The air fell silent for a few seconds. Lin Anran lunged forward and covered his brother’s mouth in one swift move, not even having taken off his shoes yet.
“What are you talking nonsense about! He’s my colleague!”
Shi Yuxing lowered his head, a laugh escaping through his nose. “Sorry to intrude. I’m Lin Anran’s colleague. My name is Shi Yuxing. And—I’m a beta.”
“Mmph.” Lin Wuyang’s breath was pressed back into his throat by his brother, nearly suffocating him. He slapped at Lin Anran’s hand until he finally gasped for air. “Brother, I was just joking. Someone this pretty would never go for you anyway.”
“Is that any way to talk about your brother?” Lin Anran wiped Lin Wuyang’s saliva off his palm onto his clothes. “Good thing Gu Lingzhou isn’t here. If he were, I can’t even imagine how I’d die… He’s General Gu Lingzhou’s legal wife. You’d better be glad it’s just the three of us here.” He bent down to change his shoes, pulling out a pair to hand to Shi Yuxing. Lin Wuyang’s eyes were fixed on Shi Yuxing. Under such direct scrutiny, Shi Yuxing generously showed his face for him to see.
Lin Anran changed his shoes and glanced at Lin Wuyang. Finally, his brother’s gaze shifted from the beautiful Shi Yuxing to his own brother, and he blurted out: “Brother, when are you going to find a pretty sister-in-law like that?”
“Find what? You’re already trouble enough. Why would I want a wife?” Lin Anran grumbled, then pulled something else out of his pocket and stuffed it into Lin Wuyang’s hand. Shi Yuxing couldn’t see what it was. “What’s that?”
“Oh.” Lin Anran glanced back. “Just a piece of gum.”
Lin Wuyang peeled off the foil wrapper and popped it into his mouth. “Good. Cleans the mouth—fragrant and sweet. Want one?” Shi Yuxing waved his hand in refusal, slipped on the slippers, and began looking around the apartment—less than a hundred square meters. The kitchen and dining table were on the left, the TV and sofa on the right, with a shoe cabinet in between, and the bedroom beyond that.
“Yuxing, have a seat. I’m going to heat up some noodles. If you have anything to ask him, go ahead.” Lin Anran rolled up his sleeves and pushed up his glasses.
Shi Yuxing sat down next to Lin Wuyang. The sofa was a bit worn—sitting down made the springs groan in protest. “Lin Wuyang, hello.”
“Hello.”
The two exchanged polite greetings, like they were conducting some mysterious ritual. Shi Yuxing got straight to the point. “Did your brother tell you why I came to see you?” The moment he finished speaking, Lin Wuyang cut him off: “He did. You need me to decode something.”
“Sorry for the trouble.” Shi Yuxing was rarely this humble, but even though this person looked exactly like Lin Anran, there was a lazy genius about him and a perceptive intelligence in his eyes that saw through everything—completely different from Lin Anran.
Lin Anran poked his head out from the kitchen. “There’s plenty of noodles left in the pot. Do you two want some?”
Shi Yuxing said: “No thanks.”
Lin Wuyang stood up. “Brother, give me half a bowl of noodles, and a fried egg and sausage too.”
“Didn’t you already eat? And you still want that much?”
Lin Wuyang sat back down and continued the conversation. Shi Yuxing took out the note he’d copied. “There’s a string of numbers and letters here, along with a sentence. Can you see anything in it?”
Lin Wuyang took the note and examined it carefully, chewing his gum as he moved his lips. “This was written today, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s my tracing copy, not the original.”
“Can I see the original?”
Shi Yuxing pulled out his phone and lit up the screen—it was almost eleven. “I only have a photo. The original is with my husband.”
Without looking up or glancing at his phone, Lin Wuyang’s entire demeanor turned solemn. “There’s a problem with your copy.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“The photo.” At that, Shi Yuxing pulled up the photo and handed it over. Lin Wuyang glanced at it. “Your copy is pretty close to the real thing.”
“Thanks,” Shi Yuxing replied.
Lin Wuyang took a moment to look at him, then buried his head again. “120930n period. I might die exclamation point period.” He read out that cryptic string. “Will die, will die, will die, will die…”
Shi Yuxing was about to speak when Lin Wuyang suddenly thrust his head forward, startling him into shrinking back. Lin Wuyang’s expression was terrified, as if he were immersed in some kind of emotion. Shi Yuxing stiffened his neck and pressed his lips together, watching him. The weight on the sofa beside him lightened—Lin Wuyang dropped his phone and stood up, holding the note as he suddenly started running around in this cramped, narrow space.
He looked possessed.
Shi Yuxing swallowed and turned his gaze toward the kitchen, hoping Lin Anran would appear and put a stop to his brother’s terrifying behavior. His wish came true—Lin Wuyang knocked over a plastic chair, and Lin Anran poked his head out at the noise, frowning. “What are you doing?”
Lin Wuyang stopped in his tracks, standing still. Instead of answering his brother’s question, he picked up Shi Yuxing’s traced copy and slashed it through the air twice, muttering: “Will die.”
“Will die.” He sat back down next to Shi Yuxing and spoke coolly: “If a person knows they’re going to die and still leaves a message—excluding the possibility of naturally messy handwriting—what else would cause the characters to blur together?”
Shi Yuxing didn’t understand. Lin Wuyang suddenly whipped his head around, eyes wide. “She was running away. Being chased! Being chased! Ah!” With that, he even mimed a stabbing motion.
The sudden scream made a “clang” sound from the kitchen. “Lin Wuyang, if you keep screeching like that, I’m throwing you out.”
Lin Wuyang settled down, his emotions calming. He pointed at the note. “The three numbers 120 here are connected—especially between 2 and 0. The tail of the 2 curves upward, then it goes to 9, 30n. The connecting stroke between 0 and n shows this is a combination. I can’t figure out what 0n combined represents, but I did think of something for 30n—coordinates.”
His words lit up Shi Yuxing’s eyes in an instant. Something seemed to flow through his veins and spread throughout his entire body. He straightened his back. “So this 9…”
“It’s exactly what you think it is.” Lin Wuyang knew he’d understood what he was getting at, and a hint of appreciation even appeared in his eyes. “It’s an ‘e’ plus a comma.”
Every cell in his body converged into a single point at that moment—a point on a grid of latitude and longitude. It hadn’t even been that long, and Lin Wuyang had already cracked it. Genius truly was genius. As he explained it, “120e, 30n” was the most reasonable interpretation.
Lin Wuyang immediately followed up with another explanation: “Also, in the original version on your phone, the vertical stroke you copied wasn’t quite right. The beginning of that vertical stroke is heavy, and the end is light.” Shi Yuxing compared it to the photo on his phone, the cool light falling across his pale face.
Indeed, it looked more like a comma.
Just then, Lin Anran came out carrying the hot noodles. “If you’re done talking, come eat, Wuyang.” Lin Wuyang had completed his task and shuffled over in his slippers.
A large bowl of noodles sat on the dining table. Lin Anran first picked out the egg and sausage and put them into Lin Wuyang’s bowl, then asked Shi Yuxing if he wanted to try some.
“No thanks. Gu Lingzhou will be here soon to pick me up and take me home to eat.”
Lin Anran nodded and served himself some noodles.
Under the dim yellow light, the sounds of slurping in the steam felt warm and cozy. Lin Anran took off his glasses and asked: “Did you two figure anything out? Who’s the killer?”
Shi Yuxing glanced at Lin Wuyang, who was drinking his soup. “Mm, your brother really is a genius. He figured it out right away.” The praised one showed no reaction, biting through his sausage before burying his head again.
“It’s not as amazing as you make it sound. It’s just what everyone says.” Lin Anran was midsentence when his identical sibling looked up. “Brother, I want another egg and sausage.”
“The only one in the house is the one you already ate. Here, take the egg from my bowl.”
The old fluorescent light flickered twice. The egg was gently placed in front of Lin Wuyang. “Never mind then. I won’t eat it—you have it.”
“So indecisive. Just eat it if I tell you to.”
Two identical faces—the only thing distinguishing them was the look in their eyes. Shi Yuxing rested his chin on his palm and suddenly asked: “What’s it like having a brother?”
Lin Wuyang’s chopsticks paused. He finally lifted his head from the temptation of the food. “My brother is great, but sometimes pretty dumb too. He said he was dieting and got up in the middle of the night to drink half a bottle of vinegar.”
“Hey, looks like you’re itching for a beating.” Having his embarrassing moments exposed to an outsider by his younger brother made Lin Anran’s face flush. “Don’t listen to him. I only drank it because I saw people saying vinegar helps with weight loss.”
“Oh, and last time he bought a fish to keep as a pet. Didn’t know fish need oxygen. It was dead before the next day.”
“Wasn’t that your fish? You take care of your own pets.”
Lin Wuyang fell silent and lowered his head to eat his noodles again.
These brothers were really something. Their names too. Shi Yuxing: “Who picked your names?”
“The orphanage director from before,” Lin Anran said. “She said she hoped we’d grow up safe and sound.”
“Because big brother was too noisy, so he got ‘Anran’ (Peaceful).”
“Where does that logic come from?”
“Director Mom said so. Ask her if you don’t believe me.”
“You should be the one called ‘Anran.’ You’re the one who needs to quiet down.”
“Then I’m the older brother.”
…
When it was time to leave, Gu Lingzhou happened to have parked his starship downstairs. They met at the top and bottom of the stairs. Shi Yuxing wore a smile. “I know what 120930n means now.” Gu Lingzhou protected him as he walked inside, then followed him down the stairs.
“Lin Wuyang really is a genius. He figured it out right away.” Shi Yuxing’s steps were quick, eager to share.
Gu Lingzhou had heard of this genius before—had excelled in school from a young age, built a generator by himself at seven or eight, and now wrote literary works. He glanced at the building and judged that writing didn’t pay well. Neither did medicine.
There was no sound from behind him. Shi Yuxing said: “Take a guess—what does it mean?”
They reached the last step. The slightly faulty lighting barely stretched their shadows, which crossed through the iron gate and onto the road outside, continuing quietly as if they could reach the very end of life. Gu Lingzhou curled his lips and poked Shi Yuxing’s cheek—soft. “I’m too dumb. You’re smarter. Why don’t you tell me?”
Gu Lingzhou’s voice had turned gentle and lingering, not at all like a question, more like flirting. Shi Yuxing couldn’t handle this elementary-school style of speaking and tone, and flushed. “You’re a grown man—can you not act spoiled?”
“Why can’t I?” Gu Lingzhou’s tone returned to normal, the damp cold air from outside the iron gate blowing in. “Hmph. What about that one at home? He can, and I can’t?”
Those words hung over Shi Yuxing’s head like a knife. Shi Yuxing hissed. “You can, of course you can. You can act spoiled however you want.”
The air didn’t seem so cold anymore.
Shi Yuxing smiled and chose to tell him the answer: “That 9 isn’t actually a 9—it’s a lowercase ‘e’ and a comma.”
“So it’s actually a coordinate point?” Gu Lingzhou frowned.
“Mmhm.” Shi Yuxing took a deep breath. “And I just looked up the coordinates for this point. Guess where it is?”
Gu Lingzhou leaned in close, the curve of his lips unsettling. “You want me to guess again?” Shi Yuxing cursed his own loose tongue and quickly said: “No, no, I’ll tell you. The coordinates pinpointed it exactly—right at the West Wing of the Old Mansion.”
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