Chapter Twenty: The Suspension Bridge

Late at night, outside the domed fishery.

Zheng Nanfang, who had been walking with the convoy, suddenly halted, his expression darkening. Tang Suan, attentive to her boss’s unease, asked in a gentle voice, “Are you feeling ill?”

“It’s nothing,” Zheng Nanfang replied, brows tightly furrowed, shaking his head. “Did I forget to take my medicine today?”

Tang Suan reached into her pocket and pulled out a pill bottle, counting the tablets by the flashlight’s glow. “You took one this morning.”

Zheng Nanfang pressed his temples hard, seeking to quell the intensifying headache, murmuring, “That shouldn’t be…”

Laili, leading the group, heard the commotion behind and stopped, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Zheng Nanfang shot Tang Suan a look, signaling her to put away the pill bottle. He waved his hand. “It’s fine, let’s keep moving. Are we almost at the fishery?”

Laili raised her flashlight, its beam slicing through the night, landing on a massive stone dome a hundred meters ahead. “This is the entrance. There’s a suspension bridge here—cross it, and you’ll reach the fishery. Below the bridge is a reservoir; the settlement clings to the cliff’s edge.”

“What now?” The unease in Zheng Nanfang’s heart welled up again. He moved beside Laili, squinting into the pitch-black mountain hollow, uncertain. “We’re just going to walk in?”

Laili shrugged, her smile tranquil. “The domed fishery has a reputation in the lower city, but it’s hardly a den of dragons and tigers. We’re not here to cause trouble.”

The dog-headed man and the braided man, restless, mistook Zheng Nanfang’s hesitation for cowardice, snorting disdainfully as they strode toward the stone dome.

“What’s wrong with you? Why so timid all of a sudden?” Hu Bi, now in better spirits, resumed his wild gunslinger persona—hair wild, bristling with weapons, an arsenal on legs.

Zheng Nanfang closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, steadied himself, and whispered, “I can’t say, but... none of you feel anything strange?”

“You’re worried about Hong Xiangcai?” Hu Bi asked.

“I’m worried about us,” Zheng Nanfang replied.

Talking as they walked, the dog-headed man and the braided man led a group into the stone dome. Dozens of flashlights wove a net of flickering light and shadow, lending the place an eerie, surreal air.

The entrance passage was well-built, stretching hundreds of meters, with oppressive stone overhead and gusts of cold wind before and behind, making their skin prickle.

Thankfully, nothing unusual happened along the way—just the sound of wind.

“Hey.”

Shaman, at the back, hurried forward, squeezing between Zheng Nanfang and Hu Bi. She whispered, “Do you smell anything?”

The two paused, sniffed the air; apart from the gunmen’s cigarette smoke ahead, nothing else. Shaman asked Tang Suan and Shu Onion next. Seeing Shaman’s sincerity, both women inhaled deeply, but found nothing amiss.

Shaman was disheartened, sighing, “I swear I’m not lying—my nose is sharp.”

“What do you smell?” Zheng Nanfang asked.

“A fragrance.” Shaman’s confidence faltered; perhaps even she thought smelling something sweet here was too much like a hallucination.

Their discussion drew others’ attention. The gunmen whispered, each sniffing the air; a few claimed they smelled something, but most, like Zheng Nanfang and his companions, noticed nothing.

The distance was not far; the dog-headed man and the braided man were already waiting at the suspension bridge. Zheng Nanfang assumed they were waiting for Laili before venturing further, but as he approached, he realized that wasn’t the case.

From the dim glow of flashlights, he saw the braided man’s face was alarmed.

“Laili… this…” The braided man stepped aside, revealing the far side of the suspension bridge. Laili moved forward, stunned.

Zheng Nanfang and Hu Bi exchanged glances and hurried to see. They looked past the braided man and the bridge, their gazes plunging into boundless darkness.

“From here, there’s a suspension bridge—cross it, and you’ll reach the fishery. Below is a reservoir; the settlement is on the cliff’s edge.”

Laili’s description still echoed in their ears, but the scene before them was vastly different.

The bridge existed, wide enough for three abreast, beginning at the stone steps where they stood and curving through the air—but its other end vanished into darkness, the destination unseen. As for the fishery and reservoir Laili described, there was no sign. Beneath the bridge lay nothing but endless black, with only the howling wind rushing upward.

“Lights.” Laili’s face was grim. She ordered, and the convoy opened their packs, producing all manner of lighting devices—headlamps, spotlights, torches, cold fireworks, glow sticks—varied and abundant.

“Now that’s what I call prepared,” Hu Bi muttered to Zheng Nanfang, laughing. “Hong Xiangcai brought an arsenal, but it’s useless.”

As they chatted, the convoy set up makeshift light towers, bundling the sources together, lowering them beneath the bridge.

The ball of lights worked well enough; Zheng Nanfang could see the messy footprints on the bridge.

But the deeper the light ball descended, the dimmer it became; its glow illuminated nothing but itself.

Unwilling to accept it, Laili had the dog-headed man add more rope, even using the towing cables from the vehicles, totaling over three hundred meters. The ball of light plummeted for a few seconds, and then, in the blink of an eye, vanished.

Now not only Laili, but everyone was dumbstruck.

Especially the dog-headed man, who thought he’d lost the light ball and quickly called for help to pull it back up. This time, everyone watched closely. As they retrieved the rope, faint light slowly emerged from the abyss, growing larger until the ball of light reappeared.

“Damn, is this a black hole down there? Even light can’t penetrate?” someone muttered.

Zheng Nanfang and Hu Bi exchanged another glance, their eyes reflecting a deep, unspoken concern.

“Laili, have you ever been here before?” Zheng Nanfang couldn’t help but ask.

Laili nodded, then shook her head, meeting Zheng Nanfang’s gaze. “I haven’t been, but I’ve seen it.”

The others were confused, but Zheng Nanfang understood. He, too, hadn’t visited the upper city or the island, but had seen them through Jin Ling and Loli’s eyes.

“Could this be some kind of fishery illusion?” a gunman asked.

“We’re right at their doorstep, haven’t seen a soul—what’s the point of this?” The dog-headed man shook his head, baffled. “And what even is this?”

“What about… over there?” Shaman timidly redirected everyone’s attention to the far end of the bridge. “Should we cross?”

“Yes, exactly,” the braided man suddenly realized, excited. “Why fuss over what’s beneath? Let’s just go see for ourselves.”

But some disagreed.

“It’s already pitch dark—shouldn’t we wait for daylight?”

“Yeah, stumbling around in the dark is asking for trouble.”

“I think daytime would be better too.”

“….”

The braided man, seeing Laili silent, flushed and protested, “We’ve come this far, what are we afraid of? Damn it, I’m going.” He grabbed a spotlight from the light ball and strode onto the bridge.

Laili lit a cigarette, her voice low. “Be careful. Shoot if anything happens.”

With the boss’s concern, the braided man’s confidence soared. He marched across the bridge, nearing the darkness on the other side.

Those on this side watched expectantly, but Zheng Nanfang was distracted, muttering, “Light can’t penetrate, moonlight won’t reach—this isn’t smoke, it’s nothing like anything.”

Hu Bi was utterly confused. “What are you saying?”

The unease in Zheng Nanfang’s heart nearly burst forth—he couldn’t help but shout, “Come back! Don’t go in!”

His sudden cry startled everyone. Yet, the braided man, now at the far end, seemed not to hear, and stepped resolutely into the darkness. The spotlight’s beam vanished instantly, and the braided man disappeared as if he had never existed. No gunshots sounded; the darkness remained calm, as if all were a dream.

The air on this side of the bridge seemed to congeal. Everyone waited—waited for a shot, or for the braided man’s excited return from the dark, announcing it was all an illusion and their destination lay just beyond.

Time here seemed to freeze.

Laili finished one cigarette, lit another…

Hu Bi’s eyes grew sore from staring…

Tang Suan and the others, tense at first, gradually relaxed, even grew sleepy…

Shaman kept sniffing for her “fragrance,” as if she’d lost hope for what lay beyond the darkness…

…

“Tie the rope to me,” the dog-headed man finally couldn’t hold back. He untied the rope from the light ball, wrapped it around his waist, and addressed the others: “If I’m silent for more than two minutes, pull me back.”

“Don’t go,” Zheng Nanfang shook his head. “Wait until daybreak.”

Laili glanced at Zheng Nanfang but said nothing.

The dog-headed man gritted his teeth. “If I live, you see me; if I die, you see my body.” With that, he ran out and vanished into the darkness.

The rope was long, slipping forward endlessly. Though no one could see the dog-headed man or hear his footsteps, from the rope’s movement, it seemed he was running faster and faster.

“Pull.” Zheng Nanfang, disregarding the two-minute limit, sensed something was wrong and yanked the rope himself. Hu Bi hurried to help. The rope came back easily, as if the dog-headed man offered no resistance, just a symbolic pause, and then the rope was pulled in.

Everyone held their breath and stared. Zheng Nanfang and Hu Bi felt a chill in their hearts.

Moments later, the rope was fully retrieved—at its end, nothing but emptiness.