incident was no different.
On that bright day, Min Qiu passed by the deck for routine rigging maintenance.
She saw two crew members by the railing: one burly, the other slighter, smoking together, seemingly friendly.
Min Qiu, whose social skills had all been claimed by Min Min in the womb, didn’t greet them, passing silently.
The burly one finished a cigarette, pulled out another, and, after patting himself down, likely lost his lighter, letting out a puzzled “Hm?”
The slighter one reached into his pocket, seemingly to offer a light.
The burly one, hands in pockets, relaxed and waiting, accepted the gesture.
In the next second, a knife slid from the slighter one’s pocket, plunging precisely into the burly one’s heart.
The attack was so sudden, the victim couldn’t even cry out.
His confusion far outweighed his pain. His dry lips parted, the cigarette fell, its tobacco soaked by dripping blood.
The slighter one, rubbing his nose apologetically, bent down, grabbed the victim’s pants and belt, and with a swift heave, threw him into the sea.
Then, he picked up the blood-soaked cigarette, put it in his mouth, and walked off briskly.
Thus, a bloody, unprovoked massacre began in the deep ocean, on this isolated ship.
Author’s Note:
Silver Hammer Daily
Today in History:
December 19. The “Columbus” sank in the deep ocean.
We forever honor the 30 martyrs who gave their lives and the 5 brave survivors who returned from the brink.
Our reporter interviewed Sanjay, now manager of the “Columbus” Concert Hall.
Sanjay said, “I miss my comrades; I’ll always remember their names. Working at the concert hall is an honor. It feels like I’m still on the ‘Columbus,’ fighting alongside them.”
