Chapter 49: Wanglongshan Observatory

In the dim studio, Yin Xiran adjusted her phone’s flashlight, illuminating the diary’s yellowed pages.
Chen Dongyang read softly:

“September 7th, sunny. First week of school, so tiring. Mom scolded me again for not practicing enough…”

Lin Shiyao’s words were raw, filled with a teenager’s struggles.
But as he turned the pages, unease grew.

“Wait,” Yin Xiran said, pointing to jagged edges near the binding.
“Torn pages. More missing than present.”

Chen Dongyang flipped faster, frowning.
The remaining entries felt off.

“September 15th, overcast. Teacher Zhao is kind. He asked what I was thinking while playing…”
“October 3rd, rainy. Choir practice, Teacher Zhao’s hands… I was afraid to look him in the eye.”

“Strange,” Chen Dongyang muttered.
“It’s all… personal.”

“Not a normal teacher-student dynamic,” Yin Xiran said, her sister nodding hesitantly.

Jiang Yuxin kicked Chen Dongyang’s shoe.
“Next page.”

“There’s nothing left,” he said, shrugging.

“Then the next diary,” she ordered coldly.

He opened Zhao Haoyu’s black-covered diary, its neat entries starkly normal:

“September 20, 2004. Sunny. Lin Shiyao is talented but needs supervision…”
“October 12, 2004. Overcast. Argued with Principal Zhang. His bureaucracy disgusts me…”
“December 7, 2004. Heavy rain. We won the city competition. Lin Shiyao is a genius…”
“April 15, 2005. Cloudy. Lin Shiyao’s losing focus. Adolescent issues? Family pressure? I should guide her…”

“It’s too normal,” Yin Qingle whispered, uneasy, glancing at the room’s filth and Zhao’s gentle photo.
“Doesn’t seem like a bad person.”

“Too clean,” Yin Xiran said, eyes narrowing.
“Either he’s hiding a split personality, or this diary’s a performance to look innocent.”

Jiang Yuxin stayed silent, her gaze sharp on the pristine handwriting.
Its normality was the anomaly.

Chen Dongyang flipped faster, finding blanks after Lin Shiyao’s disappearance.
As he closed the diary, a folded, ragged paper fell out.

He unfolded it, revealing cold, typed text:

The final chapter of the sacrifice is near. When the echoes of the past reach the top of the city, the apostles of the gospel will break free from the cocoon and, amid the sleep of the masses, play the first ray of morning light for the new world.
—September 24th, midnight. Summit of the Nanjiang River. My angel will truly descend.

“Tomorrow,” Chen Dongyang read aloud, stunned.

“The top of Nanjiang…” Yin Qingle gripped her sister’s arm, trembling at the memory of the “angel.”
“Where’s that?”

Yin Xiran pulled up a 3D map on her tablet.
“Nanjiang TV Tower, 428 meters, has an observation deck, but it’s restricted.”

“There’s another,” Jiang Yuxin said, staring northwest through the grimy window at a green silhouette under the gray sky.
“Wanglong Mountain Observatory. Higher, 576 meters, isolated. Perfect for privacy.”

Yin Xiran checked her tablet, nodding grimly.
“Old observatory’s abandoned, minimal surveillance. It fits.”