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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 235: Countdown 4
Yan Guofeng was dead, a suicide.
He left behind a gun and a letter, quietly choosing the most direct way to end his life without alarming anyone.
Jones handed the letter to Jiang He without saying much, looking extremely downcast. The floor was enveloped in silence, no longer filled with the anxiety of the previous day; it seemed everyone had resigned themselves to fate, giving up the struggle.
Jiang He held the thin sheet of paper, feeling a mix of emotions. He pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Jones, who waved his hand and turned to leave the room. After taking a few steps, he hesitated and walked back in, accepting the cigarette that was still held out. He reached for the chair he had sat in last night and took a seat. The swivel chair beside him was empty; the person who should have been sitting there had chosen to soar free.
People occasionally passed by outside. A few soldiers intended to enter but glanced at the scene inside and sighed before heading into the Glass Workplace.
Song Yao walked over and closed the door, looking around uncertainly, unsure of what to say. Both of them had already learned about Yan Guofeng's death early on; a soldier left behind by the Establishment had informed them. When they first heard the news, Jiang He and Song Yao did not show much surprise; Yan Guofeng's behavior last night had already hinted at something amiss, but they hadn’t expected him to be so resolute.
"This letter..."
"Take a look; it may not be of much use, but you have the right to know the truth," Jones exhaled a cloud of murky smoke, leaning back in his chair with a weary expression.
It was Jiang He's first time hearing him speak; he had thought Jones wouldn’t speak Chinese. From his words, it seemed this letter contained something significant? They exchanged glances filled with hesitation before carefully opening the letter. The paper was filled with flowing cursive writing, elegant and powerful; it was hard to imagine that someone capable of such writing would choose to end their own life.
The letter resembled more of a self-analysis; perhaps Yan Guofeng hadn’t intended to write it at all but found it a way to relieve his turmoil. There was no greeting or salutation at the beginning; instead, it detailed his life story—his birth, childhood, schooling abroad, love affairs, and divorce—over a thousand words capturing fifty years of life's storms.
To be honest, Jiang He wasn’t particularly interested in the life story of this "Shanzhai Chen Baoguo." In such a self-absorbed world, who had time to learn about someone unrelated? However, since Jones mentioned that there was some "truth" in the letter, Jiang He felt compelled to continue reading.
After finishing the first page, he noticed some ink smudges at the end; he wondered what might be hidden beneath them—perhaps just random doodles. Turning the page revealed an opening line addressing "my old friend," discussing trivial matters from their time working together at RCA and mentioning some marital issues along the way. Jiang He felt lost in confusion but noticed Song Yao looking thoughtfully at Jones, whose expression seemed touched.
"What did you figure out?" Jiang He asked softly.
"This part is about him," Song Yao pointed at Jones and replied quietly, "He is his lover."
"What?"
"Nothing, just keep reading." Song Yao shot him a glare, reached out to take the page, and moved on to the third and final one.
The content on this page was clearly written at a different time than the previous two. Perhaps after finishing the first two memoirs, Yan Guofeng suddenly realized he should leave some additional thoughts, so he hastily found another piece of paper to write on. The handwriting on this page was no longer as hasty; the strokes were more restrained, written in neat block letters that filled the entire page. The two of them guessed that the "truth" must be here, so they focused intently on reading, afraid of missing any important details.
Clearly, Jiang He and Song Yao had a misunderstanding about what "truth" referred to. They thought it meant the "truth about the airstrikes" or the "truth about the Infected Virus," but what followed was... Jiang He felt a bit dazed, holding the letter paper and staring blankly for a while, unable to find the right words to express his feelings at that moment.
"You knew all along?" After a long silence, Jiang He finally asked.
Jones seemed a bit distracted; it took Jiang He asking again for him to snap back to reality. He glanced at the letter paper in his hand and quickly understood what Jiang He meant. A bitter smile appeared on his face as he shook his head. "I didn't know; he never told me."
"So it was all a lie?" Song Yao couldn't help but voice his confusion, pressing further, "Why?"
"I don't know. It seems like he doesn't understand the reason either; he just did it, that's all." Jones rubbed his forehead and shrugged with a sigh. "Maybe we should ask Yang, but he's gone."
"My head's a bit muddled; I need some fresh air." Jiang He clutched the letter paper and stood up, striding out of the room with Song Yao closely following behind, leaving Jones alone inside.
Outside, a Soldier noticed Jiang He's unusual expression and wondered if something had happened inside. Peeking in, he saw Jones slumped in his chair like a deflated balloon, indifferent to everything outside, his eyes filled with despair.
"Are you okay?" The Soldier caught up with Jiang He and Song Yao and quietly asked.
"I'm fine." Jiang He sighed and said, "I just need to go up for a bit; it's too stuffy in there."
"If there's any problem, you can tell me. The Vice Commander said before that he would ensure your safety." The Soldier didn't follow them up but earnestly reminded them before turning to leave.
The wind was strong on the rooftop, making their clothes flap loudly. The sunlight in the distance was blinding but not warm.
On the ground lay a canvas covering cold bodies; trapped in the high building with no way to bury them, they could only be left there for now. That said, if nothing unexpected happened, it was likely that those remaining would also meet their end. At that time, who would collect their bodies?
Two young people walked hand in hand to the edge of the building's railing, where a fierce wind swept through. Below them, skyscrapers stood tall, and the once-bustling streets resembled a maze filled with unidentifiable Zombies. At five hundred twenty-eight meters high, if one's eyesight was sharp enough, the entire city could be seen from this height. Familiar buildings dotted the landscape, evoking a sense of nostalgia for how much the world had changed. This city, once vibrant and colorful, had now withered away, reduced to yesterday's memories.
Jiang He was never one to be sentimental, but today he couldn't help feeling a twinge of sorrow. He wondered what Yan Guofeng was thinking as he stood here. In that moment before leaping, was it fear? Regret? Or perhaps… liberation?
The Zombies at the foot of the building did not retreat; they had nowhere to go. The streets and alleys of the city were filled with their kind. From any angle, all one could see was a forest of decaying steel and waves of moving bodies. The sight was overwhelming, sending chills down one's spine. He had always known that China had a dense population, but he never imagined it could be this extreme. In comparison, holiday crowds and the Spring Festival rush seemed trivial.
Neither of them spoke; they didn't know what to say. After Wang Zhongyu's death, they both sensed an unprecedented danger. This was different from before; their enemies were no longer living people with whom they could fight, negotiate, run, or hide. They had previously remarked that "living people are scarier than Zombies" and that "Zombies wreak havoc but always compete with the living." Now, Heaven had granted them their wish by providing an opportunity and stage to confront the Zombies face-to-face.
"Zombies are definitely scarier," Jiang He said as he gazed at the throng of corpses below.
Song Yao leaned against the railing, folding Yan Guofeng's last "words" into a paper airplane. She exhaled softly and let it fly. The paper airplane hung in the air for a moment before being caught by the wind, flipping over several times before spiraling downwards and gradually disappearing from their view.
"If only it could reach the island and land in Dong Dong's hands," Song Yao said wistfully as she rested her head on Jiang He's shoulder. "The Establishment is still in the dark; those people don't know the truth."
"Life and death are determined by fate; I hope they are all well," Jiang He replied gently as he wrapped his arm around her and gazed into the distance.
The "truth" mentioned in Yan Guofeng's letter wasn't really newsworthy; it merely revealed a deception. The Establishment agreed to accept the remnants of RCA solely because they believed RCA had developed an effective anti-virus Vaccine. Unfortunately, that Vaccine did not exist.
Indeed, it was such a clumsy ruse.
In their desperation for survival, RCA proactively approached the Establishment, claiming that their research department had developed a highly effective Infected Virus Vaccine. This antibody could effectively eliminate the Infected Virus; as long as resources were sufficient, mass production would not be difficult. While this antibody was temporarily useless against Zombies, it held promise for Survivors.
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