There is no autumn in Sannu Town, only the smell of wet rot.
When Inspector Chen opened his eyes, he only saw a blinding whiteness. It's not snow, it's fog. The kind of mist that can drain rust out of a person's bones.
"You climbed up from the bottom of the cliff and saved your life." The person who spoke was Dr. Duchamp, spinning an old-fashioned Parker pen in his hand.
"Where's Mei?" Inspector Chen felt like there was a handful of gravel in his throat.
"Mei is missing. Just like everyone else in the war three years ago." Dr. Duchamp leaned closer to him, his eyes looking at a damaged piece of art. "What you should care about now is not the girl, but yourself. Why did you drive to that lumberyard in this weather? Who are you hiding from?"
Inspector Chen couldn't remember. His temples were pounding. There is only one image in my mind: a tall, thin man wearing rubber shoes, standing in the mud, holding a machete stained with red mud. That's Anu, that damn teacher.
He wanted to shout out the name, but instead coughed up a mouthful of bloody spit.
Outside the window, the thick fog was like the lungs of a giant beast, breathing slowly. He knows that in this fog, everyone hides secrets that they don't want to be seen. And his secret is probably deeper than this fog.
