Volume Three, Chapter Four: Old Zhou's Musical Past

Zhang Xiaowai sat before the night market barbecue stall, gnawing on a cold lamb skewer, his gaze unfocused as it drifted to the silver tuning fork he'd retrieved from the theater's underground sound chamber. It looked like an ordinary piece of metal, but in his hand, it felt like a singing dagger. Whenever he subtly swayed it, a low hum emanated from it, like the lingering echoes of the Sound of Ulong. He could still feel the faint tremor it imparted, a whisper of its hidden power, making his skin prickle with an unsettling awareness.

Across from him sat Liu Piaopiao, her deer-antler hat still dusted with traces of theater grime. Her flashlight lay casually on the table, a triumphant trophy from their recent escapade. "This tuning fork is absolutely a key!" she declared, her eyes narrowing in intense focus as if she could already discern the intricate frequencies within the metal. "Just like the metaphorical symbols in the Codex incident, it can trigger hidden clues!" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "It vibrates with a resonance that feels… deliberate. Almost like it's waiting to be played."

Tang Xiaotang, ever the chronicler, had her phone already set up, recording everything. She chewed thoughtfully on a flatbread, murmuring between bites, "Mysterious tuning fork plus a missing persons case—this lead is incredibly exciting! I've already conceived the title for our special documentary: Soundwave Homicide." She adjusted her camera, imagining the dramatic opening shot, the tuning fork glinting under the glare of their makeshift lamps.

Zhang Xiaowai took a bite of his skewer, about to retort with a sarcastic remark, when he was abruptly interrupted by a sudden wave of dizziness from his Ulong Halo. It wasn't the usual faint hum; this was a sharp, almost painful surge of energy. He looked up, his eyes widening to see DJ Xiao K, his face flushed with excitement, placing the tuning fork directly in front of his phone's microphone, ready to record. "Xiaowai bro! This frequency is explosive! I can use it to mix a new track, definitely a global hit!" Xiao K's eyes gleamed with the artistic fervor of a mad scientist, already envisioning sold-out concerts and crowds swaying to his beats.

"Mix your head off!" Zhang Xiaowai snatched the tuning fork back, a surge of irritation overriding his dizziness. "This thing can hypnotize people! Something serious could happen if you're not careful!" He clutched the fork tightly, as if protecting a dangerous artifact from an overzealous child. The metallic hum against his palm felt almost sentient, a faint echo of the power it contained.

Just as he was growing increasingly agitated, Liu Piaopiao suddenly slapped the table, making the plastic cutlery jump. "We're going to find Old Zhou!" she announced, her voice resonating with newfound purpose.

"Old Zhou, the cleaner?" Zhang Xiaowai frowned, skepticism etched on his face. He remembered the wizened old man with his mop and philosophical ramblings; it was hard to imagine him as a purveyor of arcane knowledge.

"He knows far more than you think," Liu Piaopiao said with a mysterious smile, a glint in her eye. "Don't forget the Codex incident. He was the one who effortlessly deciphered the shadow symbols. He knows many legends of Ulong City; he might even know the origin of the 'Sound of Ulong'." She remembered the way Old Zhou had casually dropped profound insights, his unassuming demeanor hiding a sharp mind and a deeper understanding of the city's hidden currents.

And so, the group, a whirlwind of newfound determination, rushed back to the office building. Old Zhou was leisurely pushing his mop down the corridor, a small portable speaker clipped to his belt, playing a folk music program from a local radio station. He hummed along, his movements so graceful they resembled a tai chi master sweeping out a symbolic diagram. The rhythmic swish of the mop seemed to complement the gentle melody, creating an unexpected aura of serenity amidst the fluorescent-lit sterility of the office.

Zhang Xiaowai held up the tuning fork. "Grandpa Zhou, do you recognize this thing?" He extended it towards the old man, the silver glinting under the harsh office lights.

Old Zhou glanced at him, his gaze briefly sweeping over the tuning fork, and then he raised an eyebrow, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "You kids got your hands on that thing, did you?" His tone was laced with a knowing amusement, as if he'd been expecting this encounter all along.

Liu Piaopiao's expression instantly turned serious. "You know about it?" she pressed, leaning forward eagerly, her detective instincts on high alert.

Old Zhou sighed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, the rhythmic puffing accompanying his words like a storyteller's cadence. "Ah, the Sound of Ulong… Do you think it's just music? That, my dear children, is the city's 'control frequency.' It can affect brainwaves, invade consciousness… In the depths of Ulong, there was once an organization that tried to control everything with it." He blew a smoke ring that dissolved slowly into the office air, a transient symbol of forgotten histories.

"Control?!" Zhang Xiaowai almost dropped the tuning fork in shock. The idea of a hidden, mind-controlling sound resonated deeply with his recent experiences, making the current bizarre events even more unsettling.

Old Zhou gazed out the window at the towering shadows of the city's buildings, his voice slow and deliberate. "When I was young, I was also part of that organization. We tried to use soundwave control technology to make people more 'obedient.' But then, a technological madman emerged, codenamed 'Phantom Sound.' He stole the control core and even modified the Sound of Ulong, intending to turn everyone in the city into soundwave puppets." The smoke from his cigarette curled upwards, tracing the contours of a dark past.

Tang Xiaotang's hand trembled, almost messing up her recording. "Phantom Sound… So the disappearances, those were his doing?" Her voice was barely a whisper, the gravity of the revelation sinking in.

Old Zhou nodded, a grim line forming on his lips. "He first hid in the abandoned theater. That gramophone and those musical note mechanisms? They were part of his laboratory. Now that you have the tuning fork, it means he might be making his move again."

DJ Xiao K slammed his hand on the table, shouting, "I knew that music wasn't normal! The rhythm was too eerie, completely unsuitable for raving!" He thumped his chest in triumph, as if his musical discernment had single-handedly solved half the mystery.

Zhang Xiaowai pressed his hand to his forehead. "You can still bring this back to raving?!" He couldn't believe the man's unwavering dedication to his club beats even in the face of such dire revelations.

Old Zhou lowered his voice, the casual drone of the civil service radio in the background creating an ironic counterpoint to his serious tone. "If you want to pursue this, you'll have to go to the place where he's been recently spotted—the underground nightclub in the night market. That place was originally an experimental node; Phantom Sound once used it for small-scale tests. If he truly intends to revive his plan, that's his springboard."

"We're going!" Liu Piaopiao exclaimed, almost leaping from her chair, her eyes blazing with the thrill of the chase. This was precisely the kind of high-stakes investigation her detective alter-ego thrived on.

Old Zhou, however, added a crucial detail. "Go through the back entrance. This card can open a hidden passage. I left some backup measures when I was younger. Don't go through the main entrance; it will alert his people." He handed a small, innocuous-looking card to Liu Piaopiao, a faint smile playing on his lips.

With that, he slowly pushed his mop away, leaving behind only a drifting, ethereal warning: "Remember not to listen to that melody for too long; it will melt away your 'self.'" His voice faded into the hum of the office, leaving the team with a chilling sense of foreboding.

Zhang Xiaowai stood frozen in place, staring at the faintly vibrating tuning fork in his hand. He felt his scalp begin to tingle, a familiar sign of his Ulong Halo reacting to the impending danger.

He knew this was no longer just a simple musical mystery. Phantom Sound, the name that had once caused the old organization to crumble, had now resurfaced. His Ulong Halo hummed relentlessly, a low thrum that vibrated deep within him, while the forgotten soundwave battlefield of the underground nightclub awaited their arrival.