Getting up early in the morning, Quicksand took the old photograph and began casting a wide net, catching anyone he saw to ask, “Have you seen this photo?”
Most of the patrons shook their heads. The photograph had been wrinkled by time, and the memories preserved on it were blurry and chaotic. When Quicksand showed the photograph to Hearts, Hearts looked thoughtful:
“Isn’t this a group photo we took in the past? I was still young back then. Look at this titanium alloy prosthetic limb; it was considered quite trendy at the time, but now it’s become an antique.”
Madame Spades studied the figures on it, also pursing her lips as she said, “Yes, the hat I was wearing back then was in the popular color of ‘multicolored black’. This is an old photo.”
Yet, when Quicksand asked about the specific date the photograph was taken, as well as matters regarding the young boy and Diamonds, their answers became vague and imprecise. It was as if someone had breathed a puff of air into their minds, leaving behind a mass of fog that obscured their recollections.
Diamonds frequently stayed out all night. On the rare occasion he did return, his hair would be disheveled and his clothes reeking of alcohol. Following his usual routine, he would first head to the washroom to heave violently. Sometimes he vomited a reddish fluid, which he dismissed as “Bloody Marys” to tell Quicksand not to worry. Afterwards, he would systematically grace the long line of medicine bottles arranged on the windowsill before collapsing headfirst onto the bed. Quicksand wanted to open his mouth to question him, but seeing his truly terrible physical condition, he could only spend the night with him in silence a few times.
After a few days, Quicksand finally could not contain himself. He climbed onto the bed, yanked back the quilt, and asked the curled-up Diamonds, “Did you take the old photograph on the nightstand?”
Diamonds shrank his neck and said indistinctly, “What photograph? I don’t remember.”
“There used to be a child named ‘Marble’ who helped out at the bar, right?”
“Black-hearted employee… I’m exhausted. It’s so late, why aren’t you sleeping yet?”
“I’m not sleeping, and I’m not letting you sleep either.”
Quicksand reached out to tickle his armpits. Diamonds couldn’t help but laugh, twisting like a maggot on the bed. He said haltingly, “I really can’t remember clearly… Too many kids from the junkyard frequent this place! It’s not like I keep a household registry… How could I possibly count the names of every single stray cat and dog?”
Quicksand forcefully turned his face, pinning it in place with his palms to prevent him from turning away. “Look at me. Do you feel like you’ve seen me before?”
Diamonds mumbled, “Seen you. Saw you two days ago.”
“Not a few days ago, nor a few months ago. Did you encounter me much earlier than that?” Quicksand fired off questions like a machine gun. “Was my previous name… ‘Marble’?”
Suddenly, Quicksand felt a slight tremor. It seemed like a signal transmitting from the pulse beneath Diamonds’ skin, like a butterfly settling on a fingertip. However, in the next moment, Diamonds rolled his eyes. “Are you talking in your sleep? How would I know your real name, invincible Rookie King?”
“But this is definitively a staff photo from the bar, and you were part of it, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t keep it so treasured by your bedside.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t remember. That photo might even be Photoshopped!”
Diamonds sat up abruptly, the veins on his pale skin throbbing. Quicksand suddenly seized his arms and pinned him down among the bedding. Their eyes locked.
“Tell the truth.” Quicksand’s tone was as bone-chillingly cold as an interrogation under torture.
“I saw the old group photo in your room. You used to hold a Time Cleaner’s weapon. Tell me, were you once… a Time Cleaner?”
Diamonds struggled but could not break free from those iron-clamp-like shackles. They were pinned extremely close, their hot breaths intertwining like rustling fallen leaves brushing past their cheeks.
“What kind of tall tale are you spinning? I’m perfectly fine, why would I go become a Cleaner?” Diamonds’ face was bloodless as he forced a smile.
“Who knows if you were a wayward youth in the past who committed a lot of misdeeds?”
“In the middle of the night, what kind of tantrum are you throwing! Where do I have a Cleaner’s weapon? Even if I did, it was just something I happened to pick up, and I turned around and sold it off after a few days!” Diamonds appeared somewhat irritated. He turned over and covered his head with the quilt, like a snail retracting into its shell.
Quicksand frowned. Diamonds’ words actually held some logic. The Mauser pistol he usually used could spit out time-dilation bubbles to freeze the time of objects, which clearly looked like a weapon confiscated from a Cleaner’s hands. However, after having witnessed Diamonds’ skills, his suspicions were deeply aroused, and he no longer believed Diamonds’ words.
Since Diamonds was unwilling to tell the truth, Quicksand resorted to nagging and pestering him. During the day, whenever Diamonds was about to step out of the bar, Quicksand would hold a flat dust mop and block the cast-iron door, looking like a wife rebuking her husband for having an affair: “Where are you going to fool around again? Take me with you.”
Diamonds found it baffling. “You just need to inventory the alcohol and glassware in the bar. Why do you have to follow me?”
Quicksand said coldly, “I want to be your personal bodyguard.”
“I don’t need you close to my body; I’m an expert myself.”
“You are hiding things from me, and it makes me uncomfortable. Unless you explain everything about the photograph, the past, you, and me down to the last detail, I am going on strike.”
As Quicksand spoke, he suddenly produced a piece of galvanized sheet iron from behind his back, upon which several large characters were written in red paint: “If wages don’t rise, this worker won’t move; when the boss cries poverty, this worker cries pain!” Seeing this, Diamonds rolled his eyes. “I see you don’t actually want me to clarify things, you just want a raise.”
Quicksand placed the sheet iron board at the entrance and pulled out a few more large-character posters, making a move to paste them up. Seeing the iron sign, the patrons bypassed the area one after another. Diamonds recalled that if the bar’s business were affected, he would certainly face a tongue-lashing from Madame Spades. When she became enraged, her hairs would stand up on end like thatch about to be struck by lightning. Thus, breaking into a cold sweat, he said, “Fine, you have threatened me. What on earth do you want?”
“I want you to tell the truth.”
“The words I can tell you have already been poured out to you one by one like beans from a bag. If you want a raise, I’ll add another hour to your daily wage. What else do you want?”
Seeing that a frontal assault was ineffective, Quicksand decided to try a different angle: “Where do you wander off to during the day? I want to go too.” To prevent Diamonds from refusing, he thumped the iron sign on the ground once more.
“Fine, if you want to tag along, then come along.” Diamonds was completely worn down by his pestering. “Let me make it clear first, we are absolutely not going out to just wander around.”
“Where we are going is the Gilded Secret Meeting Hall, an intelligence distribution hub. To understand news across the Spiral City, that is the best place to go.” He glanced at Quicksand and lowered his voice.
“It is also the most dangerous place to go.”
At midnight, a Gothic clock tower crouched in the fog, its sandstone walls broken and covered in moss.
The two parked their taxi by the roadside and got out. Diamonds was wearing his usual trio: a white top hat, a white suit, and a red shirt, neatly tidied up as if he were attending a banquet. He said:
“Get out of the car, black-hearted employee.”
Quicksand sat in the passenger seat, feeling stifled and annoyed. He was wearing a Boullé gown made of royal blue brocade fabric, tight at the top and loose at the bottom, and wore a silk-braided wig dyed with saffron, resembling a tall medieval noblewoman. Before being brought here, he had no idea he would have to dress up like this.
“I have to wear this to go inside?” he asked.
“Of course. Look at yourself in the mirror; your eyes are brimming with murderous intent, like a pig-slaughtering butcher. This secret meeting hall is a place for high society. You and I are unrelated; what other method could I use to bring you inside? Unless you are my female companion.”
“Why didn’t you wear the dress? It would also work if you were my female companion.”
“The people inside recognize me. If I suddenly transitioned into a noblewoman, I’m afraid it would frighten them. Besides, aren’t you used to wearing that pink apron? This time it’s merely swapping it for another little skirt.”
Using his imagination, Quicksand transformed his gaze into sharp swords, slicing Diamonds into thousands of pieces several times within a few short seconds.
Right before entering the clock tower, Diamonds placed a black velvet face covering on him and repeatedly instructed, “Once we go inside, you must act according to my commands. The rules and regulations there are strict and layered; there is no room for a single blunder, understood?”
Quicksand ignored Diamonds, glaring viciously at the sky with his grey eyes. This time, he had volunteered to come, so even if he was being pranked, he could only swallow his anger in silence.
The two entered the old clock tower. Unexpectedly, behind the two decayed pine doors lay hidden a magnificent world resembling an oyster banquet. Large Gobelin tapestries hung on the walls, with silk embroideries depicting stories of ancient heroes and beauties. A long oak table sat in the center, and people wearing porcelain and feathered masks came and went, their brocade robes dragging along the floor like a colorful river.
Quicksand was tall, so it was inevitable that he drew attention upon entering. His murderous gaze swept the entire venue like a laser. Diamonds tugged at him: “Employee, you are my partner. Can’t you be a bit more like a little bird relying on a person?”
Quicksand looked at him gloomily. Diamonds corrected himself: “Fine, at most you can only manage a giant roc spreading its wings.”
The crowd drifted back and forth. Some wore damaged hazmat suits while others wore expensive nano-silk garments; they hailed from different echelons of the Spiral City, and information flew among them as if it had sprouted wings. The two arrived among the lower-class crowd dressed in worn denim clothes, who were currently celebrating the destruction of Branch 2030, wildly strumming broken guitars and rhythmically banging on plates and bowls.
Diamonds led Quicksand to sit on a chair welded from discarded steel rebars. A person with a plastic bag over his head walked over and made a gesture—his index finger curled and resting against his thumb, resembling a spiral. Diamonds responded to this secret signal.
“The rebel army ‘Clepsydra’ has won, but the Corporation’s forces are still surging in the undercurrents. You need to pay extra attention,” the plastic-bag man said in a low voice.
“Which branch is the next target for action? Is it the headquarters of the Time Cleaners, Branch 2035, or Branch 2050 that can fire off nuclear bombs with a bang?”
“No, it’s Branch 1805.”
The smile on Diamonds’ face had barely warmed up before it suddenly vanished. Quicksand asked blankly:
“Branch 1805?”
Although he had heard Hearts explain it roughly and knew it was a Chrono-Entropy Corporation branch lying in wait in the past, he did not know its methods.
The plastic man noticed Quicksand’s presence and studied him humorously, saying, “Boss Diamonds, so you, a golden bachelor, actually prefer this type? But this woman you’ve found has quite a large frame; I’m afraid one sit from her might crush you to pieces.”
Diamonds said, “Yes, she possesses great strength, a literal Lu Zhishen in the flesh. I am the weeping willow left at the mercy of her ruthless destruction.”
Quicksand’s cheeks puffed up like an angry pufferfish, and under the cover of the skirt’s hem, he kicked him. The plastic man continued, “Miss Lu, what you just asked about was Branch 1805, right? That is a branch composed of assassins, and it is highly peculiar. Compared to other branches that exist in the future, it is situated in the past.”
Quicksand said stiffly, “I am not Lu Zhishen, and I am certainly not Mrs. Lu.”
“Fine, Miss Lu,” the plastic man continued. “The assassination activities of Branch 1805, to put it in a nutshell, involve killing your parents in the past so that your entire being does not exist in the ‘present’. It can be described as eradicating root and branch. Although the timeline prior to 2026 collapsed, it still remains hidden in the past, making it an extremely troublesome and formidable enemy.”
Killing a target’s ancestors to make the target cease to exist—this was an unanswerable dead end. Quicksand frowned, not even bothering to correct the form of address: “Then is there no way for us to deal with them?”
“There is a way, but it requires taking an immense risk,” the plastic-bag man said. “That is to pass through the prison set up by the Chrono-Entropy Corporation—the time labyrinth ‘Stairs of Paradox’—and find the location of Branch 1805 within countless fragments of time to kill them. Before this, people have tried tens of millions of times, and though they left behind ‘anchors’, it has always been a journey of no return.”
Quicksand felt a chill run through him as he heard this, and asked further, “Can we use the time labyrinth to find an earlier fragment of time, travel back to before the Corporation was established, and strangle this group of Cleaners in their infancy?”
“It’s not that no one has thought of this magnificent feat. However, the Chrono-Entropy Corporation possesses a deeper level of time-jumping technology. The pasts of the Time Cleaners under its jurisdiction are all locked down and stripped from the current time period to prevent people from seeking revenge. Even if we jump back to the past, we won’t be able to find their past selves.”
“All in all, I know that Branch 1805 is beginning to stir. Is there any intelligence regarding the movements of other factions? Give me five dollars’ worth of talk.” Diamonds pulled out a wristwatch and tapped it against the plastic-bag man’s watch, transferring money to him. Quicksand recognized that it was his own wristwatch. Just as he was about to flare up in anger, Diamonds pressed him down and murmured, “Don’t be anxious, this is marital community property. We’re acting a part; do you want to expose us?”
Using his imagination, Quicksand transformed himself into a tribal chief in his mind, picking up a leather whip and ruthlessly lashing Diamonds’ buttocks two hundred times. The corners of his mouth couldn’t help but twitch slightly upward, and an eerie light flashed in his eyes. Seeing this, Diamonds thought to himself, “Spending his money and he’s still this happy; this kid has a screw loose.”
The plastic-bag man turned a blind eye to their flirting and said in a low voice, “As for other forces… there are some movements over at the Time Plantation.”
“The Time Plantation?”
Suddenly, Quicksand felt as though he had been struck by lightning. A inexplicable emotion welled up in his heart. This was a strangely familiar term, as if hidden at the very bottom of his memory, yet now it was abruptly unearthed.
Because he had received the money, the plastic-bag man answered every question, “It is a welfare institution established by the Corporation, specifically for taking in children from the bottom of society.”
“Alas, despite that, their action is certainly not out of charity. Those children undergo genetic modification, possessing lifespans three to four times longer than ordinary people, or even dozens of times longer. Correspondingly, their limbs are usually deformed—either their heads are as large as a bushel, or their limbs are as thin and weak as twigs. The Corporation manufactures them to use them as ‘crops’ to harvest their lifespans, or to fashion them into human bombs with an extremely high concentration of time particles. Because of that, the institution is also dubbed the ‘Time Plantation’.”
Quicksand’s throat felt as if it were stuffed with cotton, and a suffocating grief churned in his chest.
Diamonds was slightly surprised. “Wasn’t the Time Plantation destroyed by the rebel army long ago?”
“The remnants have not been eliminated; the dying embers have flared up again.”
The three sat in silence for a while. Nearby, people were casting alloy dice on the table, shouting in approval. An artificial eye placed on a brass candlestick spun around, emitting a five-colored light for illumination. The plastic-bag man said:
“In short, beware of Branch 1805. They are currently active in the past, and rumor has it they are searching for the ancestors of the core figures of the rebel army.”
Diamonds sighed, “Understood. I will remind Big Brother Hearts to be careful.”
As they were conversing, suddenly, a shrill and miserable scream pierced the silence:
“Retreat, retreat quickly! The Cleaners are here!”
With a resounding crash, a bronze candlestick on the vaulted ceiling smashed down. Beeswax torches hit the floor, setting the tapestries ablaze with a crackling sound. A raging fire suddenly ignited all around, and numerous shadows emerged from within like bats.
The plastic-bag man said nervously, “How could the Cleaners find this place?”
Diamonds pulled Quicksand up. “They are omnipresent hyenas; it’s not surprising they found this place. Let’s go, Miss Lu.”
Quicksand discarded the wig and sprinted alongside Diamonds. The Cleaners, clad in black robes and holding wide, flat silver swords, slashed and hacked wildly throughout the meeting hall. The strings of a Salvi harp were severed, bowls and dishes overturned on tables, and candied roses rolled all over the floor. When a Cleaner gave chase, Quicksand hoisted up his skirt, extracted dozens of Molotov cocktails hidden within the skirt hoop, and hurled them toward the pursuers in a wild blitz of explosions.
Running alongside them, the plastic-bag man exclaimed, “Boss Diamonds, your woman is far too savage!”
Diamonds said, “She just has that kind of explosive temper.”
In the chaos, people became scattered. Diamonds and Quicksand sprinted through a long corridor with wooden louvers. Quicksand had already stripped off the dress, changing into a tight sleeveless tank top and long pants as if by magic. They hid inside a locker in the changing room, listening to the hurried and chaotic footsteps of the Cleaners outside.
“Stop hiding, I’ll go out right now and slaughter them into a chaotic mess,” Quicksand whispered in a breathy tone. However, Diamonds pressed him down, “Don’t move, there are too many Cleaners outside. No matter how formidable you are, you can’t be a one-man army.”
“Then what about two people?” Quicksand asked. “Aren’t you quite powerful too?”
“Two people… is worse than one instead,” Diamonds laughed. Quicksand detected a tremor in his voice. Looking down, he saw Diamonds covering his mouth, coughing softly as blood seeped through his fingers.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“It’s nothing, just an old ailment,” Diamonds said. “I drank some Bloody Marys just now, and it upset my stomach, so I vomited it up.”
Quicksand corrected him, “You were drinking lime juice just now.” Diamonds was in poor health; charging out recklessly now would only mean throwing his life away. He abandoned the idea of a charge, feeling Diamonds leaning sideways against him, his head resting on his shoulder. The locker was narrow and dark; they felt as if they were inside the belly of a giant whale, the darkness enveloping them gently. Diamonds’ breathing was rapid, punctuated by occasional soft coughs.
Holding him, Quicksand felt his frantic heartbeat, and a sensation of dampness came from his shoulder, though he couldn’t tell if it was blood. Quicksand’s hand rested against his waist, feeling his skin tense as if unaccustomed to being embraced. He asked, “Are you feeling better?”
Diamonds said, “Not particularly good, but not particularly bad either.”
“It’s all because you spend your days fooling around outside, ruining your stomach.”
“Yes, I played a game with someone… where you have to swallow a needle every time you tell a lie… and accidentally swallowed enough to cause gastric bleeding,” Diamonds said.
Seeing that Diamonds seemed unable to catch his breath, Quicksand unbuttoned his collar for him. Suddenly, Quicksand’s heart skipped a beat. A line of light leaked through the gap in the locker, illuminating Diamonds’ pale skin. At his collarbone lay a tiny brand in the shape of the Penrose stairs, jet-black, with small characters beneath it: A-0.
“What is this?”
Quicksand reached out to touch it, but Diamonds flinched as if burned, quickly pulling his collar together.
“It’s nothing.”
“There is a brand on your collarbone…”
“Your eyes must be playing tricks on you. Have you been playing too many video games? It’s quiet outside; the Cleaners have likely left. Let us leave this place as quickly as possible too.”
The two left the locker and opened the louvers. The night was pervasive, and distant households had turned on their lights. They stepped onto the window frame and leapt down from the building. Inside the room, firelight wavered, and the figures of Cleaners were faintly visible. No one noticed them, and the two swiftly departed in a taxi.
Upon returning to the Poker Bar, the nighttime business had entered its latter half. The aroma of alcohol was dense, and the scent of tobacco lingered. Drunken patrons strummed guitars, and some were loudly playing drinking games. Quicksand helped Diamonds out of the car. Standing behind the bar counter, Hearts saw them and called out loudly:
“You’re back?”
“Yeah, the black-hearted boss isn’t feeling too well, I’m helping him back to rest.”
The two entered the room. Diamonds took his medicine and finally recovered, some color returning to his face. Not long after, Hearts knocked on the door, bringing him a hot towel and a bowl of warm water. Diamonds smiled, “Big Brother Hearts, I’m already fine. It’s no major illness, go get some rest.”
“What kind of mischief did you two get into again to return covered in dust and dirt?”
Quicksand’s eyes darted away guiltily. Diamonds smiled, “It was nothing really, just wandering around empty-handed and having a late-night chat. On the contrary, Big Brother Hearts, I see you actually have the leisure to act as a bartender today. Where did Madame Spades go?”
Hearts, however, wore a perplexed expression, “I’ve always been doing the bartending work.” He stepped forward and felt Diamonds’ forehead, “Strange, have you burned your brains out with a fever?”
Diamonds was entirely at a loss. Just then, he heard Hearts ask further:
“Who is Madame Spades?”
Suddenly, a rattling sound came from Diamonds’ throat, his eyes widening into perfect circles. He looked toward Quicksand, and Quicksand also asked in confusion, “Is it someone I’ve met?”
In an instant, Diamonds’ pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks. He suddenly shouted, “Clubs Cat!”
A snow leopard squeezed into the room at the sound of his voice, filling the space to capacity, “What is it, you rotten cheat? I am not a cat!” Diamonds asked, “Do you remember Madame Spades?”
The snow leopard tilted its head, “What kind of spade? Is it tasty?”
Diamonds was left completely speechless.
He suddenly rolled over and sat up abruptly. Hearts cried out in alarm, “Slow down!”
Diamonds snatched the picture frame from the nightstand, trembling as he looked at that group photograph of everyone on the rooftop. After the victory in the battle against Branch 2030, Madame Spades, Hearts, Clubs Cat, and the patrons had left behind a precious photograph.
Yet now, the spot where Madame Spades originally stood had been left completely blank. Her existence had vanished, evaporated like dew without a single trace remaining.
“What is wrong with you, Diamonds?”
The others looked at him with peculiar expressions, utterly failing to notice that a companion was gone.
Diamonds’ face was completely devoid of color. Clutching that group photo, sweat poured down like rain. He knew why this situation had occurred—if a person disappeared in the past, the future would change accordingly.
“Someone has been… assassinated.”
He murmured to himself.
“In the past, in the year 1805.”
