Generally speaking, fishing bans are often concentrated during the spring-summer transition, when fish are spawning.
But Yanlong Island has a special endemic fish species—scientifically known as "Channa argus," though they usually call it the flower dogfish. With its mottled blue-green exterior, tender flesh, and few bones, it's used to make fish fillets and steaks. There are supposedly subspecies suitable as ornamental fish, and this species only appears in the surrounding lakes. Since it spawns in winter, the island's fishing ban is in winter to protect it.
These things are vicious—longer than ordinary blackfish. They usually look dull and sluggish, but they'll suddenly bite you. If Zhang Shutong remembered correctly, that small wound on the back of his hand came from when one bit him while he was removing a hook.
The island also has several protected animal species, like a bird called the yellow ibis. The city museum even has a specimen of it. Now nearly extinct, in earlier years they say you could still see foxes, bears, wild boars and other animals in the mountains.
But since it was "they say," none of these kids had actually seen them.
Their interest was all in fishing.
But they truly only enjoyed the pleasure of fishing itself. Though the small island was remote, their generation's standard of living wasn't bad—not as exaggerated as Gu Qiumian's family, but they had enough to eat and wear.
Not poor and not greedy for food—with the two biggest obstacles removed, after catching fish they neither sold nor ate them. At most when packing up they'd snap a photo of the bucket, what would later be called "posting for likes," then throw all the fish back in the water. Whoever caught the most would treat everyone to soda, and they'd ride home laughing and joking all the way.
That's just how young people were. In their view, eating fish was more troublesome than catching it—if you caught it you had to bring it home, if you brought it home you had to keep it for a few days, if you wanted to keep fish you needed a basin, and now that everyone lived in apartment buildings, you also had to figure out how to kill and cook the fish, and if you made too much you'd have to eat it for several days... It was nowhere near as carefree as just fishing.
Very much like buying pets as a kid—eyes gleaming as you bring them home, but after the novelty wears off in a few days, feeding and cleaning up after those cats, dogs, and rabbits all becomes your parents' job.
So even though it was currently fishing ban season, since they were just playing around and had such a strong spirit of catch-and-release—accumulating so much good karma—the few of them still dared to secretly go fishing with a clear conscience, as long as they didn't get caught.
For the same reason, though Officer Xiong had spoken sternly just now, he wouldn't really make trouble for a few kids. Otherwise he would have arrested Zhang Shutong on the spot.
It was just that two things coincidentally happened together, making him suspect Zhang Shutong was messing with him again with an excuse that insulted his intelligence.
Zhang Shutong felt very wronged, but could only accept the consequences of his past misdeeds. Helplessly becoming a lone ranger once more, he went to check out the "Forbidden Zone" first.
Along the way he saw food cart vendors. The island specialized in fish and shrimp, and the snacks were related to these as well.
Like fried shrimp cakes—fresh lake shrimp caught daily, just a bit bigger than a fingernail, no need to shell them. Marinate them in salt water, add shredded carrots, shredded potatoes, chopped scallions, chopped onions, flour, water, and eggs. Mix it all into a batter and fry in oil until golden brown—one bite and it's crispy outside, tender inside, fragrant and aromatic.
Speaking of which, this had been his breakfast today—meaning eight years later. Zhang Shutong had rushed to the dock early in the morning to catch the boat without time to eat, so he'd bought a few shrimp cakes on the island to fill his stomach. Ten yuan for two, but at the current time they only cost five.
He bought one, chomping on the shrimp cake as he continued forward. Not that he'd get sick of eating it, but he wasn't that greedy either—he just figured he wouldn't have time for dinner, and since he had tissues in his pocket and didn't need to worry about getting oil all over his hands, he bought one when he saw it along the way.
Zhang Shutong had always been someone with very low material desires. Besides being this way since childhood, it was also related to his experiences over these years.
In several regressions, he'd originally had opportunities to buy lottery tickets. He couldn't win big money, but a few thousand was no problem. If he'd deliberately developed in that direction and bought a few more times, it would have been a decent income. But his thinking at the time was: what use is earning that much money?
He couldn't spend it anyway—no way to travel, no plans to buy a car. Devices like phones and computers were fine as long as they worked. Even his only hobby of fishing had gradually been set aside. The only remaining big-ticket items were buying a house and getting married, but the former wasn't something a few lottery wins could solve, and the latter wasn't something he should be considering.
Not that he had no women in his heart and naturally focused on fishing—he'd had decent popularity in high school, though for some reason it was with the girls, and he wasn't sure if that counted as romantic luck... But Zhang Shutong had indeed received several love letters. Why "several"? Because by their time, writing confessions on paper was already outdated.
Everyone had grade-level chat groups. Sometimes right after he'd "acted heroically" due to a regression and returned home, he'd check his phone to find a classmate had sent him a screenshot asking: "Is that guy they're talking about on the school wall you?"
In his memory, this kind of thing happened frequently—though it might not have actually been that many times. His memory was just skewed, and under the influence of regressions, the same event often got repeated several times. What were his feelings about being confessed to? Actually just the fatigue from temporal dislocation.
One reason he'd felt his popularity was decent back then was precisely this—
Sometimes opening his social media he'd see gifts from people he didn't know, and on his birthday there'd be well-wishes from classmates he couldn't identify. He'd reply to each one carefully, feeling pleased, thinking that while in middle school he'd only had three close friends, in high school he had friends everywhere—clearly he'd taken a big step forward in interpersonal relations.
Then later someone told him in exasperation: Bullshit! Those are all girls, girls you bastard! If you're not going to pursue them yourself, can't you introduce me to a few?
Zhang Shutong just felt confused.
Like with Du Kang liking Lu Qinglian—he could understand that. Regardless of their relationship, they were at least kids who grew up on the small island, from the same elementary school to the same middle school. Put yourself in his shoes: there's a pretty girl constantly appearing in your life, you inevitably exchange a few words with her, you see the girl's smile, her long hair, the fragrance on her—falling for her is really the most natural thing. But what about the "girls" his classmate mentioned?
They clearly didn't know each other at all. He really couldn't understand.
Since he couldn't understand, he had no way to respond. Later he figured out a solution—lock down his social media, change his birthday. Unfortunately he took a leave of absence in his second year of high school, so ultimately never got to use it.
Throughout high school he'd only liked one girl—a senior from the same club. The senior had countless suitors. Honestly, Zhang Shutong was somewhat anxious. To use the popular phrase at the time, she was a "school beauty" type—there was no reason she'd favor an ordinary guy like him.
Though "ordinary" needed quotation marks here. At that time he was constantly playing hero around school, thinking himself super cool. But that had zero benefit for chasing girls, right? You couldn't just say with a serious face, "Let me tell you a secret—I actually have superpowers," and then have the girl squeal and throw herself into your arms, winning the beauty's heart. Even Peter Parker had a hell of a time pursuing Mary Jane.
Later he transferred to another city, and she actually came by car to visit him once.
That day they found a bench in the park. Unable to see each other's expressions in the night, they made small talk. The senior looked down at her shoes, Zhang Shutong looked up at the moon. The girl quietly talked to him about the future, but he said nothing, because he couldn't see what the future looked like.
The moon was lonely, the night bench was cold, and the future she spoke of was beautiful but felt so distant.
After that incident, he suddenly realized he really wasn't suited for romance. What do you do in a relationship? Maybe go on dates, maybe watch movies, plus eating together, holding hands walking under the moonlight, kissing the girl's lips in some romantic moment... But as long as regression existed, he could never return to a normal life.
They say everyone is born with their own mission. Then the mission of the human named Zhang Shutong was to fight this damned ability to the death—and never rest until death.
What he hadn't expected was that a few hours ago, he really had fought to "death" and finally came to "rest."
From returning to his student days until now, an afternoon had passed. Environment greatly changes people—though the time wasn't long, he gradually felt his mindset relaxing. So if he rephrased this outcome in a lighter tone, he could well say:
"I always thought I only had one ability, called Regression."
"But I didn't realize I had a second one, called Prophet."
Thinking this, Zhang Shutong really wanted to laugh. He felt he had some humor in him—maybe others didn't think so, but it was like how Gu Qiumian never thought what she drew were ghost faces. Everyone could just amuse themselves in their own hearts.
——He had no idea himself what the situation was with that water area called the "Forbidden Zone." He could only be as careful as possible, as cautious as possible, while thinking up jokes to keep his brain active.
Thinking this and that along the way, when the great prophet arrived at the water area where he'd perished, the setting sun was gradually sinking.
He recalled Du Kang's words before the regression—before the incident, fishermen had seen someone active near the Forbidden Zone.
And Gu Qiumian was murdered on December 10th. Today was December 5th. Only five days left—he should be able to discover some clues.
Logically he should try to deduce the killer's motive, but Zhang Shutong really wasn't a professional detective. His understanding of Gu Qiumian was limited, or rather extremely minimal—he didn't even know she'd drawn a sheep on the glass. It was hard to make deductions.
Better to start with the process of the girl's disappearance:
Currently he'd thought of three possibilities:
One: A chance occurrence. Though the probability was small, he couldn't rule out that she'd whimsically come here to look around that day, strayed from the crowd, and gave the killer an opportunity.
Two: The killer had scouted the location in advance, deliberately luring her to this place to facilitate the crime.
Three: Also having scouted the location in advance, but the Forbidden Zone wasn't the primary crime scene—rather, they'd kidnapped her first, then brought her to the Forbidden Zone.
This area was desolate—no wonder she was only found two days after disappearing.
Zhang Shutong temporarily ruled out the first possibility. He couldn't judge between the latter two, but combined with Du Kang's words, the killer definitely scouted in advance.
Next came the time to verify his guesses—
He stopped his bicycle and first looked around. No sign of anyone.
He'd originally thought that since it had snowed recently, if anyone had been active in the area, he could tell from footprints. But for some reason, all the snow here had melted clean.
Then he could only get closer.
The lakeside road hadn't been built yet. Underfoot was just an ordinary dirt road, and further in became muddy. So he left his bicycle far away, turning it around to ensure he could ride off immediately if something seemed wrong.
The sky was about to darken—no need to cover his face. Zhang Shutong held a flashlight in his left hand and an expandable baton in his right. Exhaling a breath of turbid air, he gently stepped into the reed beds.
Immediately he frowned, because the footing felt wrong—
Crouching down, he poked the ground with his finger. First touching ice shards and muddy water, but pressing further down, it was hard frozen earth.
Eight years later it wasn't like this.
He carefully thought back. He remembered that when he'd come here a few hours ago—meaning eight years later—at night, underfoot had been all mud, somewhat difficult to walk through, stepping deep and shallow. But now the ground was very hard. He didn't remember it raining eight years later...
What was going on?
More memories awakened. Wait, he seemed to have a clue: his parents both worked in geological surveying. The reason they'd come to work on the small island under Gu Jianhong's initiative seemed to be to investigate some "subsidence zone."
The small island was surrounded by lake water on three sides. Starting from the end of last century, it had been gradually developed with more and more buildings constructed. Over the long years, the stratum compressed and the ground slowly sank.
Gu Jianhong was planning engineering projects on the island and worried about accidentally collapsing buildings, which led to his initiative to establish the survey institute.
Maybe the Forbidden Zone was within the subsidence zone's range. Eight years ago, the ground underfoot was still hard soil. Eight years later, the ground probably sank and water levels rose, so everything was mud.
Zhang Shutong really hadn't expected that one day his work would connect with his parents' profession.
But this was troublesome...
He'd originally planned to find traces of the killer's activity through footprints, thereby confirming his guess. But now the snow had melted and underfoot was frozen earth. He could only steel himself and continue deeper.
Winter days darkened very early. The setting sun hid its form, overcast clouds covered the sky, moonlight hazy.
The reed beds beside him were almost as tall as he was, completely blocking his view. The surroundings were quiet, only the rustling sound of his body passing through the reeds.
He kept his breathing low, turned on his flashlight, shone it on the ground, and advanced bit by bit.
A stone...
Grass stems...
An instant noodle wrapper...
But the wrapper was from long ago, nearly faded, sealed in the mud. He looked at it a couple times but didn't touch it.
Then Zhang Shutong saw another dark thing.
Turning it over, it was actually a dead turtle... what?
Yes, a "dried turtle," about as big as an adult's palm, comparable to an old softshell turtle. The corpse was shriveled nearly to dehydration, practically mummified. He could tell this was a local grass turtle. Finding a turtle corpse by the water shouldn't be strange, and he knew this was the season when turtles hibernated—sometimes you really could pick up a turtle shell while walking around. But why...
This turtle hadn't retracted into its shell.
The turtle maintained an extremely strange posture, no different from a living turtle. Its head was raised, limbs extended, as if lying on a rock.
Zhang Shutong had found it belly-up, which made it seem even stranger—like this was originally a grass turtle sunbathing, then suddenly something happened, and like the ancient city of Pompeii buried by volcanic ash, its corpse just instantly dried out.
But how could a turtle by the water die of desiccation?
Zhang Shutong swallowed.
Temporarily ignoring this strange turtle, he continued forward with his flashlight. Suddenly he seemed to step on something rubbery, with quite elastic texture. Goosebumps instantly covered his entire body. He quickly moved his foot and shone the light down:
It was a strip-shaped dark red "stone."
About two fingers wide, half a foot long, covered in mud. He forced down his nausea and pressed it with his hand, confirming his guess.
It really was a piece of meat.
The meat's surface had already dried out, making it hard to judge how long it had been there.
Zhang Shutong couldn't say whether he should feel familiar or surprised. After all, when fishing before he'd also used meat as bait. Finding this by the water wasn't unusual, just like that instant noodle wrapper. Though very few people came here to fish, "very few" didn't mean "none," and it wasn't necessarily related to the killer.
Frowning, he walked another two steps. His final discovery was a mineral water bottle floating quietly by the lakeside. He picked it up and looked—production date October 27th.
Water droplets clung to the inner wall, but it had just snowed during the day, so it was hard to say what caused them. Again impossible to determine how long it had been there.
Not a single conclusive clue.
He'd originally thought the killer had scouted in advance, and once he confirmed that major premise, he could conduct more investigation along that direction. But now he could barely even draw an equal sign.
Let alone figure out who the killer was.
A bit of a headache for now.
There was no need to stay longer today. He first took out his phone and photographed these few clues. Might not be very useful, but he could ponder them at home tonight, especially that strange turtle—he took photos from several different angles.
Speaking of which, current phone cameras were truly garbage. Smartphones in 2012 hadn't unlocked the "night photography" skill tree yet. That turtle photographed looked like something from a horror film, looking downright monstrous on the screen.
The one in his hand was his mom's old phone—he couldn't remember if it was an iPhone 4 or 4s. At the time he'd treasured it, but now it was inconvenient in every way. He just remembered the signal was mediocre, though that might be related to the island having few cell towers. Anyway, the status bar currently had no bars at all.
Thinking of this, Zhang Shutong really missed the technology of eight years later. He wouldn't even need to come in person—a drone could solve it, or buy a small camera for 24-hour monitoring...
Speaking of monitoring, he'd gotten an idea—he could set up a little mechanism.
He'd always been a guy with strong hands-on ability. On the small island he'd also learned plenty of tricks from Qingyi, like various rope-tying methods and various wilderness survival knowledge. Qingyi read a lot of books and was best at these things.
Though he'd never felt it was useful—were they going to perform Robinson Crusoe on the small island? Nobody wanted to be Friday. But boys' attitude toward tricks was always that "cool" was enough. Who'd have thought it would come in handy today.
He returned to his bicycle, opened the rear box. Must say, his past self was definitely professional about fishing—there was actually fishing line and scissors inside.
Zhang Shutong cut several sections of fishing line, measured them out, and first tied them to reeds on both sides, then tied a knot in the middle.
This kind of knot would come undone with a little force, but that was exactly the effect he wanted. Adjusting the position to shoe height, he tested it himself, ensuring the tension was just right and wouldn't be accidentally triggered by animals.
He tied several more fishing lines in succession.
This way, if someone walked toward the Forbidden Zone, they'd accidentally trigger his "trap." And the knot's strength was just right—it would open with one touch, at most making someone stumble. Even if they looked down at their feet puzzled, nobody would notice the fishing line's existence. They'd probably think nearby weeds had caught their foot.
Thus every day after school he'd come here for a look, and he'd know at a glance whether anyone had come.
Mission accomplished. By the time he came to his senses, the heat from the fried shrimp cake had run out and his whole body was getting cold. He sniffled, thinking tomorrow should yield results. He surveyed the surroundings once more, making sure there was no sign of anyone, and rode off reassured.
Having barely ridden a few steps, Zhang Shutong finally remembered he'd made plans to fish with people today. Belatedly slapping his forehead, he thought, "Damn, I dragged this out too long. My crew is probably urging me."
He quickly pedaled hard a few times. When the bicycle reached a certain place, his phone seemed to get signal, vibrating one notification after another.
Opening it, he saw missed calls from Ruoping. This woman was terrifying—she'd called four times in a row.
Zhang Shutong smiled helplessly. Connecting to data and about to send a message, QQ messages also came bombing in.
Ruoping: Something seems wrong.
Ruoping: Quick, answer the phone answer answer answer!
Ruoping: [Image]
Ruoping: Come quick!
What was going on?
Zhang Shutong was startled. It was now just past 6 PM, and her last message was at 5:40.
A chill suddenly struck.
Zhang Shutong hurriedly clicked open the QQ chat window. At first glance, he was so shocked he nearly lost his grip and crashed the bike.
In the image Ruoping had sent, the background was actually fine—it was just where they often fished. Several of his crew had already set up, everything as usual. But the image's main subject was an unexpected person—
It was the back view of a girl in a green robe.
The young girl sat upright on a portable folding stool.
Still holding a fishing rod in her hand.