Ruin No. 000. Every archaeologist knew of it, yet no one had ever entered.
The entrance to Ruin No. 000 was located on the First Level. Among archaeologists, it was known as the "Heavenly Gate."
*The Heavenly Gate opens, vast and boundless; the great vermilion path is wide, and smooth stones form the hall.*
*Ge,* Zhao Meiyou gestured. *Is Ruin No. 000 really that dangerous?*
Zhao Meiyou had just woken up, and his mind was still a bit stiff, but his intuition told him something was off. *Ge, if no one has ever gone in, how was it named Ruin No. 000? How does the namer know it’s the most dangerous? Who was the person who numbered the ruins in the first place?*
Qian Duoduo shook his head. "No one knows. There are too many unsolved mysteries in the world of archaeology."
He paused, then added, "There is a theory that those who enter Ruin No. 000 are erased from reality. The price is that no one will remember them anymore."
*Then what is there to discuss?* Zhao Meiyou gestured rapidly. *I’m definitely coming with you. It’s settled.*
Qian Duoduo remained silent for a long time.
Finally, he squeezed Zhao Meiyou’s hand. "Rest well first. We still have time."
***
"That’s how it went."
Zhao Meiyou popped his head out of the bathtub. "'We still have time'—that’s what he said."
"Zhao Mo-de, whether in a legal or moral sense, I am currently a man who just lost his husband. It’s one thing that you didn't give me a condolence gift," the Star said with a cold sneer as he listened. "But to come to a widow’s door and flaunt your romance—are you even human?"
"A widow’s door is always a den of gossip," Zhao Meiyou blew bubbles in the water. "Help a brother out. I’ll buy you a drink at the wedding later—no red envelope required."
"Let me give you a warning: don't get ahead of yourself," the Star said. "Qian Duoduo hasn't promised you anything."
"No way, right? This is the 25th century. The most expensive thing in the auction houses is a brain slice that has tasted true love," Zhao Meiyou raised an eyebrow. "Your attitude is the problem. Who was it that kept asking me 'how did you trick him' a couple of days ago?"
"Then you should also know that the cheapest thing on the black market is hormone supplements." The Star shot him a look. "If you want a lover, fine. But remember this, Zhao Mo-de: before death, no one can give a definitive answer to any question. Don't let it go to your head."
"You really know how to kill a mood."
"Romance is boundless, but life is limited. To pursue the boundless with the limited is perilous indeed," the Star quoted. "I’m telling you this to remind you that your current state might be part of the ruin’s aftereffects. Whether it’s the Suspension Bridge Effect or the Romeo and Juliet Effect, certain hallucinations have stimulated your brain, and your logic hasn't caught up yet. It’s making you produce an illusion similar to love. Don't be too impulsive."
He recited a line of Shakespeare: "These violent delights have violent ends."
"Don't understand, speak human." Zhao Meiyou scooped up a handful of water and splashed him. "Then how do you judge whether you’re in reality or a dream?"
"In a dream, one knows not it is a dream, but calls it ordinary time."
"Get out." Zhao Meiyou pointed to the door. "You and us illiterates don't mix."
The Star actually left, but before he did, he looked down at him. "Regardless, one of us should have a good ending. Currently, the person most likely to get that result is you, Zhao Mo-de."
Zhao Meiyou leaned against the edge of the tub. "Then are you happy?"
"My poetry has ended." The Star closed the door. From Zhao Meiyou’s angle, he could only see the man’s back.
The door clicked shut.
"It’s a good ending."
Zhao Meiyou buried half his face in the water, staring eye-to-eye with a rubber duck.
He was in the washroom. The exterior of the bathtub was covered in a dense network of pipes, seemingly some kind of circulatory system that could effectively improve his internal and external physical state. He had been soaking here intermittently for over half a month. His body, twisted by "Transformation," was mostly healed, leaving only occasional bouts of throbbing pain.
Bored out of his mind, Zhao Meiyou asked the Star to find him a playback terminal; he wanted to conduct an experiment.
He wanted to recreate the scene he had seen in his dream—the lost instruments singing in the water.
As it turned out, the terminal broke after being submerged only a few times. The Star was too lazy to waste more money on him and simply found him a music box. It was handmade, so at least it wouldn't electrocute him.
Zhao Meiyou leaned back in the tub. The surface of the water gradually receded from his vision as he struggled to keep his eyes open. The music box floated above his head. Metal and wood were submerged in the deep blue liquid; the pitch slowly went out of tune. Iron oxidized upon contact with water, and fungi decomposed the lignin. One could almost see the process of rusting and rotting.
He didn't know how long he had been soaking. The music box’s spring was nearing its end when a pair of hands suddenly broke the surface of the water and hauled him up. Immediately, a large bath towel was wrapped around him.
It was Qian Duoduo.
"Qian-ge, you’re back?"
"How many times have I told you, Zhao Meiyou? Don't get addicted to the suffocation response." Qian Duoduo frowned at him. "Are you hooked on it?"
Zhao Meiyou wanted to explain, but the dream was too ethereal. In the end, he could only say, "Qian-ge, my lung capacity is very high. I won't suffocate."
As he spoke, he noticed Qian Duoduo was carrying a plastic bag. "You bought fish?"
The fish soup Qian Duoduo had made last time had truly traumatized Zhao Meiyou’s worldview. He had never imagined someone could desecrate ingredients to such an extent, so he had boldly declared that once he recovered, he would cook personally.
But Qian Duoduo clearly didn't intend to give him that chance. The plastic bag was filled with goldfish.
"Qian-ge," Zhao Meiyou said earnestly. "Goldfish aren't for eating."
"I know. I bought them to look at." Qian Duoduo was contemplating something. Looking uneasy, he asked again, "Are you sure you aren't addicted to the suffocation response?"
One couldn't blame him for being paranoid; there were too many mentally unstable archaeologists, let alone an outlier like Zhao Meiyou.
"I’m really not, Qian-ge." Zhao Meiyou smiled. "I’m a doctor myself; I can tell the difference."
"I heard the residents of the 330th Level prefer to call you a butcher." Qian Duoduo clearly didn't agree.
Zhao Meiyou continued to laugh it off. "Just a joke. Really, Qian-ge, my lung capacity is fine. I’ve never choked on water..."
Qian Duoduo suddenly stepped forward, his leather shoes stepping into the bathtub. He grabbed Zhao Meiyou’s shoulder and abruptly pulled the man toward him. Both of them fell into the water together.
Deep blue liquid, racing bubbles. Zhao Meiyou’s eyes widened as he watched Qian Duoduo lean down toward him in the water, prying his lips open without a word.
The plastic bag fell. Amidst the out-of-tune music of the music box, the goldfish flopped on the floor.
It was hard to describe if this was a kiss. It was very brief yet felt very long. Zhao Meiyou’s mouth was forced open, and the salty, fishy liquid poured into his throat. He was dazed by the choking sensation and unable to break free. Near-death and hypoxia struck suddenly. The music box dissolved in the water, and the music flowed through the liquid into his veins, singing inside his body—
Zhao Meiyou suddenly lunged out of the water, leaning over the edge of the tub and retching.
Qian Duoduo ran a hand over him, seemingly convinced by Zhao Meiyou’s earlier claim. He nodded, then walked to the sink. He seemed to have swallowed even more of the bathtub liquid than Zhao Meiyou; he leaned over and began to vomit, and a goldfish actually fell out of his mouth.
Zhao Meiyou had never seen such a "kill a thousand enemies at the cost of eight hundred of your own" tactic. He was in better shape than Qian Duoduo and recovered first. "Cough, I... I say, Qian-ge..."
Qian Duoduo turned on the faucet, splashed his face, and looked back at Zhao Meiyou. "How does it feel to choke on water?"
It was a violent form of therapy—no, it wasn't therapy at all. But Zhao Meiyou knew very well that for a long time to come, if he ever buried his head in water again, he would only think of this hypoxia and retching.
In short, he raised his hands in surrender and said honestly, "I won't do it again."
*But Qian-ge,* Zhao Meiyou thought to himself.
*How do you know that what I’ll think of won't be your lips?*
Qian Duoduo saw right through his thoughts. "If you want to kiss, come find me. Don't fantasize in the water. It’s cowardly."
"..." Zhao Meiyou raised his hands in surrender again.
This time, he was sincere.
There was still frozen fish in the refrigerator. Qian Duoduo put the goldfish he had bought into a tank while Zhao Meiyou handled the fresh ingredients in the kitchen. This safe house had been the long-term residence of the Star and his husband, so the kitchenware was very complete. Zhao Meiyou even discovered an old-fashioned oven embedded in the wall with a copper door. It must have been the older man’s taste; this kind of oven wasn't easy to operate. It seemed the late owner must have been an expert in the culinary arts.
Zhao Meiyou pondered how to use it for a while before giving up, deciding instead to make a fish soup.
Millet peppers, cherry peppers, green and red peppers, and green Sichuan peppercorns were tossed into the pot with hot oil until fragrant. Once they were fried into "tiger skins," he filtered the oil and added water to simmer the broth. The vegetables were fresh goods bought from the Middle District, vibrant and succulent. On the cutting board, the colorful peppers were decapitated, their wounds leaking thick liquid. The entire kitchen was saturated with a damp, spicy greenness.
Zhao Meiyou turned the heat up high. The aggressive aroma of the peppers was intense. Once rolled through the water and oil, the scent was like a wild coupling.
During this time, the Star came in once, seemingly wanting to say something, but was choked out before he could even open his mouth. Seeing him come out, Qian Duoduo asked, "What is Zhao Meiyou doing?"
"Performing a ritual!" The Star walked away, pinching his nose.
The fish was thawed, sliced with a decorative pattern, lightly marinated, and ginger was added to remove the fishy smell.
The prepared pepper oil was added to the water to make the soup. Mushrooms were blanched to form a base, and finally, the fish was added. The water couldn't be boiling; it had to be braised.
Zhao Meiyou rummaged through the cabinets and found a clay pot to pour the soup into once it was done. The kitchen door was pushed open. Recognizing Qian Duoduo’s footsteps, he held out the ladle. "Qian-ge, do you want to taste if it needs more salt..."
The ladle clinked against a gas mask.
Zhao Meiyou: "...Qian-ge, what are you doing?"
Qian Duoduo’s voice was muffled inside the mask. "Zhao Meiyou, if you want to kill someone, you can tell me directly. You don't need to go through the trouble of brewing poison."
"Qian-ge, the smell might be a bit choking when frying peppers, but it’s the same principle as love growing over time—it’s fine once it’s cooked." Zhao Meiyou turned the ladle and took a sip himself. "This is called Peppery Numbing Fish Soup. I’m not lying to you, it’s incredibly fragrant."
Qian Duoduo counted down three-two-one in his head. After a few seconds, Zhao Meiyou was still standing perfectly fine before him. He hesitated, took off the mask, and licked the ladle.
Zhao Meiyou looked at him expectantly. "How is it? How is it?"
"...I’ll take it all." Qian Duoduo pointed to the clay pot. "Make another pot. Also, Young Master Liu wanted to tell you that there’s a dinner gathering tonight."
Zhao Meiyou served Qian Duoduo a bowl of soup. "A dinner gathering?"
Qian Duoduo refused the bowl, indicating he could drink straight from the pot. "It’s a few colleagues we know. They’re trustworthy."
Zhao Meiyou understood. This was a gathering of archaeologists.
The Star’s safe house was located in the Middle District. As the sun set, fast-food airships drifted past the window. Waitresses in hover-skates promoted their wares in mid-air, holding red and yellow menus featuring burgers and Saltwater Cola.
M-Fast food, Saltwater Cola, and Marlboro cigarettes were the three major "civilization heritages" protected by the Metropolis. It was said that these were the only three things in the city that used the exact same formulas from centuries ago. In the distance, the massive Burning Lamp Statue lit up. This was the first golden statue completed in the Metropolis’s cultural building project; it spanned 149 levels and provided night lighting for half of the Middle District.
The sunset was like molten gold, and water-like ripples shimmered on the walls.
The first guest to arrive was a middle-aged man in a suit and leather shoes, carrying a briefcase and a thermos, looking like he had just finished work. Then came a pair of twins still in school uniforms, followed by a youth of ambiguous gender with a unique style, carrying a transparent oxygen tank—or rather, a miniature bio-pod containing flowers and butterflies.
He, or she, wore an oxygen mask that obscured their face. Supposedly, it was a ruin aftereffect; they could no longer breathe the air of reality.
The "few colleagues" Qian Duoduo mentioned were clearly more than ten. There was a woman like an opera singer, a boy in a wheelchair, a beautiful woman who didn't seem human hooked up to an IV bag, and a pair of siblings who looked like either beggars or bandits—they raided the pantry the moment they entered, even moving the refrigerator onto a trailer. There were also perhaps philosophers; Zhao Meiyou found them occupying the bathtub when he went to the washroom, smoking and using medicine bottles to roll dice... In total, there were about twenty people. Some came in pajamas, bringing sleeping bags, and fell asleep in the hallway the moment they entered, being stepped on by more than one person without noticing.
The Star ordered a mountain of takeout. The air was filled with the scent of fried chicken and spicy sauce. He told Zhao Meiyou to whip up a few more dishes and rolled up his own sleeves to help. The choking smell of peppers in the kitchen gradually dissipated. A guest brought ingredients in a cooler—blue-green mushrooms.
Zhao Meiyou took one look and said, "These can't be eaten."
"Why not?" the youth with the oxygen mask asked. "They’re very expensive. The lab only produces a few dozen kilograms a year."
"Then you should go look below the 20th Level. They grow everywhere there, and they’re free," Zhao Meiyou said. "The tribal residents down there use them to make poison."
"They can be eaten if handled carefully." The Star walked over. "It’s time to show off your creativity, Zhao Mo-de. Process them into something edible."
"These are hallucinogenic," Zhao Meiyou said. "Aren't you afraid they’ll wreck your house after eating them?"
The Star shrugged. "They’re all the same once they’ve had too much to drink anyway."
By the time the food was ready, the crowd in the living room had started singing. Zhao Meiyou peeked downstairs. The middle-aged civil servant was expertly opening the Star’s wine cabinet, enthusiastically building a champagne tower. The bandit siblings tried to take the wheelchair boy’s IV pole; after failing to refuse, the boy stood up and swung the wheelchair to chase them both. A table was knocked over, and glasses shattered across the floor with a crash.
Some people’s ages were impossible to tell. The Star told him a trick: "The ones who look normal are either minors or middle-aged. The ones who look like they’re missing a brain stem are usually in their twenties or thirties."
Zhao Meiyou: "Why?"
"The young are in a hurry to grow up, so they act sophisticated. The middle-aged want to be young, so they act carefree. Only the youth are neither here nor there; they are fluid, prone to seeking death." The Star scoffed. "If you did a psychological survey of the people in this living room, more than half would have to be hospitalized."
*They really are similar,* Zhao Meiyou realized where this sense of familiarity came from.
It was like a wildlife habitat inside a psychiatric ward.
Qian Duoduo had been elsewhere and only finally appeared in the living room. The moment he entered, all noise died down. The archaeologists, as if equipped with radar, looked at him in unison, then simultaneously turned their heads to look at Zhao Meiyou, who was peeking from the second floor.
Zhao Meiyou felt an indescribable sensation. He never feared being watched, even if the gaze was that of a venomous snake. But now, many eyes that couldn't be called malicious looked at him and Qian Duoduo, forming an invisible net between the two. It was like a soft blade slicing open a chest, letting butterflies fly out to show the world your gaudy, magnificent dream of desire.
Like boiling water poured on snow, like disembowelment for public display.
Finally, the twins spoke first. The older one laughed, and then the younger one reached out a hand toward Qian Duoduo. "Where’s the candy?"
Qian Duoduo lowered his head. "What candy?"
The twins said in unison, "On a day like this, shouldn't you treat us to candy?"
"He should indeed treat us to candy." The civil servant pushed up his glasses. "By the way, that bet can be settled now."
Zhao Meiyou whispered to the Star, "What bet?"
"What do you think?" The Star practically rolled his eyes. "Betting on how long he’d stay single, of course."
At this point, acting aloof would be inappropriate. The guests tonight were clearly all acquaintances of Qian Duoduo, and some were old friends of the Star. They drank and swept through the food like starving ghosts, casting blessings—some of which sounded like curses—at Zhao Meiyou and Qian Duoduo, whether they were sober or bleary-eyed with drink.
Unexpectedly yet naturally, Zhao Meiyou blended in rapidly. The speed was like a traveler meeting an old friend in a foreign land. The secret was simple: throw away all social etiquette, because the people you were with were drunks, madmen, lunatics, and children. The guests' fingers were stained blue by the mushrooms. They chatted, spat out grape skins, went to heaven, or descended to hell.
The opera singer left countless lipstick marks on Zhao Meiyou. He tried to dodge, but her strength was surprisingly immense. Finally, Qian Duoduo pulled him out, sighing, "I owe her."
"Can I ask why?"
"A long time ago, when I came out of a ruin, I caused an accident that interrupted a very important performance of hers," Qian Duoduo said. "She was just singing a song called 'Ten Thousand Kisses Tonight'."
Zhao Meiyou grinned. "I definitely don't have ten thousand kisses on me yet."
As he spoke, he held out his hands. "Qian-ge, do you want to come and make up the difference?"
After an unknown amount of time, the boy carrying the IV pole walked over and handed Zhao Meiyou a tin of ointment.
He took it. "This is?"
"It’s infused with nano-fast-dissolve molecules. It can instantly heal mouth ulcers." The boy’s gaze flickered between the two of them. "Just in case you two kiss your mouths raw."
After the boy left, Zhao Meiyou looked at Qian Duoduo. "I’m a bit curious, what is that kid’s IV pole for?" His physical condition didn't seem to require any treatment.
"He ate something he shouldn't have in Ruin No. S18, which caused his internal quantum levels to be too high. His life force has become very unstable," Qian Duoduo said. "He might die in the next second, or he might gain immortality."
Zhao Meiyou watched the boy’s back. "Then how long has he lived?"
"He’s an old acquaintance of Young Master Liu’s husband," Qian Duoduo said. "The liquid in the IV bag reduces his quantum threshold."
Zhao Meiyou: "...I imagine that’s probably not for extending his life."
"No." Qian Duoduo nodded. "The stuff inside will accelerate his death."
The youth with the oxygen mask took a butterfly pupa from his tank. The Star opened a bottle of Mezcal. They mixed salt, lemon, the pupa, and the alcohol, then finally found the sleeping bag under the stairs and poured the liquid into the sleepwalker’s mouth.
"This one’s ability is 'Specimen'," Qian Duoduo introduced him to Zhao Meiyou. "He can record everything that has happened in reality and then recreate it within a ruin."
Zhao Meiyou: "When does this fellow wake up?"
"That’s an unsolved mystery in the industry." The youth with the oxygen mask shrugged. "In the Metropolis, he seems more like he’s sleepwalking. Perhaps the ruins are reality to him. Who knows?"
*Bitterly short are the days, long are the fine nights,*
*Flying light, flying light,*
*I urge you to drink a cup of wine, may you live long and your face stay bright.*
In the latter half of the night, the room had descended into total chaos. Perhaps because of the *Jianshouqing* mushrooms, the guests began to sing and dance. Someone was crawling on the floor. The Star sat on the sofa smoking a hookah, the smoke like a blurred sigh—melancholy, ecstatic. The refrigerator door was wide open, cans spraying out like vomit across the floor. A drunk person filled the bathtub with ice and soaked himself in it, his hand plunged wrist-deep into a tub of ice cream. Brilliant cold light hit the floor, cutting the madness into fragmented pieces.
Zhao Meiyou and Qian Duoduo climbed onto the rooftop, looking at the distant, dimly lit Buddha statue.
Qian Duoduo brought a clay pot down from the steps; it was the fish soup Zhao Meiyou had made. "I saved a bit for you."
Zhao Meiyou took the pot and gulped down a large mouthful. He was indeed starving; aside from being forced to drink alcohol, there was almost nothing in his stomach. "Qian-ge, can I ask what the occasion for this meal was?"
"A farewell," Qian Duoduo said. "They know we’re going to Ruin No. 000."
Zhao Meiyou noticed Qian Duoduo’s choice of words—*we*—and grinned into the night.
"Your body is mostly fine now. If we must go, then we need to be fast," Qian Duoduo said. "I’ve arranged everything. We leave tomorrow morning."
Zhao Meiyou: "So soon?"
"There are four hours until sunrise." Qian Duoduo glanced at the time. "You have four hours, Zhao Meiyou. Is there anything you want to do?"
Zhao Meiyou looked at Qian Duoduo, and a sudden, indescribable sense of familiarity washed over him. He thought of his mother; before she committed suicide with the dawn, she had asked him the same question—*Is there anything else you want to do?*
He looked toward the bottomless clusters of buildings in the Middle District. That woman hadn't waited for his answer before she simply jumped.
*To leap is to soar ten thousand miles.*
Finally, he said:
"I want to watch the sunrise with you, Qian-ge."
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
天门 | Heavenly Gate | The entrance to Ruin No. 000, located on the First Level.
见手青 | Jianshouqing | A type of wild mushroom (Boletus) that turns blue when bruised; known for being hallucinogenic if not cooked properly.
标本 | Specimen | An archaeologist ability that allows the user to record reality and recreate it within ruins.
燃灯神像 | Burning Lamp Statue | A massive, illuminated golden statue in the Metropolis used for lighting and as a cultural landmark.
饯别 | Farewell Dinner | A traditional gathering to see someone off before a long or dangerous journey.
M记 | M-Fast | A futuristic version of McDonald's, considered a "civilization heritage."
盐水可乐 | Saltwater Cola | One of the three protected "civilization heritages" of the Metropolis.
