Dawn

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To go deeper is the abyssal pool; to step out is the endless night.
It seems one can glimpse the hues of daylight—perhaps a sign of dawn’s arrival.
Regardless of day or night, people come and go as usual,
One path leads upward, one downward, and another winds flat; converging at a place called Swallowtail Pass.
Bustling and crowded, though the sky remains dark, the “Swallowtail,” serving as the junction between ascent and descent, has early lit its street lamps.
At this point on Abyssal Pool Mountain, more people gather. Though the mountain’s embrace is modest, many dwell nearby, passersby strolling in twos and threes, keeping the area from feeling desolate.
Locals call this place White Rock District, a friendly, approachable corner of Night Dawn City—not like the bustling commercial streets. Here, the proximity to Abyssal Pool Mountain brings leisure and tranquility instead of ceaseless nightlife.
Insignificant as it may be, the silence of night is pierced by faint, distant sounds somewhere within Night Dawn. Most pay no heed, yet inevitably some pick up on these subtle noises and scrutinize them carefully.
Thus, the flow of people at Swallowtail thins slightly, and Night Dawn’s quiet deepens a little more.
Beneath the surface, currents stir restlessly—a restless undercurrent weaving through this place called Night Dawn.
Tonight, the tide surges, tugging at the strings of people's hearts.
Some linger in White Rock; some gaze intently within Night Dawn.
“They” stand here, never leaving.
Whether they are those who pause or unknown passersby, they draw no special attention.
Nearby, a man leans against a lamppost, eyes closed in rest, occasionally opening them to check the time. It seems he chose this bright spot just for that. In the shadows, another crouches motionless, scanning around, as if awaiting departure. A woman in black formalwear flips through papers repeatedly, seemingly troubled by work, with dawn yet unseen and uncertain if clarity will come. Besides those near the lights who stand out slightly, many others remain hidden from view.
Pedestrians come and go—just the usual scene.
If one only glances briefly, that would be all.
Shifting gazes, rare glimpses of emotion, paths and directions converging at this very place—Swallowtail, in White Rock, pressed close together. They move along Night Dawn’s hidden currents, guided by a shared and sole “obedience,” following someone’s footsteps. No assured fate, only a confident self.
For them, the road ahead is unknown; for him, unknown yet resolute.
Under the lamplight, unremarkable, expressions indecipherable.
Wearing glasses, pacing slightly, he hardly seems alone here; every move draws glances—perhaps because this place is so secluded, every rustle catches attention. Looking again, he is merely recognized as a simple man; sometimes smiling warmly and clearly, but mostly standing upright, only occasionally adjusting his glasses, no other gestures. Everything about him is proper, gentle, unassuming.
If only a glance is cast, that is all one sees.
Ji Linyun, unlike before, does nothing but fiddle with his glasses and stand, fists clenched tightly by his sides. He doesn’t want to reveal the unusual feelings within, especially to those he cares about. But especially to them—who wouldn’t notice? Who would care?
Eyes closed—not from fatigue, just a long wait.
Removing his glasses, straightening his collar.
People pass by—a sign of approaching daybreak.
Yet for Abyssal Pool Mountain and Night Dawn, dawn will not come just yet.
Beyond that, nothing more can be seen...
Opening his eyes,
Still no sign of the three he awaited; Ji Linyun is certain those fellows have long ignored his warnings.
Sensing movement in the shadows, a dark figure darts by—
A black cat, its eyes shining beautifully.
He turns his head away, uninterested.
He hasn’t even managed his own three cats well; where they wish to go is their own business.
Swallowtail Pass marks a boundary: above lies the silence and mystery governed by Abyssal Pool Mountain; here, more travelers pass and linger.
So the faint sounds and heavy footsteps are not out of place.
From afar, Ji Linyun already senses—then frowns—someone is missing.
He must compose his expression, at least not show annoyance; yet those two youngsters will surely notice. His phone vibrates—a perfect timing—he swiftly checks the message from Ningxin. Numerous reports have come in, but this time the name and photo cause Ji Linyun’s expression to freeze, motionless.
Now things are complicated—neither smile nor worry can come. Reactions stir sparsely around him.
The person has arrived.
Setting aside his task, he strides forward.
Every reunion makes him cherish these moments more. Once, he held them tightly; now, many things have changed.
He immediately spots the tall figure—Ji Linyun approaches, and Li Cang only embraces him.
“You’re soaking wet.” He breaks away from Li Cang’s arms.
“Brother, is it against the rules for us to meet at this hour?” From deeper within the mountain path, a clear voice sounds, but Ji Linyun doesn’t look there, only scanning Li Cang up and down.
“No problem, no problem, we check daily. You’re the one who loves to talk about rules more than me—oh, Li Cang, you’ve been swimming and climbing mountains again.” Li Cang’s upper body is almost bare; his “scar” stands out starkly, glaringly visible in this moment.
Shadows flicker; Wu Zhuming surveys the scene—mostly members of the group led by Brother Yun.
In Night Dawn City, they alone move against the flow of time.
How long have they waited? Yet Wu Zhuming thinks, no matter how long, they wouldn’t care.
“I don’t know how he ended up so disheveled. We separated for a while, met recently. Now it’s clear—Li Cang, come, let me help you fix this.” Wu Zhuming steps forward; Ji Linyun releases Li Cang and just as he tries to find some intact cloth from Li Cang’s tattered rags to cover his strong body—and that scar—his face softens but his voice carries no smile:
“Shangye, huh? Lost her?”
Li Cang and Wu Zhuming exchange a wordless glance, then lower their heads to continue wrapping cloth, no answer to Ji Linyun. Shangye always solitary; they aren’t too worried, but recalling her recent behavior, can they say all is normal?
Ji Linyun is different now. It seems the two had only recently parted before reuniting. Those who worry returned; the reliable one is nowhere to be seen. He sighs—he shouldn’t have let Shangye, like a cat, roam all night outside. Also, he should have reminded her to always carry her phone!
“You two don’t communicate at all. Went home but couldn’t find you, so I called Zhuming. You two used to stick together so tightly, now one’s missing.”
He glances at Wu Zhuming, who keeps busy but whose gaze wanders elsewhere.
Ji Linyun frowns, asking:
“Zhuming, you disappeared early, did you go up the mountain?”
“Walked a long way, finally went up the mountain.” Wu Zhuming lowers his head, avoiding Ji Linyun’s direct gaze. After finishing binding Li Cang’s “clothes”—strips wrapped around his chest and abdomen, barely covering his massive frame, the deep red remains faintly visible—
Daylight brightens, yet the crowd thins. Though Wu Zhuming rarely moves at this hour, without his reminders, who notices the difference? He observes familiar faces around.
“Go over there; Li Cang like this waiting for someone won’t do.” Moving to a corner alley, an inconspicuous, overlooked nook in the complex White Rock District, where such places are plentiful.
“This is all prearranged; we’re only stopping here at Swallowtail briefly.” Ji Linyun explains, “Judging by your looks, I’m guessing there’s a lot to say.”
The three gather, minds calm, a moment of peace tinged with chill.
Li Cang and Wu Zhuming use gestures to recount what they encountered on Abyssal Pool Mountain. Compared to his two brothers, Ji Linyun’s temperament is less conspicuous—steady and reserved, more fitting for him.
Another person stands with them, silently listening and taking notes on everything said. Whether others also listen tonight remains unknown.
Once the account finishes, the recorder leaves upon Ji Linyun’s signal.
“The red near Shuofeng Peak is quite conspicuous, right? You all saw it.” Ji Linyun says, “That’s ‘blood.’ It carries more than just anomalies; it’s not merely something beautiful or novel.”
“Blood? So it belongs to someone—I'm not quite sure.” Wu Zhuming voices confusion.
“Certainly not ordinary people. Zhuming, the ‘blood flower’ the girl held is likely the same kind.” Ji Linyun explains carefully, looking at his troublesome brother:

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“But how could you forget? My Zhuming.” Ji Linyun cups Wu Zhuming’s face, gazing into his eyes. Though Wu Zhuming is taller, Ji Linyun’s tone balances reprimand and care, then softens:
“You have the steadiest heart, unwavering. Yet you forget so much? Zhuming, I truly worry about you.” He seems to see through him, asking,
“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
Wu Zhuming doesn’t recall much from those words,
But…
Just like then, at that wrong moment, it perhaps confirms some inner wavering. Shangye, mysterious as the night sky, had an added veil of complexity then.
As for himself, Wu Zhuming feels guilty. They were supposed to be honest with Brother Yun; nothing should be hidden. So he changed his mind and confided the pain he felt in his chest—something he should have said long ago.
Yet what troubles Wu Zhuming most are the anomalies revealed then—clearly not the usual moonlit sky.
Li Cang only shakes his head upon hearing this. Ji Linyun lifts Wu Zhuming’s shirt; as said, nothing is found. But neither reacts much; after all, this is him—the steadfast Wu Zhuming.
“The so-called ‘Night Sky’ anomaly can’t be judged by appearance alone. Sigh, you kids, even you should be more careful. Don’t just approach anything novel, and don’t keep secrets—Li Cang, you too, next time don’t tell a woman you’ve just met ‘I won’t tell anyone’!” Ji Linyun is slightly angry; Li Cang scratches his head, bound by his promise to Xi Yue. Brother Yun continues,
“What else, Li Cang? Your timings don’t quite match, and what do you mean by that familiar feeling?”
“Familiar yet strange… uh…” Li Cang hesitates, unsure how to explain. His ‘scar’ dates far back,
As if something beyond the heart beats within.
“Sigh, if you don’t want to say, don’t. I’ve been busy lately; when I return, I’ll spend more time with you.”
Ji Linyun’s expression softens as he reaches out; Li Cang obediently hands over a rusted small knife. Ji Linyun taps Wu Zhuming’s distracted head, then asks Li Cang,
“How old was that drunkard you mentioned?”
“At least twice my age.”
Tch, as expected, not the same person Ningxin reported. If it were, Li Cang would have reacted—though years have passed, he’d still recognize. Ji Linyun thinks, telling Li Cang,
“I have a lead on who he is. As for why this knife broke—maybe blood? What it’s used for, that’s another matter.”
Adjusting his glasses, Ji Linyun reflects on the many reports he’s received. Though less than an hour has passed, information remains sparse, casting doubt on the situation, especially on Abyssal Pool Mountain, and beyond.
Possible dangers, uncertain factors, minor chaos—all within their vigilance. Abyssal Pool Mountain alone is manageable, but Night Dawn is far greater.
They have many people stationed in the city, but now it’s tight. All redeployments are ordered by Ji Linyun, yet plans can’t keep pace with changes.
Rubbing his eyes, worn from little rest and endless tasks, Ji Linyun tries to calm his thoughts, suspecting his worries may be excessive. Perhaps this trip to Abyssal Pool Mountain won’t even grant them the luxury of waiting. The other two approach, trying to comfort their brother.
The suddenness of events is extreme; thankfully, the organization never neglects investigation. Ji Linyun hasn’t contacted them much recently.
There’s no talk of exhaustion; he only hopes his efforts aren’t in vain.
Since earlier, a profound sense of dissonance lingers among the three—they all know why. Li Cang recalls Shangye’s advice: “Take care of yourself.” Was there another meaning? Li Cang frets, thinking he’s not as clever as Shangye, who even sends riddles.
Wu Zhuming isn’t overly worried about Shangye; knowing her, solitude helps her think clearly. Yet the more he trusts this, the harder it is to dispel his gloom.
At that moment—
“Didn’t see her?” Ji Linyun hasn’t received any reports of sightings. He knows her habits well—though often like this, today his mind and brows knot with worry. “The roads are all blocked—how did she get down? What’s the rush? Or did she go down earlier?”
“Zhuming, do you understand how she looked? Anything unusual?” Ji Linyun asks bluntly. Wu Zhuming pauses, having already told the others about his actions then, but unusually closes his eyes for a long moment before answering:
“She had her own thoughts. At times like this, she’d be alone.”
Expected but useless now, Ji Linyun doesn’t yet know his sister’s lone-wolf nature. Wu Zhuming looks lost in thought, unable to free himself from certain ideas.
He should spend more time with them, Ji Linyun thinks.
A vague oddity nags his intuition; despite tight manpower, he must send someone to check. Shangye’s home is quiet and few visit, but she rarely stays there anyway. Let the area’s responsible personnel handle it quickly.
He plans this while glancing at the two troublesome brothers beside him—better to keep them nearby, always watching.
Ah, regarding Li Cang, the fragments of clothing seem his, but he said it was in Yu Pond; their people only found traces on the road. What’s the truth?
Reports come from many, but few found.
“All roads blocked, no sign of anyone—could it be they didn’t take the path?” Ji Linyun mutters. “Mountain roads lead down or up. Did they not take the usual route?”
“Could they have left Night Dawn altogether?” Wu Zhuming joins in.
Ji Linyun is startled—beyond Night Dawn he rarely thinks. The city ring has many exits; White Rock District is known for its many connections. Choosing which path is choosing one’s encounter.
He looks back at Wu Zhuming, recalling he met him early, still with that bright smile—the earlier gloom fleeting. That is the real him. Ji Linyun pulls him close:
“Zhuming, you didn’t see that girl again?”
Wu Zhuming hesitates, pondering, then replies:
“She and I are both fine.” His voice strong, unshakable. Ji Linyun nods, confident that Zhuming wouldn’t be indifferent in such a situation. Yet Zhuming suddenly adds:
“By the way, I told her about you, Brother Yun. If she weren’t busy, you’d see her now.”
“Helping us work doesn’t mean selling your brother everywhere.”
Ji Linyun straightens his thoughts, yet hasn’t asked:
“What kind of person is she? Insists on seeing me.”
“Not tall, slender girl, looks younger than me by a few years, gray hair—lighter than Li Cang’s—clothes plain, nothing special. If I had to say…” Wu Zhuming gestures as he describes.
Ji Linyun listens, gradually forming an image—not his words, but hers—the girl he once met by chance.
“If I must say, that girl is very…”
“Plain,” Wu Zhuming’s word fits Ji Linyun’s impression. Curiously, this calmness or indifference is the only trace she left on him.
On most of their lists, she’s near the end. Should he meet her? Apparently, she lives in an old house on Little North Street, not far from him.
Ji Linyun builds her vague image in his mind, despite their scant encounters—
A simple girl, hmm...
Ding-ling-ling—
A light sound pulls Ji Linyun’s thoughts back; he glances sideways—Wu Zhuming’s keychain jingling like a nocturnal alert, yet seemingly not for everyone.
When did he gain a companion who quietly leans in to whisper a few words? Ji Linyun snaps back, eyes on others, attention returning to Swallowtail. He nods slightly; the cold, unassuming man turns to leave. Ji Linyun stops him, after a moment only says:
“Be careful.”
The cold man nods and vanishes in an instant.
Well then, it’s time. “Zhuming, we go now. Someone waits ahead. Li Cang, go change your clothes first. I must ascend.” Ji Linyun says.
“Brother Yun, we and you…”
“Enough. Listen to me and you’ll help greatly. Besides, you two aren’t just idle; just don’t act alone.” Ji Linyun’s voice calm yet authoritative,
“Following them is the same as following me, same meaning!”
They exchange looks; Li Cang wants to persuade them, Ji Linyun laughs lightly, explaining:
“Others have taken care of us so much; now is the time to repay. He—Li Cang, Zhuming, you know his protection and grace. Since entering Night Dawn’s borders and living here so long, this city has become our home. No matter what, our duties are preordained, now and always.”
Given their deep years of interaction and Ji Linyun’s sole leadership, they are intertwined. Li Cang and the others respect their protectors as much as Ji Linyun.
“What comes after?” Li Cang asks.
“Who knows? Haha, if we all knew, we wouldn’t be needed.” Ji Linyun concludes, “Rest assured, I’ll handle everything. We must keep things on track, right?”
After a pause, Wu Zhuming pulls Li Cang aside, smiling:
“Brother Yun can’t bear to leave us, but obey, let’s go.”
“Who cares if you two can’t be controlled.”
Without looking back, Ji Linyun watches them leave, until they and their escorts disappear at the road’s end.

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He exhales,
Finally, only “they” remain.
Ji Linyun fixes his gaze ahead; after staying so long here, few times has he felt like today. Rather than groping through the dark, they seem carried by the night itself.
As the organization truly accepted and recognized by Night Dawn—once not the only one, now it is—
Independently acting to bury anomalies is their slight contribution to the city.
As a vital part ensuring Night Dawn’s stable operation—only they can do this part.
Unfamiliar with White Rock Swallowtail, one might think it no different from ordinary streets. A deep look, a careful reflection, only reveals some connections, picking out overlooked paths, shadows beneath lamps, all ultimately leading to him, Ji Linyun.
He surveys around; some gathered here may be watching him too, for Night Dawn’s ancient mystery, its unknowability and instability, is what necessitates their existence and actions.
This is Ji Linyun’s thought,
But for those behind him, what they think and follow—the only certainty—is not faith, yet immensely worthy,
Needing but one person.
Some have already entered the mountain; more linger in Night Dawn’s streets and alleys.
Ji Linyun glances behind; unknowingly, “they” have come this far.
He notices a youth by the roadside, who came with Ji Linyun, then turned his back to Abyssal Pool Mountain, standing still, gazing at Night Dawn—perhaps beyond.
He approaches; the youth smiles warmly, his figure blurred in lamplight, clothing fluttering in the breeze, his face serene with a light smile. He has seen much, far and deep, understood many things, yet remains relaxed. Ji Linyun, he admits, could not do the same—making this youth remarkable.
He thinks he should have called Wu Zhuming over to see this youth; for him, keeping bright eyes and constant vigilance is a duty.
Ji Linyun follows the youth’s gaze; perhaps their views differ.
White Rock District rises high enough to overlook Night Dawn, though only a small corner.
Endless lights shine beneath their feet, each place rich and ever-changing; lifting their eyes, clouds block the boundless, unfathomable sky, stretching infinitely into the unknown.
Heaven and earth, like Night Dawn’s reflection of something.
Today’s chance is no fleeting apparition but a destined torrent of Night Dawn.
According to Wu Zhuming and their reports, environmental damage has occurred; Wu Zhuming’s “lost gem” has long shone again—signs of instability.
“Night Dawn is the hope of countless; restless undercurrents, it allows, I do not.” Ji Linyun’s heart tightens.
“The basic search is complete; most reports confirmed, with traces to follow.” Approaching is the woman with documents, also an early watcher here. Though speaking softly, her crisp tone stands out.
Neat attire and hair, steady steps, every action proper. To move more freely, her black suit has subtle modifications.
“No longer restrained as before—that’s always good.” She says, “You don’t look well; no matter what, you must—” Ji Linyun raises a hand to stop her, unusually saying:
“It will only get busier. Not everyone acts by our principles.”
The youth turns, “Send a message. We should go.” Two others nod. Ji Linyun suddenly stops, asking,
“Hua, tell me, coming to Night Dawn, settling here—is that our fate too?”
The woman stares silently, brows furrowed, solemn. She only hands over the documents, having annotated them. Ji Linyun’s expression darkens. She withdraws the papers, voice rising,
“Though not among the earliest, everything I’ve handled—no regrets, be it matters or people. The system is complete; we are ready. Following you, waiting for whom, your arrangement is inevitable and rightful.” She approaches,
“Since we chose this path, it is our destiny.”
She leaves. Ji Linyun ponders, recalling times before he was “leader”…
It’s time to move.
Before stepping, a sense of dissonance—
A blank pause, a silent back.
Ji Linyun immediately raises his hand; many halt. He shields the two beside him.
A woman, black as night, stands before them—
Her calm face illuminated faintly, unclear, her full visage indescribable. According to Wu Zhuming, she showed some “sorrow,” still—perhaps still with time itself. Her arrival unexpected; her origin still unclear. Now, no feeling arises—unlike serene peace or night’s dead silence.
Beside her, the youth stares unblinking. Others show caution and confusion. Pedestrians pass, and Ji Linyun realizes not all can see “her.”
She is the woman Wu Zhuming mentioned, glimpsed fleetingly in his vision. Ji Linyun knows she has long existed within Night Dawn, within Abyssal Pool Mountain’s mysteries.
Her deep black image stands out, not to mention the strange aura around her. Though not all see her, under Ji Linyun’s command, everyone stops.
The black-haired woman’s shape flickers—smiling? Like a shadow cast by a flickering candle. She does not advance toward them but stands in the road’s center, turning slowly, walking silently, as if Abyssal Pool itself sinks beneath her feet.
Vanished, without a trace.
Issuing orders, vigilance drops.
“She’s inviting us.” Ji Linyun waves calmly, “Just as she wishes.”
White Rock is a friendly part of Night Dawn—yet today is unlike before.
“It’s already this hour.” Wu Zhuming walks Night Dawn’s streets, led by Brother Yun’s people ahead. Li Cang says nothing of his concealment, walking closely beside Wu Zhuming.
Touching his chest, the steady rhythm, Wu Zhuming feels no strangeness.
Intuition intersects within him.
Silent,
Whether light or dark, it will come,
Like dawn.
“So, management, protection, restraint—that’s what we do.” The man ahead chatters on; in Brother Yun’s organization, he is a cheerful fellow, though only Li Cang listens attentively.
Most in the group know them well. Wu Zhuming glances back, smiling; they all stop, facing Abyssal Pool Mountain’s direction.
Almost forgot—tonight is truly long.
Within Night Dawn lies their present—whether strange anomalies or shadows in ordinary alleys—surfacing, within reach.
“Good, after all our efforts, let’s hurry.” The woman called Sister Hua commands. Ji Linyun says little, removing his glasses, vision sharpening.
Daybreak.
Ji Linyun walks last,
Solemn and strange causes emerge, unexplained, unclear, unresolved.
Time waits for no one.
Night Dawn Abyssal Pool,
Now, it is time to see clearly.