Generally speaking, the no-fishing season is usually concentrated around the turn of spring and summer, which is when fish reproduce and spawn.
But Yanlong Island had a special local species of fish with the scientific name ‘Channa asiatica,’ though they usually just called it ‘huagouzi’. It had purplish-blue skin, tender flesh, and very few bones, and was often made into fillets or steaks.
He'd heard there was even a subspecies suitable for aquariums. This particular fish was only found in the surrounding lake and spawned during the winter. It was precisely to protect it that the island's no-fishing season was set in the winter.
The thing was vicious. Longer than a common snakehead, it usually looked dazed, but it would snap at you without warning. The small cut on the web of Zhang Shutong's thumb, if he recalled correctly, was from being bitten by one while he was removing a fishhook.
There were also a few protected animals on the island, such as a type of bird called the yellow ibis, a specimen of which was in the city museum. It was now on the verge of extinction. In the earlier years, it was said that you could still see foxes, bears, and wild boars in the mountains.
But since it was just "said," none of the kids had ever actually seen one.
Their interest was entirely in fish.
But they really did just enjoy the act of fishing itself. Although the island was remote, the standard of living for their generation wasn't bad. It wasn't as extravagant as Gu Qiumian's family, but they never had to worry about having enough to eat or wear.
They weren't poor, and they weren't greedy for a meal. With those two major obstacles out of the way, they neither sold nor ate the fish they caught. At most, at the end of the day, they would snap a photo of their bucket—the equivalent of "checking in" in later years—and then throw all the fish back. The person who caught the most would buy everyone sodas, and they'd all ride home, laughing and messing around.
That's just how teenagers are. To them, eating the fish was more of a hassle than catching it—if you caught it, you had to carry it home; if you carried it home, you had to keep it for a few days, which meant you needed a basin; and now that everyone lived in apartment buildings, you also had to figure out how to kill and cook it, and if you made too much, you'd be eating leftovers for days... It was far less liberating than the simple act of fishing.
It was a lot like buying a pet as a child. You'd bring it home, your eyes shining with excitement, but after a few days, the novelty would wear off, and feeding and cleaning up after the cat, dog, or rabbit would become your parents' job.
Therefore, even though it was the off-season, since they were only doing it for fun and had an admirable catch-and-release philosophy—racking up incredible amounts of good karma—the boys still dared to sneak out and fish with a clear conscience. The only rule was not to get caught.
This was also why the officer surnamed Xiong had spoken harshly just now, but hadn't gotten serious with a few kids. Otherwise, he would have arrested Zhang Shutong on the spot.
It was just the unfortunate coincidence of the two events, which made the officer suspect Zhang Shutong was messing with him again—and with a story that was an insult to his intelligence.
Zhang Shutong was entirely innocent, but he had no choice but to bear the consequences of his past self's misdeeds. Resigned, he became a lone wolf once more, heading first to the "Forbidden Zone" to scout the situation.
Along the way, he saw a food cart. The island was known for its fish and shrimp, and the local snacks were related to them.
Take the fried shrimp cakes, for example. Fresh lake shrimp caught daily, each just a little bigger than a fingernail, were used shell-on. They were marinated in saltwater, mixed with shredded carrots, potatoes, scallions, and diced onions, then combined with flour, water, and egg to form a batter. The batter was then fried in hot oil until golden brown. A single bite revealed a crispy outside, a tender inside, and a fragrant aroma that filled the air.
Speaking of which, this had been his breakfast today—in the future, that is. Eight years from now, Zhang Shutong had rushed to the pier to catch the ferry so early that he hadn't had time for a meal, so he'd bought a few shrimp cakes on the island to tide him over. They cost ten yuan for two then, but now, they were only five.
He bought one and continued on, the shrimp cake held in his mouth. It wasn't something he'd ever get tired of, but it wasn't like he was craving it, either. He had just figured he wouldn't have time for dinner, and since he had a pack of tissues in his pocket and didn't have to worry about greasy hands, he bought one when he saw the cart.
Zhang Shutong had always been a person of few material desires. Besides having been that way since he was a child, it was also related to his experiences over the past few years.
During a few of his regressions, he'd had the chance to buy lottery tickets. He couldn't win a huge jackpot, but winning a few thousand was no problem. If he had intentionally focused on it and played a few more times, he could have amassed a considerable sum. But at the time, he had thought, what's the point of making all that money?
He had no way to spend it. He couldn't go on vacation, had no plans to buy a car, and was content as long as his phone and computer were functional. He had even slowly let go of his only hobby, fishing. The only major expenses left were buying a house and getting married, but the first couldn't be solved with a few lottery wins, and the second wasn't something he was in a position to consider.
It wasn't a case of "no woman in my heart, so my fishing skills are divine."
He had been reasonably popular in high school, though for some reason, mostly with the girls. He didn't know if you could call it romantic luck... but he had indeed received a few love letters. Only a few, because by that time, confessing on paper was already out of style.
Everyone was in the grade-level group chat. Sometimes, right after he'd "acted heroically for a just cause" thanks to a regression, he'd get home and find a screenshot from a classmate asking, "Is this you they're talking about on the school's 'wall of fame'?"
In his memory, this sort of thing happened frequently. It was possible it hadn't actually occurred that many times, but his memory was warped; due to the regressions, he often ended up experiencing the same event repeatedly. If you asked him how it felt to have someone confess their feelings to him, the truth was it only brought the exhaustion of a dislocated sense of time.
This was one of the reasons why he had thought he was pretty popular back then— sometimes he'd check his social media space and see gifts from people he didn't know. On his birthday, he would receive well-wishes from anonymous classmates. He would reply seriously to each one, feeling quite happy. At the time, Zhang Shutong had thought to himself that while he only had three best friends in junior high, he had made friends from all over in high school, which was clearly a huge step forward in his social skills.
But then someone later told him, exasperated, "Bullshit!"
"Those are all girls, you moron, girls! If you're not going to do anything with them, can't you at least introduce me to a few?"
Zhang Shutong was just confused.
Take Du Kang's crush on Lu Qinglian, for instance. That he could understand. Regardless of their actual relationship, they had at least grown up together on the island, from the same elementary school to the same junior high.
If he put himself in Du Kang's shoes: a pretty girl is always a part of your life, you exchange a few words here and there, you see her smile, her long hair, you notice her scent—falling for her is the most natural thing in the world. But what was the deal with all these other "girls"?
They didn't even know each other. He truly couldn't understand it.
Since he couldn't comprehend it, he had no idea how to respond. Eventually, he came up with a plan: he'd lock his social media page and change his listed birthday. It was a shame he ended up taking a leave of absence in his sophomore year, so the plan never came to fruition.
He had only ever liked one girl throughout his entire high school life.
She was an upperclassman in the same club who had innumerable suitors. To be honest, Zhang Shutong was quite nervous about it. To use the slang of the time, she was a "campus belle" type of figure; there was no reason she would ever take a liking to a regular guy like him.
Although "regular" probably deserves quotation marks—he spent his days acting like a knight-errant in and out of school, thinking he was the coolest person alive. But that kind of stuff gives you zero bonus points for winning over a girl, doesn't it?
You can't just put on a serious face and say, "I'll tell you a secret, I have superpowers," and expect the girl to go "Wow!" and fall into your arms. Didn't you see how hard Peter Parker had to work to win over Mary Jane?
Later, after he had transferred to another city, she had actually come all that way to see him once.
That day, they sat on a park bench. Under the night sky, they couldn't make out each other's expressions, so they spoke intermittently. The upperclassman kept her head down, looking at her shoes, while Zhang Shutong tilted his head up at the moon. The girl talked to him in a low voice about the future, but he said nothing, because he couldn't see one.
The moon was solitary, the bench was cold, and the future she described, while beautiful, felt impossibly remote.
After that, he suddenly realized that he really wasn't suited for a romantic relationship.
What were you supposed to do when you were in love? Go on dates, maybe? Watch movies, eat together, take moonlit walks hand-in-hand, kiss the girl at some romantic moment... But as long as his ability existed, he could never go back to a normal life.
They say everyone is born with a mission. If so, the mission of the human named Zhang Shutong was to battle this damn ability until death, and only in death would he find rest.
The irony was that a few hours ago, he really had battled to the "death" and finally found his "rest."
An entire afternoon had passed since he returned to his school days.
One's environment can greatly change a person. Not much time had passed, but he gradually felt his mindset lightening up. So, if he were to restate that outcome in a lighter tone, he could very well say:
"I always thought I only had one ability, called 'Rewind.'"
"I never expected there was a second one, called 'Prophet.'"
Zhang Shutong wanted to laugh. He thought he was actually a little bit funny, even if others might not agree. But it was just like how Gu Qiumian never considered her drawings to be funny faces; it was fine as long as everyone could entertain themselves with their own private jokes.
—As for what was actually going on at that stretch of water known as the "Forbidden Zone," even he had no clue. All he could do was be extremely careful and exceptionally cautious, and maybe crack a joke to keep his brain from freezing up.
His mind raced with a thousand thoughts along the way. By the time the great prophet arrived at the waters of his own demise, the sun was slowly sinking.
He again recalled Du Kang's words from before the regression: before the incident, some fishermen had seen someone active near the Forbidden Zone.
Gu Qiumian had disappeared on December 10th. Today was December 5th. With only five days left, he was bound to find some clues.
Logically, he should have been trying to deduce the killer's motive, but Zhang Shutong was no professional detective. His knowledge of Gu Qiumian was limited, or rather, extremely scarce—he hadn't even known she was drawing a sheep on the window. It would be difficult for him to make any deductions.
It was better to start by considering the process of her disappearance:
The possibilities he could think of at the moment were three:
One: A random event. The possibility was small, but he couldn't rule out that she had come here for a walk on a whim that day, ended up separated from the crowd, and created an opportunity for the killer.
Two: The killer had staked out the location in advance and deliberately lured her here to make his move.
Three: The killer had also staked out the location, but the initial crime scene wasn't the "Forbidden Zone." Instead, he had kidnapped her first and then brought her here.
This area was deserted. No wonder it took two days for her to be found after she went missing.
Zhang Shutong temporarily ruled out the first possibility. He couldn't yet decide between the latter two, but based on Du Kang's information, it was certain that the killer had scouted the location beforehand.
Now it was time to test his hypothesis—
He parked his bike and scanned the area, but saw no one.
He had figured that with the recent snowfall, he would be able to spot any footprints left by someone active in the area. But for some unknown reason, the snow here had melted completely.
He would just have to get a little closer.
The lakeside road hadn't been constructed yet, leaving only a common dirt path underfoot, which turned muddy further in. Because of this, he parked his bike a little ways off and turned it around, ready for a quick getaway at the first sign of anything wrong.
It was getting dark, but there was no need to cover his face. With a flashlight in his left hand and the extendable baton in his right, Zhang Shutong let out a breath and stepped softly into the reeds.
He immediately frowned. The ground didn't feel right under his feet—
He crouched and prodded the earth with his finger. At first, he felt ice crystals and mud, but as he pressed deeper, he hit solid permafrost.
But it hadn't been like this eight years in the future.
He recalled the scene carefully. When he had come here just a few hours ago—in the future—the ground had been entirely sludge, making it a struggle to walk as he sank with each step. But now, the ground was firm.
I don't recall it having rained eight years from now...
What was going on?
More memories awakened. Wait, he seemed to be onto something:
Both of his parents were in geological surveying. The reason they had come to work on the island under Father Gu's initiative, it seemed, was to investigate something about a "subsidence zone."
The island was surrounded by the lake on three sides. Since the end of the last century, it had been gradually developed, with more and more buildings being erected. Over the years, this led to soil compaction, causing the ground to slowly subside.
Gu Jianhong was planning a construction project on the island and was worried that the ground might give way and cause a building to collapse, which is why he had spearheaded the establishment of the survey office.
Perhaps the "Forbidden Zone" was part of the subsidence area. Eight years ago, the ground was still solid; eight years later, the land had likely sunk and the water level had risen, turning everything to muck.
Zhang Shutong truly never would have imagined that his own actions would one day be connected to his parents' profession.
But this is a problem...
He had originally planned to use footprints to find traces of the killer's activity and confirm his suspicions, but now the snow had melted and the ground was frozen solid. He had no choice but to brace himself and venture deeper.
Winter nights came early. The setting sun had vanished, and a gloomy layer of clouds covered the sky, obscuring the moonlight.
The reeds on either side were nearly as tall as he was, completely blocking his line of sight. It was quiet all around, save for the rustling of his body brushing against the reeds.
He held his breath, turned on the flashlight, and aimed it at the ground, advancing step by step.
Stones...
Blades of grass...
An instant noodle wrapper...
But the wrapper was from a long time ago, faded and sealed in the mud. He gave it a look but left it untouched.
Then, Zhang Shutong saw something dark and blackish.
He turned it over and saw that it was a dead turtle... jerky?
Yes, "turtle jerky." It was nearly the size of an adult's palm, comparable to an old soft-shelled turtle. The corpse was so shriveled it was almost completely dehydrated, practically mummified.
He could tell it was a local Reeves' turtle. Ordinarily, finding a dead turtle by the water wouldn't be strange. He also knew it was the right season for turtles to be hibernating; you could even find an empty shell if you wandered around enough. But why...
...hadn't this turtle retracted into its shell?
The turtle was preserved in an extremely odd posture, looking no different than a living one. Its head was raised and its limbs were outstretched, as if it had been basking on a rock.
When Zhang Shutong found it, the turtle was on its back, but that only made it stranger. It was as if a living turtle had been sunning itself when something suddenly occurred—like the city of Pompeii being flash-buried in volcanic ash—and its body was instantly dried out.
But how could a turtle right next to the water die of desiccation?
Zhang Shutong swallowed.
Putting the strange turtle out of his mind for the moment, he moved forward, flashlight beam cutting through the dark. Suddenly, his foot landed on something that felt like rubber, tough and resilient. Goosebumps erupted all over his skin. He quickly pulled his foot back and pointed the light down.
It was a strip-shaped, dark-red "rock."
About two fingers wide and half a foot long, it was covered in mud. Suppressing his nausea, he pressed it with his hand and confirmed his suspicion.
It was, indeed, a piece of meat.
The surface of the meat was already air-dried, making it difficult to determine how long it had been there.
Zhang Shutong wasn't sure if he should be surprised or if he should feel a sense of familiarity. He had used meat as bait when fishing before, so finding a piece by the water wasn't that strange, just like the noodle wrapper. While few people fished here, "few" didn't mean "no one," and it didn't necessarily have anything to do with the murderer.
Frowning, he walked a couple more steps. His final discovery was a plastic water bottle floating quietly by the lake's edge. He picked it up and saw that the production date was October 27th.
There were water droplets clinging to the inside, but since it had just finished snowing, it was hard to say what had caused them. He couldn't determine how long the bottle had been here, either.
There wasn't a single definitive clue.
He had initially believed that the killer had staked out the place in advance. If he could confirm that premise, he could then launch a more focused investigation. But now, he couldn't even confirm that basic fact.
Let alone find out who the killer was.
It was giving him a bit of a headache.
There was no reason to stay any longer. He took out his phone and photographed the clues. They might not be useful, but he could study them more at home. He paid special attention to the bizarre turtle, taking pictures from several different angles.
Man, the phone cameras of this era were absolute garbage. The smartphones of 2012 hadn't yet unlocked "Night Mode" on their skill trees. The photos of the turtle looked like stills from a horror film; it appeared terrifyingly grotesque on the screen.
The phone he was holding was a hand-me-down from his mom; he couldn't remember if it was an iPhone 4 or 4S. He had cherished it back then, but now it felt clumsy to use. He remembered the reception being so-so, which was probably due to the small number of cell towers on the island. In any case, right now he had no bars at all.
At that thought, Zhang Shutong longed for the technology of eight years from now. He wouldn't even need to come in person; a drone could handle it, or he could set up a small camera for 24/7 monitoring...
Speaking of surveillance, that gave him an idea. He could build a simple device.
He had always been good at building things, and from Qingyi, he had learned a number of clever tricks, like how to tie different kinds of knots and various wilderness survival skills. Qingyi read a lot and was an expert in that area.
He had never thought these skills would be useful—were they planning to act out ‘Robinson Crusoe’ on the island? No one wanted to be Friday. But that's how boys are; as long as a trick looks cool, that's reason enough to learn it. He never thought one would actually be useful today.
He returned to his bike and opened the cargo box. He had to hand it to his past self—he was a real pro when it came to fishing. There was even fishing line and a pair of scissors stored inside.
Zhang Shutong cut off a few lengths of fishing line. After measuring it out, he tied the ends to the reeds on either side, then made a knot in the middle.
The knot was designed to break with the slightest bit of force, which was precisely the effect he was going for. He adjusted the line to shoe-level and tested it himself to ensure the tension was just right, so that it wouldn't be triggered by an animal by mistake.
He then set up several more of these tripwires in a row.
This way, if anyone walked into the Forbidden Zone, they would trip his "trap." The knot was just loose enough to break on contact, which at most would cause the person to stumble. Even if they glanced down, puzzled, they wouldn't notice the fishing line and would likely assume they'd just tripped over some weeds.
Now, he could just swing by here after school each day and tell at a glance if someone had been through.
Mission accomplished. By the time he snapped out of it, the warmth from the shrimp cake had worn off, and a chill was setting in. He sniffled, figuring he'd have some answers by tomorrow. After checking one last time that he was alone, he got on his bike and began the ride back.
He hadn't gotten far when he finally remembered his fishing plans for the day. He slapped his forehead.
Crap, I've taken too long. The guys are probably getting impatient.
He quickly pedaled harder. When his bike reached a certain spot, his phone seemed to get a signal, and it began vibrating again and again.
He checked it and saw several missed calls from Ruoping. That girl was scary; she'd called four times in a row.
Zhang Shutong smiled helplessly. He connected to the data network and was just about to send a message when his QQ was also bombarded with notifications.
Ruoping: Something seems off.
Ruoping: Answer your phone answer your phone answer your phone!
Ruoping: [Image]
Ruoping: Get here, quick!
What was going on?
Zhang Shutong froze. It was now a little past six in the evening, and her last message had been sent at 5:40.
A sudden chill washed over him.
Zhang Shutong quickly opened the QQ chat window. One look at the screen shocked him so much that his hands lost their grip on the handlebars, and he nearly crashed his bike.
In the picture Ruoping had sent, the background was normal enough—it was the spot where they usually went fishing. His friends had already set everything up, and it all looked the same as always. But the subject of the photo was someone completely unexpected—
It was the back of a girl in a cyan robe.
The girl was sitting primly on a small portable stool.
And she was holding a fishing rod.