NOVEL NEXT 67
Chapter 67: Election vehicle
At night, after saying goodbye to Angie and Owen, they walked through the streets that had been filled with revelry earlier. The once bustling streets were now almost deserted, with only a few people scattered around. Despite the day’s festivities, the streets remained clean, with only patches of green paint spilled here and there, appearing grayish and dim under the streetlights.
Having not eaten much throughout the day, they chatted about various topics, eventually discussing a nursery rhyme Ellis had heard.
“That nursery rhyme felt off the first time I heard it. There’s something eerie about it. What normal nursery rhyme talks about ‘falling to the ground, unable to piece back together’?” Xi Tian said.
“Talking about this at night really gives me the chills,” Ellis shivered.
“Are you that cold?” Xi Tian, as usual, was dressed warmly, though he hadn’t felt particularly hot or cold lately.
Xi Tian unbuttoned his coat and pulled Ellis inside, hugging him close.
Ellis complained about the cold, yet his body temperature was still higher than Xi Tian’s.
“What’s the first line of the nursery rhyme?”
“It’s ‘My friend Hasang Song,’ why?”
“Hasang Song, doesn’t that sound odd to you? Only males adopt single ideogrammatic surnames, while females have names like ‘Hasang.’”
“Now that you mention it, it does sound strange. ‘Hasang Song’ is a mix of a female name format and a male surname. It’s said that the first child who befriended him called him ‘Hasang Song,’ and as the fairy tale books spread, the name became popular in Morisan.”
“Hassan, Hass, Hesan,” Xi Tian muttered, drawing in the air and occasionally shaking his head.
“What’s the matter, dear?” Ellis asked.
“I think Hasang Song should be a male. ‘Hasang’ might just be a phonetic rendering of his name.”
“Why couldn’t he be female?”
“If this person were female, then ‘Song’ should have a corresponding phonetic character. But ‘Song’ only exists in ideogrammatic writing. Ideogrammatic characters converted to phonetic spellings can have multiple pronunciations. I’m trying to write down all the similar-sounding ones.”
Ellis, not being very skilled in pinyin, asked, “Dear, have you found anything?”
“There are too many possibilities to translate right now. I can’t determine which one it is yet,” Xi Tian shook his head. “Tomorrow, accompany me to ask some locals, alright?”
“Okay,” Ellis nodded.
The next day, the weather was beautiful.
Xi Tian claimed to be a writer looking for inspiration for a new book and was currently interested in the abandoned buildings on the mountain.
Buma didn’t mind what profession his guests had, but he understood why a male might be interested in those peculiar places and events. Upon hearing their desire to learn about the abandoned buildings, he took them to the home of a local photographer.
The photographer, Youta, was 56 years old. Back in the day, he was a young assistant running around behind a famous photographer. With his first savings, he bought his first camera. When visiting home, he happened to witness a fire on Tasca Mountain and, out of professional habit, photographed the scene. Those photos were later entered into a contest and unexpectedly brought him fame.
Having grown tired of living in the big city, he eventually returned to his hometown.
Youta, hearing about Xi Tian’s visit for inspiration, warmly invited them in for a tour.
Youta was meticulous; he had recorded every award-winning photo with the date and brief notes, displaying them in the hallway of his house.
Xi Tian patiently listened to Youta discuss his recent awards until they reached the innermost room. In the center hung a photo taken during the fire at Tasca Mountain. Due to the circumstances, the photo was not very clear.
The photo was divided into black, red, and yellow sections. At the bottom was an indistinct black area, representing the night grass. The central building was engulfed in fierce flames, with fire reaching the sky and turning the horizon red, tinting the twilight sky with a faint orange hue.
Next to the photo was a handwritten note that read: “January 1, 2300. People were supposed to be at home watching TV and celebrating the arrival of the new century with their families. However, on the hillside of Tasca in the middle of the mountain, a fierce fire broke out. Firefighters rushed to extinguish the flames, and fortunately, there were no casualties.”
The date, January 1, 2300, made Xi Tian frown. This year was exactly the key time mentioned in the last part of the clippings.
Could it be a coincidence?
Professor Cody’s lost relatives were working at the research institute, and the building on Tasca Mountain had no textual information. Based on one of Buma’s guesses, and despite the passage of time, the distinctive equipment left traces suggesting the building was used for research purposes.
Could this be Professor’s hometown?
Xi Tian asked, “Could you please tell me what the code for Morisan Planet is?”
“Code? What type are you asking about? There’s the international station designation, TY8-1, and the astronomical name, Green Star…”
“I mean a letter followed by a set of numbers, like C197.”
“Oh, that’s the Hook coordinates, which have been abandoned for twenty years. You young folks probably don’t know about it, only those of us who are older might remember. Let me work it out for you.”
Saying this, Youta actually started calculating on his fingers. After two rounds, he said, “Although the Hook coordinates are long abandoned, I remember that the large planet I used to live on was A72, and Morisan follows it, making it C197.”
C197.
This was indeed Professor’s hometown!
The information from the clippings rapidly formed a clear timeline.
On January 1, 2300, an explosion occurred at a mysterious research institute on the hillside of Tasca Mountain on the secondary planet Morisan, taking away the professor’s relatives.
Yet, Xi Tian’s mind was filled with more questions.
The professor was 60 years old this year. When the disaster happened 35 years ago, he was a young 25-year-old. However, the professor had told him he lost his blood relatives in his youth and moved to Zerg Star with his adoptive father, never referring to Zerg Star as “home.”
But this was the professor’s hometown, his past. What connection did this have to him?
The eerie nursery rhyme, the strange name format, the mysterious research institute explosion—all seemed like a tangled mess.
At that moment, a loud broadcast from outside interrupted, “The real plan, for the real people!” “We want to become a more civilized and elegant nation!” “Are you satisfied with your current life?”
As the election vehicle passed, another one soon started blaring, “Equality for all, everyone can work!” “Yes, we can!” “We can do better!”
No wonder Angie had reminded them to buy earplugs yesterday—this noisy racket was truly like a disaster.
Xi Tian couldn’t help but smile wryly.