N-A-A Chapter 609 Set of Seals
Chapter 609 Set of Seals
Zhou Tian forced a bitter smile, raising his hand to rub his right leg, which was covered in a thick white cast. The cast was so bright it made his face look even paler. "Sigh, don't even mention it. I was riding my bike to work that day, and I had just turned the corner when a kid chasing a ball suddenly darted out. I panicked, lost my grip on the handlebars, and fell with a 'bang,' hitting my knee on the curb. I couldn't move it at all." He sighed, his voice full of regret. "Now the checkup says it's a fracture, so I rushed to the hospital and have to stay in bed. I'll need at least a month or so before I can walk again."
Old Wu, in the next bed, nodded, twirling a walnut that had been polished until it shone, and sighed, "Young people have a lot of drive, but they also need to be more careful. It takes a hundred days to recover from a broken bone, not only is it painful, but it also delays things. Look at me, I've been lying here for almost a week, and my whole body is practically rusted."
Zhou Tian smiled in agreement, a hint of helplessness in the fine lines around his eyes: "That's right, it's too late to regret it now. If I had been half a second slower, I might have dodged it."
Old Wu looked him up and down a few times, noticing that there were always canned fruit and malted milk powder piled up on his bedside table. He then asked, "These past few days, I've often seen your friends bringing things over, making quite a scene. Why haven't I seen any of your family members come over to lend a hand?"
Upon hearing this, Zhou Tian lowered his eyelids slightly, his long eyelashes casting a small shadow beneath his eyes. His voice lowered, carrying a barely perceptible hint of bitterness: "Uncle Wu, to be honest, I'm not from here. I've been wandering around for the past few years. My family... has long since disappeared." He paused, his fingertips unconsciously picking at the bedsheet. "Even if I had relatives back then, I don't know where they are now, or whether they're alive or dead."
Hearing this, Old Wu stopped turning the walnuts, his eyes darkening. In these chaotic times, so many people were forced to leave their homes and families, separated from their loved ones; everyone had their own unspeakable difficulties. He sighed, his voice softening slightly: "Ah, you're a poor child too. It's not easy being alone out there."
Zhou Tian's heart stirred slightly, knowing that the groundwork had been laid. He then raised his head and looked at Old Wu, pretending to be casual as he asked, "Uncle Wu, speaking of which, how did you end up in the hospital? Judging from your energy and the strength in your voice, you don't seem to have any serious illness."
Old Wu's expression changed instantly. The gentle look he had just had was replaced by frustration. His brows furrowed, as if he were knotted together. He clicked his tongue twice, as if a lot of things were stuck in his throat, something he had to say but couldn't stop. The incident was just too bizarre. He had been holding it in for days, tossing and turning at night, thinking about it over and over. But Director Jiang Hu had specifically told him to "talk less and rest peacefully," which made him feel like he was being scratched by a cat.
He hesitated for a long time, glanced at the ward door, then leaned closer, lowered his voice, and tentatively asked Zhou Tian, "If I said that I encountered 'that thing' and was brought in after fainting from fright, would you believe me?"
Zhou Tian didn't believe in these superstitious things at all; he thought "that thing" was just something old people made up to scare people. But to get Old Wu to continue, he immediately put on a serious and curious expression, nodding repeatedly: "Uncle Wu, how could I not believe what you're saying?" He even deliberately frowned, his tone carrying a hint of empathetic frustration, "To be honest, I've been feeling unlucky lately, one misfortune after another. Maybe there really are these inexplicable things in this world. Tell me, what's going on?"
Old Wu was surprised that the young man actually believed him. His eyes lit up, as if he had found an outlet for his feelings. Just a few days ago, he had mentioned it to his neighbors in the same courtyard and his colleagues at the mine, but they either laughed at him, saying he was "getting senile and just thinking about things that don't exist," or that he was "making up stories to amuse himself," and no one took it seriously. Now, finally someone was willing to listen, and listening so attentively. He immediately perked up, leaned forward, and lowered his voice even further: "You really believe me? Then let me tell you..."
That night, it was Old Wu's turn to be on duty at the coal mine's supply warehouse. The warehouse was built in a mountain valley, surrounded by barbed wire, with only one small door for entry and exit. Aside from the patrolling security guards, few people came here. As usual, Old Wu, carrying an enamel mug, sat on a small stool at the warehouse entrance, occasionally getting up to walk around the mountain of supplies piled up inside—freshly arrived explosives and detonators, as well as winter clothes, rice, and flour—all essential items for the mine.
The wind howled fiercely in the latter half of the night, sounding like weeping, and the corrugated iron roof of the warehouse rattled loudly. Old Wu wrapped his cotton-padded coat tighter, intending to go back to the guardhouse for a nap, when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a white shadow flashing past the barbed wire fence on the east side of the warehouse. The shadow was light and fleeting, as fast as a gust of wind. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing things.
Before he could react, he was suddenly struck on the back of the neck, as if hit by something hard. The pain made his vision go black, and the enamel mug in his hand fell to the ground with a clatter, rolling far away. He tried to shout, but no sound came out of his throat. His body went limp and he collapsed, his consciousness being overwhelmed by the tide, and he lost consciousness in an instant.
"When I woke up, it was almost dawn." Old Wu spat on the ground, his tone filled with frustration. "My head was still spinning, and when I touched the back of my neck, I found a huge bump. I quickly got up and ran to the warehouse, and when I pushed open the door, I was dumbfounded—half a box of explosives was missing from the pile at the back, along with two bags of flour. There were also a few messy footprints on the ground, which clearly indicated that someone had searched the place."
Zhou Tian listened with a frown, turning a page of his notebook: "Uncle Wu, are you sure it was Bai Yingzi? These days, there are no ghosts or gods. I think it's probably just someone pretending to be a ghost and knocking you unconscious when you weren't looking." He had been handling cases for many years and didn't believe in these mystical claims. He just thought that someone had taken advantage of the warehouse's security loopholes and deliberately did something to scare people.
Old Wu suddenly leaned closer, lowered his voice, and said mysteriously, "To be honest, there's something else I haven't told you. Actually... I wasn't completely unconscious at the time."
Zhou Tian was stunned for a moment: "You didn't faint? Then you..."
"I was terrified!" Old Wu rubbed his hands, his voice trembling. "That blow to the back of my neck really hurt, but even in my dazed state, I could still hear noises. I'm sure it wasn't just one person! I heard several people's footsteps, and someone was speaking in a low voice, as if saying 'Hurry up and move it,' 'Don't touch that pile of detonators.' I was so scared I didn't dare breathe, so I just lay on the ground pretending to be unconscious, thinking that as long as they didn't find me, they could just grab the stuff and leave, and I could still save my old life. If I had dared to make a sound, they might have silenced me!"