Chapter Thirty: The Timeline

“That makes sense,” Zheng Nanfang said, winking at Shaman and making a gesture for silence. He took her hand and traced the word “wait” in her palm.

Shaman stiffened, and under the dim moonlight in the mountain hollow, she couldn’t help but glance at Zheng Nanfang’s anxious profile.

He was truly impossible to pin down.

She remembered their first meeting on the national highway, where the Mohawk-haired man tried to rob Zheng Nanfang, only to be killed instead… Later, Zheng Nanfang had been rather courteous to her, but out of selfish motives, she stole his invitation and betrayed him at Hoarse Manor, forcing him to come to the Domed Fishery.

If anyone were to be blamed for all this, Shaman knew she couldn’t escape responsibility.

When she was dragged here by Hoarse Manor, she had already resigned herself to the possibility that Zheng Nanfang would kill her in anger.

What she hadn’t expected was that Zheng Nanfang, from beginning to end, merely teased her and Hu Bi a few times, and even those jibes seemed more like jokes—as if missing the highway race simply didn’t matter to him at all.

Shaman’s curiosity about him grew deeper—not merely because he seemed to know many secrets, but even more because of his capricious, strange temperament.

Yet, Shaman was well aware: to Zheng Nanfang, she was just another woman he met on his journey.

Tang Suan and the others could offer him advice, or even share his bed, but she could do nothing; in these times, she would inevitably be left behind.

Thinking of this, Shaman’s nose tingled with emotion she couldn’t name, as if some long-extinguished humanity had been rekindled by him, stirring these seemingly meaningless feelings.

“Will you always take me with you?”

It escaped her lips before she could think, as if bewitched.

Instant regret followed.

Zheng Nanfang was taken aback and turned to stare at her for a long time.

Shaman bowed her head in embarrassment, wishing she could vanish into the earth, her voice barely audible: “Sorry, I was just rambling.”

Zheng Nanfang chuckled softly, watching the golden-haired wildcat’s awkwardness, shaking his head and saying nothing, only squeezing her hand firmly.

Shaman stole a glance at him; seeing his attention shift back to the suspension bridge, she finally relaxed.

…

There was a deviation in the progress by the suspension bridge.

That group hadn’t gathered light sources to examine the abyss beneath, focusing entirely on the black mist.

Dog-Head and Braids still volunteered to explore the black mist on behalf of Laili, but Laili sternly refused.

Then Zheng Nanfang and Hu Bi went to inspect the black mist, returned, and disagreed with the idea of venturing in at night, suggesting they wait for sunrise.

“That’s odd,” Zheng Nanfang muttered from the mountain hollow. “If the same group makes different choices, how could it lead to the same outcome?”

Shaman didn’t interrupt this time; she shifted closer to Zheng Nanfang, lost in thought.

The group at the bridge began to set up camp; it seemed Laili had abandoned her impulse to explore the black mist, now huddled with Zheng Nanfang and Hu Bi, discussing something.

“What about us?” Shaman whispered. “With so many people camping, we can’t hide out here all night, can we?”

“What if…” Zheng Nanfang continued watching the group, speaking quietly, “when it’s late, I go over and pretend to be the Zheng Nanfang in their group and tell everyone to retreat—what would happen?”

Shaman shot him a look. “Don’t you think things are messy enough already?”

Zheng Nanfang shrugged indifferently. “They’re all the same people. Actually, it’s not that messy.”

“Then what’s your angle in stirring things up? What if you run into the other you?” Shaman tried to imagine the bizarre scene of two versions standing face-to-face and advised, “Let’s not complicate things. I still think we should slip away now.”

“And after we leave?” Zheng Nanfang countered.

Shaman looked puzzled. “We go to your highway race! If we hurry now, we’ll arrive just in time for tomorrow’s opening.”

Zheng Nanfang fell silent, narrowing his eyes, as if Shaman had awakened something in him.

She persisted, gently persuading, “Didn’t you say the hive only affects the surrounding landscape and creatures? If we leave its range, we can still join the race and avoid the Domed Fishery, escaping this chaos.”

Zheng Nanfang licked his dry lips, tapped Shaman’s head, and laughed, “You’re good, aren’t you? I nearly got tangled up myself, but you see it clearly.”

Shaman curled her lip, teasing, “You’re just curious about the hive! Telling Old Hu you’re not interested… Of everyone here, you’re the most fascinated by it.”

Zheng Nanfang laughed again, then asked, “So, in your view, we return to the race—what about here?”

“Let them keep muddling along,” Shaman said, detached. “As long as the hive exists, other groups will come. If we leave and break this link, maybe everyone here will die and it’ll end.”

To be fair, Shaman’s desire to extricate herself truly enlightened Zheng Nanfang—if not fully, at least giving him another perspective.

Only now did Zheng Nanfang consider a new concept: perhaps he’d misunderstood—the hive here might not just cause temporal chaos, but rather a kind of loop.

Suppose, from the first person entering the black mist to Zheng Nanfang’s group going to the reservoir in the daytime, it forms a complete circle. Once the first person enters, it’s like pressing a start button; on the other side of the hive’s influence, this group somehow returns to the previous day, coincidentally missing those arriving the next day.

In other words, time here isn’t random chaos, but forever fixed on the night someone enters the black mist, beginning a cycle.

The only issue: Zheng Nanfang and his group couldn’t determine the hive’s starting point, so even if they left now, they couldn’t know if they’d still be part of the loop.

Shaman seemed to sense his thoughts, quietly pondering before saying, “It doesn’t affect us. From our perspective, returning to Raw Meat Town for the race is the original plan, and the timeline matches. As for the fishery, let them keep looping—even if they end up making the same choice as us, it doesn’t matter. They’ll be racing on their day, and we’re a day ahead.”

Zheng Nanfang looked at her with the approving gaze of a father—being able to digest the hive’s temporal effects so quickly and build an accurate timeline in her mind showed Shaman’s exceptional spatial-temporal sense.

“What are you staring at? So what’s the decision?” Shaman pressed impatiently, frustrated by Zheng Nanfang’s unhurried approach.

“Let’s go, then,” Zheng Nanfang smiled. “And there’s a car ready at the entrance.”

“How will you tell the others?” Shaman asked.

“We’ll notify them on the way out.” Before he finished, Zheng Nanfang strode out boldly.

Shaman nearly cried out, covering her mouth in alarm, wanting to call to him but unable to make a sound, sweat breaking on her brow.

But Zheng Nanfang moved with the ease of someone at home, not avoiding anyone, and when he encountered those Deep Blue Hospital gunmen relieving themselves in the crevice, he nodded and greeted them.

“Stay sharp tonight, rotate the watch,” Zheng Nanfang instructed.

The gunmen nodded, fastened their belts, and hurried back.

Zheng Nanfang glanced back, winking at Shaman in the mountain hollow, then swaggered through the crevice, calling out everyone hiding there.

Hu Bi and Tang Suan’s girls huddled together; seeing Zheng Nanfang’s swagger, they were astonished, unaware of the situation at the bridge and thinking the group had all entered the black mist.

“Let’s go, nothing left for us here,” Zheng Nanfang said, lighting a cigarette, taking a deep drag, and exhaling a thick plume. “I’m heading back for the highway race. The rest of you, scatter.”

Everyone looked at each other, feeling as if the cold dishes had just been served and the guests were already leaving, a strange mood settling over them.

“Don’t overthink it—not every story has a perfect ending,” Zheng Nanfang laughed, addressing the hesitant gunmen. “Especially in a treacherous place like the hive. Of course, if you’re curious about the hive and want to explore, be my guest. From now on, our joint convoy is disbanded. Hope we meet again.”

With that, Zheng Nanfang strode away, without a hint of nostalgia.

The few familiar faces exchanged uncertain glances, unable to fathom Zheng Nanfang’s motives, but nonetheless followed him.

…

Outside the Domed Fishery, the moon was bleak, the stars dim, and the chill wind pierced to the bone, relentless.

The black Viper changed hands once more, now Zheng Nanfang’s vehicle, while Hu Bi claimed the Red Bird without hesitation.

The gunmen deliberated and, perhaps feeling the Deep Blue Hospital lacked soul without Hong Xiangcai, unexpectedly developed cohesion and loyalty, deciding to stay at the fishery and wait for Hong Xiangcai to lead them, regardless of the timeline.

Zheng Nanfang didn’t press them, pleased to be unburdened, and with the three women aboard, floored the accelerator and sped away.

Hu Bi followed in the Red Bird, and once on the highway, the two cars ran side by side, as if anticipating a friendly race.

…

Not long after the Viper and Red Bird departed, two figures emerged from behind the earthen platform opposite the Domed Fishery.

They watched the cars vanish into the distance, silent for a long time.

“What do you think?” the shorter figure on the right, a woman, finally asked.

The man beside her snorted. “Doesn’t matter. He hasn’t grasped the true essence of the game—quitting is no loss.”

The woman disagreed. “I think his choice might be the right one.”

The man’s voice was cold, unconcerned by her opinion. “Is that so? When the hive closes and the timeline returns to normal, where will he hide?”

“The road is wide; each takes their own path,” the woman replied helplessly, knowing she couldn’t change his mind but trying regardless. “Isn’t peaceful coexistence better? The hive’s effect is irreversible—its existence is a fact, but since there’s no conflict between us, why must we slaughter each other?”

“You’re wrong. All roads lead to the same end; occasional differences in choice don’t affect the outcome.”

“What he wants is what I want; what he seeks is what I seek.”

“There’s only one mouthful of life-saving water, but two desperate for survival. Tell me, do I yield to him, or does he yield to me?”

His icy words struck at her heart; she wanted to argue, but found no words.

He let out a cold laugh and said in a low voice, “At least in one thing, he and I agree: there will only ever be one Zheng Nanfang in this world.”

Thunder rolled across the dark sky, fierce winds howled.

The clothing of the two in the shadows whipped and fluttered.

A bolt of lightning split the heavens, illuminating the earth for an instant.

Laili’s face was pale, lips blood-red, two sharp fangs at her mouth glinting coldly.

Zheng Nanfang’s features were twisted, a terrifying scar running from his right eye across his left cheek, his gaze fierce and piercing.