chapter 8
Ning Qiuyan was completely unaware that there was a small, hole-like wound on his neck.
He reached up to touch it, only to find it neither painful nor itchy: “I don’t know… Maybe I was bitten by an insect?”
Du Island is an island out at sea.
Perhaps there are insects here that don’t exist on the mainland.
He thought again about the night of the blackout, when he ran into the Forest without a scarf and fell several times along the way. Maybe he’d been scratched by a branch.
He hadn’t reached a conclusion yet when Su Jianzhou grabbed his hand: “What happened to your hand?”
Earlier on the road, Ning Qiuyan had kept his hands in his pockets. Now, he revealed a small piece of gauze on the palm of his right hand.
He told Su Jianzhou, “I got bumped when getting off the boat and accidentally scraped my hand on the rail. It’s not serious, Dr. Ling already treated it.”
Seeing that he was fine and didn’t seem troubled at all,
Su Jianzhou sighed maturely, “You’re a bit unlucky, huh? How come you get injured everywhere you go?”
Ning Qiuyan didn’t mind: “It doesn’t hurt anymore anyway.”
Su Jianzhou reminded him that wounds heal slowly in winter and he should be careful, then complained that the headphones Mr. Guan gave him weren’t worth it-Ning Qiuyan lost blood and got injured on this trip, so those little gifts didn’t count for much.
The owner brought over skewers and beer.
Ning Qiuyan described the taste of grilled venison to Su Jianzhou.
He’d been to Du Island once.
Ning Qiuyan seemed to talk more now.
He told Su Jianzhou about the wind and waves on the day he landed, the towering fir trees, the snow-covered hills and frozen lake, and also about that dim building and the dried-up fountain.
Su Jianzhou said Ning Qiuyan liked it there.
Because he was just that kind of person who liked quiet.
“I do like it,” Ning Qiuyan thought for a moment, then said regretfully, “It’s just that the signal is terrible, you can’t get online.”
They finished all the beer the owner had sent over.
After paying, they chatted as they walked, arriving at the entrance to Ning Qiuyan’s building.
Ning Qiuyan asked, “Want to come up and sleep?”
Su Jianzhou pinched his cheek: “No, I have an early shift tomorrow.”
As they parted, Su Jianzhou called out to him: “Hey!”
Ning Qiuyan stood in the stairwell, halfway up the steps, and turned back.
Su Jianzhou, his back to the street, smiled and said, “Life is about to get better!”
With that, he turned and walked away without looking back.
Ning Qiuyan stood there for a few seconds, then coolly replied, “I know.”
Back home, Ning Qiuyan took off his hat and scarf, tossed his thick snow boots on the floor-they were already caked with mud after walking all night.
After showering and blow-drying his hair, he remembered what Su Jianzhou had said about the wound on his neck.
The bathroom was warm and humid.
Ning Qiuyan instinctively wiped the fog off the mirror, only then realizing he was a bit distracted-the gauze on his right hand had gotten wet.
He carefully unwrapped the gauze and tossed it in the trash.
Then he froze.
The skin on the palm of his right hand was perfectly intact.
Not a single trace of a wound.
His injury was gone.
Ning Qiuyan almost doubted his own eyes. He touched his palm with his other hand, then moved under direct light.
This time, he was absolutely certain: the wound he’d gotten scraping his hand on the boat rail, about a centimeter long, hadn’t just healed-it had vanished without a trace.
The strange expressions of Uncle Ping and the Boy on the boat flashed through his mind again.
He remembered what Uncle Ping had said.
-“Next time, don’t go to the island with a wound.”
Could it be that Du Island had some kind of magical power that could heal a person’s wounds without leaving a mark?
Ning Qiuyan immediately returned to the mirror and carefully examined his neck.
Because of the angle, he couldn’t see it clearly, only knew it was still there, which disproved his earlier theory.
He got dressed and went back to his room, used his phone to take a picture of the right side of his neck.
Looking at it, he felt something was off.
No wonder Su Jianzhou had asked about it-the wound didn’t look like something a tree branch could have caused.
In the photo, on his neck, not far from the Heart-shaped Tattoo,
there were two small red dots side by side.
The red dots had scabbed over. It wasn’t hard to imagine what the wound had looked like before; just as Su Jianzhou had said, they really were two small holes.
Ning Qiuyan felt a chill run down his spine.
To find an answer, he didn’t bother blow-drying his hair, just sat on his bed with wet hair and opened his laptop to search for “what causes two hole-like wounds,” “what kind of insect bites leave small red dots on the neck.” The search results were all over the place, covering every possibility, and he was even forced to look at some eye-burning pictures, accidentally stumbling onto adult websites.
Then he thought, rather than looking online, he might as well ask Su Jianzhou. If even Su Jianzhou, who studied medicine, couldn’t figure it out, could anyone online?
In the end, Ning Qiuyan found a forum called Unsolved Mysteries.
He made a post, uploading the photo he’d just taken-after all, his face wasn’t visible.
He described the symptom: not painful or itchy, and asked if anyone could explain it.
He also mentioned the miraculous disappearance of the wound on his palm.
By the time he finished, it was already three in the morning.
He hugged his blanket and sank into a deep sleep.
*
Early the next morning, Ning Qiuyan was woken by voices in the living room.
No one had visited his home in a long time. At first, when he heard the voices, Ning Qiuyan vaguely thought he was still dreaming, dreaming of countless warm mornings from the past.
It wasn’t until he recognized the voices that he got out of bed and opened the door.
There were three people standing in the living room.
Two looked like a married couple whom he didn’t recognize, but the third was very familiar-he’d just heard that voice on the phone last night.
The three of them all turned to look at the room.
“Who is that?” the unfamiliar man asked. “You didn’t mention there was someone else living here.”
Wu Jingye put on a bright smile, her laughter crisp: “That’s my nephew! He’ll be going to college next year. If you like the place, he’ll move to my house and squeeze in.”
The man said, “He has a pretty fierce look in his eyes.”
Wu Jingye replied, “Kids have bad tempers, you know, spoiled and pampered, gets cranky when he wakes up.”
After saying this, she led the couple to the kitchen, taking the chance to check out the balcony outside.
Ning Qiuyan said nothing, closed the door, and returned to his room.
About ten minutes later, Wu Jingye knocked on his door: “Ningning, they’re gone. They didn’t like the layout of the bathroom, and want to lower the price by another twenty thousand. What do you think?”
Ning Qiuyan put on his headphones.
He played a deafening rock song.
During this time, he vaguely heard the knocking on his door grow louder and louder.
Maybe the neighbors came too-the soundproofing in the house was poor, probably complaining that they were too noisy.
When peace finally returned, Ning Qiuyan opened his door.
He was already eighteen, not particularly tall, and quite thin, but when a lanky boy stands there with a sullen expression, it still makes people a little uneasy.
“What’s wrong with you today?” Wu Jingye was so angry her hair was a mess. “Didn’t I call you and explain everything clearly? You didn’t open the door or greet anyone-do you have any manners at all?”
Ning Qiuyan obediently called out, “Aunt.”
After greeting her, he turned and went back to his room.
Wu Jingye followed behind him, nearly tripping over the strap of the guitar case as she entered.
The room was cluttered with equipment and cables; she could barely find a place to step. Annoyed, she said, “You’re messing with this stuff again? You’re not a kid anymore-can’t you think of something reliable to do?”
Wu Jingye softened her tone: “Did you have breakfast?”
Ning Qiuyan sat on his bed facing the computer, his youthful face still tender.
He looked like he didn’t understand anything.
Wu Jingye raised her voice: “Ning Qiuyan, I’m talking to you-what are you looking at?”
“I don’t want to sell the house,” Ning Qiuyan said without looking up. “I’m looking for ads to change the locks.”
Wu Jingye was so angry she was almost shaking, taking two deep breaths.
She stood for a moment, her eyes reddening, then kicked the guitar case on the floor a few times in frustration and walked out in her high heels.
Ning Qiuyan sat on the bed for a while, then opened his mobile banking app and transferred some money to Wu Jingye.
After that, he got up to open the guitar case, squatted down to check it.
Once he confirmed the guitar was fine, he packed it up, spun around on the spot, and put it back in the cabinet.
The room lights were off.
Only the glow from the laptop screen lit the space.
Ning Qiuyan played games all day, then went to work at N° in the evening.
That night, Ray didn’t show up. A female singer took the stage instead; word was Ray’s throat had been hurting for a while and he wouldn’t be coming for now.
During his shift, Ning Qiuyan stood at the bar as usual, watching the performance. The female singer sang rap and jazz, her style all over the place-he didn’t like it.
Passing through the underground plaza again, the same group of punks from last night was still there.
Someone whistled at him again.
This time, Ning Qiuyan stopped.
The one who whistled looked young too, wearing a hood. Seeing Ning Qiuyan stop, he jogged over.
By now, the underground plaza was nearly empty.
Only a busking singer was packing up equipment, picking up scattered bills and counting mobile payment tips.
“Want some?” the Hooded Man asked.
“Want what?” Ning Qiuyan was puzzled.
“People who come here aren’t very happy, right?” The Hooded Man laughed quietly, dark circles under his eyes. “I’ve been watching you for a while. You hang around here every night.”
Ning Qiuyan: “…”
The Hooded Man said, “Once, I saw you crying behind the statue here.”
Ning Qiuyan didn’t know what he was after, just felt uncomfortable and wanted to leave.
“Want to forget your troubles?” the Hooded Man said mysteriously. “I’ve got something that’ll make you happy.”
Ning Qiuyan seemed to understand.
Just then, a few pedestrians suddenly appeared at one end of the plaza.
The Hooded Man grew nervous, speaking faster: “It’s good stuff. You’re so young, I can give you a discount, and throw in a little extra. How about it?”
Ning Qiuyan was a bit taller than him.
His clear, black-and-white eyes stared at him without blinking: “I don’t have any money.”
He was calculating how to call the police.
The Hooded Man said, “No cash? That’s fine. Your headphones are worth a lot.”
Ning Qiuyan had no way to protect himself; he’d never been in a fight.
But he still said, “The headphones aren’t mine.”
The Hooded Man sneered, “Who are you trying to fool?”
The pedestrians drew closer.
They were a group of tall men in black coats, unfamiliar faces.
It looked like they were heading straight for the two of them.
The Hooded Man asked, “Are those people with you?”
Ning Qiuyan: “…”
The Hooded Man gritted his teeth: “Damn, cops!”
He didn’t bother with his customer anymore, quickly tightened his hood so only his eyes showed, hunched over, and walked away.
The other punks saw trouble and jumped off the light signs, scattering in all directions.
Ning Qiuyan stayed in the plaza.
But those unfamiliar men didn’t chase the punks, nor did they linger.
They passed through the plaza like ordinary pedestrians, walked past Ning Qiuyan, and then disappeared from sight.