Chapter 4

The moment he left, I sprang up and pushed the bed against the door. Then I lowered the rocking chair and magazine rack into place, bracing the barricade all the way to the opposite wall.

However strong he was, he couldn’t open it now.

I opened the ventilation window fully and squeezed out.

Fortunately, I was slim. Another five kilos and I wouldn’t have fitted.

Leaving the vent loosely closed, I tiptoed to the motorcycle outside.

Helmet on. Into the seat. Key in.

I was about to start the engine when something struck me.

Yue Kai’s motorcycle had been standing openly outside my uncle’s house.

How could the two policemen who came that day have missed it?

This had to be a trap.

Sure enough, four police cars immediately surged from the alley, boxing me in front and rear.

Their headlights blinded me.

“Freeze! Police! Get off the motorcycle!”

I raised both hands in surrender.

Seven or eight officers got out and slowly approached.

Ten meters.

Five.

Three.

Now.

I suddenly turned the key and twisted the throttle.

The motorcycle roared, swerved around the approaching officers, and shot through a gap between two blocking cars.

“After her!”

At their leader’s shout, the officers piled back into their vehicles. All four cars pursued.

My lips curved slightly.

I already had an escape plan.

I raced east, straight for the town exit.

22

Again I passed the boundary. The black sign with red letters flashed by.

I drove into the thick fog beyond town.

Visibility shrank. The sirens behind me grew faint, then vanished.

The familiar drowsiness returned.

I slowed and gradually stopped.

Fortunately, three wheels meant the motorcycle wouldn’t topple even if its rider passed out.

When I woke, I would probably appear on the west side, just as before.

Time would rewind to the moment I left town.

Yue Kai might belong to π, but his time-fragment theory was real.

Hopefully, this correction would also erase the police’s all-out pursuit.

I slumped over the handlebars, my head growing heavy as lead.

The hard helmet pressed painfully into my neck. Struggling upright, I undid the strap, intending to remove the nuisance and pass out comfortably.

The instant I lifted it off, cool air brushed my cheek.

The drowsiness dispersed. My mind cleared a little.

Wait.

Why was I waking up?

Could it be…

“Surprised” could not begin to describe what I felt.

I raised the helmet and examined it carefully.

Sure enough, a pinprick hole inside was hissing out an unknown gas.

I brought it closer and tried a breath.

Dizziness and exhaustion immediately returned.

An inhaled anesthetic.

Everything became clear.

There was no time fragment.

I had kept fainting because the helmet was releasing anesthetic gas.

Understanding that, I looked at the surrounding “fog” and almost laughed.

Of course time travel didn’t exist in reality.

I wanted to throw away the helmet, open the throttle, and flee this bizarre town.

But I didn’t dare.

There had to be GPS trackers on the motorcycle, or in my clothes.

π would not let me escape. They would use any means to stop me.

Frustrated, I slapped my thigh. My fingers brushed my pocket and found something hard.

The White Arrow gum.

An idea came at once.

23

A recovery truck towing a trailer emerged from the fog. After several adjustments, it stopped before the motorcycle.

Two black-clad men wearing headlamps jumped down and carefully lifted me off.

One took the radio from his belt and spoke in a muffled voice.

“Alpha, Kappa and Lambda in position. Awaiting instructions.”

A hoarse voice answered.

“Stand by for my command.”

I opened my eyes a sliver.

The man with the radio stood beside me. The other hauled a large case from the truck.

Alpha spoke again.

“Kappa, check the gas cylinder. Replace it.”

“Understood.”

Kappa took a metal cylinder from the case, came over, and pressed something on my helmet.

A click. Something opened.

After a little fiddling, he reported, “Cylinder replaced. Twenty-four hours of anesthetic remaining.”

Alpha acknowledged.

“Check the target’s possessions.”

Kappa searched my pockets.

“Half a packet of gum, one lottery ticket, a Xiaolingtong, one screwdriver. Nothing else.”

“Matches. Oh—how many pieces of gum?”

My heart leaped into my throat.

Kappa took out the packet and counted.

“Four. All appear intact.”

“No problem. Refuel the motorcycle and recheck the handset’s date.”

I relaxed and glanced inside the helmet.

I had plugged the gas outlet with gum.

Fortunately, as a precaution, I had broken off only a corner of one piece, carefully rewrapped the remainder, and put it back. At a glance, there were still four.

Lambda replenished the fuel we had used, then loaded the motorcycle.

“Kappa, Lambda, confirm once more: is the target unconscious?”

I hurriedly closed my eyes.

Kappa glanced at me.

“Confirmed unconscious. Request permission to return target to base.”

“Granted. Epsilon, Zeta, turn off the fog machines.”

Two unfamiliar voices acknowledged together.

Kappa and Lambda took out a stretcher and secured me alongside the motorcycle.

The recovery truck started toward town.

Tilting my head slightly, I watched through narrowed eyes.

The fog had completely cleared.

Clean moonlight washed the ground, revealing unfamiliar woods and road, and countless fog machines.

Every question had an answer.

This was not Tailuowan.

I hadn’t traveled to 2005. There was no time fragment.

Someone had rebuilt “Tailuowan in 2005” exactly, then populated it with organization members playing NPCs.

Just like The Truman Show.

I was the town’s only Truman—the only one ignorant of the truth.

They had gone to all this trouble to make me unknowingly decode the ticket.

If I was right, the π organization my “uncle” mentioned was behind it all.

24

The truck entered town and stopped in the “police station” courtyard.

Kappa and Lambda carried me upstairs into a room.

“Target delivered to base rest room. Instructions?”

Alpha answered, “Good work. Beta will take over shortly. You two can rest.”

I thought it over.

Each π member had a Greek-letter codename. Their ranks seemed to follow alphabetical order.

So Beta must be second, just below Alpha.

A few minutes later, footsteps approached and stopped outside.

Their owner sounded middle-aged.

“I’ll administer psychological intervention and hypnotherapy. No one enters without my instruction.”

Two unfamiliar voices answered, “Understood!”

My heart went cold.

I was finished.

With guards outside, escape was almost impossible.

And a specialist in psychological intervention and hypnosis would surely tell whether I was unconscious or pretending.

What could I do?

Would I have to confront π and fight for my life?

Before I found an answer, the door sounded softly.

Footsteps approached the bed.

A faint rose fragrance reached me.

Wait.

A middle-aged man. A psychologist. Roses.

Shock surged through me again.

No mistake.

I knew Beta.

So that was it.

No wonder a nightmare could follow me for twenty years.

No wonder an unconnected telephone could make a call.

No wonder I had left ordinary life overnight and appeared here without explanation.

Familiar, gentle music filled the room, making even the air seem cheerful and relaxed.

Beta sat beside me, removed the helmet, and rested a large hand on my head, gently massaging my scalp.

“Hello, Gu Na. We meet again.”

That familiar opening, that familiar manner.

This time, a cold screwdriver answered.

My eyes flew open. I sat up and pressed the screwdriver in my right hand against Beta’s throat.

“Yes. We meet again.”

Smiling, I caught his mask with my left hand.

“Hello, Mr. Tian Mu.”

I tore it away.

His shocked, stricken face appeared.

25

Tian Mu dressed like the other black-clad men, except for a white coat over his clothes.

His face looked exactly as it had at our last counseling session.

I smiled at myself bitterly.

Had he looked twenty years younger too, I might still have wavered.

“Y-you… why are you awake?”

I shrugged and nudged the screwdriver toward his carotid artery.

“I ask. You answer.”

He nodded.

“When did you last see me? Where? What did you do?”

He hesitated for a long time. Under my threatening gaze, he finally spoke.

“One day ago. Here. I hypnotized you and intervened in your subconscious.”

I nodded, easing the screwdriver slightly.

“Where are we?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

I immediately advanced, seized his hair, and drove the screwdriver toward his eye.

Nearly wetting himself, he begged, “It’s true! I was blindfolded throughout the journey. I really don’t know! But I suspect…”

The point stopped one centimeter from his pupil.

“What?”

“I suspect… a private island overseas.”

I nodded slightly.

Much as I had guessed.

A project this large would be hard to conceal at home.

“Last question. Tell me everything you know about π.”

Before he could speak, someone knocked.

“Beta, do you need assistance?”

My heart tightened.

Damn it.

His voice had risen above the music. The guards must have heard.

I was still deciding whether to take him hostage when he glanced at the screwdriver, swallowed, and shouted, “No! Don’t interrupt my treatment! Get out! Stay away!”

Two voices acknowledged. Footsteps receded.

Relieved, I signaled him to begin.

26

“Your parents were extraordinary. They created a miracle.”

He turned the music to its loudest setting and slowly told me what he knew.

Twenty-five years earlier, my parents had returned to Tailuowan to hide and had me.

Before that, they were core researchers at a life-sciences institute.

The institute was funded by π.

My eyes widened.

I had never known that past.

In my memory, Dad loved painting. He spread countless colors across canvases, creating beautiful works.

Mom once told me he had synesthesia: colors he saw could turn into numbers. He was a born painter.

She wrote under various pen names, submitting work to magazines for generous fees.

Had all that been a cover?

Tian Mu looked out the window, longing written across his face.

“My father died of cancer. Liver cancer.

“He lasted only six months after diagnosis. The best medicine, best doctors, best care—none could save him.

“Do you know, Gu Na?

“If your parents had lived, perhaps mine wouldn’t have died.”

My breath caught.

“Y-you mean…”

He nodded bitterly.

“Yes. Your parents developed a cure for cancer.

“But their institute, and π behind it, decided to keep it absolutely secret.”

I stared.

“Why? A cure would benefit all humanity!”

He sighed.

“Profit, of course.”

“Profit? Cancer patients sell everything they own for treatment. Isn’t that enough money?”

He shook his head and explained patiently.

“If cancer can be cured, however expensive treatment is, it still has a finite price.

“But if it can’t, the wealthy will pay unimaginable sums to prolong their lives.

“If the world’s richest man got cancer, do you think he’d pay ninety-nine percent of his fortune for another ten years?

“π’s actuaries calculated that curing cancer would yield far less profit than producing gene-targeted treatments.

“As for human lives…”

He paused.

“They don’t factor those in.”

As he spoke, he slowly rose and extended his right hand.

“I am a π member. That doesn’t mean I entirely agree with them.

“I want you to keep looking for what your parents left. But don’t let it reach π.

“Make it public, for humanity’s benefit.

“If you promise, I’m willing to betray the organization and help you.”

27

As he instructed, I put the helmet back on, lay down, and continued pretending to be unconscious.

I heard him stop the music, take out his radio, and report.

“Alpha, Beta here. Psychological intervention and hypnotherapy complete. Awaiting instructions.”

Alpha answered quickly.

“Good work, Beta. How effective was it this time? Did the target remember anything?”