Chapter 26: Yesterday Once More?

When the Red Bird stopped in front of the domed fishery, night had just fallen over the lower city.
The stars in the sky were dim, the moon hid behind somber clouds, and the earth was silent, all creation hushed in quietude.
The door of the Red Bird swung open. Hong Xiangcai stepped out from her vehicle, tying her long, wavy hair back with a leather band. She shook off fatigue, looked up at the massive granite boulder crowning the fishery’s dome, and laughed without restraint.
Zheng Nanfang hid in the shadows, suppressing his bewilderment as he scrutinized Hong Xiangcai from head to toe.
Hong Xiangcai carried a Uzi submachine gun slung over her shoulder, her white coat stained with blood and dust, giving her a weathered appearance. The conspicuous Red Bird sported a windshield shattered into a web of cracks, and its hood was pitted with dents large and small.
“Boss…” Tang Suan could not help but whisper.
“Shh.” Zheng Nanfang gestured for silence, signaling everyone to remain quiet and watch Hong Xiangcai’s every move.
Hong Xiangcai didn’t linger. She swapped out her weapons and ammunition, bit down on a cigarette, humming a lively tune as she strode into the fishery’s entrance with the ease of a spring excursion.
“This crazy woman’s come to play,” Hu Bi muttered under his breath.
“You all stay here. I’m going in to take a look.” Zheng Nanfang returned the binoculars to Tang Suan, snatched the signal gun from Hu Bi’s arms, and said, “If something happens, I’ll fire.”
“No.” Hu Bi grabbed him, glancing at the fishery entrance. “If anyone goes, it should be me.”
“Why?” Zheng Nanfang looked puzzled.
Hu Bi gave an awkward smile. “That mummy, Hong Xiangcai, said you were the cause of her trouble. If you go in and this Hong Xiangcai ends up the same way, what then?”
Zheng Nanfang was momentarily speechless.
Tang Suan finally found a chance to ask urgently, “Boss, what’s going on? Sister Hong left ahead of us—how come she’s a day late arriving?”
Shu Yangcong, Sha Man, and the others were equally confused, leading their bewildered gunmen, staring fixedly at Zheng Nanfang.
Zheng Nanfang paused, glanced sideways at Hu Bi. “What about you? You think Hong Xiangcai only just arrived?”
“Huh?” Hu Bi was taken aback by the question. “Isn’t it obvious? We were misled by that Red Bird yesterday, jumped to conclusions.”
Zheng Nanfang was at a loss, unsure how to explain.
Seeing Zheng Nanfang’s hesitation, Tang Suan sensed something was amiss, frowned, recalling the past days’ oddities. Suddenly, his eyes widened in terror, disbelief flooding his face. “It can’t be!”
Zheng Nanfang exhaled in relief, sighing, “My clever little Tang Suan, at least someone’s catching on.”
Shu Yangcong was curious to the extreme. “Boss, quit the riddles! What’s really happening? Why aren’t we looking for Sister Hong?”
Tang Suan’s face turned pale. He murmured, “Sister Hong isn’t a day late…”
“What do you mean?” Hu Bi, ever blunt, hadn’t caught on.
Zheng Nanfang, unwilling to waste more time, laid out his theory simply: “It’s not that she arrived late—it’s that we went backward.”
“What?”
Zheng Nanfang looked up at the sky, laughing bitterly. “If I’m right, when night fully falls, another group will show up here.”
Though Zheng Nanfang couldn’t fathom the underlying cause, the clues were all too clear—his guess was almost certainly correct.
The hive appearing at the domed fishery hadn’t spawned mutated creatures, nor yielded rich minerals or irreversible effects on humans. Its purpose seemed to be to affect time and space.
Hong Xiangcai had set out ahead in the dead city, yet arrived a whole day later than Zheng Nanfang and his group.

After Zheng Nanfang’s group entered the domed fishery, the dog-headed man, the man with braids, and Laili’s team entered the black mist and vanished without a trace.
Zheng Nanfang split his team into two; in broad daylight, they separated for an hour, then the guard team vanished, and their vehicles and supplies outside the fishery disappeared.
When night fell—precisely the time they’d been ambushed in the dead city and then escaped—Hong Xiangcai arrived with the Red Bird as if on cue.
…
All these events, strung together, made the conclusion not so hard to reach.
…
For the Hong Xiangcai who’d just stepped from the Red Bird and entered the fishery, she had just endured the ambush in the dead city, shaken off her Deep Blue Hospital and Zheng Nanfang, Hu Bi, and the rest of the guides, and arrived at the domed fishery ahead.
For Zheng Nanfang, Hu Bi, and the others, they had failed to catch up to Hong Xiangcai yesterday, but a day later, witnessed yesterday replayed.
…
Add to that the Red Bird discovered by Zheng Nanfang’s group on arrival, the mummy Hong Xiangcai in the black mist, and Laili glimpsed in the sandstorm…
…
Time and space intertwined and tangled within the domed fishery, chaotic yet proceeding in orderly fashion.
…

Within the narrow sky, the thick scent of gunpowder mingled with the stench of blood and flesh, steamed by the scorching sun to an indescribable intensity.
On the corpse heap that nearly filled the canyon, Laili sat atop, drenched in blood. Her submachine gun was empty and discarded; at her feet lay two long knives, sticky with fresh gore.
Laili’s exotic beauty was obscured by blood and grime. Her low-cut vest was soaked in blood, clinging to her and exposing a breathtaking ravine.
Her hands trembled; she failed to light her cigarette despite several attempts with a lighter.
Abandoning the lighter, she bit the unlit cigarette, her gaze sweeping over the mountain of corpses beneath her. She hummed, and as if a taut string suddenly snapped, she slumped down, pillow on corpses, sinking into a deep sleep.
When she awoke, a crescent moon hung in the sky, night deep and clear, stars glittered, and the canyon wind wailed and whispered.
Laili was awakened by cold.
In the lower city, daytime temperatures suffocated, but at night, the mercury dropped enough to freeze water.
Dressed lightly, she was no match for the dropping temperatures. The team had carried sleeping bags for warmth, but now her teammates had vanished—where could she find one?
Shivering, she climbed down from the corpse heap, grabbed a long knife, and stumbled down, guided by the cold moonlight, until she returned to the starting point—the rope bridge.
Whether joy or suspicion, she couldn’t tell, but the black mist enveloping the bridge had reappeared, as if it had never vanished, not deviating by a fraction.
To enter or not to enter? That was the question.

Night hung low, the moon set and stars faded.
Outside the domed fishery, silence returned.
Despite Zheng Nanfang’s best efforts to explain, most still couldn’t grasp the intricacies.

Tang Suan and Hu Bi were the only ones who could follow Zheng Nanfang’s reasoning. Even Shu Yangcong and Sha Man remained trapped in the loop of yesterday and today, unable to comprehend.
Some things simply cannot be explained, and Zheng Nanfang’s theory was only the most plausible deduction from a chain of events.
If they insisted on digging for a rational answer, Zheng Nanfang was powerless to provide one.
Thus, when Zheng Nanfang proposed going after Hong Xiangcai alone, everyone opposed him.
Helpless, the group set out together once more.
To prevent their supplies from disappearing on another return, packing up took more time. By the time they crossed the narrow sky and arrived again at the rope bridge, Hong Xiangcai was already standing before the black mist, apparently hesitating to enter.
Shu Yangcong nearly called out to stop her, but Tang Suan quickly covered her mouth.
Though worried for Hong Xiangcai’s safety, Tang Suan knew that everything before them was but yesterday repeating; to interrupt the process now might not be wise.
“Are we just going to watch her go in?” Hu Bi’s breath quickened; he wanted to rush out and pull Hong Xiangcai back, but his remaining reason told him not to.
Zheng Nanfang frowned in silence, biting his finger, his expression strange.
“Boss?” Tang Suan called softly.
Zheng Nanfang shook his head, murmuring, “Our arrival at the fishery and Hong Xiangcai’s differed by no more than two hours. When we entered, we didn’t see the Red Bird parked outside, nor another ‘us’ group. So I’m not curious about her choice—I’m wondering what we’ll do if she goes in.”
Hu Bi and Tang Suan were stunned, and thinking it over, realized it made sense.
If all this was a cycle of time, there must be a logical progression.
Before the group could discuss further, Hong Xiangcai before the black mist suddenly moved. Without hesitation, she stepped fully into the mist and vanished.
Zheng Nanfang’s group exchanged glances, words caught in their throats.

To enter or not to enter? That was the question.
Laili gripped her long knife, hugging herself, shivering with cold.
The mist itself held no danger, but what lay beyond was the true test.
She wasn’t afraid of the walking dead; what chilled her to the bone was the uncertainty beyond the mist.
If, after passing through, she failed to return to Zheng Nanfang’s camp at the bridge, would she not be lost a second time?
But if she watched the mist vanish again, not to mention the possible return of the walking dead at sunrise, the night’s cold alone would be unbearable.
Going in meant life or death; staying out, death was almost certain.
“If I die, so be it.”
Driven by desperation, Laili’s ferocity surfaced. She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and stepped into the black mist.
At that moment, the mist surged; another foot emerged, colliding perfectly with Laili as she entered with eyes shut.
A simultaneous cry rang out from inside and outside the mist. The outsider instinctively retreated, the insider rushed forward, and Laili, knocked off balance by the person bursting out, grabbed at random, only to seize each other. Amidst overlapping cries, both tumbled onto the icy rope bridge.