50: Chapter 50 After the Liquidation

Lin Yuan was awakened by light.

White light, not the color of blood, not the cold white of emergency lights, but the white of fluorescent lights in a hospital corridor that never turn off. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead. Only on the third attempt did he manage to open a slit.

The ceiling was white. Plaster ceiling tiles, embedded with fire sprinklers and smoke detectors. Very ordinary, as ordinary as any hospital, any patient room.

He moved his fingers. It hurt. A burning pain came from his back. But someone had bandaged him; the gauze was wrapped tightly, pressing against the wound, making the pain bearable.

He turned his head. Lying in the next bed was a person. Zhou Jishen. He was still wearing that one suit of his, but the jacket had been removed, and he was only wearing the white shirt underneath. The shirt was covered in blood and mud, so dirty that its original color was unrecognizable. He was lying on his side, his back to Lin Yuan, and it was impossible to tell if he was asleep or awake.

There was no one else in the room. Lin Yuan stared at the ceiling, piecing together what happened last night bit by bit. He walked into that underground space. He slid down the pipe. He released the talisman, and Zhou Jishen saw him. He walked out, stood in front of Mo Feigong, and said, "I'm here to replace him." He took out that button and said, "This is the transmitter." He crushed it. Then the vein-locking nail exploded. The vengeful spirits inside the ten thousand infant banner all surged out, rushing toward Mo Feigong. Mo Feigong rolled on the ground, screaming. Then many people rushed down from above. Then he passed out.

He remembered that button. It wasn't a transmitter. It was a detonator. The transmitter had already been crushed by him the very first second he stepped into that underground space—silently, the moment he slid down the pipe. That was the real transmitter that broke. This one was fake. But what did he detonate? He didn't know. He only knew that the critical threshold had arrived early. Early by exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutes.

The door opened. The Chess Player walked in. He wasn't wearing that dark gray sweater today, having changed into a navy blue jacket, and his hair was combed neater than usual. He walked to Lin Yuan's bed and pulled over a chair to sit down.

"You're awake."

Lin Yuan looked at him.

"How is Zhou Jishen?"

"He's alive. Three broken ribs, and that palm strike to the back of the neck was a bit heavy, so he might need observation for a few days. Otherwise, he's fine."

Lin Yuan closed his eyes for a moment.

"What about Mo Feigong?"

The Chess Player was silent for two seconds.

"He's alive."

Lin Yuan opened his eyes. The Chess Player was looking out the window. Outside was a gray, overcast sky; it was impossible to tell if it was early morning or evening.

"All the vengeful spirits from the ten thousand infant banner have flooded into his body. The moment the critical threshold was reached, he became the vessel—it wasn't him refining others into vessels, it was himself."

"He's still alive?"

"Alive." The Chess Player withdrew his gaze from the window. "But he is no longer Mo Feigong."

Lin Yuan didn't speak.

"That body now houses at least three thousand vengeful spirits. They are biting, struggling, and devouring each other inside him. His consciousness is still there, but it's been pushed to the very bottom, being eaten away little by little by those vengeful spirits every day."

"How long will it take?"

"I don't know. Maybe a few months, maybe a few years, maybe they will never finish eating." The Chess Player paused. "Lingxiao Capital has initiated an 'indefinite asset preservation freeze' on him. All his accounts are sealed, and his physical body is being held in a special custody area of the Regulatory Committee, monitored twenty-four hours a day."

"Because there is evidence within those vengeful spirits."

"Yes," The Chess Player said. "Every vengeful spirit is a chain of evidence. Who they were before they died, where they came from, how they were refined into the ten thousand infant banner—as long as he can hold out until the day he is fully consumed, that evidence can be dug out bit by bit."

Lin Yuan was silent for a long time.

"He won't hold out."

"Maybe," The Chess Player said. "But that is not something you need to worry about."

The room was quiet for a few seconds. Lin Yuan spoke.

"What was that detonator?"

The Chess Player looked at him.

"Zhou Jishen didn't tell you?"

"He was unconscious. I just woke up."

The Chess Player leaned back in his chair.

"That detonator wasn't an explosive. It was a remote trigger key for the energy balancing device of the vein-locking nail. Twenty-one years ago, when the vein-locking nail was installed, Zhou Jishen left a backdoor in the system. A hidden parameter adjustment interface that only he knew about. The function of that interface was: when receiving a specific signal, it would automatically raise the energy extraction rate of the vein-locking nail to one hundred and thirty percent of its design value."

Lin Yuan was stunned for a moment.

"Wouldn't that extract energy even faster?"

"Yes. It extracts faster," The Chess Player said. "But there is a fixed energy conversion delay between the energy input end of the vein-locking nail and the energy capacity end of the ten thousand infant banner. The delay is about 1.7 seconds. The moment the extraction rate is raised, the energy flooding into the input end exceeds the instantaneous processing capacity of the output end. In that instant, the energy balance inside the ten thousand infant banner is broken—it's not a backlash, it's 'energy accumulation.' After the accumulation lasts for 1.7 seconds, the output end catches up. But that momentary imbalance creates an illusion for the ten thousand infant banner: the input end is suddenly supplying excess energy, which means the critical threshold has been reached early."

Lin Yuan slowly understood.

"The critical threshold isn't a fixed value; it's automatically calculated by the system based on the dynamic relationship between the input and output ends. Zhou Jishen's true intention in drawing the curve thirty-seven points lower wasn't to let Mo Feigong extract more from the earth vein, but to create a 'loophole' in this computational model that only he could trigger."

"Correct."

"He waited twenty-one years, just waiting for me to crush that button."

"Correct."

Lin Yuan looked at the ceiling. It was white and very bright. He remembered what Zhou Jishen said on the stone steps of Paiyun Hall: "I signed off on twenty-one years of data falsification reports; I drew the efficiency curve of the vein-locking nail thirty-seven points lower." He thought it was a confession at the time. It was a testament.

"He knew I would go," Lin Yuan said.

The Chess Player did not deny it.

"The day he finished signing the testimony, after leaving the Regulatory Committee, he didn't go back to his mother's place. He stood at the entrance of that old street of yours for forty minutes."

"Waiting for me?"

"Waiting for himself to figure out whether he should hand that detonator to you."

Lin Yuan was silent.

"Did he give it to you later?"

"No," The Chess Player said. "He stuffed it into that fake transmitter and placed it under that Kaffir lily in the witness waiting room."

Lin Yuan closed his eyes. That Kaffir lily. When he walked into the witness waiting room, he saw that plant and thought someone had just left it there. Zhou Jishen had placed it. When he placed it, he already knew what would happen that night.

"Why didn't he wait for me to come and get it?"

The Chess Player looked at him.

"He was afraid that if you came, he wouldn't have the courage to leave."

The room was quiet for a long time. Lin Yuan didn't ask again. He turned his head to look at Zhou Jishen in the bed next to him. That person was lying with his back to him, motionless, unable to tell if he was asleep or awake. On the hand resting on his back, there was still mud under the fingernails. It was the mud from the pipes.

Three in the afternoon. For the first time, Lin Yuan was allowed to get out of bed. The wound on his back was still painful, but he could walk. He leaned against the wall and slowly walked out of the room, only to realize this wasn't a hospital. It was the internal medical area of Lingxiao Capital.

The corridor was very quiet; occasionally, people in white coats passed by, and no one looked at him twice. He walked about fifty meters along the corridor and stopped in front of a half-open door. Inside the door was Zhou Jishen's room. He stood at the door, but didn't go in.

Zhou Jishen was still lying on his side, his back to the door. But his hand was moving—feeling for something on the nightstand. There was a potted plant on the nightstand. A Kaffir lily. The leaves were shiny, the soil moist, obviously just watered.

Zhou Jishen's hand reached the edge of the flowerpot and stopped. He didn't turn back.

"My mom sent it," His voice was raspy, raspier than usual. "She doesn't know what kind of place this is, doesn't know who let her in. She only knows her son is here and needs a potted plant."

Lin Yuan didn't speak.

"The one I nurtured to death, she replanted it," Zhou Jishen said. "She said the young man told her the roots weren't broken and it could live. She waters it once a day and moves it to the windowsill when there's sun. It lived."

Lin Yuan looked at that Kaffir lily.

"It lived."

Zhou Jishen's hand withdrew from the edge of the pot.

"My mom's dumplings," He said, "enough for a week."

"Enough," Lin Yuan said.

Zhou Jishen didn't speak again. Lin Yuan stood at the door for a long time. Then he turned and walked back to his own room.

Seven in the evening. The Chess Player came for the second time. This time he brought a document.

"The preliminary ruling of the Liquidation Committee." He placed the document on Lin Yuan's nightstand. "Zhou Jishen, due to twenty-one years of participation in illegal asset operations, failure to report known information, and data falsification, is sentenced to three years of godhood sealing, permanent revocation of his professional qualification for spiritual energy engineering, and is barred for life from engaging in any earth vein-related industries."

Lin Yuan looked at the document.

"Three years."

"Three years," The Chess Player said. "After three years, the godhood will be unsealed, and he can do other things. As long as he doesn't touch the earth veins."

Lin Yuan didn't speak. Three years. Zhou Jishen is thirty-four this year. Three years later, thirty-seven. His mother is over seventy.

"What did he say?"

"He said okay." The Chess Player's tone was very flat. "He asked if he could continue to take care of that Kaffir lily inside. The committee said yes."

Lin Yuan closed the document.

"What about me?"

The Chess Player looked at him.

"Regarding your godhood loan, Zhao Wuyong filed an application for an extension. The committee approved it, extending it by thirty days. The interest remains the same, but the principal repayment method can be renegotiated—based on your 'major meritorious performance' this time."

Lin Yuan didn't speak.

"The chain of evidence you submitted, with the addition of the link where Mo Feigong gave the order himself, is now complete. Although Mo Feigong cannot speak now, the moment he was backlashed by the ten thousand infant banner, the audio and video of the entire underground space were recorded in real-time by Lingxiao Capital—including every word you said, and the words he didn't say. His silence is, in itself, evidence."

Lin Yuan leaned against the headboard. Thirty days. He had thirty more days.

"What about Luoxia Mountain?"

The Chess Player was silent for two seconds.

"All seven vein-locking nails have shattered, and the vitality of the earth vein is flowing back. But the rate of flow is very slow; it may take three to five years to return to the level before it was extracted."

"What about the Earth Spirit?"

"Still there," The Chess Player said. "That night watchman of yours, Uncle Zhou, has been walking around Luoxia Mountain every day these past few days. He says the Earth Spirit has 'woken up a bit,' and the wind blowing through isn't as 'cutting' as before."

Lin Yuan didn't speak. Outside the window, the sky was completely dark.

The Chess Player stood up and walked to the door.

"Physician Li Cian," He didn't turn back. "Came by this morning."

Lin Yuan's spine tightened slightly.

"He didn't come in. He just stood outside the medical area for twenty minutes, then left."

"Did he leave anything?"

The Chess Player was silent for a few seconds.

"No."

He opened the door.

"But from the spot where he was standing, he could see the window of this room."

The door closed. Lin Yuan sat alone on the bed. He looked out the window. Outside was the pitch-black night, and he couldn't see anything. But he knew that if someone had been standing outside this morning—standing in a place where they could see this window—what that person would have seen was darkness. And a window with a light on.

The next morning. Lin Yuan was awakened by a slight knock on the door.

The door opened a crack, a neatly folded piece of paper was pushed through the gap, and then footsteps moved away.

Lin Yuan got out of bed and picked up the paper.

On the paper was handwritten text, very familiar.

"Lin Yuan: I'm going to report in first. When I come out in three years, my mom's dumplings should still be edible. You help me take care of that Kaffir lily, and when I come out, return it to me. Zhou Jishen"

Lin Yuan looked at it for a long time. He folded the paper and put it into his inner chest pocket.

Then he put on his coat and walked out of the room. At the end of the corridor was a door leading outside. He pushed the door open. The morning breeze blew in, carrying a hint of coolness and a faint, moist scent of soil.

He stood at the doorway and took a deep breath. The sunlight shone from the east, dyeing the whole street a pale gold. He saw a breakfast stall on the opposite street corner, the steaming steamer emitting white mist. He saw someone passing by on a bicycle, the basket containing groceries just bought. He saw a cat jump down from a wall and slowly cross the road.

A very ordinary morning.

Lin Yuan stood for a long time. Then he turned and walked in the other direction.

That old street, that clinic without a house number, that old wind lamp that had been extinguished for twenty years. He was going to return something.

—That Kaffir lily; it was time to return it to the person it should be returned to.