Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Megalopolis

"There’s no need to bat your eyes at me—I’m not into men." Zhao Meiyou glanced up at the officer across from him. "Cut the theatrics."

"And another thing," he said, stretching out lazily and propping one leg over the other. "Judging by your tone, it sounds like you’re saying I’m the one who got dragged out of the ruin alive?"

The officer’s face turned a shade paler, but he forced a stiff smile. "Rest assured, Megalopolis has never had an archaeologist break two ruin laws back-to-back."

Zhao Meiyou thought back to the four ruin laws. He had broken the second one after his brain had been damaged and he'd come out fine. The fourth must’ve been someone else’s doing.

"The person brought out of the ruin by the archaeologist," Zhao Meiyou said, his interest piqued. "Can I meet them?"

"The lifeform is marked as an unknown entity in government records," the officer replied. "It disappeared after leaving the ruin—we failed to intercept it. The exploration of Ruin A173 is already quite advanced. You have two objectives in your upcoming mission: familiarising yourself with protocol and investigating any clues related to the missing lifeform. Ideally, you’ll determine its identity."

"Hold on, that doesn’t add up," Zhao Meiyou said. "You’ve never even seen it—how can you be so sure it’s a lifeform?"

"The government has a comprehensive observation system for all known ruins," the officer explained. "Its precision is limited, but it’s the most advanced technology we have. While it can’t monitor everything happening inside a ruin, it does track the vital signs of all lifeforms entering or leaving."

Zhao Meiyou skimmed the file in his hand. On the last page, bold black text stood out: "...Observation confirmed a lifeform exiting Ruin A173. Its vital signs do not match stable models."

The system classified it as the first lifeform ever carried out of a ruin. Its origin was the quantum domain.

"The archaeologist who successfully carried the lifeform out was named Li Daqiang. His records are in the file I’ve given you," the officer said. "But after escorting the lifeform out, he immediately returned to the ruin. He never came back out and has been missing ever since."

"Got it," Zhao Meiyou said after a moment’s thought. "When do I start?"

"Three days from now. Since this is your first exploration mission, the government will assign another archaeologist to partner with you."

"Can’t it be Diao Chan?"

"Diao Chan is a higher-ranking citizen," the officer replied. "He already have a designated ruin to explore. Last time was an emergency, done out of necessity. Once your rank improves, there might be opportunities for collaboration."

Back in the Lower District, Zhao Meiyou gave Diao Chan a good beating—or maybe it was mutual. They fought until they both vomited, then, empty-stomached, slung arms around each other’s shoulders and went for a meal. Drunk beyond reason, Diao Chan muttered, "Xi Shi, I’m sorry."

“No need to apologise,” Zhao Meiyou slurred, his words thick with drink. If their positions were reversed—if he were the one with a peculiar constitution and Diao Chan an ordinary person—he would have hidden the truth too, unless the circumstances were utterly dire. Concealing it had been, after all, the best way to protect him. The fight was just a way to vent years of frustration at being kept in the dark. Now that the knot was untangled, things could go back to how they were, as they should be.

He and Diao Chan had known each other for a long time, though perhaps not from the very beginning. Before meeting him, Diao Chan had lived a life entirely his own, untouched by Zhao Meiyou’s presence.

There was mutual respect between them.

“By the way, what’s the deal with my sister?” Zhao Meiyou asked, his tongue heavy from the alcohol. “Is she an archaeologist too? The government doesn’t hire child labourers, does it?”

“Under certain specific conditions, ordinary people can enter the quantum domain too,” Diao Chan replied, so drunk he was nearly sliding under the table. “But not physically—it’s more like their mind slips in, like a vivid dream. That’s the case with your sister. She’s just a normal person. But, yeah, that disc reader did come from the ruin. The Lower District is full of all kinds of chaotic nonsense… Anyway, a specialist has already implanted some psychological suggestions into her. She won’t remember a thing.”

Zhao Meiyou was too drunk to stand, much less make it home. So the two of them crashed in the hospital room for the night. The next day, chaos resumed its normal routine. Old Mr. De had taken a shine to singing some operatic tune, and no matter what, Zhao Meiyou just couldn’t match his pitch. Enraged, Old Mr. De’s face turned crimson, veins bulging at his neck. He chased Zhao Meiyou down the hallway with a cleaver for the better part of the afternoon, swearing he’d castrate him to improve his vocal range.

Two days passed in a blur. On the night before their next mission, Zhao Meiyou dumped a stack of patient records onto Diao Chan’s desk, splashed cold water on his face, and sat down to piece through the tangled mess of everything that had happened recently. But his resolve gave way to exhaustion, and before he could even sort out a single thread, he slumped over the desk, fast asleep.

There was no helping it; it was all too much, a thousand thoughts pulling in a thousand directions.

For instance, how could they even be sure the reality they inhabited was the real one?

What if the archaeologists within the ruin were in turn studying them?

And his brain—what if the reason he hadn’t succumbed to brain death wasn’t due to some unique physical trait, but because his brain had been replaced?

If that were true, then was he still the original Zhao Meiyou?

How many archaeologists were there in total? How were they selected? And how many, like he once had been, were unaffiliated freelancers? Were there underground organisations as well?

Was what happened with his sister truly an accident?

Who was lying?

Stop. Zhao Meiyou finally cut his thoughts short. He couldn’t keep thinking about it.

There was a saying in the Lower District: “Ignorance is a rare blessing.” It was also the guiding principle of their psychiatric hospital—ignorance wasn’t just rare, it was necessary. The tree of knowledge was not the tree of life.

In the depths of the starry sky, the unknown would always prevail.

Ask too many questions, and you’d lose your mind.

Zhao Meiyou decisively abandoned his train of thought and went to sleep.

His final thought before drifting off was: I hope tomorrow’s partner is a beauty.

The next day, he looked at the burly man in front of him and said with utmost sincerity, “Just kill me already.”

“What?” The headliner of the theatre gave him a bewildered look. “Zhao Meiyou, why are you chasing death so early in the morning?”

“You're an archaeologist too?” Zhao Meiyou rubbed his temples. “Who else that I know is one?”

“No idea.” Headliner shrugged. “The records of archaeologists aren’t public, even within the system. The government doesn’t interfere with us sharing knowledge, but they’re not about to tell you who’s who. It’s every man for himself.”

“Well, do you know—”

“I know about Diao Chan,” Headliner interrupted. “Worked with him before.”

“Do you know anyone else?”

“Nope.”

“Seriously?”

“Nope.” Headliner shot him a glance. “If you don't like that answer, you're welcome to fight.”

Zhao Meiyou decided not to pick a fight. Performers like him always had exceptional skills, and besides, he’d only just managed to escape castration by Old Mr. De not long ago. He wasn’t in a rush to test his luck again.

Diao Chan had mentioned before that entering a ruin was a complicated affair, with methods varying widely depending on the circumstances. Zhao Meiyou had imagined they’d have to step through a doorway in some government building—perhaps a room shrouded in darkness or seething with magnetic fields. Or, he mused, in a more rudimentary fashion, maybe they’d have electrodes stuck to their heads before gulping down a barium drink…

In any case, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

They were now in the 777th level of the Megalopolis. Some levels in the city were strictly off-limits to the public; only authorised personnel knew their true purpose. They’d taken a private hover-lift up here, and the entire floor was eerily deserted.

“The 777th level is the gateway to Ruin A173,” Headliner explained. “This entire floor serves as the entry point.”

They stood at the edge of the rooftop. The city stretched so high into the sky that the lower levels disappeared into an endless void. The divide between the Middle District and the Upper District was marked by a massive layer of holographic glass. At the moment, it displayed an enormous expanse of water, with golden-red koi darting between the eaves. From their vantage point, it looked like a crystal-clear pool suspended mid-air. But for the residents of the Middle District, that water’s surface was their entire sky.

And deep beneath that water lay the sea—a place of perpetual darkness, where the light of day never reached. That was his distant, flickering homeland.

Zhao Meiyou plopped down, letting his legs dangle over the edge. “So, how do we get in?”

“Jump,” Headliner replied.

“What the hell?”

“Jump.” Headliner repeated himself. “Literally. Archaeologists jump from here, and they don’t die. See the holographic glass down there at the 660th level? Just before we hit it, we’ll vanish into thin air and drop straight into Ruin A173.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it.” Zhao Meiyou lit a cigarette. “But now I’m curious—how do you get into the other ruins?”

“There’s a solid gold garbage bin in the municipal building—stick your head into the opening, and you’ll find yourself inside Ruin A79. Then there’s a well in the Middle District; officially, they claim it’s full of nuclear waste, but inside lives a peculiar species of fish with human faces. Eat one raw, and you’ll access Ruin S24. I think there’s another entrance somewhere in a restroom on one of the floors... Oh, and the famous floating railway in the Lower District—there’s an abandoned train parked on it.”

“What the hell?” Zhao Meiyou looked startled. “But wasn’t that train gutted and turned into a street?” His apartment was right along that track!

“You have to go to the front of the train,” the headliner explained. “There’s a brake lever that only appears on rainy days. And the most important condition: you can’t be wearing underwear when you pull it.”

“Is there any way to do this that’s, I don’t know, remotely normal?”

“Oh, cut the act. That look on your face tells me you’re itching to try them all.” The headliner, knowing full well what kind of person Zhao Meiyou was, paused for effect before continuing. “Ruins come in many forms. Usually, after a few attempts, beginners figure out which type suits them best and stick to that. Most archaeologists spend their entire careers exploring just one type of ruin. Diao Chan’s a prime example.”

“Is there some kind of guidebook for ruins?”

“There isn’t. It’s not public information. The government doesn’t stop archaeologists from sharing notes with each other, but they won’t tell you all the ruins that exist—you’re on your own.” The headliner added, “Usually, each archaeologist knows a different set of ruins. But there’s one ruin that’s common knowledge in the field.”

Zhao Meiyou asked, “Which one?”

The headliner silently pointed upward.

In Megalopolis, that gesture—almost like offering a reverent prayer to the heavens—could only mean one place.

The 990th floor, the very pinnacle of Megalopolis.

Among everyone Zhao Meiyou knew, even someone as privileged as Diao Chan had no idea what lay at the city’s peak.

The headliner suddenly asked him, “Have you ever been to the first floor?”

The first floor—the very bottom of Megalopolis, where the city was first built.

“I’ve been there. It’s pitch dark,” Zhao Meiyou replied. “The lower levels are buried under all sorts of foundational power systems. They say the entire city runs on them.”

“Did you see any escalators?” The headliner drew a diagonal line through the air with his finger. “Not the sealed vertical lifts, but the kind of escalator where you can take in the view.”

Zhao Meiyou thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“There’s a rumour among archaeologists,” headliner said, “that somewhere in Megalopolis, there exists an escalator that stretches from the first floor all the way to the 990th. From it, one can see the cross-section of the entire city. But the only entrance to it lies at the very bottom. Only by venturing deep can one hope to find it. Among archaeologists, it's known as the Heavenly Gate.”

, vast and boundless, solemnly expansive, to host the feast.

The stars linger above, with falling light filling the skies, shining upon the purple canopy, and pearls glimmering in golden hues.

Its grand halls are painted with vermilion, its chambers built of stone, adorned with jade-tipped dancers who sing and sway, their motions eternal as the horizon.

“This is a ruin every archaeologist has heard of—Ruin No. 000. But no one has ever set foot inside,” the theatre headliner said, gazing into the distance.

Zhao Meiyou followed headliner’s gaze and saw several enormous golden statues. They were part of the Upper District’s cultural architecture project, a construction endeavour that had spanned a century and still remained unfinished.

The largest of the statues stretched across hundreds of floors. It was said that during its crafting, gold leaf of extraordinary purity was used. Often, fine gold dust would drift down from above, like the gentlest of solar rains. Children, clutching washed porcelain bowls, would gather the falling specks, believing it brought the blessing of light.

“Alright, time to go,” headliner said suddenly, clapping Zhao Meiyou on the shoulder. The cigarette butt slipped from his fingers as a powerful force struck him head-on—

The headliner had kicked him straight off the edge.