Chapter 222
Chapter 222
After hearing the whole story, Qin Ying sighed from where she lay in the infirmary at Qingzhai Station.
She raised a hand with some effort, and Thunderbird immediately flew over and perched on her palm.
“They’re not enemies.” She paused. Calling it Thunderbird would be practically the same as flashing its ID, so she made up a name on the spot. “Jinbao.”
Thunderbird had no idea Jinbao was supposed to mean it. It cocked its head and pondered the matter for a while.
The awful name she had improvised made all three men’s eyes twitch.
As Qin Ying’s own Uncle, however, Qin Zhiguo was more concerned about her condition than what she had named the bird.
He said to Dean Tan, “Start an IV for her first.”
Without Thunderbird getting in the way, the IV went in smoothly this time.
There were no outsiders present, so Qin Ying propped herself halfway up and asked, “How are Director Wu and the others?”
Deputy Director Chen replied, “They were all rushed back to Yunlan City.”
His expression abruptly turned grave as he looked at Qin Ying. “What exactly happened?”
Qin Zhiguo and Dean Tan exchanged a glance, then quietly stepped outside.
Deputy Director Chen asked again, “And what’s the story with this bird?”
Qin Ying lowered her eyes. “Where’s my backpack?”
Deputy Director Chen quickly fetched it for her.
Qin Ying was a little surprised to find that no one had touched it.
Deputy Director Chen said frankly, “We’re not the sort of people who search a colleague’s bag while she’s unconscious.”
She had to admit, that small courtesy earned him quite a bit of goodwill.
Qin Ying said bluntly, “That’s a good habit.”
She forced herself upright and unzipped the backpack. As she did, she began recounting everything from how she had met Wu Qian at the funeral home to why she had come to Qingzhai alone.
“Something felt off about the way Minmin worded her messages.”
“The moment I saw Zhang Yuqin, I knew it was a setup.”
The wooden bench in the infirmary looked no bigger than a tiny folding stool beneath Deputy Director Chen. Sitting there uncomfortably, he could not help asking, “What gave it away?”
Leaving out the part about Thunderbird interfering with the surveillance cameras, Qin Ying only said, “Zhang Yuqin had been tied hand and foot on that bed all day. The second the ropes came off, she was full of energy and led me out through a window. Even an idiot could tell something was wrong.”
“I knew what they were trying to manipulate me into doing.”
After a pause, she suddenly asked, “Did the surveillance cameras at Qingzhai Station capture anything?”
It was not a question that had occurred to Qin Ying on a whim. She needed to know whether the cameras had caught her on video.
The fog had been extremely thick, but Thunderbird had been perched on her shoulder. If the cameras had captured her, she would have to change the story she was about to tell them about Thunderbird.
To her relief, Deputy Director Chen shook his head and said regretfully, “The fog was too thick. They didn’t capture anything.”
He took out his phone and pulled up a video for Qin Ying.
The footage showed an eerie fog suddenly rolling in at around one in the morning.
The surveillance equipment at Qingzhai Station was truly awful. Amid the churning fog, the only visible detail was a sliver of red clothing slowly drawing closer.
Qin Ying replayed the video again and again. Once she had confirmed that the fog had concealed her and, more importantly, Thunderbird, a weight lifted from her mind.
Then her expression turned solemn. “Why doesn’t Qingzhai Station lock its doors at night?”
Deputy Director Chen sighed. “Qingzhai Station hasn’t been peaceful lately. Figures keep appearing at night, and the locks are often pried apart for no apparent reason.”
He could hardly tell her that ever since someone had been scared to death at the station, rumors had spread that the place was haunted.
Then again, they were not exactly mere rumors. Whenever the staff went to meet the late-night trains, they often saw shadowy figures moving through the mountains.
After the locks had been ruined several times, someone claimed it was because the locks were blocking the spirits’ path. So the station had simply started leaving its doors wide open at night.
If word of this got out, a lot of people would be in trouble, so Deputy Director Chen kept quiet.
Qin Ying gave a noncommittal hum and let the subject drop.
At the very end of the video, there was a sudden burst of crackling, and the screen dissolved into static.
Qin Ying knew it was either interference from the Thunderbird or the Trans-Temporal Train pulling into the station and overlapping with reality.
After recounting how she’d found the ticket, she dug the 1910 ticket out of her backpack and handed it over.
Deputy Director Chen examined it for a long while, then shook his head in disapproval. “You were far too reckless.”
Still, he didn’t dwell on it. The Cultural Preservation Bureau had no shortage of people whose curiosity knew no bounds.
There were plenty who courted death even more eagerly than Qin Ying did.
He was long since used to it.
Even he could barely suppress his excitement as his fingers brushed over the ticket stub from more than a century ago.
Honestly, if he had found a ticket like this, he would have boarded the train without hesitation too.
With a wistful sigh, Deputy Director Chen rose and retrieved a reference file from nearby.
He flipped to a page and pointed out a photocopy of an old newspaper article for Qin Ying to read.
It was a newspaper from 1910, and the layout was quite different from what modern readers were accustomed to.
Qin Ying studied it for some time before she finally found the section she was looking for.
The article reported a train accident in 1910.
According to the newspaper, a landslide had killed many people.
The date and train number matched the very train Qin Ying had boarded.
When interviewed by a reporter, one survivor spoke of his incredible luck. He had been supposed to board Carriage No. 9, but fortunately, he had eaten something bad that day and also lost his ticket.
Qin Ying glanced at the ticket in Deputy Director Chen’s hand. “Can I keep that ticket as a souvenir?”
Deputy Director Chen waved her off without hesitation. “Don’t even think about it. This has to be sent to headquarters.”
It was a ticket that had traveled through time, and the coincidences surrounding it were staggering. There was no way Qin Ying would be allowed to keep it in her personal collection.
“Stingy,” Qin Ying complained expressionlessly before pulling a newspaper-wrapped packet of edamame from her backpack.
“Someone gave me these on the train.”
At first, Deputy Director Chen had no idea why she had suddenly produced a packet of edamame. The moment he heard they had come from the train, however, his eyes slowly widened.
“If I eat these and get food poisoning, you should be able to save me, right?”
No matter how hungry she’d been in the tunnel, Qin Ying hadn’t dared to eat them. Now, however, she was tempted.
Before she could act on the idea, Deputy Director Chen took the packet Feng Meiyu had given her.
“Aren’t you afraid they’ll kill you?”
Despite his words, he picked one up himself. “I’ll try it first.”
“If nothing happens to me, then you can eat one. Just one, got it?”
Before Qin Ying could react, he had already shelled an edamame bean and tossed it into his mouth. After chewing twice, he said, “It’s been sitting in the heat. It’s gone a little stringy.”
Qin Ying couldn’t help thinking that the people at the Cultural Preservation Bureau were so curious, they’d probably taste shit just to find out how salty it was.
She held out her hand too. “I want one.”
The packet had been sitting in her backpack for quite a while, and the edamame really had gone a little stringy. If they left it any longer, it would spoil.
Before Qin Ying could put hers into her mouth, Deputy Director Chen smacked his lips and said, “Chew it carefully. Why does it smell a little funky?”
Qin Ying’s hand froze with the edamame pinched between her fingers.
She suddenly remembered… there were also things in her backpack that she’d pulled out of the Wax Corpse.
She silently set the edamame down. “I don’t want it anymore.”