novelraw Chapter 1258: A Nameless Nobody
Chapter 1258: A Nameless Nobody
The place where No. 9 was found was a wooden cabin deep in a forest. No. 9 could no longer maintain a human form, existing only as a gray, misty mass that looked as though it might disperse at any moment.
The forest soil was completely soaked, as if after a torrential downpour—step on it carelessly and your foot would be coated in mud.
Many trees had fallen, some ripped out by the roots.
It was still raining, not heavy, not light.
The place felt like a ruined grave.
You Ye opened a black umbrella to shield Luo Qiu from the rain as they walked into the cabin. He looked at the mist before him, which seemed to be struggling to gather itself, like silt already dispersed in water, having lost all cohesion.
“His power—and even his stamina—are almost completely depleted. What was he doing?”
She understood this state of a Black Soul Envoy well. It was like a lamp that had run out of oil. Of course, even if a Black Soul Envoy died, they could still return through the life-lamp.
Luo Qiu picked up a map from the ground. It lay beneath the mist. The map was open, with a red marker on it.
The marker could move, and every movement was at Luo Qiu’s instruction.With a subtle thought, the scattered mist began to condense little by little. The boss’s will, without conscious effort, gave the Black Soul Envoy—who should have dispersed completely, leaving only a life-lamp sealed within the Ark of the Covenant—a chance to reunite once more.
Rain dripped through the broken roof. The chill was intense; just a glance was enough to make one long for a stove or a pile of firewood.
It didn’t take long before No. 9 returned to his original state.
He slowly opened his eyes. There was little difference from Luo Qiu’s memory—No. 9 looked quite calm. Each Black Soul Envoy had a different personality.
Tai Yinzi excelled at flattery. Number Eighteen was skilled at reading people. Da Zhe charged straight ahead yet possessed a surprising subtlety. Nero had the air of a devil-may-care troublemaker, but cherished his own survival more than anyone.
No. 9 was one of the earliest Black Souls Luo Qiu had encountered. Like You Ye, he could be considered a legacy left behind by the previous boss.
Somewhat taciturn, but clearly practical. Luo Qiu hadn’t known No. 9 for very long at first, only feeling that he would silently carry out his duties.
Looking through the past ledgers, it became clear that No. 9 hadn’t been a Black Soul Envoy for very long. Compared to those who had existed for hundreds or even thousands of years—many of whom were on leave, dormant, or assigned to long-term missions—he was clearly “young.”
Yet his performance was not low. As a Black Soul Envoy, however, he didn’t appear powerful at all—he could even be described as weak. Since becoming an envoy, every bit of performance credit he earned had been used elsewhere, in accordance with some wish he had made before becoming one.
…
“Light a fire.”
Inside the dilapidated cabin, after regathering and awakening, No. 9 remained silent. In Luo Qiu’s eyes, there was almost no fear or panic to be seen.
Rain continued outside, falling like a curtain through the broken roof at the center of the cabin. The fire pit in one corner was relatively intact.
By the firelight, Luo Qiu looked at the red cursor on the map. Clearly, when cross-referenced with the map’s location, they were still some distance from where they were supposed to be.
It was obvious that he had stopped here, failing to properly complete the “task” Luo Qiu had previously assigned—to follow the red marker and pass through the marked locations.
He looked fairly young, around thirty years old. This seemed to be what he had looked like before becoming a Black Soul Envoy.
He wore an old black Zhongshan suit, faded from countless washings.
“No. 9, why did you consume so much power?” Miss Maid, as the manager of the Black Soul Envoys, finally asked.
No. 9 stared at the firewood, then raised his head and said quietly, “The river ahead rose. It’s been raining heavily these days, and an upstream dike collapsed. I stopped the flood.”
Miss Maid said calmly, “But I didn’t receive any report of a corresponding transaction. Was this a private action?”
“Yes.” No. 9 nodded calmly.
Miss Maid subconsciously looked at her master, then frowned slightly. “No. 9, you should know that although the master doesn’t interfere with envoys’ actions and gives you great freedom, you also have a duty to ensure your own safety. Your power was nearly exhausted. You could have ended up returning to the Ark of the Covenant to have your body remade, consuming the master’s power. As a Black Soul Envoy, you not only failed to create value for the master but even burdened him. Do you know what you’ve done?”
Her tone was a little harsh. It was the first time Luo Qiu had seen You Ye somewhat angry. Clearly, No. 9’s actions had crossed her managerial bottom line—nearly exhausting his power for a private purpose unrelated to a transaction, thus requiring the master’s power to make up for it.
Luo Qiu raised his hand, signaling Miss Maid to stop. He knew that most of the time, You Ye valued the consumption and gain of his lifespan even more than he did himself.
“Master…”
Luo Qiu shook his head slightly, snapped a branch, and tossed it into the fire. The branch was wet, but the fire was strong. Steam quickly rose, and the cut end hissed.
“In truth, I’ve never really had a proper talk with you,” Luo Qiu said with a smile. “A boss like me is probably unqualified.”
No. 9 was startled, a little surprised. He shook his head. “No. In my view, you’re better than the previous one… I just don’t know how long you can maintain it.”
“No. 9, watch your tone,” Miss Maid said coldly, but Luo Qiu gave her a calming look.
“No matter how long I can maintain it, I’ll do my best,” Luo Qiu said. “Can you tell me why you were willing to pay such a price to stop the flood?”
No. 9 replied calmly, “If the flood wasn’t stopped, the farmland downstream would be submerged. There are more than a dozen villages nearby. Their livelihoods are all there.”
Luo Qiu nodded, then asked, “If that’s the case, it should have led to a large number of transactions. Based on your past performance, you would normally take action, wouldn’t you?”
“I… I don’t know.” No. 9 fell silent for a moment. His gaze seemed somewhat lost.
Luo Qiu noticed several old stainless steel cups in the cabin. Seeing pine trees outside, he gathered some pine needles, put them into the cups, and fetched water to boil them.
As the water boiled, No. 9 suddenly said, “I feel like I’ve brewed pine needle tea like this before.”
Luo Qiu smiled faintly. “On this journey, what did you see, what did you hear?”
No. 9 pondered. He had just been reconstituted, his thoughts still in disorder, but now they began to return bit by bit as he recalled the journey.
He said slowly, “I kept walking, passing through many places. They felt familiar to me… Gradually I realized that this journey might be connected to my past memories. I knew exactly what route you gave me, Boss. Yes, I knew.”
No. 9 spoke in a tone as if freedom did not truly belong to him. “He should have known, but he had never felt much about any of it—no feeling at all. Until this time, under the master’s instruction, when he arrived at the starting point of this route, he seemed to begin sensing something different.”
“Did he remember anything?” Luo Qiu asked, stripping more pine needles and tossing them into the cup.
No. 9 shook his head. “He didn’t remember anything. He just felt an unease he’d never felt before. He kept walking like that, until he came to a museum. He stayed in that museum for three days.”
“What did he see?” Luo Qiu asked.
No. 9 replied, “Unyielding strength, burning passion… Whether it was a painting, a canteen, or even just a cracked leather belt, he could stare at it for a long time. But at the same time, he also saw loneliness.”
“Loneliness?”
“Yes, loneliness.” No. 9 slowly closed his eyes, as if it were all before him. “He didn’t know what kind of feeling it was. That place recorded so many things, yet apart from himself, he could hardly see a single visitor. He went to the curator’s office and saw that the curator was a young man in his early thirties, writing a plan to renovate the museum, hoping to attract more tourists… And suddenly he felt angry.”
“Why angry?”
No. 9 said, “At that time, a bank outside was selling commemorative coins. He saw long lines of people inside and outside the bank… He saw their enthusiasm, but he couldn’t hear them talking about the stories behind those coins.”
“What kind of stories?”
“The stories of war.”
“A commemorative coin that might appreciate in value made people line up to buy it, while a museum that carried that history was ignored… So you were angry, weren’t you?”
No. 9 didn’t answer. He stared blankly out the window as his memories became clearer. “He left that place and continued along the predetermined route. He saw many similar things… places like that, left unattended. Later, he met another person.”
“Who?”
“An old man,” No. 9 said softly. “A retired veteran. Many people went to look for him.”
“At last someone paid attention to him. Isn’t that a good thing?”
No. 9 shook his head. “He couldn’t explain it clearly… He saw with his own eyes the old man sitting in front of his house, at a loss as reporters, government officials, and strangers of unknown origin came knocking. The old man’s daughter-in-law supported him as he put on a jacket covered with many medals and took photos one by one with those visitors. He saw the old man smiling, but he didn’t see a happy smile. He only saw the old man, again and again at their request, recounting those years of the past.”
“You think that’s not good?”
“At first the old man was very happy to tell those stories. Gradually he found it meaningless, because he realized that after just a few days, people forgot again. They started talking about other things.”
“What kind of things?”
“Scandals—especially celebrity scandals. Everyone enjoyed them.”
“So you think they stopped paying attention to this veteran.”
“He saw how the front of the veteran’s house quickly grew deserted. Then someone else became popular online— a fairly good-looking girl who said just one sentence and became famous across the country. But she disappeared just as quickly, and people’s enthusiasm shifted to others.”
“And then?”
“No. 9 said, “He planned to leave that place, because the road ahead of him was still long. Before leaving, he quietly went to the veteran’s home again. The old man’s son and daughter-in-law were gone again, leaving only the old man sitting in front of the house, accompanied by an old dog. He silently smoked his pipe, staring at the doorway, dozing off.”
“He thought the old man had been forgotten.”
“Perhaps.” No. 9 shook his head again. “But he actually knew that soon another similar old man would enter the public eye… It’s like a cycle, because people like to dig these things up from time to time.”
“He knew why?”
“He knew.” No. 9 nodded. “But he found it meaningless, so he continued on his way.”
“He is a Black Soul Envoy. He has actually seen many things like this,” Luo Qiu said as the tea finished brewing and he poured it.
No. 9 naturally took the cup and held it like someone seeking warmth. “Yes, he has seen a lot, but he has always watched coldly from the sidelines.”
Luo Qiu smiled. “Where did he go next?”
“To a forest, where he met a mountain guardian.” No. 9 looked at the pine needles floating in the stainless steel cup. “He suddenly wanted to make contact with this guardian. So he became a backpacker and went into the guardian’s house. The guardian’s name was Zhang Jinquan.”
“He must have been hospitable. A guest arriving in the wilderness,” Luo Qiu imagined the scene.
A smile appeared on No. 9’s face. Even a taciturn person could smile so well. “Zhang Jinquan kept chickens outside the ranger station. That night he killed one to entertain him. He was very hospitable.”
“I want to eat that too,” Luo Qiu said wistfully.
No. 9 smiled faintly. “I don’t think you’d like that environment much. It was too simple. There wasn’t even enough electricity, and there was no signal at all. The only ways to learn about the outside world were watching TV and listening to the radio, and even those were only available at certain times. When the evening news was on, that was fine. At other times, Zhang Jinquan was reluctant to use electricity.”
Luo Qiu smiled and said nothing.
No. 9 took a small sip of the pine needle tea, now at the right temperature. “The taste is still lacking. If it were boiled with snow water, it would be better.”
After tasting it, Luo Qiu turned over and brought back several clumps of snow from distant snowy peaks, stuffed them into the cup, and added more pine needles. It looked extremely ugly and not very clean.
“How long did he stay at the ranger station?” Luo Qiu asked.
“Ten days. During those ten days, he and Zhang Jinquan spent four or five days patrolling the mountain together.”
“He seemed to really like that time,” Luo Qiu smiled.
No. 9 nodded. “It was very quiet. During those ten days, all his earlier displeasure seemed to disappear. He treated it like a vacation… But he still had to leave, because his master’s orders had to be carried out.”
Luo Qiu thought for a moment. “His master doesn’t always do things well.”
No. 9 shook his head and said quietly, “When he left, Zhang Jinquan killed another chicken to see him off. That night he saw the mountain guardian get drunk and shed two tears. Only then did he feel the old man’s reluctance to part… This old man had stayed in the mountains for forty years.”
“What will happen to that ranger station in the future?” Luo Qiu asked.
No. 9 thought for a moment. “He didn’t know. Zhang Jinquan said no one was willing to take over his post, so although he had already retired, he could only stay on temporarily… He really hoped someone would replace him. The desire was very strong. So before leaving, he made a blank card with Zhang Jinquan’s information, planning to hand it to his master after the journey was over.”
Luo Qiu nodded. “If I get the chance, I’ll go take a look.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
…
The rain outside gradually stopped. When Luo Qiu went out, it was night. By the time he arrived here and stayed in the house for a while, it was almost dawn.
After finishing Zhang Jinquan’s story, No. 9 suddenly began to sing. He said Zhang Jinquan taught him— a tune from Huayin Old Qiang.
High on the mountains, the bell of battle rings. The bell rings, people rejoice, mountains and rivers answer the call. A channel of happiness is opened, water drawn up the high mountains, showing a bright future. A riot of colors…
He truly loved those ten days at the ranger station.
…
“Do you remember now?” Luo Qiu suddenly asked after listening to No. 9’s song.
No. 9 shook his head. “No memory at all. I can only vaguely guess… I might originally have been from that era.”
“You don’t seem as eager as last time to recover your memories.”
No. 9 thought for a moment and said quietly, “Maybe because I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
No. 9 looked at Luo Qiu. “Can I know where all my performance credit has been spent?”
Luo Qiu shook his head. “According to the agreement you signed back then, you are not allowed to know how the credit from each completed transaction is used.”
No. 9 nodded. A boss could not violate the agreement—neither the previous one nor the current one, unless the boss was willing to pay the price to tear it up.
No. 9 sighed. “I don’t know what I’m afraid of. I just feel uncomfortable… Sometimes I even suddenly regret making that previous request to you. Maybe if I hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t be afraid. On this journey, I feel less like myself and more like him.”
“Then why did you still stop this flash flood?”
No. 9 was silent for a long time. “You’ve never seen disaster relief.”
Luo Qiu shook his head. “Not with my own eyes.”
“No. 9 said, “He saw it… He saw faces clenched with effort, saw them form human walls at the breach. Many couldn’t hold on and collapsed from exhaustion, and someone immediately stepped in to replace them. Some jumped into the water to save people. Some, soaked all over, kept carrying sandbags in relay after relay, from day into night. When they were truly exhausted, you could see them—row after row—fall asleep right on the streets. He watched them, like corpses fallen on a battlefield, bodies covered in mud, faces unrecognizable. But he knew that once the whistle blew, they would all stand up again… And suddenly he realized that nothing else seemed important anymore.”
No. 9 said in a deep voice, “He suddenly felt an overwhelmingly strong pain in his heart. When that pain came, he wasn’t afraid at all. Instead, he felt something calling to him. His actions came before his thoughts, so he didn’t think. He knew this flood fight would ultimately fail. He knew these young soldiers would be swallowed by endless waters… But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want these young soldiers to sink silently to the bottom. Along the way, he saw too many people who ‘forgot.’ He felt he had no right to blame them, because they had never experienced that era. Without experience, there is no feeling, and any feeling detached from experience never lasts. So even when he saw disdain, or people saying the times had changed and such things were no longer needed, even young people mocking it without limits just to become famous, he only watched coldly… But at least, at least, he wanted to keep these young soldiers alive. They were like this pile of firewood.”
“He suddenly wasn’t so afraid anymore… Even though he still hadn’t remembered, he knew that some things are always passed on, like a flame. Someone will take it up, someone will pass it on, and then someone else will take it up again… He couldn’t let that inheritance be broken. So he forgot his own identity and stood before the overwhelming force of nature. He thought that even being shattered to pieces would be fine… And suddenly, he was happier than on any day in the past decades.”
“So whether he remembers or not no longer matters.”
…
…
The sky brightened a little more, but it was still gloomy. The next day here would still be rainy.
No new wood had been added to the fire for a long time. Only layers of white ash remained, still warm, with embers beneath not yet fully extinguished.
Luo Qiu stood up. Staying awake all night did him no harm.
He looked at No. 9 and raised the map in his hand. “Do you plan to continue this journey? There are still two or three places left before the end.”
No. 9 shook his head and stood up as well, looking at Luo Qiu. “No… I’ve been away from my post for quite a while. It’s time to go back to work.”
Luo Qiu nodded. “The cost of rebuilding you this time will be deducted in installments from your future performance… Is that acceptable?”
No. 9 was silent for a long while. In the end, he suddenly bowed, lowered his voice, and said, “I hope you… will treat this country kindly, Master.”
After saying that, No. 9 left. He turned into a wisp of mist, merged into the forest that had not yet fully brightened, and vanished without a trace.
“He did remember a little, after all…”
…
When they returned to the club, Miss Maid hurried off to prepare breakfast.
When she brought breakfast into the study, Luo Qiu was looking at the ledgers, deep in thought.
“Master, are you looking at No. 9’s performance record?” Miss Maid asked as she walked to Luo Qiu’s side and began setting out the breakfast.
“I’m thinking about whether his commission rate can be raised a bit,” Luo Qiu said casually. “Otherwise, with the performance he’s allowed to keep under the agreement, even if he has ideas next time, he might not be able to stop another mountain flood… A Black Soul Envoy being so weak that stopping a flood nearly kills him doesn’t look good for the shop either. But I really can’t find any room to adjust it. The previous boss made this agreement too rigid… Hmm, looks like I’m being wasteful again.”
Miss Maid said nothing. After carefully arranging the breakfast, she took the performance ledger from Luo Qiu’s hands and said softly, “Master, let me adjust it.”
Luo Qiu laughed at himself. “Then I’ll just go on being useless.”
Of course, it was only a joke.
Miss Maid smiled sweetly, casually brushed back the hair by her ear, then opened the ledger and began searching for viable adjustments.
—2015: Spent 10,000 performance points to enhance the vitality of ten academicians of the Chinese Academy of Sciences.
…
—2008: Spent 200,000 performance points to increase earthquake survival rates by 1.5%.
…
—1969: Spent 3,000 performance points to extend the life of a scientist surnamed Qian by forty years.
…
—1962: Spent all remaining performance points to restore rainfall across large areas of the New Nation.
…
Many, many years ago, a man named Zhang Ziru walked into the club and made such a wish.
May the mountains and rivers endure, and the nation enjoy peace and prosperity.
A note from the author.
PS1: I originally planned to write No. 9’s story in much greater detail… It’s not that I forgot; in fact, I planned it long ago. I just kept holding it back… and after holding it back for so long, I realized I really had no chance to write it. Things aren’t as lenient as they were a few years ago (even several chapters about Luo Qiu’s father earlier got blocked—sigh). In the end, I chickened out and wanted this book to survive a bit longer… Please forgive me.
PS2: I hope we never forget those nameless nobodies.
(End of Chapter)
The Zhongshan suit, also known as the Mao suit in the West, is a style of men's attire that originated in China. It is named after Sun Yat-sen (Sun Zhongshan), who introduced it shortly after the founding of the Republic of China (1912–1949) as a form of national dress with political undertones.