Section 34: Let the Bullets Fly for a While

Sima returned home and dropped his luggage. Famished, he went out to grab a few bowls of Zha Jiang noodles to tide himself over, stopping at a convenience store to buy a pack of gum, which he chewed to mask the smell of garlic. As he walked and chewed, a sudden sense of melancholy washed over him. He had just finished a twelve-day closed-door training camp—the first and last time in his life he would prepare for the National Championships. From now on, he was finished with professional sports; his dashing figure would never again be seen on the 100-meter and 200-meter tracks. The prize money, once within reach, had vanished into thin air, and the future he had meticulously planned now felt like a soap bubble, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Even in this second life, he was stumbling along. He prayed that nothing would go wrong with "Daqin Shipping," or else he might as well jump off a building.

Sima sighed. Reflecting on his decision, he felt he hadn't taken too long to deliberate. Calling that afternoon to commit had been a wise move; whether he stuck his head out or pulled it in, the blade was bound to fall. At least this way, he could leave a good impression on Yang Zirong. All signs pointed to the official "Gu Master" program being in its infancy, a "work in progress" still in the early stages of recruitment, lacking even a dedicated base of operations. Zhou Lingri had told him to report to the Anti-Doping Center the next day; since Gu insects were classified as doping agents, housing the "Gu Master" unit under the Anti-Doping Center made perfect sense.

In those days, mobile phones still ran on the Symbian system, capable only of calls and texts, with internet access being far from convenient. Sima found an internet cafe to look up some information, ignoring the constant vibration of his phone. When he returned home, he checked it: over a dozen missed calls and a pile of text messages. There were messages from Zhao Ronghua, Lu Youyou, and Li Xiazhi, but none from Lu Yuan. He pondered for a moment and chose not to reply, deciding to "let the bullets fly for a while" and wait until after he had reported for duty the next day. Sima set his phone to silent, washed up, and went to bed early. He leaned against the headboard to read for a bit before turning out the lights. From 5:00 PM until 10:00 AM the next day, he slept for seventeen hours straight without a single dream. The fatigue of the training camp had vanished completely, leaving him feeling as refreshed as if he had been reborn.

After using the restroom, feeling hollow inside, Sima realized he had grown accustomed to the high-quality diet provided to athletes during training. Eating out on his own was both troublesome and expensive. Fortunately, Yang Zirong had mentioned that the "Gu Masters" had their own cafeteria, providing high-nutrition meals for free—a piece of good news that he found quite encouraging. Nothing beats dumplings, he thought, finding a halal dumpling shop and wolfing down a meal. As he slowly sipped the dumpling soup and watched the bustling street traffic, he couldn't help but smile. He recalled a line of poetry: "Not that I love the world of dust, but I seem waylaid by fate. Flowers bloom and fade in their own time, all subject to the Eastern Lord. If I must go, I go; if I must stay, how can I remain? If I can fill my hair with mountain flowers, ask not where I return." While not perfectly apt, it fit his current state of mind. His fate was controlled by others, stripped of autonomy. Before his Gu insect had even matured, his identity had been exposed. In this life, he had broken into a completely new track, his future shrouded in mist; no one knew how far he could go.

Sima sat in the dumpling shop for a long time, finishing three bowls of boiling soup, before standing up to pay and hailing a taxi to the Anti-Doping Center. He got out early and walked to the gate right on time. Sure enough, a woman was waiting for him—young and beautiful, with fair skin and long legs, carrying a hint of Western exoticism that made her look like a mixed-race beauty. She was pristine from head to toe, enough to make one feel inferior. The "Spirit-Channeling Gu" inside Sima stirred slightly, warning him that she was also a "Gu Master," though she posed little threat and seemed to lack combat ability. Sima narrowed his eyes, guessing that she was host to a "Purity Gu." Was Yang Zirong so desperate for recruits that he was signing up hosts like her?

Sima sized up Zhou Lingri, extended his hand, and introduced himself: "Hello, I am Sima."

She seemed to be a germaphobe and did not shake his hand, maintaining a distant, aloof attitude as she said, "I am Zhou Lingri. Please follow me; Section Chief Yang is waiting for you."

Sima immediately realized that Section Chief Yang was Yang Zirong, who held a title at the Anti-Doping Center to facilitate his work. Following Zhou Lingri inside, he asked, "Which section are we in?"

Zhou Lingri didn't answer. She turned, bypassed a flower bed, and pointed to a drab, inconspicuous small building. "We're here."

Sima saw a sign hanging on a concrete pillar, inscribed in Song typeface: "Intelligence and Investigation Section Two." He had done his homework beforehand; the Anti-Doping Center consisted of eight departments, including the Office, Operations Management, Safeguarding, Education and Prevention, Testing, Legal Affairs, Intelligence and Investigation, and the Food and Drug Testing Laboratory. This "Section Two" was not on the official website, clearly added specifically for the "Gu Masters."

Zhou Lingri led Sima into the building and up to the third floor. The wooden floorboards creaked under their feet, and the air was filled with a musty, antique scent. They arrived at the Section Chief's office at the east end of the hall. The door was open, and Yang Zirong sat behind his desk, looking solemnly at some documents. Zhou Lingri knocked on the door and said, "Section Chief, Sima is here."

Yang Zirong looked up and said, "Let him in."

Zhou Lingri stepped aside. Sima put on a show of appropriate nervousness, his shoulders stiff, and walked carefully into the office. Yang Zirong stood up, walked over to him, patted his shoulder encouragingly, and said a few words about how he had made a wise choice. From now on, they were all colleagues, and if he encountered any problems at work or in life, he could look for Zhou Lingri or come directly to him. He didn't spend much time on Sima, and after a few comforting words, he called Zhou Lingri back in, asking her to handle the onboarding procedures, arrange an office for him, and introduce him to his colleagues.

Zhou Lingri gestured for Sima to follow her. They went to the general office on the second floor, where she sat down at her workstation, found an onboarding form, and told Sima to take his time filling it out. Sima noticed that Zhou Lingri's desk was spotless, with her personal items arranged with rigid, geometric precision. On the windowsill behind her, she kept a few pots of pothos, the leaves lush and oily, with white perlite covering the soil so completely that not a speck of dirt was visible. He chuckled to himself; he had heard that hosts of the "Purity Gu" suffered from obsessive-compulsive disorder, washing their hands a dozen times a day until the skin was raw, though looking at Zhou Lingri's hands, it didn't seem quite that extreme.

Sima sat down and scanned the form. It was much like a freshman registration form at a university: name, gender, date of birth, ethnicity, hometown, political status, education, marital status, home address, resume, awards and punishments, and family members. Only the last section was different, requiring a detailed explanation of the origin and characteristics of his Gu insect. Sima wrote down exactly what happened—how he had obtained the "Spirit-Channeling Gu" in his previous life—a pure coincidence born of a strange twist of fate. Even if the organization tried to verify it with "Sang Biao," there wouldn't be a word of falsehood in his account. As for its characteristics, he truly knew nothing.

Sima filled out the form, checked it from top to bottom, and handed it to Zhou Lingri. She opened her computer and entered his information into the system. Her fingers tapped nimbly on the keyboard, making a crisp, rhythmic sound. To avoid interfering with her typing, she kept her nails short, filed into perfect arcs like crescent moons.