Chapter 50: Father

“Hiss, what is he doing?” Luo Ling stared at Li Xiang, who kept running in place, puzzled, and waved his hand in front of Li Xiang’s eyes.

But Li Xiang seemed not to see him at all, continuing his ridiculous running motion in place, not moving an inch.

Mu Yu ignored the two men and instead shone his phone’s flashlight around.

The light seemed to be swallowed, vanishing into the darkness, barely illuminating three meters ahead.

And this darkness didn’t feel like ordinary blackness—he couldn’t even see himself clearly.

“Ahhh!” Li Xiang’s terrified scream came from behind. Mu Yu spun around, his hand tightening unconsciously on the grip of his gun.

“I just touched him!” Luo Ling raised both hands innocently to show he hadn’t done anything.

Li Xiang, frightened by the sudden appearance of the two men, fell to the floor.

“Are you people or ghosts?”

“People, people, of course we’re people,” Luo Ling quickly explained, grabbing Li Xiang’s hand. “See, have you ever heard of a ghost with body heat?”

Feeling the warmth from Luo Ling’s hand, Li Xiang let out a breath of relief, then shivered and sprang to his feet.

“Let’s go, hurry, there are ghosts here!” He turned to dash away.

“Stop running, it’s useless,” Mu Yu couldn’t help but remind him as Li Xiang started for the stairs again. “We’ve gone up and down these stairs several times, but we’re still in the same place.”

But Li Xiang paid no heed and dashed down the stairs. After two turns, he once again saw the exasperated Mu Yu and the snickering Luo Ling.

“What are you laughing at? We can’t get out either.” Mu Yu glanced at Luo Ling, not understanding his thought process.

“Finding joy in misery, big boss, you wouldn’t get it.”

Indeed, he didn’t. Mu Yu shook his head and turned to the still-dazed Li Xiang.

“You said there were ghosts—did you really see one?”

“Well…” Li Xiang seemed hesitant, stumbling over his words.

“It’s either yes or no, what’s there to be indecisive about?” Mu Yu’s frown deepened, his frustration at being trapped growing stronger.

“I did see one.” Clenching his teeth, Li Xiang decided to tell Mu Yu; if he was going to die here, he might as well speak.

“What did it look like?” Luo Ling perked up, leaning in.

“Seemed like a little boy… I didn’t get a clear look at the rest.”

“A boy?” Luo Ling was surprised, pulling a mask from his bag and putting it on. “Was it a boy like this?”

Li Xiang jumped in fright, stumbling back several steps, but couldn’t help taking a closer look.

“No, he should be a bit older.”

“Oh.” Luo Ling put the mask away and continued crawling on the floor, scrutinizing every inch for clues.

This was the task Mu Yu had assigned him. He also felt there was something odd about the stains on the floor, so he worked diligently.

“How do you know it wasn’t him if you didn’t get a clear look?” Mu Yu frowned, suddenly asking.

This man clearly knew something, but was unwilling to say.

“Well…” Li Xiang panicked, his gaze unconsciously drifting to the lower right.

“Because, because, because…”

“Because he’s my son.”

A burly figure stepped from the darkness, a fierce face marked by an inexplicable sadness that made Li Xiang turn away.

“Your son?” Mu Yu recognized the figure—they had met him on the stairs before.

“Yes. Over twenty years ago, my son went missing around here. I’ve been searching for him ever since.” As if afraid Mu Yu wouldn’t believe him, he pulled out a thick stack of flyers.

No wonder he was wearing a uniform in such hot weather—only such clothing could hold so much.

Mu Yu took one of the flyers. He was already convinced.

The boy on the flyer smiled sweetly, with his height, weight, and name printed beside the photo.

“Zhao Zhongguo?” Mu Yu read aloud.

“Yes, same surname as mine. My name is Zhao Zhongmin—my wife chose it, for the nation and the people.”

Mentioning this, the man’s face softened with tenderness.

“Sounds more like a pair of brothers’ names.” Mu Yu carefully folded the flyer and slipped it into his pocket.

“Don’t be so pessimistic. Maybe he just got lost. I’m a police officer; when we get out, I’ll help you look for him.”

Zhao Zhongmin shook his head. “It was him. I’d recognize my own child anywhere. You recognized him too, didn’t you, Brother Li? Back then, Zhongguo loved lying in your truck and playing.”

Li Xiang’s expression stiffened, but in the end, he nodded.

“All these years, I thought I must have been mistaken.”

“Yes… so many years have passed,” Zhao Zhongmin looked at Mu Yu, his eyes full of unreadable emotion. “If he hadn’t gone missing, he’d be about your age now…”

“Let’s not talk about this. I’ll take you out.” At that, Luo Ling leapt up from the floor, still holding some dark, unidentifiable object.

“Out???”

“Yes. The child still remembers me. I’ve already sent Xiao Wang away—he wanted to come back for you.” Zhao Zhongmin’s tone was gentle.

“Hiss, great, let’s go, quick, quick!” Luo Ling, excited, made to clap Zhao Zhongmin on the shoulder, but Zhao Zhongmin discreetly stepped back to avoid his dirty hand.

“Fine, let’s get out first,” Mu Yu said, following a few steps before realizing Li Xiang hadn’t moved.

“What are you thinking? Let’s go.” Only then did Li Xiang snap out of it and hurry after Zhao Zhongmin.

“It’s so cold today, just like the day Zhongguo disappeared.”

It really was cold—even Mu Yu felt the chill, while Luo Ling and Li Xiang’s faces were pale from the cold.

Li Xiang shivered, trying to warm himself, but said nothing.

“I remember that day, the four of us took a big job, delivering renovation materials here. It was a holiday, so the boss kept us for dinner. I still remember that meal. The four of us got drunk, and when we woke up, Zhongguo was gone.”

“We searched the area for half a month but found nothing.” As Zhao Zhongmin recalled those days, his tone turned cold, as if regretting ever drinking or taking his eyes off the child.

Li Xiang’s hands shook even more, his whole body trembling.

“All these years have passed in a flash. I never thought he’d come back.”

“Oh right, Brother Li, where’s Li Yan? Didn’t he come with you?” Zhao Zhongmin seemed to remember something and asked without turning around.

The darkness ahead seemed to have no effect on him, and the surroundings began to change, no longer the endless loop Mu Yu and the others had been trapped in.

“He… he and I got separated.” Li Xiang lowered his head, cold sweat trickling down his back.

“Separated? That won’t do. Once I’ve sent you off, I’ll come back for him.” Zhao Zhongmin seemed particularly sensitive to the word “separated,” and quickened his pace.

“We’re here,” Zhao Zhongmin said, coming to a stop.

Luo Ling glanced around curiously—they’d walked in a straight line the whole time, without any descent, so how had they arrived?

But the service station’s main door was right in front of them.

He looked around and realized they were on the ground floor.

“Hiss, thank you,” Luo Ling exclaimed, delighted, and rushed to push open the door.

“Wait.” Mu Yu reached out, stopping Luo Ling, his eyes fixed on Zhao Zhongmin.

“Uncle, shake my hand—I feel a real connection with you.” Without waiting for a reply, he reached out to grab Zhao Zhongmin.

Although Mu Yu was behind him, Zhao Zhongmin dodged nimbly and turned to look at him.

“How did you know?”

Luo Ling and Li Xiang were stunned by the sudden turn and quickly backed away from Zhao Zhongmin.

In the faint circle of light, Zhao Zhongmin’s face was preternaturally calm—so calm that even when the light hit him, he showed no reaction.

“Your clothes are too clean,” Mu Yu pointed to the stains on his own clothing. “You bumped into me on the stairs and left this mark.”

Zhao Zhongmin didn’t look down, only shook his head regretfully.

“I really did want to help you leave. This matter has nothing to do with you.” His gaze shifted to Li Xiang’s face, sharp as knives, making Li Xiang shiver uncontrollably.

“Isn’t that right, Brother Li?”

A cold wind swept from Zhao Zhongmin, frosting the windows.

It was the winter that had lain silent in his heart for more than twenty years—a winter he’d never left as he searched for his child.

“Tell me—where is Zhongguo?”

At last, Li Xiang looked up, his face twisted in a smile more painful than tears.

“You’ve always known, haven’t you?”

“No, I always treated you three as family. I never doubted you.” Zhao Zhongmin shook his head, denying something unknown.

Li Xiang could hold back no longer—he collapsed to his knees.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Tears streamed down his weathered face, splashing onto the floor.

“It’s all right.” Zhao Zhongmin’s voice was gentle.

“After all, you’re going to die anyway.”

Li Xiang’s body was yanked backward by a tremendous force, the spot where he’d knelt instantly coated in ice.

The boards were pierced through, exposing the concrete beneath.

These fragile-looking icy spikes, hardened over more than twenty winters, were tougher than steel.

“Run! Run! Run!” Mu Yu shouted, racing away, dragging the dazed Li Xiang behind him.

Luo Ling reacted instantly, hurtling after them, cursing his parents for not giving him more legs.

Zhao Zhongmin watched them calmly, unhurriedly following.

As he left, faint moonlight returned to the lobby.

Outside the main door, Wang Zhiming’s body lay at the bottom of a deep pit, blood-red ice glinting eerily in the moonlight.

Barbed icicles had pierced his body, pinning him down, rendering him unable to move.

In the intense cold, his wounds quickly froze, bringing more pain but not immediate death.

The true fatal blow was to his lungs—an icicle had stabbed through his airway.

He could only struggle desperately, his heart straining to pump oxygen to his lungs.

With such savage injuries, in the end, it was suffocation that killed him.

Under the moonlight, his swollen, purplish face showed agony—and a strange sense of release.