Chapter 53: Observatory
Jiang Yuxin walked in front, not fast, and every step was extremely steady.
This path had clearly been abandoned for far too long.
Many of the solid stone steps were cracked or loose, and slippery moss covered much of the surface, requiring extreme caution when walking.
Weeds and shrubs grew wildly on both sides, squeezing the already narrow path even further.
Thorny vines occasionally crossed the path, like malicious traps.
The higher they climbed, the dimmer the light grew.
Tall trees, lush with branches and leaves, formed a dense, impenetrable net above them, shattering the already gloomy sky.
The surroundings were eerily quiet, the only sounds being the rustling of fallen leaves and gravel as they stepped, and Yin Qingle’s slightly rapid breathing, strained by nervousness and exhaustion.
The mountain air was moist and cool, carrying a strong scent of grass, trees, and earth.
For those accustomed to city life, this should have been a refreshing experience, but in this oppressive atmosphere, it only felt eerie.
The origin of the name Wanglong Mountain is now difficult to verify.
Based on scattered records in the Nanjiang local chronicles, two widely circulated theories hold true.
One narrates that a frustrated scholar in ancient times sought shelter in this mountain during a torrential downpour.
Blurred by his drunken eyes, he saw the distant mountains undulating amidst clouds and lightning, their shape resembling a giant dragon lurking in the abyss.
Marveling, he named the mountain “Wanglong.”
Another explanation is more straightforward.
Decades ago, before Nanjiang City experienced its current rapid development, this mountain, with its relatively isolated altitude and expansive summit, was a prime spot for residents to ascend and admire the sunrise and sea of clouds.
From the summit, the city’s development resembled a vast, uninterrupted dragon, hence the name.
No matter which statement is true, it proves that this place was once a scenic spot that carried people’s leisure and beautiful vision.
But now, everything has changed.
After walking for about twenty minutes, they came to a corner of the path, where a half-ruined wooden pavilion appeared.
Its roof had collapsed, and several supporting wooden pillars were rotten beyond recognition.
It was covered in various indistinct, painted inscriptions like “XXX was here,” along with even more colorful and vulgar graffiti.
“Let’s… take a break?” Yin Qingle suggested softly, holding her knees.
Fine beads of sweat had already seeped out of her forehead, and she was obviously exhausted.
Jiang Yuxin had no objection, or in fact, she was tired earlier than Yin Qingle, but she just didn’t say anything.
Chen Dongyang nodded, walked over to a relatively clean rock next to the pavilion, sat down, and took a bottle of water from his backpack, handing it to Yin Qingle and Jiang Yuxin.
He unscrewed a bottle himself and took a few swigs.
His eyes fell on the equally weathered sign beside the pavilion.
The writing on it was faded, but you could still vaguely make out “Wanglong Mountain Observatory” and an arrow pointing to the mountaintop.
“Come to think of it, this place used to be a very popular tourist attraction,” Chen Dongyang said, trying to break the depressing atmosphere.
Yin Xiran walked to the sign and used her ability to wipe off the thick layer of dust and moss on it, revealing a more detailed introduction in small print underneath.
“Wanglong Mountain Observatory, founded in the 1970s, was once one of the most important astronomical observatories in the southeastern region of the Dongxia Alliance,” she read softly.
“Not only did it undertake scientific research, but its unique spherical dome also became a landmark in Nanjiang City, attracting countless astronomy enthusiasts and tourists.”
“Then why was it abandoned later?” Yin Qingle paused for a moment and asked curiously.
“If you can’t keep up with the times, you will naturally be abandoned,” Jiang Yuxin said indifferently, but did not go into details.
A native of Nanjiang, Chen Dongyang hesitated for a moment before explaining, “About twenty years ago, the municipal government began constructing a new scenic highway and viewing platform on the mountainside, which diverted tourists.
Then, a multinational-funded astronomical observation center was built in a neighboring city, boasting more advanced equipment and technology.
Naturally, the old observatory lost its scientific value and was completely abandoned.”
“Multinational group?” Yin Xiran blinked.
“Oh, that’s AOSA… Wait, you must have heard of it,” Chen Dongyang said with an expression of disbelief.
Hearing this, Yin Xiran raised her finger and poked him in anger.
“How is that possible?
Do you think we are primitive people?”
AOSA, short for “Association for Astronomical Observation and Space Safety,” is a rather awkward name, but it’s actually a massive, multinational organization dedicated to advancing humanity’s space program and cutting-edge technology, akin to a charitable organization.
Ambitious projects like the “Star Ladder Project” and the “Deep Sea Cradle,” which have been much talked about in recent years, were all driven by this organization, working with various countries.
Jiang Yuxin was not interested in these things, so she didn’t know much about them.
After a short rest, the four continued to climb upwards.
The closer they got to the top of the mountain, the harder the path became.
In some sections, the stone steps were completely buried by the landslide, and they had no choice but to climb over the slippery mud slope using their hands and feet.
Yin Qingle had the least stamina and nearly slipped several times, but thankfully Chen Dongyang followed closely behind her and reached out to catch her in time.
Yin Xiran, on the other hand, walked in front, occasionally encountering thick vines or fallen tree trunks blocking her path.
She would simply raise her hand, and the obstacles would break or move away in an unnatural way, clearing a path for those behind her.
Jiang Yuxin walked last, her expression calm and her eyes deep as the abyss.
Only the beads of sweat on her forehead revealed that her current condition was not as she appeared.
Chen Dongyang also noticed this and looked back from time to time to check on her condition, ready to help her if she became exhausted.
But how could Jiang Yuxin give him such an opportunity?
When it was completely dark and the last ray of light was swallowed by the horizon, they finally finished the long and difficult mountain road and stepped onto the open plain on the top of the mountain.
A damp, cold mountain breeze blew in their faces, rustling fallen leaves.
The chirping of insects around them had completely died away, replaced by a heart-wrenching silence.
In front of them, the building that had been abandoned for many years stood silently under the night sky like a giant beast lurking in the darkness.
The main structure was a three-story, white cylindrical building, its walls peeling across large areas, revealing the dark concrete structure beneath, like ugly scars.
Atop the building sat a massive, spherical dome, which should have been pure white.
But now, its surface was covered in spiderweb-like cracks and dark-green mold.
One side even had a large, irregular hole.
From a distance, it looked like a giant eyeball with a shattered eye socket, staring blankly at the leaden night sky.
Scattered around the main building were several even lower ancillary buildings, all in a dilapidated state, with doors and windows wide open and dark, as if something would burst out at any moment.
The entire mountaintop was shrouded in a desolate and dead silence, as if it had been forgotten and isolated from the world.