Chapter 112: Mistaken Arrest
Before leaving, Su Yao considered whether anyone would notice her absence. The thought of explaining herself meant answering questions and enduring conversation. A note required only a few words.
Su Yao found a notepad and a pen. She wrote ‘Gone to Harbin for a vacation. Don’t disturb.’ Then she opened the refrigerator and placed the note on a shelf, next to a jar of pickles. It was a sufficient notification for her aunt and Nohime.
She phased to the Shenzhen North Railway Station, materializing in a secluded corner away from the crowds. The station was bustling with travelers. She purchased a first-class ticket for the high-speed rail to Beijing, then transferred to the line for Harbin.
The train ride was uneventful. She spent the time observing the other passengers, noticing their small routines and private preoccupations as the train moved steadily through the countryside.
At one point, a man across the aisle leaned toward her and asked, “Did you know Steve Jobs died of ligma?”
She turned to him. “Who is Steve Jobs?”
The man grinned. “Ligma balls.”
Su Yao stared at him for several seconds,. Then she looked away and returned to watching the scenery slide past the window.
She searched the name anyway. The results informed her that ‘Steve Jobs’ was merely the American name associated with Pineapple’s Syrian co-founder, Abdul Fattah Jandali. Su Yao knew Jandali well enough.
The CEO who wore the same black turtleneck and jeans almost every day to reduce decision fatigue, when choosing not to choose is also a choice. She closed her phone and returned her attention to the passing scenery.
Upon arriving in Harbin, she phased to the address Yuzuriha had provided, a traditional courtyard house in the old city. She let herself in using the code Yuzuriha had sent and dropped her small bag by the door.
Her phone buzzed.
Zhang Wei: Just checking in. Have you arrived safely? Do you require any assistance?
Xiao Ling: I have arrived. The accommodation is adequate. No assistance is required.
She put the phone away and walked to the window, looking out at the snow-dusted streets. Now, what?
The purpose of this trip was to travel, but she had no specific plan. She considered visiting the Sino-Russian tunnels, but even that felt like a chore.
A thought occurred to her. Perhaps she should find a local market or a park and do something ordinary, free of fighting or scheming. The idea was as unappealing as it was necessary. She sighed and reached for her coat. It was time to explore.
Su Yao walked through the bustling streets of Harbin, her gaze drifting over the European-style architecture. In a public square, she came upon a crowd of Russians singing and passing around bottles of vodka.
A woman in the group spotted Su Yao and called out to her in accented Chinese. “Come celebrate! Harbin’s founding day!”
Su Yao paused. “The founding of Harbin.”
The woman grinned. “Yes! The Russians built this city!”
Su Yao gave a slight nod. “Congratulations.”
Cities had been founded with more ceremony and forgotten with less. She turned and continued her walk, leaving the celebration behind.
The noise faded into the background as she moved toward the riverbank and walked through the streets of Harbin until she stood before the Unit 731 Museum. The sign indicated free admission.
“You can begin anywhere,” a tour guide near the entrance said as she entered.
“I will,” she replied, already moving past him.
Exhibits documenting the atrocities of the Japanese military unit filled the quiet museum. Su Yao moved from display to display, reading descriptions of biological warfare. She had witnessed worse in her long life.
“This section covers human experimentation,” the guide explained, gesturing to a glass case.
“I see,” she said. “Your documentation is thorough.”
“Most visitors do not linger here,” the guide added.
“There is no reason not to,” she replied. Kayo would love it here. The historical cruelty and suffering would delight her twisted sensibilities. She would probably take notes for her next streaming topic.
“Was this material ever publicly acknowledged after the war?” she asked.
“Only partially,” the guide said. “Many records were buried.”
“A pity,” she said. “It encourages repetition.”
She completed her tour without gaining any new insights. The museum offered only confirmation of humanity’s capacity for evil.
“That concludes the main exhibits,” the guide said.
“Yes,” she replied. “I have seen enough.” She exited, ready to find her next destination.
Su Yao stood on the bridge overlooking the Songhua River. Harbin was too quiet. The city was too orderly. She had walked through the streets and visited the museum, but nothing had held her attention for long.
This is pointless. I should have gone to Singapore. At least there would be political tension and maybe a skirmish or two. Here, there is nothing.
She scanned the horizon for a spiritual disturbance or a sudden outbreak of violence. Maybe I need to provoke something myself.
With a sigh, Su Yao turned away from the river. Her attention snapped to the source of a discordant sound. A man stood on the street corner, dragging a bow across a violin.
This can’t be tolerated. I will enact civic justice. She approached him. “You are arrested.”
The man halted his playing. A smile spread across his face. “So, you’ve come for me. But it’s too late. Arresting me changes nothing. The plan to destroy the tunnels is already in motion.”
Su Yao stared at him. He had completely misunderstood the reason for his arrest.
“I knew our cell was compromised,” the man said, setting down his violin. “I expected to be picked up, but you won’t stop what’s coming.”
“You aren’t attempting to flee or fight.”
The man shrugged. “I have no desire to cause a scene in a crowded area. Innocent civilians might be harmed in a struggle. That isn’t our goal.”
“Your concern for civilians is inconsistent,” Su Yao said. “Destroying the tunnels will also harm civilians. The trains carry people.”
“The trains are filled with the bourgeoisie,” the man replied. “They exploit the working class. Their comfort is built on our labor.”
“The conductors and train crew are part of the working class,” Su Yao countered. “They will be harmed in the explosion.”
The man’s jaw tightened. “Their loss is unfortunate, but it’s a necessary sacrifice for the revolution. Progress requires casualties.”
His ideology is as flawed as his musical ability. This is becoming more tiresome than the violin. “Your revolution failed a century ago. It will not succeed now. If you wish to start a revolution, begin in Russia.”
“The Hongxian dynasty is complicit in that failure! Their logistical support for the Russian Empire propped up the oppressors. The current regime must be overthrown as well.”
“By that logic, you must also target the Japanese Empire,” Su Yao replied. “They were equally involved.”
A smirk twisted the man’s lips. “We have agents in Japan already. Chaos is brewing there as we speak.”
Su Yao connected the pieces. So that is why the Yamato consortium has been quiet. They are preoccupied with internal destabilization in their own territory.
She pulled out her phone and called Zhang Wei.
“We have a situation in Harbin,” she said.“I have apprehended an individual connected to a plot to destroy the Sino-Russian tunnels. His group also has operatives causing chaos in Japan. Send the nearest available agent to collect him.”
She provided her location and ended the call. “Your revolutionary activities are as poorly executed as your musical performance. You will be detained. Try not to bore your interrogators.”
Su Yao watched as a government agent in a plain black suit arrived, cuffing the violinist and leading him away.
These revolutionaries always speak of sacrifice for the people. But when civilians become ‘necessary casualties,’ the cause reveals itself. Are they fighting for the oppressed, or simply seeking power for themselves?
She turned away from the scene. I need no further confirmation. Their actions are answer enough. Her phone buzzed. But she ignored it, already planning her next move.
Su Yao stood on the quiet street. The government agent and the prisoner were gone. This city offers no challenge. I need something interesting. Her thoughts turned to the local history. The old tunnels from the Japanese occupation might hold some residual spiritual energy. Perhaps a few ghosts lingered there.
She phased to the entrance of one such tunnel, a neglected passage that smelled of rust and decay. She walked its length with her senses extended, searching for any sign of supernatural presence. There was nothing.
How dull. I should have gone to the Xinhai tunnel in Taipei instead, it’s famously haunted. At least there would be something to disperse.
Su Yao stood at the mouth of the empty tunnel. The silence pressed in on her. I have been chasing shadows. If a conflict is meant for me, it will present itself. I’m wasting energy seeking it out.
She phased back to Yuzuriha’s courtyard house in Harbin. The quiet of the place settled around her. She walked to the kitchen and filled a kettle with water, setting it on the stove to boil.
Her phone buzzed.
Mei: Hey! How’s Harbin? See anything cool?
Su Yao typed a reply.
Xiao Ling: It’s adequate. Nothing of note.
Mei: Boring, huh? Want me to come visit? I could bring some games!
Xiao Ling: No. Don’t disrupt your schedule.
She put the phone down and poured the hot water into a cup, steeping a tea bag. The steam rose in a thin curl as she waited for the tea to cool.
Su Yao picked up her phone, staring at Mei’s message. How did she know I’m in Harbin?
The information chain was simple. Either her aunt or Nohime found the note in the refrigerator, or Zhang Wei mentioned it.
She typed a reply to Mei.
Xiao Ling: Who informed you of my location?
Mei: Your aunt told me! She said you left a note. Why, is it a secret?
Xiao Ling: It’s unexpected that you would inquire.
Mei: I was just curious! So, anything fun happening there?
Xiao Ling: No. The city is devoid of interest. Don’t trouble yourself.
She set the phone aside. The tea had cooled enough to drink.
Perhaps I should return home tomorrow.
Su Yao picked up the remote and turned on the television in Yuzuriha’s living room. She cycled through the local news channels. A segment on the Harbin evening news caught her attention. The reporter stood near the railway infrastructure.
“Authorities have confirmed that an attempted sabotage of the Sino-Russian rail tunnels was thwarted earlier today. Several suspects are in custody. Services remain uninterrupted, and officials assure the public there is no ongoing threat.”
Su Yao sipped the tea. As expected. Incompetent from the beginning.
The violinist’s grand revolutionary plot had fizzled out into a forgettable news item.
She changed the channel to a nature documentary about migratory birds and left it on for background noise. The conflict had tripped over its own feet before it even got close. She finished her tea and decided to pack. Harbin had nothing more to offer.
Su Yao stared at the television. The documentary on migratory birds failed to hold her attention. I need a new destination.
She considered Mongolia. The Mongolian Death Worm was said to be a formidable creature. Riding it might provide some entertainment. But the Gobi Desert was full of sand. I hate sand. Sand is coarse and rough and irritating. It gets everywhere. The mere thought was enough to dismiss the idea.
Her mind shifted to Alaska. The Alaskan Bullworm, a regional variant of the death worm, could be an alternative. But she recalled the border requirements. I have no passport, andentering Alaska is impossible.
With the U.S. government shutdown already delaying passport processing and the new wartime security measures making foreign entry far more restrictive because of their territorial dispute with the Scandinavian Union over Greenland, the plan was untenable.
The documentary cut to a red banner: BREAKING NEWS.
“Pentagon has just released a statement confirming that Operation Absolute Zero, initially projected as a four-week military campaign, has now entered its eighth month. King Oscar IV of Scandinavia, the nation’s Lutheran Supreme Leader, has officially refused any attempts at negotiating a ceasefire.”
“We are not going to close the Northwest Passage, but it’s our inherent right to preserve the peace and security in this vital waterway,” he said.
“Officials also confirmed that the Empire of China has offered to act as a mediator between the United States and the Scandinavian Union. According to the statement, preliminary diplomatic channels are being explored, though neither side has agreed to formal talks at this stage.”
She sighed, turning off the television.
Su Yao sat in the quiet of the courtyard house. She decided to consult the one part of herself that might have a mundane suggestion. Xiao Ling, where do you want to go next?
Xiao Ling’s voice surfaced in her mind. I’ve always wanted to see the Great Wall!
She considered this. The closest major city to view the Great Wall was Beijing, but Beijing was filled with old contacts and potential recognition. Running into someone from her past would mean explaining her newfound civility. She decided against Beijing.
Andong was a better option. It had a section of the Great Wall, and it was far from the old capital. Plus, it bordered the Japanese-ruled Korean city of Sinuiju. That might add some much-needed potential for action.
“Andong it is,” Su Yao muttered to herself. She phased out of the house, reappearing at the Harbin train station to purchase a ticket south.
Su Yao purchased a ticket for the high-speed rail to Andong and joined the line at the boarding gate. A staff member in a crisp uniform held a device that looked like a temperature gun. He pointed it at her forehead and pressed a button.
“You are clear. You may board.”
“What is that device for?”
“It is for security. To make sure you aren’t a terrorist,” the staff explained, tapping the device. “The design is very human.”
“How could a simple device determine if I’m a terrorist or not?” Su Yao asked.
The staff smiled. “German science is the best in the world! It’s very precise.”
Sensing no spiritual energy or advanced technology, Su Yao glanced at the device. It was likely a crude lie detector or a placebo.
She nodded once and stepped onto the train, finding her seat in the first-class cabin. The train doors closed with a hiss. It began to move south.
The train accelerated out of Harbin. She gazed out the window at the passing landscape. Her mind drifted.
Those Bolshevik sympathizers had better not try anything stupid while I’m on this train. My agreement with the government only covers supernatural threats. Their ideology is entirely mundane. I’d despise being forced to intervene if they hijacked this train. It would be beneath me.
Suddenly, a distinct chill that shouldn’t be present in a modern high-speed rail permeated the air. Su Yao’s eyes narrowed. She sensed a lingering aura of resentment clinging to the luggage rack above a seat a few rows ahead.
A man in a cheap suit was adjusting an old-fashioned trunk. The spiritual energy emanated from it.
What is this? Some amateur attempting to transport a haunted artifact? She stood up and walked over to the man. “What is in that trunk?”
The man jumped. “N-nothing! Just some family heirlooms.”
Su Yao placed a hand on the trunk. The wood was icy to the touch, and she felt a faint pulse of energy. “Heirlooms that whisper? Open it.”
“I can’t! It’s locked,” he stammered.
“Then I will open it,” Su Yao said. Her fingers glowed with a subtle spiritual light. The lock clicked open without her touching it.
As the lid lifted, a mist of seeped out and formed into the shape of a skeletal hand that reached for the man’s throat. Su Yao grabbed the spectral wrist. “I knew it. A common vengeful spirit. How pedestrian.”
The man screamed, drawing the attention of other passengers. “Help! It’s haunted!”
Su Yao crushed the spirit’s form with a quick burst of energy. “It was haunted. Now it’s not.” She turned to the man. “Where did you get this?”
“My grandfather’s attic! He was a collector during the war,” the man babbled. “I was told to deliver it to a buyer in Andong.”
“Consider it delivered to the void,” Su Yao said. She closed the trunk and walked back to her seat. Andong needs to have something better than this.