Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Journey Home

Ji Ning did not speak of the matter concerning SCP-CN-655. He deliberately omitted his escape from the SCP Foundation, choosing instead to bypass that chapter of his life. When Ji Ning finished his account, Qin Mo took his hand, offering silent comfort.

Qin Mo had always assumed Ji Ning had willingly ventured into the world of the supernatural, but now she truly empathized with his melancholy. She understood the feeling of being abandoned by one's former life, for she too had once been forsaken. In a sense, they were both playthings of fate.

She could grasp his mood; perhaps he hadn't intended to run away, but merely wished, from time to time, to hide for a while—to catch his breath, free from reproach for the past or anxiety for the future, able to look up and see great billowing clouds, to possess a moment of genuine beauty.

"Do you miss home?" Qin Mo suddenly had a bold idea. Miss Qin, who dared both to dream and act, was prepared for whatever her question might bring.

Ji Ning was silent for a moment. "I don't know."

"It’s always you taking me to other places. Now it’s my turn," Qin Mo withdrew her slightly heated hand, her eyes shining with a light that nearly intoxicated Ji Ning.

Standing at the airport, hidden behind his sunglasses, Ji Ning felt dazed. He had imagined returning here countless times, but his fantasies always ended abruptly—he lacked the courage to face what waited beyond. He knew he could not reveal himself to his family; otherwise, the SCP Foundation would have no qualms about erasing everything.

Those Mobile Task Force operatives would use memory erasers to wipe every trace of him from his family’s minds, and then he would truly become a stranger in this world.

Dressed in casual clothes, Qin Mo was nervous too. In truth, she hadn't planned anything. She simply thought that if Ji Ning felt nostalgic, why not come and see? Even if his family could not know, at least he could watch from afar.

This remote city had neither a subway nor famous landmarks, nor was it renowned for any specialty. If Ji Ning had not grown up here, perhaps they would never have known of this tiny city. Yet it bore an interesting name: Anqing.

Peace and celebration—the name sounded common, but upon reflection, one could sense the hope that Magistrate Huang Gan felt when he founded the city on the ruins of Shuzhou a thousand years ago. That forty-three-year-old man watched a city rise from the ashes and, after a long sigh amid distant signals of war, named it Anqing. Although Anqing did not remain untouched in those turbulent times, its yearning for a better life ensured the name was passed down through generations.

Arriving in his hometown, Ji Ning seemed awakened, like a child. When he reached familiar streets long absent from his life, he turned away to wipe his eyes with his hand. "The wind’s strong, stings my eyes a bit."

Qin Mo did not expose his feeble lie, but gazed curiously at the unfamiliar surroundings. Is this where you grew up?

"Our place is small, not much to boast of, but I love it, more than anything," Ji Ning stood at the intersection, waiting for the traffic light, just as he did years ago, a schoolboy with a backpack.

"There, that’s my elementary school. I remember, from third grade, I started walking home alone. Anqing’s always had good security. At least, my mother never mentioned anything happening. No big cases in this small city." Qin Mo watched Ji Ning ramble, a smile playing at her lips. She liked his relaxed tone, liked how this young man before her let down all his guard. She had always known Ji Ning was not as optimistic as he seemed; some people hid their hearts in silence, others behind a smile.

"When I was young, I envied kids whose parents picked them up. Some rode their mother’s scooter, others their father’s motorbike, some stood with siblings on their grandfather’s tricycle and waved goodbye to me. I always walked home alone. Sometimes I think I was quite remarkable then, you know? A little kid could walk half an hour, from this shop to my house, and I did that for three years." Ji Ning pulled Qin Mo into the school’s modest shop. The owner, used to teenage and middle-aged customers, eyed the pair curiously. Ji Ning crouched and picked up a Transformers toy in plastic packaging. Though finely made, Ji Ning knew without checking for authenticity that it was a knock-off—it cost only fifteen yuan.

With the baffled shopkeeper watching, Ji Ning and Qin Mo began the journey home he’d trod thousands of times.

Childlike as ever, Ji Ning tore open the toy and twisted its joints. "When I was little, this was the toy I wanted most. Looked cool and tough. I always wanted to score a hundred so my mom would buy me one. Maybe my tests were too hard, maybe I was too dumb, but I never got it, even when I graduated." He raised the Transformer, making crackling sounds with his mouth, then noticed Qin Mo’s smiling eyes and joined her laughter.

"I used to think growing up would be happier. Watching TV and playing with toys every day, and my mom wouldn’t scold me. Now, I can play toys all I want, and nobody minds, but I don’t feel as happy as then." Ji Ning handed the Transformer to Qin Mo. "It’s yours. You’re my favorite girl, with big eyes and beautiful hair, so I decided to give you my favorite toy."

Qin Mo listened to his childish words, torn between laughter and shyness. She took the Transformer and fiddled with it. "Boys always love these toys. I remember the boys in my class would gather at recess to discuss yesterday’s cartoons, mostly about these mecha types. But few are as nostalgic as you, still buying one at your age."

Ji Ning stopped and smiled at her. "So, what did you like as a child?"

Qin Mo thought for a moment. "Probably dolls for playing house. I remember wanting a Barbie princess with a magic wand."

"Do you still want one?" Ji Ning asked seriously.

Qin Mo shook her head. "Wouldn’t it be childish at my age?"

Ji Ning asked no more, continuing ahead. "People always think the more they grow, the more childish they once were. But in a child’s eyes, adults are the childish ones, lacking the courage even to acknowledge their own desires. Here we are—this is the most important turning point on my way home. Will you take the main road, or the shortcut? The main road follows the street; the shortcut goes through the fields, a bit closer."

"What if I choose the main road?" Qin Mo looked with interest at the path disappearing into the shade.

"Then I’ll just have to ask again." Ji Ning grinned, reaching out his hand.

A few minutes later, the two were strolling hand in hand across the fields, the distant sound of horns already faded.

Ji Ning stood atop a pile of stones. "There used to be a stream here. In summer, I’d catch crabs and frogs."

"Though you can’t see it now, that stream still flows deep in my memory." Ji Ning wasn’t sorrowful; on the contrary, he calmly walked along the cracked riverbed. What in this world can withstand the ravages of time?

"So much has changed. They’ve paved this road—when I was in middle school, it was still dirt."

"You haven’t come back since middle school?" Qin Mo noticed he mentioned that period.

"Yes. I went to high school far from here, so I didn’t live here anymore. When I was in tenth grade, they were planning demolition. My family got compensation and bought an apartment in the city, where my parents and brother live now."

As they moved farther from the main road, the asphalt gave way to uneven concrete, and houses with laundry on the balconies grew fewer, replaced by abandoned, dilapidated homes awaiting demolition.

Exposed concrete and steel rebar formed an unbroken chain of ruins before Ji Ning and Qin Mo, as if they stood amid the relics of humanity after an apocalypse. Only discarded household garbage hinted at traces of life.

"It’s a strange feeling. Even though my family bought a new house with the compensation, I never felt comfortable. Perhaps it’s nostalgia for the homeland. Walk a bit further and you’ll see where I used to live. Be careful, hold my hand, don’t twist your ankle." Ji Ning paused at a blue sign, then pulled Qin Mo onward.

"Demolition area. No dumping. Severe penalties. Wu Li Village Notice." The blue sign with white letters seemed out of place among the ruins, but the roadside foxtail grass, burdock, nightshade, amaranth, and hopweed accepted this outsider generously, welcoming it into nature’s embrace.

When Ji Ning saw the house nearly covered in climbing vines, he couldn’t help but quicken his pace.

The setting sun cast its last rays over this land forgotten by the city. Large patches of peeling paint made the house look on the verge of collapse. The broken windows were coated in dust; inside, the decor remained as Ji Ning had left it. The forty-watt incandescent lamp, wrapped in cobwebs and dust, still hung. Mushrooms sprouted from the wooden table left behind, thriving on the leaking walls.

This house, bearing Ji Ning’s entire youth, seemed to have been forgotten by time. Ji Ning had never imagined that the place he’d lived would one day become a bed of moss and mushrooms, the contradiction between time and space magnified here.

Ji Ning stood before the house, gazing quietly at all that was familiar yet strange. He knew even people change, growing ever more different from their former selves—how could an abandoned house remain unchanged?

He sighed softly. This desolate house was already nothing like the one he remembered.

It was as though those years had never existed, as though they had never come at all.