Chapter 1: Station 21: The Train

Chapter 1: Station 21: The Train

Yan Qiling awakened aboard the train.

Aside from him, six others slumbered peacefully.

He rolled up his narrow sleeve, revealing a patch of skin on his wrist.

There, a red square as big as a band-aid sat - resembling an old-fashioned train ticket. It invoked an inexplicable comparison to the stamps placed on pork at animal quarantine stations.

Header: Express Train Ticket

Left margin: Guangzhou to Fengyu Prison

Right margin: 21st train, Carriage 10, Hard Seat for June 13th, 21 stops, fare 21 yuan

Footer: 72 hours, 59 minutes, and 3 seconds remain until the return journey.

The seconds in the footer are ticking away.

As the timer ticked down to zero seconds, the minute hand also jumped, turning from 59 to 58.

It was in countdown mode.

Yan Qiling straightened his posture, smoothing his cuffs, and gazed out the window.

He studied his reflection in the glass, tucking a stray hair behind his ear — suddenly, he caught a whiff of burnt tobacco, accompanied by wisps of white smoke.

Following the source of the smoke, his gaze landed on a scene bathed in silver.

It was a silver-haired young man with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Despite his long legs appearing slightly cramped in the narrow space, it didn't hinder his relaxed posture.

One of his legs was casually propped up on the knee of the other, giving him an air of nonchalance. In his left hand, he held a uniquely shaped smartphone, his thumb tapping away at the screen.

Out of professional habit, Yan Qiling's gaze was immediately drawn to the sharp jawline of the young man.

He thought to himself that this person must have striking features.

The young man removed his cigarette holder, flicking away the ash before lifting his gaze to meet eyes.

His features bore the profound depth characteristic of East Slavic people, yet his appearance was more prominently oriental. From the contours to the proportions, there was nothing to fault in his flawless, handsome face - a blend of the finest traits from diverse ancestral lines.

Yan Qiling mused that his physique was just as admirable. If Ding Tai were aware of such a captivating individual, he would undoubtedly approach to exchange contact information.

The youth's eyebrows and eyelashes matched his hair color, giving him an ethereal quality akin to a creature born from snow. However, his irises were almost pitch black, contrasting strikingly.

He tilted his head slightly when observing others, creating an upward gaze that resembled a lurking predator in tall grass, sizing up any passing creature, deciding whether to pounce or coexist peacefully.

"You can't smoke inside the carriage. Please refrain for the time being."

Yan Qiling's voice was innately gentle, even his statements sounded like requests, devoid of any intimidation.

The young man bit on his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke after inhaling deeply. His handsome face blurred amidst the haze.

"How long is 'for the time being'? A second, a minute, an hour, a day?"

"Sir, you might choke someone with that."

The silver-haired youth chuckled, unlocking the window with one hand and pushing it open halfway, allowing the fog inside the car to dissipate with the wind.

He glanced sideways, "Is this better?"

Yan Qiling remained silent.

He noticed the young man's open collar, revealing a delicate silver chain with a small bamboo pendant hanging from it, an unusual sort of accessory.

Noticing his silence, the youth shifted into a more conventional seating position:

"What's your name?"

Yan Qiling smiled gently:

"It's best to introduce yourself before asking for someone else's name."

Brushing against a gentle rebuff, Ming Yiyang was somewhat taken aback.

The man before him had a pleasingly amiable and handsome face.

His smile blossomed like a pure white hibiscus, appearing proper and upright, yet exuding an unknowing decadence from within his bones.

Beneath the elegant folds of his thin eyelids, two shimmering, exotic eyes were embedded.

Ming Yiyang couldn't tell whether they were contact lenses or a natural birth trait.

The mention of "beauty lenses" is due to the fact that no ordinary person's eyes would naturally appear like this, and calling them innate is because these contrasting irises seem too natural to be anything but.

One crimson, resembling burning flames, and the other sapphire, akin to vast oceans—both hues are saturated to their utmost intensity.

The attire is peculiar, a style of Tang Dynasty round-collar robe currently favored in niche circles.

Though it appears sophisticated, the ample hem would undoubtedly hinder escape in a pinch.

The decorative sabretache hanging at his waist jingles delicately, and aside from its aesthetic appeal, it holds a white paper fan, a smoking pipe, and an embroidered scent pouch.

Ming Yiyang nonchalantly exhaled a cloud of smoke, almost envisioning the scene of that person tripping over their own clothes and falling to the ground in a pitiful state.

A handsome vase.

With no clue about anything, they still dared to lecture others on extinguishing cigarettes.

Enduring his impatience, Ming Yiyang sparingly cast a glance around at the others, his gaze settling for a moment on the girl wearing a yellow windbreaker.

They were all asleep, showing no signs of stirring.

A subtle sensation stirred within him as he heard the handsome vase before him attempt to steer the conversation back to where it had been left off:

"Sir, it's best if you extinguish that cigarette."

"I have the window open."

Ming Yiyang took a deep drag, and the swirling smoke he exhaled was swiftly swept away by the wind outside the car window.

Whether it was a display or a provocation, one could not tell.

"And this smoke bothers you?"

The vase-like figure stretched out a hand, still speaking in a slow and mild tone.

"Hand me the cigarette."

Yan Qiling's skin was as pale as alabaster, with faint blue veins tracing gentle hills across it. The contours of his knuckles formed an aesthetically pleasing pattern, reminiscent of a display piece in a showcase.

Yet, no matter how beautiful the hand was, the gesture it made now carried an undeniable air of command.

Ming Yiyang despised being coerced above all else.

With a sober expression, he removed the cigarette from his lips and paused deliberately before taking another flamboyant drag.

This time, he nonchalantly blew the smoke directly onto that handsome face, his tone indifferent:

"Why are you reaching out? Planning to be an ashtray?"

Yan Qiling remained silent, his heterochromatic eyes glowing impressively amidst the shifting shadows.

His outstretched hand twitched.

Ming Yiyang deftly swayed his wrist to the left, evading the other's grasp.

Lifting his elbow, he intended to use a subtle move to teach the man a lesson. Surprisingly, Yan Qiling anticipated his action, blocking with his own elbow while his right hand skillfully reached around the constraint to grab the cigarette!

Had this guy actually trained in martial arts?

The moment the cigarette was snatched away, Ming Yiyang slipped his left hand under the man's armpit, controlling his elbow. Swiftly retrieving the cigarette, he placed it between his teeth. With his now-free right hand, he aimed to seize the opponent's wrist and press on a pressure point.

The vase dodged like a loach, attempting to snatch it back.

He had no choice but to press this person's right hand onto his knee, using that leverage to lock down the other's offensive and abruptly pull him into his embrace.

Their arms entwined tightly, their restless strength wrestling in the darkness.

This person's hand was incredibly cold, as if it had just been plucked from icy water, smooth and slippery to an eerie degree – merely touching it made Ming Yiyang feel uneasy.

Staring at the face so close at hand, Ming Yiyang felt extremely uncomfortable deep down:

"If you keep staring, I'll stub the cigarette out on your face."

As he spoke, the white smoke exhaled with his breath inevitably enveloped the other person within its haze.

Ming Yiyang had imagined many possibilities – the vase might fly into a rage, struggle, curse, sulk, or try to negotiate something like that.

But he hadn't expected this person to part his crimson lips, bite down on the lit end, and then... swallow it.

He heard the sizzling sound of flames extinguished in water.

Startled, he involuntarily released his grip on his teeth.

Yan Qiling plucked the cigarette from between his lips, nonchalantly spitting out the wet, ash-laden butt that had turned to black stubble.

With his objective achieved, Yan Qiling's grip suddenly loosened.

Taking advantage of Ming Yiyang's stunned moment, Yan Qiling raised his hand and shut the window with a decisive "slap," followed by the click of the lock engaging.

The howling wind came to an abrupt halt.

Ming Yiyang's anger surged, but it quickly transformed into a casual interest, mingled with an indescribable disdain for the person before him.

A fake vase, he thought disdainfully.

Nonchalantly, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket.

As his fingertips brushed against the soft pack of cigarettes rustling inside, he witnessed Yan Qiling retrieve a tissue from a pouch at his waist, pick up the cigarette butt on the ground, and dispose of it in a nearby trash can.

His striking apricot-shaped eyes gazed intently at him.

With a sigh, Ming Yiyang abandoned the idea of lighting another cigarette as he absently stroked his fingertips.

Forget it, no point arguing with a madman.

-

The timer on the ticket flipped from 58 to 57 seconds, and the scenery outside the window transformed dramatically.

The radiant sunset, seemingly about to drip golden hues, gave way to dull, stormy clouds. The vehicle morphed from a train into a bus.

As if a bell had rung, the five passengers, who had been slumped or leaning against one another, gradually stirred from their doze.

A lovely girl in a canary yellow windbreaker didn't join the others in exclaiming; instead, she was the first to check if her clothes were in order.

Satisfied that everything was fine, she stood up and surveyed her surroundings. Upon spotting the silver-haired figure, she promptly called out,

"Ming Yiyang!"

The young man, without a cigarette to occupy him, lazily acknowledged her.

He was admiring the artificial vase's hairdo.

Surprisingly, Yan Qiling had braided his hair into a slender, short plait, tied with a smoke-blue ribbon. A few silver-gray bamboo leaves embroidered on it were particularly eye-catching.

—Yet another useless decoration added.

This person's fondness for grooming had reached a level that Ming Yiyang found irritating.

The approaching young girl also noticed Yan Qiling with his heterochromatic eyes.

After a brief, dazzling visual impact, she immediately averted her gaze, not daring to meet his eyes directly.

The girl thought she had kept herself composed, but in reality, her frequent glances had unconsciously scanned his face repeatedly.

Her ears flushed red, and feeling the warmth, she couldn't resist covering one of them with her hand.

Oh my, those heterochromatic eyes are too beautiful! Where did this handsome cosplayer come from? It's such a pity he's here! Sobs, what a gorgeous robe; if only he could cosplay my favorite couple, it would be perfect... sob, sob...

Si Shuhao summoned the courage to rub her hands together, ready to strike up a conversation when suddenly, the bus made an abrupt stop.

An eerie ringing filled the air, like a chilling soprano voice from the depths of hell echoing inside the vehicle:

"Please all passengers disembark within one minute. Countdown to evacuation has begun, 60, 59, 58..."

Si Shuhao's expression changed abruptly as she pulled herself out of her inappropriate daydream.

The silver-haired young man stood up:

"Get out."

As if unable to tolerate the air inside the car any longer, he strode out with his long legs, being the first to alight.

Si Shuhao hesitated, and suddenly, a middle-aged man emerged from behind the vehicle, approaching them with an ingratiating tone:

"Excuse me, could you tell us where we are? We were at a rest stop before, but somehow ended up here..."

While she was still contemplating how to explain, Yan Qiling responded in an unusually gentle voice:

"You can ask your questions once you're out of the car. If you wait too long, it might be too late."

The middle-aged man hesitated.

His name was Hu Zhicheng, and he had originally been on a long-distance truck journey with his nephew, Hu Gaoming.

During a pit stop for food and a brief nap, he had woken up at a bus station!

At first, he thought it was all a dream, but his nephew's reaction told him that things were not so simple.

If this was a dream, it was uncannily vivid...

Perhaps he should ask the driver for clarification.

He strode to the front door, only to find the driver's cabin empty!

...The bus had been driving so smoothly. How could there be no driver?

Just as he was in shock, the girl in the plaid skirt, who had been sitting at the back, glanced at them and then out the window before silently stepping off the bus with her cartoon-themed shoulder bag.

After much deliberation, Hu Zhicheng decided to follow suit.

In the midst of helping his nephew disembark from the vehicle, he suddenly noticed a youth with a streak of red in his hair still seated inside.

Watching as the young man leisurely stretched, he couldn't help but inquire,

"Young man, aren't you getting off?"

The youth glanced at him sideways, his tone anything but polite,

"Mind your own business. If you want to get off, just do it. I'm going back."

Upon hearing this, Hu Zhicheng's heart stirred slightly:

"Can we go back without getting off?"

The young man, clearly annoyed, replied:

"I have no idea. Just stay away from me, you reek."

The spirited Hu Gaoming, in his prime, was ready to react with force at these words.

Hu Zhicheng's face flushed with anger, but being unfamiliar with the surroundings and unsure of the other party's background, he held his tongue and pulled his nephew towards the car door.

Before getting out, he couldn't resist saying, "Even if you don't want to talk to us, you shouldn't insult people like that!"

"You mind your own business," the youth replied dismissively, rolling his eyes and putting in his earbuds to resume listening to music.

The countdown grew louder, and with a firm grip, Hu Zhicheng shoved his nephew out of the car.

As soon as they alighted, the dark-haired man who had answered their earlier question approached them politely, asking, "Seems like someone's still inside?"

Recalling the arrogant redhead, Hu Gaoming couldn't help but respond sarcastically, "Perhaps they're too young to leave the nest, still crying for their mother to come home."

The black-haired man listened and turned to get into the vehicle.

Due to the poor sound insulation of the bus, clear voices could be heard from inside.

"Get off now, or the conductor will remove you for overstaying."

"What the hell did I do wrong today? Why does everyone feel the need to meddle in my business! If you want to get off, just do it yourselves! Can't I stay on the bus?!"

Hearing the commotion, Ming Yiyang chuckled softly.

Hu Zhicheng had noticed this man when Ming Yiyang stepped down from the bus first.

The young man was exceptionally tall, wearing a black cotton T-shirt with a loose sports jacket that concealed his physique.

Yet, simply by standing there nonchalantly, he exuded an invisible aura of strength and intimidation.

Unlike others who were panicked and lost, he seemed entirely composed, even amused by the antics of others.

The conversation inside the bus continued.

Yan Qiling's voice remained gentle, without any trace of anger at being insulted:

"You'll die if you keep this up."

"Damn it, let me die! Get lost! Don't make me say it twice."

A barely audible sigh fell to the ground.

No one knew what had happened; all they heard was a violent crash inside the bus!

The vehicle visibly shook, accompanied by muffled cries of pain that were cut short. Then, silence ensued.

Only the female voice counting down grew increasingly eerie, even tinged with excitement:

"15, 14, 13..."

The sound of something hard scraping against metal echoed, resembling an animal's struggles as it was dragged by a hunter.

Yan Qiling emerged from the door first, a silver rope now in his right hand, seemingly materializing out of nowhere.

A tight rope dug into his wrists, the other end apparently attached to something heavy.

The crowd was confused, but Ming Yiyang, who had been watching the spectacle, narrowed his eyes sharply.

Yan Qiling stepped down from the bus leisurely, paused, and turned back to say something gently.

The previously arrogant red-haired youth tumbled out of the bus in a hurry.

The bus door snapped shut with a snap, speeding away like an arrow, piercing through the mist and disappearing.

The red-haired young man landed on the ground with a pained expression, gasping for air as if he had just surfaced from drowning.

After a moment, seemingly unsatisfied with the available oxygen, he lay on his back unceremoniously, revealing the shimmering silver rope around his neck.

Everyone's expressions changed subtly.

For they had all heard what Yan Qiling had said:

"Do you know about the dog whose leash got caught in an elevator door?"

"Once that car door closes, you'll be the dog."

The tone was gentle enough to choke on.