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墨書 Inktalez
Following the map from Second Master Wang, Old Liu and I found the old locust tree. The trunk was so thick that it would take three people to wrap their arms around it, and the bark was riddled with bullet marks, clearly a testament to fierce battles fought in the past.
We located it. Old Liu pointed to a hole at the base of the tree, concealed by grass and weeds. Opening the cloth bag given by Second Master Wang, we discovered two old-fashioned flashlights and some ropes.
The entrance was narrow, and we bent down to crawl inside. With the light from the flashlights, I noticed numerous scratch marks on the walls of the tunnel, resembling some kind of symbols. As we ventured deeper, signs written in Japanese began to appear, along with some crude arrows indicating directions.
These are markings from the Japanese army, Old Liu whispered. This place was once an underground base for them.
How do you know? I asked.
When I investigated your parents' case years ago, I looked into the history of this area. His voice echoed in the tunnel. During that time, the Japanese army built a secret base here specifically for—he paused as if choosing his words carefully—for conducting inhumane experiments.
A chill ran down my spine. The tunnel widened gradually, soon allowing us to stand upright. The markings on the walls increased in number; besides Japanese, there were also unfamiliar symbols.
These symbols, Old Liu pointed out, must be related to Zhang Shou and his group. These scoundrels are simply repeating historical atrocities.
Turning a corner, we came upon a massive iron door. The door was rusted all over, yet in its center was a brand-new combination lock.
What do we do now? I asked.
Old Liu examined the door frame closely. I've seen this kind of design before. The Japanese bunkers always had emergency escape routes to prevent being surrounded.
His hand brushed against a protrusion; he pressed it firmly, and a small door appeared in the wall beside the iron door.
Is it really that simple?
Just an old trick of the Japanese, Old Liu replied. They always liked to set traps in obvious places while leaving escape routes in inconspicuous spots.
Crawling through the small door, we entered a spacious area that resembled a warehouse. With the flashlight's beam, I saw some rusted medical equipment piled up in one corner and several decayed wooden beds scattered about.
This is—my voice trembled—a laboratory used by the Japanese army back then. Old Liu said they imprisoned many Chinese children here for inhumane experiments. After their defeat, they destroyed most of the facilities to eliminate evidence.
In one corner stood an iron cabinet with its door slightly ajar. I approached and peered inside; it was filled with yellowed file folders. Pulling one out at random, I found it was a handwritten diary dated:
Today, five more children were brought in; all around ten years old. The commander said this is the most suitable age for experiments.
I couldn't continue reading but noticed that the last page of the diary held a photograph. In it were a group of Japanese military doctors wearing white coats and bronze masks that looked strikingly similar to those we had seen on the altar.
So this is why, Old Liu said; Zhang Shou and his group did not choose this place by chance. They are replicating the crimes committed by the Japanese army back then!
Suddenly, we heard a mechanical rumbling sound coming from ahead. Following the noise through a long corridor, we arrived at a brightly lit room.
Hiding outside the door to peek in, we saw that the room was filled with modern surveillance equipment. On dozens of screens displayed various areas' footage. One particular screen caught my attention—it showed a cell containing two people!
Although the image was not very clear, I immediately recognized that it was my parents! They were shackled to the wall, looking weak but still alive.
At that moment, the phone in the monitoring room rang. A man in uniform answered it: "Yes, Mayor. Ming, tonight's ceremony..."
Old Liu and I quickly hid behind the wall. After he finished the call, we heard him muttering to himself, "Another prisoner to deal with, what a hassle."
The footsteps gradually faded away. Just as I was about to rush in, Old Liu grabbed my arm: "Wait! Look at that monitor over there."
I focused my gaze and saw a spacious hall. A dozen people wearing bronze masks were setting something up, and in the center stood a stone platform resembling an operating table.
They were going to hold the so-called sacrifice here! I clenched my fists; this was the very place where the Japanese army had massacred our compatriots!
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