The Hunt

Weeping Isle was a desolate little island, separated from Qin Isle by a stretch of sea—and by an entire era.

Thirty or forty years ago, the establishment of a shipyard had briefly brought prosperity and a bustling population to this island. But as the shipyard relocated, the abundance and vitality it had brought vanished along with it. The factory buildings were emptied, the workers departed, and now only dilapidated houses remained, taken over by wild animals as their dens.

Forgotten ship hulls rotted on the shore, massive and broken, like heavy shells shed by time.

Xu Qingli stood on the ship platform, gazing across the sea at the lights of Qin Isle in the distance, as if looking upon the world of the living.

Behind him stretched an endless night. The island had no people, no lights—only rolling mountains, towering trees, and an unceasing lament. The island’s peculiar terrain caused the sea breeze to produce eerie sounds as it passed through, like the wails of infants or the cries of beasts. It was this never-ending weeping that had earned the island its name.

Everyone said it was ominous, but Xu Qingli found solace in nature’s sobs. Listening to the night’s mournful sounds, he felt that he was not the only one steeped in sorrow.

Cao Tianbao crouched beside him, one hand clutching a snack, the other gripping an Ultraman figure, his nose red from the cold.

"Uncle Ni, what’s crying?"

"Don’t be afraid," he said gently, patting the boy’s head just as he always had. "It’s just the wind."

The boy nodded, not fully understanding, and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"When are Mom and Dad coming?"

"Soon," he said, glancing at the time. "Very soon."

Weeping Isle and Qin Isle were connected by a narrow undersea tunnel—a trip that took no more than forty minutes by car. It had been nearly an hour since the agreed-upon time, so they must have arrived by now. Perhaps they were hiding somewhere, watching him from the shadows.

Xu Qingli’s gaze swept over the ship hulls, the factory buildings, the cranes, the bushes—every patch of darkness where someone could hide—before finally settling back on Cao Tianbao.

What if they didn’t come?

He asked himself: If they refused to show themselves, what would he do with this child?

Was he really decided?

The boy had tossed aside his snack and was now play-fighting with his two Ultraman figures, muttering something under his breath.

Luring Tianbao out had been easier than he’d imagined. He hadn’t even needed to resort to violence.

The boy was close to him—to him, Xu Qingli was the kind, fun Uncle Ni.

Over the past three years, the homework he’d helped him with, the food he’d fed him, the little toys he’d secretly bought for him—all of it had won the child’s trust. So when Xu Qingli suddenly appeared in the empty room of the unfinished building, Cao Tianbao hadn’t been startled. Instead, he had jumped up and hugged him, rubbing his head against his stomach, exclaiming how long it had been since they’d seen each other.

"After Dad went missing, Uncle Ni stopped coming too. Now that Dad’s back, Uncle Ni’s back too. It’s so good."

"Yes, everyone’s back," he said, patting the boy’s head while keeping the knife hidden behind his back. "It’s so good."

"Did Mom and Dad send you to pick me up?" The boy ran back to his **, quickly stuffing something into his backpack. "Mom told me to pack before she left, said we were leaving tonight. See? I’m all packed. We can go right now."

He proudly shook his backpack. "Did it all by myself."

He looked up at him with a smile, as if waiting for praise.

Xu Qingli smiled too. What an obedient, sensible child—he’d even come up with the excuse for him. He took his hand and hurried outside. "Yes, your dad’s been waiting a long time. Come with me to find him."He took Cao Tianbao to the construction site first. Now that the bait was ready, the knives in the trap naturally had to be prepared as well. He was the one setting the stage, so he had to ensure everything was foolproof.

He asked Tianbao to wait for a while, saying he just needed to fetch something. Throughout his busy preparations, the boy didn’t disturb him at all.

Cao Tianbao didn’t ask any questions. He simply unzipped his backpack and quietly curled up in a corner, eating his snacks.

Years of hardship and illness had taught this child patience. Perhaps he didn’t understand the logic of the adult world, but he always tried to comply.

Docile, enduring, like a plant mistakenly born in winter—knowing the only outcome was death, yet still growing obediently, deceiving itself, harboring dreams of blooming in its heart.

The snowstorm outside wasn’t his fault, but then again, were all those who suffered in this world guilty of something?

Xu Qingli watched the boy like the ending of a movie. The screen was still bright, the characters still acting, still alive—but he knew the end wasn’t far off, creeping closer second by second, nearing the moment of finality. A sense of melancholy rose in his chest.

Suddenly, a pang of reluctance surged within him. He paused for a few seconds, smiled, then resumed his work.

Once everything was ready, the two made their way to Weeping Isle.

Xu Qingli found a sheltered spot, away from the boy, and secretly made that call to Cao Xiaojun.

When he emerged, Cao Tianbao had found another way to amuse himself—picking up small stones scattered near the dock and tossing them into the sea.

A fog had settled over the water, blending sky and sea into an endless expanse of black, so thick it was disorienting. The lights on the opposite shore flickered faintly, distant as stars on the horizon. The stones Tianbao threw vanished instantly, producing only a faint plop , making the darkness seem darker, the distance farther.

Xu Qingli checked the time again. It was nearing midnight, already past the agreed-upon hour.

Still, no one had appeared.

He watched Tianbao darting around, his lively silhouette as he gathered more stones, and for a moment, Xu Qingli was lost in thought.

Just a little longer , he told himself. He was willing to give more time—to Cao Xiaojun, to Wu Ximei, to Cao Tianbao, and to himself.

Beside him lay an unfinished steel-hulled boat, its bottom propped up on concrete blocks.

This ship should have been a refuge on the sea, but now it was stranded on land, left to the mercy of the salty wind.

The wind whistled through the skeletal remains of the boat like a mournful elegy, a dream cut short, lamenting how it should have been riding the waves, just as he—Xu Qingli—should have lived a stable, grounded life.

Suddenly, he felt a kinship with it. He was Xu Qingli, but also Ni Xiangdong. He was Cao Tianbao, but also Cao Xiaojun. He was the stone cast into the depths, and he was the boat stranded on land. Everything in this world was helpless, toyed with by the whims of fate, each enduring their own suffering in their own rhythm.

The night was thick, and the only sound was the relentless weeping.

No—there was another presence lurking in the darkness.

It was him .

Xu Qingli turned. He knew he had arrived.

Not her , but him .

Xu Qingli’s hand trembled slightly. In the sea wind, there was a fourth person’s breath—a man named Ni Xiangdong crouched beside him, chuckling hoarsely, gripping the shaking knife for him.

The dead Ni Xiangdong, his limbs charred black, his face mutilated, exhaled fine gray dust with every breath.

"You are me, and I am you."

The laughter was dark and rasping."Xu Qingli is Ni Xiangdong, and Ni Xiangdong is Xu Qingli."

The air was thick with the stench of scorched flesh, as if flames had once again seared his face.

"Cao Xiaojun is our common enemy. Find him."

But he lurked in the shadows, unwilling to show himself, just like that night.

"There's a way," the voice chuckled. "Those with a cruel heart always find a way. If they can be ruthless, so can you."

Xu Qingli approached Cao Tianbao.

"Tianbao, come look. Is that your dad over there?"

"Where?" The boy trotted over, his little face flushed red by the wind. "Where?"

"Over there. Walk forward a bit. See, out there on the distant sea."

"Where?"

The boy stood on tiptoe, craning his neck forward, inching closer to the edge of the dock.

Suddenly, Xu Qingli reached out and pushed. Caught off guard, Cao Tianbao tumbled into the water. This was the shipyard—vast waters ran deep here, far beyond the child's reach.

"Uncle Ni, save me—" His head bobbed up and down in the water. "Me, save me—"

Xu Qingli lit a cigarette, tilting it between his lips as he paced leisurely along the dock, while on the other side, the child struggled desperately for life.

He counted down in a singsong voice, unhurried.

"Ten, nine, eight—"

Cao Tianbao kicked frantically, splashing waves everywhere.

"Seven, six, five—"

The boy flailed, his strength waning, only his small hands still clawing at the air above his head.

"Four, three, two—"

The child sank beneath the surface, the sea falling silent once more.

Xu Qingli stopped pacing, eyeing the water with mild surprise.

"Huh?"

But before he could react, a dark figure shot past him from behind, shoving him aside before plunging into the water with a splash.

Cao Xiaojun lifted Cao Tianbao high, straining with all his might to push him toward the shore again and again.

Xu Qingli looked down at the father and son from above, his lips twisting into a smirk.

"One."

He crushed the cigarette under his heel and drew a knife from his coat with his right hand.

"Cao Xiaojun, you bastard, you finally showed yourself."