Thus Spoke the Buddha: The Quantum Circus | Chapter 20 | Breaking the Surface | Novela.app

The entrance to a Ruin is the same as its exit. Zhao Meiyou and Qian Duoduo returned to the original Japanese-style room. While fleeing through the Ruin, they had discussed their situation. Since the government had gone to such lengths to trap them in Site S86, they clearly intended to restrict their freedom. Upon leaving the Ruin, they faced two possibilities: first, being detained and imprisoned by the government; or second, being liquidated immediately. Given Qian Duoduo’s strength and Zhao Meiyou’s status as a "bug," finding suitable replacements wouldn't be easy. Therefore, the government likely wouldn't kill them outright, but one thing was certain—a fierce battle awaited them at the exit. After their discussion, Zhao Meiyou and Qian Duoduo reached a simple conclusion: neither of them intended to go quietly. As they expected, someone was already waiting in the room. Seeing them emerge from the Ruin, a flicker of surprise crossed the man's eyes before he suppressed it. "Citizens Qian Duoduo and Zhao Meiyou, you are summoned by the government." The man wore the uniform of a Metropolitan Government Commissioner. Qian Duoduo closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "What does the government want with us?" "As you both have experienced firsthand, certain issues have arisen within Site S86. The government needs to understand the situation," the commissioner said with a professional, hollow smile. "This is standard procedure. Please, rest easy." Outside the room was a water garden. A bamboo pipe struck a stone with a rhythmic *clack*. Qian Duoduo looked at the commissioner and spoke. "What kind of 'standard procedure' requires an army lying in ambush outside?" The official froze, his expression shifting instantly. The moment his hand reached for the inside of his uniform, Zhao Meiyou’s foot lashed out, kicking the man directly into the alcove. The paper sliding doors shattered, and alarm bells began to wail. "Taking him hostage is useless; the government won't care," Qian Duoduo snapped his fingers. "Wind!" A gale erupted, nearly tearing the ceiling off. "I can't hold this for long. The defense is weaker at eight o'clock. Move!" Long ago, in the memories Diao Chan had shared with Zhao Meiyou, he mentioned that Liu Qijue had once successfully brought a dragon from a Ruin into the real world. When Zhao Meiyou told Qian Duoduo his hypothesis, the other man had pondered for a moment before saying, "It should be possible." This was their plan—simple and crude, but the only viable option. While items brought out of a Ruin were unpredictable, the quantum afterwaves released during the opening of an exit would linger in reality for a brief moment. They had to seize that window and use Qian Duoduo’s abilities to carve a path out. When Qian Duoduo had closed his eyes earlier, he had used "Scanning." As expected of the government, the Japanese tavern was now a death trap. The corridors were lined with goldfish lanterns, and the paper doors were covered in vibrant *ukiyo-e* prints, resembling the moment a beauty’s throat is slit and blood spatters. A waitress in a kimono lunged at them, her face splitting open to reveal a gun barrel where her mouth should have been. This was no living human, but a Metropolitan Government killing machine—a top-tier model Zhao Meiyou had only seen once in the Lower Districts, used to suppress a riot on the 330th floor. Fortunately, it was that very incident that had taught Zhao Meiyou how to deal with these "Iron Succubi." "Qian-ge!" he roared. Qian Duoduo snapped his fingers. "Bronze!" A weapon materialized in Zhao Meiyou’s hand—a sword, an ancient Eastern blade that had been rendered obsolete at the dawn of the age of firearms, vanishing into the dust of history. But during that riot on the 330th floor, a middle-aged woman had used such a weapon. It wasn't even a proper sword, just a strip of iron sharpened at the tip and edges, yet it was exceptionally flexible and sharp. It had pierced the joints of the humanoid machines, coiling like a snake to shred their internal cores. The Metropolis's elite killing machines were nearly impossible to breach with firearms; bullets couldn't dent or penetrate them, and their reinforced skin could withstand explosions. Only an ancient cold weapon—thin as a cicada's wing, a flexible soft sword—could act like water, slicing into the gaps of the iron plating and then surging like a flood to cut through metal as if it were clay. Zhao Meiyou and Qian Duoduo had calculated the process of fighting their way out. It wasn't surprising that the government would send killing machines, but their high cost would limit their numbers. "Ten," Qian Duoduo had concluded after repeated estimates. "There will be ten machines at most." This was the hardest hurdle. To dismantle machines with human strength, Zhao Meiyou could manage three at most with his physical limits. Furthermore, Qian Duoduo’s physical state within the Ruin had prevented him from mastering the sword in time. It was not an easy skill to learn; though the weapon had been obsolete for a millennium, it demanded the rigorous physical standards of the cold weapon era. Zhao Meiyou could only gamble. During the ten months of sensory grafting in the Ruin, his and Qian Duoduo’s bodies had achieved a degree of fusion. In the moments before the quantum afterwaves dissipated, that fusion remained in effect. Zhao Meiyou dismantled the fourth machine, reaching his absolute limit. In the oxygen deprivation caused by exhaustion, his mind went blank for a split second. He seized that moment where logic failed and let instinct take over. Ability: "Transformation," activated. It was difficult to describe the sensation. It was as if a dream had invaded reality, as if quantum fluctuations were plucking the energy strings of spacetime, manifesting fire-like hallucinations within the primordial chaos. This was the first time Zhao Meiyou had successfully used an Archaeologist’s ability in reality. Unlike the fluid transitions within a Ruin, "Transformation" in the real world felt like having his bones stripped and marrow extracted. Agony flared; Zhao Meiyou felt as though his brain were soaking in poison and his skin were being inflated to the bursting point. He spat out a mouthful of something—perhaps bits of his internal organs—and then the numbness of poisoning set in. He could feel nothing but lightness and power. It was a massive gamble, but it was the only way he could destroy ten killing machines in such a short time. In the dimly lit corridor, Qian Duoduo and Zhao Meiyou stood back-to-back amidst the pervasive killing intent. Qian Duoduo was fully focused on maintaining "Scanning." The wind hadn't died down yet; they still had time. A second later, both leaped forward. Zhao Meiyou thrust his sword into an oncoming mechanical female form, while Qian Duoduo took out a hidden sniper in the distance with a single shot. Remaining killing machines: five. Oil lamps overturned, and the paper doors began to burn. The flames licked the walls like phlegm, and the goldfish on the lanterns revealed skeletal white bones. A mechanical palm made of alloy pierced Zhao Meiyou’s side, but in the next heartbeat, the soft sword in his hand shredded the machine's head. They had reached the end of the corridor. Shattered porcelain lay by the entrance of a private room; metal and blood burned together in the fire, mixing with spilled sake to emit a savage, metallic fragrance. Three. In the sensory chaos, Zhao Meiyou felt as if his eyeballs were about to burst from his skull. His brain was boiling. A massive red sun rose from a scalding sea; his head felt like it would explode as the sun prepared to breach his cranium. His body had become a mountain range suppressing the stars, with magma burning in the deepest depths. He felt a sleeping army within him suddenly awaken, ten thousand horses trampling through his veins—what were they searching for? What had been sealed away? One. Qian Duoduo blew the head off a commissioner and sprinted toward Zhao Meiyou. Zhao Meiyou was screaming—it was unclear if it was a battle cry or a shriek of agony. He had pinned down the last killing machine but couldn't deliver the final blow because his own form was on the verge of collapse. Using Transformation so hastily was too much for him; Qian Duoduo had seen Archaeologists in this state before—it was the precursor to "Dissolution." Qian Duoduo shoved the sword hilt into the machine’s body and slapped Zhao Meiyou hard on the top of the head. The sheer force of the blow jolted Zhao Meiyou back to his senses through the pain. They burst out of the Japanese tavern. Outside was a long bridge, with the Main District on the far side, separated by an abyss eight hundred and sixty levels deep. Qian Duoduo threw his conjured explosives behind them and dragged Zhao Meiyou down into the void. The last of the quantum afterwaves were about to vanish. A massive heatwave surged from behind. Amidst the fire, Qian Duoduo lit a cigarette, looked at the unconscious Zhao Meiyou, and pressed his lips against the other man's. Ability: "Grafting," activated. Zhao Meiyou’s soul instantly snapped back into place. Qian Duoduo was swallowed by Zhao Meiyou’s chaotic sensory input and spat out a large spray of blood. Fortunately, the quantum afterwaves finally vanished, and Zhao's transformed limbs returned to normal. However, chaos and agony still lingered in the mire of their consciousness. In the weightlessness of the fall, Zhao Meiyou saw Qian Duoduo covering his mouth, crimson liquid dripping through his fingers and falling into Zhao's eyes. *When black is mixed with the light of the sun and fire, the result is always red.* "...Zhao Meiyou... don't sleep...!" An overwhelming red swallowed him, and Zhao Meiyou lost consciousness. *** The deadlock was broken. After an unknown amount of time, Zhao Meiyou heard a rustling sound, like a forest deep in the mountains. *Am I dead? Or am I dreaming?* He opened his eyes to find himself lying on a long flight of stone steps. Above him, ancient trees grew thick, framing a narrow strip of pale sky. The steps were dilapidated, the green stones sunken deep into the earth, nearly impassable. Zhao Meiyou tried to stand. Looking down, the ancient trees were like a sea; looking up, mist and clouds swirled. Neither end was in sight. *Is this a mountain?* Zhao Meiyou felt confused. He had never seen a real mountain. The Metropolis’s holographic archives contained records of mountains, forests, coasts, and deserts, but they were either primordial forms from before civilization or heavily developed artificial versions. They were nothing like this—a place that seemed to have once known human life, now long deserted. Zhao Meiyou looked at his attire. He held a bamboo staff and wore straw shoes, looking somewhat like an ancient monk, but the fabric of his clothes suggested otherwise. It was a garment like a *kesa*, yet incredibly light and soft, made of an indescribable material. He instinctively tried to think, but a splitting headache struck. In a dizzying whirl, he suddenly heard the faint, distant sound of a bell. It came from up the mountain. What was up there? There should be a temple. What was in the temple? There should be a monk. *So, am I that monk?* Zhao Meiyou looked at his clothes and adjusted the conical hat on his head. It was strange; he had never seen such a hat, yet he knew it was called a *douli*. If he was the monk, then who was ringing the bell in the temple now? The headache intensified. Zhao Meiyou gave up on thinking and began to climb the steps. After a long time, he smelled the faint scent of sandalwood. Why did he know this scent was sandalwood? What was sandalwood? The steps vanished, and he saw flowing water. Before him was a deep pool, though it could almost be called a lake. A lake nestled between mountains, deep within the forest. The bell he heard came from here. An ancient bell was submerged in the lake, and as the water flowed over it, it resonated. Sensing his arrival, other sounds began to rise from the water. It was music. Zhao Meiyou looked into the water. In the shallows, many instruments were submerged—zithers, chime bells, lutes, flutes, and drums, as well as Western pianos and wind instruments. Unnamed petals drifted through the water toward the depths. The current moved the instruments, causing them to sound without being struck. Having been submerged for so long, they had lost their tuning. He even saw a pipe organ rising from the depths of the lake; water and petals surged from its massive pipes, both narrow and vast. All sorts of timbres drifted from the current. Because they were out of tune, no melody could be discerned. It was like the ruins of a destroyed humanity, where only music remained as a lingering proof of existence. *So, what is this place?* *What lies in the depths of the lake?* The bell rang again. Zhao Meiyou snapped his eyes open. Pain. His body reacted instantly. Zhao Meiyou was someone well-acquainted with pain, but now he felt as if he had been deep-fried and then scorched in salt and alkali. From his bones to his internal organs, everything had been restructured. His eyelids felt heavy as lead. He struggled with all his might just to make a sound. "You're awake?" Someone by the bed was watching him. "You've got a stubborn life, Zhao Mo-de. I thought you were already playing mahjong with the King of Hell." A cotton swab dabbed some salt water onto his lips. His sense of taste slowly returned. Zhao Meiyou rolled his eyes, unable to speak, but the other person understood his meaning. "Your lover fled to my place. Let's get one thing straight: you still have to pay rent." It was the Pillar, Liu Qijue. The young man tapped a folding fan against his palm, sitting by the bed with his legs crossed, watching the scene with an amused smirk. "Not bad, Zhao Mo-de. That night, Qian Duoduo carried you here on his back looking like a ghost. I thought he’d killed you because of some grudge... I never would have guessed. How did you manage to trick him into falling for you?" Zhao Meiyou made a couple of weak, dying sounds. Liu Qijue arched an eyebrow. "Don't bother hiding it at this point. You escaped Site S86 together—you dare say nothing happened between you two?" Zhao Meiyou thought to himself: *If I could get up, I’d definitely have a go at this grandson.* "Don't glare at me. You've been unconscious for seven days. It'll take at least a month before you can move properly," Liu Qijue said. "This is a safe house belonging to me and my husband. He left behind plenty of medical equipment. We can get you back in one piece. Just lie still." Only these two could have a back-and-forth conversation when one couldn't even speak. If Diao Chan were here, he’d probably be hiding somewhere crying. Liu Qijue prattled on like a magpie about trivial gossip—what new plays were at the theater, what madness Old Man De had gotten into, how the auntie at the butcher shop missed her mahjong partner and was worried about him, and so on. The door was suddenly pushed open. Zhao Meiyou heard Qian Duoduo’s voice, accompanied by a strange burnt smell. Liu Qijue stood up and clicked his tongue at Qian Duoduo. "You still haven't given up? I'm here, Zhao Mo-de won't die. Stop fussing." Qian Duoduo was carrying a bowl of fish soup—a bowl of fish soup that could only be described as metaphysical. It possessed only the *concept* of fish soup; the contents of the bowl bore no resemblance to the actual dish. The burnt smell was truly lethal. Zhao Meiyou began to cough, wheezing out a broken sentence: "...Qian-ge." "Ho, so you *can* talk now?" Liu Qijue looked at him in surprise, then at Qian Duoduo, and nodded with self-awareness. "Fine, I'm out. You two take your time." The smell in the room was truly bizarre. Qian Duoduo pushed the window open and picked up the folding fan Liu Qijue had left behind to fan the air. When he opened it, he found ink calligraphy on the white paper. The front read: "Dog Couple." The back read: "Villains Live Forever." Zhao Meiyou struggled to lift his hand, gesturing a few times. Qian Duoduo said, "I'm fine. Your body nearly dissolved during the Transformation. There might be some lingering side effects, but don't worry too much; they'll fade with time." Back in Site S86, Zhao Meiyou and Qian Duoduo had discussed where to go. Qian Duoduo had his own safe house, but it lacked sufficient medical supplies. It would be enough for his own injuries—he was used to high-risk missions—but this was Zhao Meiyou’s first time forcibly using an ability in reality. Whether it succeeded was one thing, but a severe backlash was inevitable. Qian's existing medical setup wasn't enough. The hospital on the 330th floor was an option, but a Lower District hospital wouldn't have the necessary resources. So, Zhao Meiyou thought of the Pillar. Qian Duoduo knew of Liu Qijue. "I've collaborated with Young Master Liu a few times. He and his husband invited me to dinner years ago." And so, the matter was settled. Zhao Meiyou gestured again: *Qian-ge, I had a dream.* "A dream?" Qian Duoduo sat by the bed. "It's normal for an Archaeologist to dream. It's one way to vent libido." Zhao Meiyou paused, then gestured: *But I never used to dream.* The forest and lake in the mountains, the lost music—this was the first dream of his life. "What did you dream about?" Qian Duoduo looked at him. "If you're willing, you can tell me." Zhao Meiyou was silent for a moment, then performed a rather flamboyant series of hand gestures, his fingertips twirling. Qian Duoduo almost couldn't decipher what he was signing. *I dreamed of you,* he said. Qian Duoduo: "...Do you want some soup?" *Qian-ge, are you trying to murder your own husband?* Qian Duoduo sighed. "Zhao Meiyou." *I'm listening.* "The invitation I extended to you before is still valid," Qian Duoduo said. "But whether from a logical or emotional standpoint, the situation we face now is very different. Your body might need long-term recuperation if you don't want permanent side effects." *So, what are you trying to say, Qian-ge?* "I can continue to be your Guide. If you're willing, we can consider a long-term partnership." Qian Duoduo paused. "But given your current physical condition, my suggestion is that we continue our cooperation after I return from the Ruin." The Ruin Qian Duoduo spoke of was undoubtedly the high-risk site he had been preparing to explore—the one that had even incited the Metropolitan Government to try and eliminate him. Zhao Meiyou asked: *Qian-ge, which Ruin are you actually going to?* By now, he already had a suspicion. He heard Qian Duoduo say: "...Site 000." *** **Glossary** Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation --- | --- | --- 专员 | Commissioner / Agent | A government official or operative. 杀戮机器 | Killing Machine | High-end combat androids used by the government. 铁皮妖姬 | Iron Succubus / Iron Maiden | A nickname for the female-model killing machines. 软剑 | Soft Sword / Flexible Sword | A thin, whip-like blade that requires great skill. 溶解 | Dissolution / Dissolving | A dangerous state where an Archaeologist's body breaks down from overusing abilities. 000号 | Site 000 / No. 000 | The most mysterious and dangerous Ruin mentioned in the story. 竹杖芒鞋 | Bamboo staff and straw shoes | A literary reference to a simple, wandering lifestyle (often associated with Su Shi). 斗笠 | Douli / Conical Hat | A traditional wide-brimmed bamboo hat. 狗男男 | Dog Couple | A derogatory or joking term for a male-male couple. 祸害遗千年 | Villains Live Forever | Part of a proverb: "Good people die young, but villains live for a thousand years."