In the afternoon.
Su Muchen raised his hand and tied the hair at the back of his head into a small ponytail.
He had trimmed his bangs a little shorter, but had left the hair at the back long, continuing to grow it out.
At this moment, he was squatting in the backyard, watering the few pots of mint.
The weather had warmed up over the past few days. After a great deal of effort to save them, the leaves that had originally looked half-dead had finally sprouted several new green shoots.
He was thinking that the next time Xiao Yuan came, he could have him take a few plants back and try growing them in a sheltered spot in Linbei City.
The phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated.
He freed one hand and swiped open the screen.
It was a message from Xiao.
But unlike their usual conversations, which were filled with owl stickers, this message contained only one short line:
“—Something happened. Don’t call back. I can’t return to the shop right now.”
Su Muchen’s finger stopped above the screen.
He stared at those words for two seconds, and his heartbeat sped up slightly.
Xiao never spoke like this.
He would use stickers, add tildes to the ends of his sentences, and lazily say things like, “Mu’an, did you have lunch today?”
He would never sound this urgent.
But this message had indeed appeared in their old chat thread.
He was just about to type a reply when a second message immediately popped up:
“—There may be a problem inside the group. Don’t notify anyone.”
The third message contained a location: the old warehouse at the end of Yong’an Road.
That was the place they had previously rented to store supplies for Guichen Studio. Su Muchen knew where it was. He had gone there once before. It was remote and quiet, with only an iron gate and a few dim lights.
The fourth message was a photograph.
The background showed the inside of the warehouse: a concrete floor, several wooden crates, and a cold white emergency light glowing in the corner.
At the edge of the frame, the silhouette of a person could be seen, one hand pressed against the ground.
The hand was in a somewhat unnatural position, as though supporting the person while they tried to stand. The sleeve was from the black shirt Xiao often wore.
The figure did indeed look like Xiao, but the image quality was somewhat blurry.
Su Muchen’s breathing caught.
He did not stop to think about how the photograph had been taken.
He quickly dug out the first-aid kit and stuffed gauze, povidone-iodine, and a tourniquet into his backpack.
Then he called Xiao.
After two rings, the call was answered.
The voice on the other end sounded somewhat hurried. The breathing was heavier than usual, as though he were running or hiding.
“Mu’an,” the voice said. “Don’t speak. Listen to me.”
It was Xiao’s voice.
His speech was faster than usual, with the gaps between his words shortened, carrying a suppressed breathlessness. Even the pauses came hurriedly. After certain words, he would briefly stop, as though checking whether there was any movement around him, and then continue speaking.
“Something happened on my end. Someone tracked me to my residence in the old city district. I’m at the old warehouse at the end of Yong’an Road right now. Bring me the first-aid kit. Don’t notify anyone. I suspect there’s a problem inside the group. Don’t stop on the way. Don’t call back. We’ll talk when you get here.”
Then the call ended.
Su Muchen tried calling again, but the call would no longer connect.
He stood where he was, holding his phone, rapidly organizing the information in his mind:
Xiao had been assassinated once not long ago, and the wound on his left shoulder had not yet completely healed.
Sheng Chengxiu had never given up.
There might be a mole inside the group.
Xiao was hiding in a place he knew and was waiting for him.
He did not hesitate for long.
He immediately slung the backpack over his shoulder, checked that the first-aid kit was inside, then pulled a spare key from beneath the counter and locked the door of Guichen Studio.
He did not notify anyone.
He called an AI shared self-driving car.
The car arrived at the entrance of Changning Alley two minutes later.
When he opened the door and sat inside, the door automatically closed behind him, making a faint locking sound. He did not notice that the sound was slightly deeper than usual.
After entering the warehouse address, the car smoothly drove into the streets.
For the first few minutes, everything was normal.
The scenery outside the windows flowed by as usual: the buildings of the old city district, roadside trees, and pedestrians passing by from time to time.
Su Muchen lowered his head and checked the medical supplies in his backpack, repeatedly going over in his mind what wounds he should treat first, how to stop the bleeding, and what he should do if Xiao was seriously injured.
His mind was filled with anxiety and worry.
Before long, he noticed something.
The color of the car windows was becoming darker.
It was not an instantaneous dimming, but something that happened little by little, as though some substance were being evenly coated over the windows from the outside.
He raised his hand and touched the window.
The glass was warm, but it felt as though some kind of mode had been activated.
He hurriedly lowered his head to look at his phone.
The signal bars in the upper-left corner of the screen had disappeared, replaced by a gray icon:
“No Service.”
The navigation screen inside the car was still lit, showing that he was heading toward Yong’an Road.
But he recognized the bridge outside.
He remembered it.
From Changning Alley to Yong’an Road, the car should have taken another elevated road. It should not have passed this bridge.
He knocked twice on the window, harder than usual.
The glass did not move in the slightest and gave no response.
Then the window went completely black.
He knocked on the door as well.
There was no response.
He tried operating the control panel inside the car, but it was completely useless.
Even pressing the emergency button did nothing.
He took out his phone and tried making calls and sending messages.
All of them failed.
The signal icon on the screen remained blank, as though this passenger compartment had been completely cut off from the entire city.
The car did not stop.
It continued driving smoothly, quietly, and legally.
It was not speeding, did not run red lights, and did not violate any traffic regulations.
It was like an ordinary shared car carrying a passenger along a route that had been reassigned, heading toward a destination different from the one he had entered.
Su Muchen stopped knocking on the door.
He sat in his seat, clutching the backpack against his chest, staring at the pitch-black window.
Slowly, a thought he did not want to acknowledge surfaced in his mind:
That message, that phone call, that voice, that photograph—perhaps none of them had been real.
He checked the chat history.
The entire conversation had disappeared.
The photograph was gone as well, and so was the phone call record.
It was as though an invisible hand had wiped everything away.
After driving for more than ten minutes, the car slowed down and then came to a complete stop.
When the door lock disengaged, it made an extremely faint click.
Outside the door was an underground parking garage.
The lighting was bright, the walls were white, and there was not a speck of dust on the ground, as though the place were cleaned regularly.
The entire parking garage contained only the car he had been riding in.
A man in a black suit stood beside the car door, his face expressionless.
He did not look like a bodyguard. He seemed more like a trained professional.
He carried no weapon and made no threats. He simply said in a polite, emotionless tone:
“Mr. Su, please get out of the car.”
Su Muchen did not move.
He remained seated inside, gripping the backpack strap, his gaze passing over the man’s shoulder toward the depths of the corridor.
The corridor was very long and brightly lit. There were no windows, and nothing outside could be seen.
“Please get out of the car.”
The man repeated himself, his tone unchanged.
Su Muchen got out.
He did not run, because there was nowhere to run.
The other man scanned his entire body with a handheld scanner.
The machine sounded an alarm.
From his coat, clothes, backpack, and the soles of his shoes, the man found six tracking patches in total.
Su Muchen remained silent on the surface, but inwardly he was secretly astonished.
He actually had that many tracking patches on him.
Next, the other man briefly inspected his phone, citing security reasons.
When it was returned to him, the phone displayed that there was no signal and no network connection.
The man extended his hand and made a “please” gesture toward the corridor.
“Please follow me.”
Su Muchen walked into the corridor.
His heartbeat was faster than usual, but his footsteps did not stop.
He estimated the time in his mind.
Nearly half an hour had probably passed since he received the messages.
He did not know whether Xiao had already realized that he was missing. He did not know whether any of this was already being discovered.
The man led him into an elevator, passing through several different areas.
Then they boarded another vehicle.
Its windows were completely black, making it impossible to see outside.
Not long afterward, he arrived at another underground parking garage.
After winding through several passages, they reached another corridor.
There were no windows here either.
By now, he had no idea where he was.
The floor was covered with a deep-red carpet.
At the end of the corridor was a metal door.
When the door opened, light poured out from inside, warmer than the corridor lighting.
When he walked in, the first things he saw were curved metal walls, rounded windows, leather seats, and a small table with a cup of coffee still giving off steam.
Sheng Chengxiu sat by the window, his posture relaxed, as though he were waiting for a guest with whom he had made an appointment long ago.
Today he was wearing a light-colored casual suit jacket. He looked more relaxed than he had at the Shaohua Center, almost as though he were preparing to go on vacation.
When he saw Su Muchen, he smiled faintly.
The smile was so gentle that it was as though he were welcoming a friend who had traveled a long way to visit.
“Mr. Su, please sit.”
Su Muchen did not sit.
He stood at the doorway, his backpack still hanging from his shoulder, his breathing not yet completely steady.
“Where is Xiao?” he asked.
His tone was cold, with a trace of anger suppressed within it.
He did not angrily shout, “This is kidnapping. This is a crime.”
Because he knew that such threats would not work on Sheng Chengxiu.
He was simply worried that Sheng Chengxiu had done something to Xiao again.
Sheng Chengxiu picked up his teacup and took a sip, as though savoring the temperature of that question.
“He’s fine,” he said.
Then he paused, as though thinking for a moment.
“He’s probably realized by now that you’ve disappeared, but it’s already too late.”
He put down his teacup, turned his head, and gently lifted his chin toward the airplane window.
Su Muchen followed his gaze.
Beyond the window, the ground was moving backward, and the lights on both sides of the runway were moving faster and faster.
The plane was taxiing and was about to take off.
He finally realized that the corridor he had been led through had not led to a room.
It had led to a private airplane.
He was already aboard it.
He did not resist or shout, because he knew it would be useless.
He simply stood there, tightly gripping the strap of his backpack, listening as the roar of the engines gradually grew louder.
He felt the aircraft accelerating, then tilting slightly as it prepared to leave the ground.
Su Muchen went to the window and chose a seat as far away from Sheng Chengxiu as possible.
Not because Sheng Chengxiu had told him, “Please sit,” but because he needed to sit down.
The entirety of Yunjing City outside the airplane window grew smaller and smaller, like a map being gradually reduced in size.
Su Muchen did not know where this plane was headed.
He only thought:
He had never been abroad before.
He had never imagined that the first time he left the country, he would be traveling with Sheng Chengxiu—and in this manner.
◆◇◆◇◆
When the plane landed, a stretch of extremely pale-colored sea could be seen outside the window.
Su Muchen glanced at the time displayed on his phone.
The flight had lasted approximately four hours.
He closed his eyes and rested for a while, waking intermittently in between. During that time, Sheng Chengxiu had someone bring him a meal, but he did not touch it.
He simply sat by the window, watching the clouds change from white to gold and then to gray, watching the seawater change from deep blue to light blue, until finally he saw the outline of an island emerge from the horizon.
Most of the island was covered in dense vegetation.
In the center was a cluster of white buildings. Their appearance was simple and understated, resembling a resort center, yet also somewhat like a research facility.
When the plane landed at the end of the runway, Su Muchen saw several golf carts parked beside the runway, as well as several people in white uniforms walking in the distance.
When he was led off the plane, hot wind rushed toward him.
The air was humid, carrying the smell of the sea and the fragrance of some plant whose name he did not know.
It was completely different from the climate of Yunjing City.
“Let’s go.”
Sheng Chengxiu walked ahead, while people in suits surrounded them on all sides.
Su Muchen could only follow.
He was guided across a neatly trimmed lawn, through a glass door, and into a building facing the sea.
The corridor was spacious. Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, filling the interior with a warm white glow.
They took an elevator to the fifth floor and entered a room.
The room was larger than he had expected.
The bed was soft, and the window faced the sea, allowing him to see the distant waves slowly lapping against the beach.
There was food in the refrigerator.
Several books were placed on the table.
In the corner stood an upright piano with its lid closed.
It looked like a resort center.
Sheng Chengxiu stood at the doorway and did not enter.
He took a silver wristband from his suit pocket.
It looked like a simply designed smart bracelet. Its edges were smooth, with no visible seams.
He held the wristband out and said calmly, “This is the access-control device here. If you wear it, you can move freely within certain areas.”
Su Muchen lowered his head and looked at the wristband.
There was no screen and no button.
It looked like nothing more than a circle of silver metal, an ornament that had been carefully designed.
He did not reach out to take it.
“What if I don’t wear it?”
Sheng Chengxiu did not get angry.
He simply placed the wristband on the short cabinet beside the door.
“If you don’t wear it, you can only stay in this room. If you wear it, you can use the elevator to access certain floors, and you can go to the restaurant, study, recreational media room, gym, and indoor swimming pool. The difference isn’t very great. Your range of movement is simply different.”
After saying this, he turned and left.
The door closed behind him with a faint locking sound, like an electronic lock engaging.
Su Muchen stood in the middle of the room, looking at the silver wristband, then at the sea outside the window, sparkling beneath the sunlight.
He did not put it on immediately.
But two days later, he still put it on.
Because he needed to leave that room.
He needed to personally confirm exactly where he had been brought.
When the wristband touched his wrist, he did not feel anything unusual.
It fit against his skin and was so light that it was almost weightless, like an ordinary fitness tracker.
Su Muchen forcibly suppressed the disgust he felt inside.
He knew very well.
That thing could locate him, track him, and transmit certain information back to Sheng Chengxiu’s phone.
It could send out signals when necessary, or perform whatever functions Sheng Chengxiu had designed into it.
But he still wore it.
Because he needed to move.
He needed to know how large this island was.
He needed to know whether there were any boats by the sea.
He needed to know whether there was an exit.
Only by going outside would there be a chance.
Sheng Chengxiu was not in a hurry.
He appeared once every day at a fixed time, sometimes at breakfast, sometimes during afternoon tea.
He would bring a cup of coffee and sit across from Su Muchen, like a scholar conducting research.
On the first day, he asked, “What kind of person was your grandfather?”
Su Muchen did not answer.
Sheng Chengxiu did not press him.
He simply quietly finished his coffee and left.
On the second day, he asked, “When you first saw that door at Guichen Studio, what did you feel?”
Su Muchen still did not answer.
Sheng Chengxiu placed the empty cup on the table, stood up, and ended another ordinary conversation.
On the third day, he asked, “What is the Other World like?”
Su Muchen finally looked at him.
Sheng Chengxiu’s expression remained calm, as though confirming a clue to which he already knew the answer.
On the fourth day, he asked, “How do you open the door?”
Su Muchen did not answer.
But a thought surfaced in his mind—
Sheng Chengxiu was not in a hurry because he believed that people would eventually speak on their own.
And Su Muchen realized that he was calculating:
How much longer could he hold out?
Every question Sheng Chengxiu asked struck precisely at the key point.
Su Muchen knew this was probing.
Sheng Chengxiu might know something.
Or perhaps he did not know very much.
He mentioned the door, but that did not necessarily mean he knew about the door.
Even if Su Muchen did not answer, Sheng Chengxiu could still obtain some information by observing his reactions, heartbeat, breathing rate, and blood pressure.
He absolutely could not let Sheng Chengxiu learn more.
Because if Sheng Chengxiu found out that the door could lead to Dasheng—or even to other worlds—he would definitely use it for purposes that even Su Muchen could not imagine.
Outside the window, the sound of the waves remained steady, like time passing through the island in a gentle manner.
He lowered his head and looked at the silver wristband around his wrist, then looked toward the distant horizon.
There were no boats there.
He had searched everywhere over the past few days.
There was no means of leaving this place, and his range of movement had long since been predetermined.
He was staying on the fifth floor.
Although he could use the elevator, he could only go up one additional floor.
At that height, he could not simply tie bedsheets together and climb down from the window. Besides, he did not exercise regularly, making the probability of dying from the fall even higher.
The fourth night.
Night came earlier on the island than in Yunjing.
After sunset, the sea rapidly darkened, leaving only an extremely thin silver line in the distance, as though there were still a narrow gap between heaven and sea that had not completely closed.
Su Muchen sat cross-legged on the bed, his back to the door and facing the sea.
The lights in the room were off.
Moonlight spread a thin layer of silvery white across the wooden floor.
He had been sitting like this for a long time, as though waiting for a signal he was not certain would come.
He had deliberately turned off the lights because he knew there were surveillance cameras in the room.
He wanted his behavior to appear as natural as possible, as though he were meditating.
These past few days, he had tried every night.
Closing his eyes, slowing his breathing, extending his hand toward the door—
Not the door to the room, but the door he could not see.
He did not know whether he was doing it correctly.
He was simply following the method Xiao Yuan had taught him, feeling his way through it again and again.
He had no intention of opening the door and escaping from this place.
But he still had to master the method of opening it, so that he would have a backup option when the critical moment came.
For the first three days, there had been nothing.
His connection with the door seemed to have grown weaker.
Beneath his palm was only empty space.
He could not sense anything.
But tonight was different.
He closed his eyes and extended his hand.
He felt the temperature beneath his palm change.
It was not warm.
It was cold.
A colder, more distant, purer cold, like sudden snow on a winter night.
He had felt it the first time he touched the door as well.
At that time, he had heard the sound of wind.
Very far away.
Very cold.
Faintly, there had been the sounds of horses’ hooves, weapons clashing, people panting, people shouting.
Separated by an invisible distance, they had been slowly approaching him.
He thought that it must be the Northern Frontier.
He remembered the snowy, wintry scent that surged in behind Xiao Yuan every time he opened the door.
He did not open his eyes or withdraw his hand.
He kept his breathing at a steady rhythm, just as Xiao Yuan had once taught him.
—Don’t think about where the door is.
Only think about where you want to go.
He imagined the Northern Frontier he had never set foot in.
Strange, yet familiar.
There, Xiao Yuan was waiting.
His palm pressed against that coldness, and he could feel it becoming clearer, more real.
It was as though a thin layer of ice were slowly forming from the other side of the door.
Then, in the darkness, he felt it.
It was not light, nor was it sound.
It was a touch that could hardly be described in words.
As though someone on the other side of an invisible door had placed their palm against the exact same spot.
There was no physical form, yet he could feel the shape of that hand.
Through the door that had no physical substance, it was gently pressing against his palm.
Su Muchen’s breathing stopped for an instant.
He knew that hand.
Because he had touched it before.
It had bandaged him before.
That hand was slightly rough.
There were several calluses on the palm, formed over years from being worn by swords and reins.
It was Xiao Yuan’s hand.
In the darkness, he heard a voice.
A familiar, low voice, very soft, as though coming from across an extremely distant space.
“—Mu’an.”
He did not answer because he did not know how to answer.
The voice continued, as though confirming that he was there.
“Don’t worry.”
There was another pause, as though he were thinking about how to phrase the next sentence.
“I’m here. Xiao is here too.”
Su Muchen’s throat moved.
His fingertips remained pressed against the invisible door.
He could feel the outline of that hand slowly becoming clearer.
As though someone were walking toward him through the darkness.
“Jingyuan…”
“I’m here.”
Those two words fell into the darkness.
They were not heavy, yet they carried a sense of reassurance that made him feel at ease.
Su Muchen’s eyes suddenly grew slightly warm.
Life in the real world had tempered him into an extremely rational person.
Reality did not allow him to be weak or to cry, because it was useless. It would do nothing against the cruelty of reality.
So when he had been deceived into getting into the car, taken onto the plane, forced to wear the wristband, and confined in an enclosed environment, facing Sheng Chengxiu’s questions day after day, he had still been able to remain rational.
But at this moment, separated by a door he could not see, when he heard that voice say, “I’m here,” his vision blurred for an instant.
Even he himself was a little surprised.
He did not withdraw his hand.
He simply maintained that position, as though allowing that brief moment of contact to last a little longer.
“Mu’an, wait for me.”
Xiao Yuan’s voice suddenly became intermittent.
“…You’ll be safe.”
No more voice came through the darkness.
But he could feel that hand still pressed against the other side of the door, like a silent promise.
A long time later, that coldness finally slowly receded, like the tide withdrawing from the beach back into the sea.
When he withdrew his hand, a faint coolness still lingered on his fingertips.
Outside the window, the sea was deep and vast.
Moonlight poured across its surface, reflecting a path of light that gently swayed and rippled.
But Su Muchen no longer felt uneasy.
Because he knew that on the other side of the sea, on the other side of the door—
someone was waiting for him to return.