Chapter Nine: Golden Pear · Farewell

"Thank you for riding with us," the driver said, his back unmoving, the only thing absolutely still in the moving carriage all along. "You've arrived at your destination."

Jin Xueli stood on the road beside the Museum of Modern Art. With a "bang," the car door closed behind her.

She instinctively turned her head and caught sight of the red taillights of the yellow taxi as it drove into the mist born from the depths of night, merging with the white steam rising from a sewer grate, disappearing into the haze.

...She seemed to have forgotten something.

Jin Xueli stood on the road, watching the car’s taillights vanish into the dark night, into the foggy blue and smoky white, yet she did not know why she remained fixated on them.

Of course, she knew that a certain portion of her memory had been taken as fare, something she could never retrieve no matter how hard she tried.

But Jin Xueli felt that what she had forgotten lay beyond that memory—a sense that something important had gone unnoticed, something she should have paid attention to. Sometimes, before leaving, she vaguely suspected she’d forgotten something, a feeling much like now, as if a fog clouded part of her mind, obscuring the moon she couldn’t clear or see.

Usually, at such times, no amount of thinking helped; only after stepping out and reaching the moment of use would she suddenly slap her thigh in realization.

Well, she had all her limbs intact and her head still on her shoulders—if she really forgot something, it was evidently not a matter of life and death. She would remember it sooner or later.

She leaned against the glass door of Entrance D, peering inside before carefully pushing the door open little by little.

Unlike in Blackmore City, the buildings and facilities inside the Nest were almost never locked. If a door was found shut tight, it usually meant there was a hunter inside—an unopened door was but a faint comfort, something to cling to fiercely for humans venturing deep into this eerie and strange realm.

After all, a person cannot live without some illusion of security. If everyone knew everything happening in society, probably no one would dare step outside their homes.

Jin Xueli held the door open but did not enter immediately. She waited a few seconds, saw that silence remained beyond the door, then stepped in as quietly as possible, treading on the floor.

Even though it was late at night, half the lights in the museum still burned, the corridors, exhibition halls, and elevator areas bathed in sterilized white light.

Perhaps because it was a modern art museum, the lighting design and architectural style always felt vast and cold. Walking between the stagnant white walls and white light, she seemed too "alive," her vitality too fervent and excessive, out of place.

Following the direction signs, she quickly found the elevator lobby.

The broadcast gave three main instructions: First, "Take the first elevator on the left"; second, "Do not look at the other elevators"; third, "Proceed to the basement level"—none of it complicated. Luckily, the fare she paid when boarding was not part of this memory; otherwise, it would have been troublesome.

Jin Xueli pressed the button and stood at the entrance of the first elevator on the left, beginning to watch carefully.

This broken place was sometimes truly predictable; when the crisp "ding" broke the silence, the first elevator to arrive was predictably the one on the right.

The dead stillness caught a breath, then was slowly unzipped as the elevator doors parted.

Jin Xueli did not look over, but the hairs on her body rose like tiny antennae; her eyes locked tightly on the closed elevator doors ahead, faintly sensing that the right elevator was not empty—that something was inside.

Whatever it was, she had already made up her mind: whether it was a resident or even if the elevator spilled out a pile of cash, she would not so much as glance at it.

"Great, someone’s out there..."

A woman's voice, like a thin thread, was gently pulled from the elevator by an invisible hand, trembling in the air. "Listen to me, I came down from the third floor. Something serious happened up there..."

Don’t talk to me, Jin Xueli silently told herself. I’m deaf and blind again.

The display on the first elevator on the left showed a blood-red "28"; the building had only three floors above ground.

"Don’t be afraid."

The woman’s initially threadlike voice thickened, as if gaining roots. Or perhaps the woman was slowly climbing out of the elevator, her voice drawing closer to Jin Xueli.

"I’m a hunter who entered from Blackmore City, looking for the false image I hid... but I lost track of time after coming in... What month and day is it now? On the day I entered, Reagan was giving his victory speech."

I’m deaf and blind, I’m deaf and blind, Jin Xueli muttered the mantra repeatedly.

She pretended to step aside casually—but did not dare retreat too far, lest the elevator doors open and she could not rush in first.

"You must not get on the elevator,"

The voice drew nearer, no longer a thread but like filthy water gushing from a black hole. "I really shouldn’t have listened to the host... The first two times gave me a taste of sweetness, but the third time led me to a dead end. Luckily, I reacted quickly..."

When the words "host" reached her ears, Jin Xueli nearly suppressed the urge to turn her head. She kept her gaze fixed on the elevator but felt her heart prick sharply, beating almost uncontrollably, her ears ringing with pounding sounds.

Her gaze froze midair, unwilling to lower; a black shadow slowly rose from the floor, stopping at her chest as if listening closely.

...Did her speeding heartbeat mean she responded to the woman?

Jin Xueli dared not react rashly. Her breathing and the shadow at her chest standoffed in the cold, quiet elevator lobby for several seconds—until another elevator arrival "ding" shattered the stagnant air.

The doors of the farthest left elevator opened.

Wait, the woman was standing right in front of her. She would have to go around her to pass... but going around would mean acknowledging her presence, wouldn’t it?

But if she didn’t go around, she couldn’t just bump into her either.

Jin Xueli stared as the door slowly parted, revealing an empty elevator car; just as she hesitated, the black shadow on her chest suddenly shrank aside, retreating.

"Annoying..." the woman murmured.

Jin Xueli never probed why good fortune came her way—good fortune was fragile and could not withstand scrutiny.

With the shadow moving aside, she immediately strode into the elevator, repeatedly pressing the close door button as if she wanted to press the panel through; all the while, her eyes remained averted, never looking outside.

Yet even without looking, she sensed from the corner of her eye a black shadow on the floor, its limbs crawling like a giant lizard, slowly moving away.

Only when the elevator doors fully closed, groaning as it carried her down to the basement level, did Jin Xueli exhale deeply.

Up to this point, she had strictly followed the broadcast’s instructions and should be safe from...

"...The first two times gave me a taste of sweetness," the woman’s voice suddenly echoed in her mind, "but the third time led me to a dead end."

Jin Xueli rubbed the corners of her eyes, deciding to suppress this annoying, distracting thought for the time being.

The "Virtual Guide to the Infinite Illusion" was meant for Nest residents; it was no surprise that the woman knew the host.

Compared to the lizard-like residents in the elevator lobby, she trusted the broadcast host a little more—though that “trust” was tinged with suspicion, caution, and scrutiny.

However, the next few minutes seemed to prove the host had told no lies. In the dimly lit basement exhibition hall, Jin Xueli had little trouble finding the piece called "Candle Tears"—in fact, it was harder to miss.

Standing before the exhibit, Jin Xueli was dumbfounded.

"Candle Tears" was a giant white wax candle, nearly as tall as herself and several dozen meters long, laid horizontally on the floor.

If not for its waxy, milky smooth surface and the long black wick dangling like an arm, it might have looked more like a giant’s beam.

The candle rested on numerous iron stands made specifically for it, with a row of metal troughs underneath whose purpose was unclear.

"This thing is a false image?"

The candle was so enormous that Jin Xueli circled it for a while but couldn’t complete a full lap. "Not sure how powerful it is, but it’s certainly big enough..."

So big—how could she carry it back alone? Could she cut off a piece?

She didn’t even understand what function this false image served, let alone whether that would work.

Most art exhibits included a brief introduction to the work and the artist; usually, detailed information about a false image would be in the description.

Sure enough, when Jin Xueli reached the other side of the candle, she found the description for "Candle Tears" filling half the wall.

"Some say time flows like water; others say time is speed. But artist Judy Picot believes time is wax... The time we are living through is a candle gradually melting, an illusion of a form still in our hands; yet once this moment passes, it becomes solidified candle tears, permanently shaped in history.

"The artist’s interpretation of time culminated in the exhibit 'Candle Tears.' The giant candle before you represents a long stretch of primordial time.

"It is an interactive artwork. Visitors can start a fire beneath the iron stands to warm the candle, watching it gradually deform and drip candle tears."

Among the neatly printed black text were scrawled, crooked handwriting segments, as if the person preparing the introduction deliberately printed parts orderly and others wildly.

"It’s a false image, a false image melting time."

"Melting time means freeing history from imprisonment! Hurry and look at your history—don’t accidentally kill your past self! Put me inside, how about putting me next to your past self?"

The next segment returned to normal text.

"After the candle wax becomes transparent from heat, visitors will notice the contents wrapped inside by the artist. These represent historical events that occurred within the original time. By reshaping the hot wax and altering the contents inside, visitors can change the 'original history.' The artist believes..."

By this point, Jin Xueli could no longer hold back and turned to look at the giant milky white candle behind her, overwhelmed by shock, unsure how to process it.

Could she truly change time—no, change history—by melting and reshaping this candle?

Was her understanding correct?

If so, it deserved its reputation as one of the most powerful false images.

She needed to examine the detailed usage method carefully, ideally try it herself. She also had to see what influence it might have on the future.

Only after a preliminary understanding could she consider the next step. Cutting off a piece to take away seemed impossible; even with help from other hunters, no one could carry it away together because each used a different pathway and could not return together. It seemed she could only hide it for now...

This was the last thought spinning through Jin Xueli’s mind before a hunting knife was thrust into her throat as she turned around.