Gun of Ashes

The night once again enveloped Old Dunling, and the moonlight could only reveal a slight brightness amidst the gloom, slightly lighting the heavy lead-gray, while in the cold wind, giant steel whales swam in the clouds of the night sky, casting glaring lights that stirred the murky mist.

Hig walked along the foggy street; every winter, the weather in Old Dunling became unbearably wet and cold. Massive steam surged from the underground pipes, with the not-yet-cooled warm air carrying a thin mist, making the cold unavoidable.

His cheeks looked somewhat gaunt, swaying as if he had lost his soul.

This wasn’t really the way home for him. Under the gaze of the streetlights, Hig could hardly endure the restlessness within him, as if another voice whispered in his ear, urging him to step into the sinful abyss.

”Damn it! Damn it!”

Hig suddenly cursed angrily, the pallor of his face showing an intolerable viciousness as he kicked a nearby streetlamp, making clanging sounds. Then Hig seemed to calm down, seeing his unsightly face reflected in the shallow dirty water beneath him.

For a moment, he was stunned, unable to believe that the person in the water was himself. Followed by a painful lament from his throat, he stumbled into the corner of the street, sitting directly next to a pile of trash, gripping his hair tightly and curled up.

Passersby did not cast their eyes on him because there were many like Hig; every day, many people in Old Dunling buckle under pressure, some choosing to leave this suffocating city, while others choose to fall into depravity, making Lower City District their new home.

In the darkness, Hig slowly raised his head, his eyes full of exhaustion, like someone at death’s door.

He was in pain, immense pain.

Actually, unlike Lorenzo’s thoughts, Hig hadn’t been working overtime at the factory for some time; he was fired long ago when the boss caught him using hallucinogens.

The factory was trying to secure the production of a new-style steam tram, competing with several other factories. To firmly take this order, these factories secretly engaged in multiple struggles, including sending journalists to infiltrate the factory to check on the workers’ conditions, followed by suppression in public opinion.

The boss was evidently terrified; not wanting to be caught, he directly dismissed Hig. After all, the official stance on hallucinogens was quite harsh; he didn’t want to lose a fortune over such a trivial matter.

Thus Hig became unemployed, merely because of using hallucinogens, though every mechanician in the factory was using them.

Those mechanicians believed these substances could bring them into a Celestial Kingdom environment, serving as the best relief in the factory’s high-temperature oppressive place.

At first, Hig couldn’t believe it all; he tried to stay but was ruthlessly thrown out by security. He wandered the streets for a long time before stumbling back to Cork Street.

This was a tremendous descent; one moment he was the esteemed mechanician, yet the next he was on the streets. Hig also tried to apply elsewhere, but no one needed a hallucinogen-using mechanician, especially in Old Dunling, where the world’s first steam engine was born. Mechanicians, rare outside, were commonplace here.

This was truly a terrible day.

Hig’s background was not good; he was born into a family that wasn’t affluent. To fulfill his mechanical dreams, Hig worked at a bakery for a long time, using all his savings to buy a train ticket to Old Dunling.

He still remembers that feeling; Hig had leaned out of the train window, watching the scenery rapidly retreating behind, feeling no sorrow for leaving home, rather an uncontrollable joy.

Hig left, seeing the world divided into two parts: the town where he had lived, and beyond the train tracks, a new world, where stray dogs ran gleefully into unknowns he cared nothing about for what was next.

There was nothing to be sad about; although Hig took a train for several days, he felt no fatigue because he knew every second that passed brought him closer to Old Dunling.

He was almost there, to the longed-for place.

Dim fog condensed on the window railing above, not yet hardened droplets fall, the cold touch awakening Hig a bit. Yet upon waking, he once again thought of Mrs. Van Rudd’s face.

Whenever he thought of that fierce yet somewhat kindly face, Hig felt an unprecedented pain.

He felt like a stray dog, hitting cold in the alleys when Mrs. Van Rudd took him in; she wasn’t yet so irritable then, making him the earliest tenant of 121A Cork Street.

To Hig, Mrs. Van Rudd was like family; although she wasn’t particularly kind, she had saved him; without her, Hig would have frozen to death one night.

Thus every time he faced Mrs. Van Rudd, Hig felt an unspeakable guilt, as if he had disappointed her. He didn’t want Mrs. Van Rudd to discover this; he even considered leaving Cork Street, feeling it better to leave without a word than stand shamefully before her.

Slowly standing up, Hig continued walking, suddenly looking up only to find strange street scenes, as if in his haze he had come to a place unfamiliar. But he had lived in Old Dunling for a long time, never imagining he would one day feel strange in this city.