[01/21, 17:24, Haijing City, Southern Cheng’an Mountain]
While a task force was being formed and an emergency meeting held by the police in Haijing, Yi Shi, along with a group of children and two female teachers, were being forced to trek through the mountains, passing through one cave after another, fully immersed in the “enjoyment” of a close-to-nature experience.
The terrain of Cheng’an Mountain is complex, with steep slopes and dangerous roads. Apart from the scenic areas, there are undeveloped regions. Ordinary backpackers, even following the normal routes with a map, can easily get lost, let alone those lone adventurers unfamiliar with the area. Every year, there are incidents where tourists go missing after entering the mountain. Their families report them missing, but the police search the mountains in vain. For tourists who go missing here, finding the body is considered lucky; the real fear is that even the body can’t be found, leaving the lone backpacker to lie somewhere in the mountains, where over time, their bones and flesh decay and merge completely with the picturesque landscape.
“Damn, so if an outsider gets lost, there’s basically no chance of getting out alive?” the bald man asked.
“It’s not just outsiders. There are places in Cheng’an Mountain where even locals don’t dare to go, like that Mountain God Peak over there.” Lin Erde pointed to a distant high mountain shrouded in mist, where only the outline could be seen. “That’s where the elders in our village say the Mountain God lives. See, even the government doesn’t dare to develop it, so they fenced it off as a nature reserve. Locals who go in there are also at a high risk; if they’re not careful, they might become a meal for the wild animals.”
“Wild animals? Haha, I’ve gotten tired of eating farm-raised animals; I’ve been craving some game!” The man in the leather jacket laughed loudly. Lin Erde smirked. “The bears in the mountains think the same way.”
“Bears?!” The leather-clad man’s laughter abruptly stopped. “Have you encountered one?”
“Yep, I’ve seen a bear eat someone with my own eyes.”
“Who?”
“My dad.”
“…”
The kidnappers fell silent. Only Lin Erde continued, oblivious, vividly describing this horrific event. His father was also a bit of a scoundrel. Decades ago, he committed a crime and didn’t want to end up in jail, so he took Lin Erde with him to hide in Mountain God Peak to avoid the authorities. At that time, the police were understaffed and their technology was outdated, so the father and son managed to hide in Mountain God Peak for more than a year without being found.
The nature reserve is rich in resources. When they wanted fruit, they’d pick wild berries; when they craved meat, they’d catch wild chickens or deer. The young Lin Erde felt like Tarzan, not needing to go to school or do chores, thinking he was happier than he was at home. But this mindset only lasted until he saw his father’s arm being ripped off by a bear. Covering his mouth to avoid making any noise, the small berries he had picked rolled to the ground as he crouched in the forest, witnessing his father’s mangled body being dragged back to the bear’s cave. When he finally stood up, his pants were wet.
“Later, I ran out of Mountain God Peak by myself, carrying my dad’s torn clothes. When the police asked me where the person was, I handed them the clothes and told them to go catch the bear. My dad was in its belly.” Lin Erde shrugged. “But aside from that time, I never encountered a bear again. The forest rangers say that the bears in Mountain God Peak are the Mountain God’s steeds, sacred beasts. So, in a way, my dad was pretty lucky, huh? Haha.”
No wonder he dared to bring the hostages there—he was already familiar with the area. Yi Shi glanced at him a few more times. Lin Erde seized the opportunity to take advantage, grabbing Yi Shi’s hand and stroking it. “Scared? If you don’t listen to me, I’ll throw you to the bears!”
Yi Shi’s smile was faint, but the warning in his eyes was clear.
It was already late when they were forced into the cellar of an abandoned farmhouse. The cellar was damp and dark, with a musty smell from being closed for so long. Many children felt nauseous as soon as they stood at the entrance, but under the threat of the kidnappers, they had no choice but to hold their breath and go inside. Yi Shi and the children were forced to huddle in a corner. Of the four people who had been escorting them, two had come down. So, would only those two be on watch tonight?
If it were just those two, things would be much easier.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go as hoped. After a while, the sound of footsteps came, and several people filed in. Suddenly, six men were standing in the cellar.
The last one to enter was a hunchbacked man wearing a hat. His appearance was ordinary, but his sharp, sinister eyes left a lasting impression. Yi Shi immediately recognized him—the mastermind behind this kidnapping case, Tu Laogui.
Tu Laogui’s name on his ID was “Sun Gui (孙鬼),” which was already a name he had changed once. It used to be “Sun Gui (孙龟)1In Chinese, the word “龟” (guī) means “turtle,” but it is often used as a shorthand for “乌龟” (wūguī), which can be an insult. The phrase “乌龟” is slang for “cuckold” (a man whose wife is unfaithful), which carries a strong negative connotation. By reversing the characters in “孙龟” (Sūn Guī), you get “龟孙” (guī sūn), which is anot her derogatory term meaning “bastard”,” which could be read as a curse word when reversed. That’s why he never let anyone call him by his name; if anyone did, they risked anything from a scolding to potential bloodshed. The second time he was caught, a professional institution diagnosed him with a mental illness. Initially, Yi Shi was a bit skeptical, but after facing him now, the bone-chilling feeling confirmed his suspicion. This guy might not be faking it just to get a reduced sentence—there was something genuinely wrong with him.
The years of accumulated malice and obsession in his eyes were like two deep, dark pools, bottomless and devoid of any warmth. Just making eye contact with him felt like being pierced by two icy spikes. He seemed less like a human and more like an inanimate object, lacking the emotions a human should have. Simply having his gaze sweep over them could make anyone break out in goosebumps.
Tu Laogui’s sinister gaze swept through the cellar. The children’s nerves were sensitive and fragile, and they were all terrified by this man, huddling together for comfort. A delicate little girl blinked her eyes, already scared to tears.
His gaze felt like scrutiny, like selection. When it landed on Yi Shi, their eyes met, and Yi Shi felt a shock in his heart.
Over the years, he had encountered many criminals—probably not a thousand, but at least hundreds. He had handled cases involving mentally ill perpetrators and had dealt with seemingly normal but actually deranged murderers. However, none of them had the same aura as Tu Laogui Just standing there, he constantly exuded a murderous intent.
Tu Laogui stared at Yi Shi for a few seconds—long enough for the man in the leather jacket to wonder if the boss wanted to take this woman back as his wife—before retracting his gaze and casually gesturing with his finger. “Serve the food. Don’t let them starve to death.”
The subordinate quickly pulled out two plastic bags containing soft, white steamed buns. Although they were already cold, to the children who had been hungry for a long time, these plain white steamed buns seemed as precious as delicacies, making their eyes light up with excitement, and their mouths nearly water.
Tu Laogui sat down, took out a knife and a piece of leather from his chest pocket, and slowly began wiping the knife. “If anyone dares to speak, I’ll cut off their tongue.”
Yi Shi squinted his eyes. He knew that Tu Laogui meant what he said. This was the most terrifying criminal he’d encountered in the two cases he was dealing with. Someone like Pang Daozi, a brute, was nothing in comparison to Tu Laogui, who could manipulate him like a puppet.
A flash of inspiration hit Yi Shi, and Xu Shang’s testimony came to mind line by line. It was highly possible that Pang Daozi had murdered the hostage under Tu Laogui’s orders. But what about the explosion at the machinery factory? They had investigated thoroughly and found the only connection to be Pang Daozi’s former employment at the factory. Even if he held a grudge, it seemed too late to seek revenge after so many years, didn’t it?
As the saying goes, “a gentleman’s revenge may wait ten years.” But if this really was about an old grudge from decades ago, then he truly was a freak—three gentlemen wouldn’t be enough to describe him.
Therefore, they consistently concluded that Pang Daozi’s dismissal from the factory was irrelevant, suspecting instead that he had an antisocial personality and had caused the explosion at the factory to exact revenge on society and create fear. As the case progressed, Tu Laogui emerged, making it increasingly apparent that Pang Daozi was the one being used.
Tu Laogui had even instructed Zhao Chenghu to burn paper offerings for his wife. All these puzzling actions were related to the case, yet they couldn’t find a reasonable explanation.
Yi Shi held a cold steamed bun in his hand, taking bites that tasted like wax as his mind focused on the connection between the two cases. There was too little information about Tu Laogui. The details he had obtained from Lin Huyu were only related to the kidnapping case. Tu Laogui’s criminal record was clear: he had killed his wife and injured his daughter, all of which had happened in Haijing and had no connection to the Nanyi Machinery Factory.
Could it be that a crucial detail was overlooked during the investigation, or was the motive yet to surface?
Tu Laogui continued to slowly wipe his knife. If he was on guard duty tonight, Yi Shi had to think twice before making any move. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fight, but rather the children around him—he admitted he couldn’t take such a risk. The uncertainty of acting rashly was too great.
A half-eaten steamed bun rolled to his feet. Yi Shi looked up and noticed that the boy with glasses opposite him was empty-handed, his mouth slightly open, wanting to speak but afraid of having his tongue cut out. Xiao Shitou took the initiative to pick up the bun and handed it over, but it had already picked up some dirt. The boy disdainfully pushed it away, staring directly at the half bun in Yi Shi’s hand.
Xiao Shitou sneered. He couldn’t stand these pampered boys and girls. Didn’t they realize the situation they were in? What was wrong with a little dirt? You could just wipe it off. When times were tough, he and Gardenia wouldn’t hesitate to eat things they found in the trash.
So, Xiao Shitou forcibly stuffed the bun into the boy’s hand. The boy deliberately withdrew his hand, and the bun fell to the ground again.
Yi Shi pulled Xiao Shitou close and handed over his own bun. The boy was overjoyed and quickly finished the remaining half without a hint of gratitude, as if it was only natural.
Xiao Shitou, somewhat angry, secretly wrote in Yi Shi’s palm: [Why did you give it to him?]
Yi Shi squeezed his fingers, signaling that a man shouldn’t sweat the small stuff.
What he didn’t know was that even this insignificant incident didn’t escape Tu Laogui’s notice. After the buns were eaten and water drunk, the hostages were tied up again, their mouths taped shut, and everything returned to its original state. The bald man asked, “Master Gui, who should we demand ransom from first?”
Tu Laogui’s knife gleamed as he wiped it. He swung it forward, pointing directly at the boy with glasses. The bald man walked over, picked him up, and read the name tag on his uniform: “Ding Zimao? Alright, it’s you!”
He was dragged aside, while the man in the leather jacket grabbed a female teacher, forcing her to truthfully report the student’s family information. Under threats and intimidation, the short-haired female teacher trembled, reluctantly revealing everything about Ding Zimao’s family. His parents were business people, earning millions a year, and their house was in a wealthy villa area in Haijing. The man in the leather jacket’s eyes lit up, and he shook his head, clicking his tongue: “Damn, these business people sure know how to make money. Ten million! Kidnapping just one is enough to live it up for a lifetime!”
The bald man, obviously more ambitious, sneered at his short-sighted thinking and kicked him. “Is that all you’ve got? We’ve kidnapped all these kids for nothing? Who’s going to say no to more money?”
“That’s right. No matter how much money there is, I can spend it all! Hahaha!”
“So, how much ransom should we ask for? Ten million?”
“At least this much,” The bald man gestured, “Don’t expect to get the kid back for less!”
“Alright, then that’s how much we’ll ask for!”
After a few brief exchanges, Tu Laogui, who had remained silent, suddenly spoke, still looking in Yi Shi’s direction. “What do you want to ask?”
At a signal from him, the subordinate beside him walked over and tore the tape from Yi Shi’s mouth. Yi Shi’s attention was still on Ding Zimao, puzzled as to why he was chosen. According to Lin Huyu’s information, the first ransom was supposed to be demanded for a boy named Guo Lang.
Tu Laogui’s lips curled into a strange smile. “Do you think choosing him is wrong? Then you pick one.”
…Him? He didn’t want to pick anyone.
However, Yi Shi suddenly realized that this might be an opportunity to deviate from the expected course of events. Different children being chosen could lead to variations in whether the police were notified and the safety of the hostages, potentially affecting the subsequent developments, right?
“Hurry up and choose.”
Yi Shi glanced at the children huddled together and nodded towards the small, thin Guo Lang: “That one.”
Tu Laogui, known for his suspicious and capricious nature, had others make the choice but would never actually select the one they chose, ultimately sticking to his own decision.
Sure enough, Tu Laogui shook his head, letting out a raspy laugh that sounded like two pieces of sandpaper being rubbed together, sending shivers down one’s spine. He walked over, lifted Guo Lang, took a good look, then released him. The child fell to the ground, landing face-first, and his nose started to bleed.
“Pick another one.”
——————–
Author’s Note:
Why is the progress of this story so slow? Because it’s all fragmented scenes.
And it’s not just one world, but fragmented scenes from two worlds. The structure is very complex, and I’m afraid that people won’t understand it, so I’ve written it in great detail, covering several perspectives for each scene. (Even though it still might be hard to understand, I believe that when you look back later, it will be much easier to grasp.)
This is my first time trying this method, somewhat inspired by the piecing together technique in “Crazy Racer” (since it’s my first attempt, it definitely won’t be as masterful, so please bear with me).
However, by this point, you should have started to get a sense of it, right? That feeling of different details colliding together.
If not, then it’s my fault for not writing well enough. I’ll keep working hard in the future. Thank you.
