Just as the Replicator had said, a month passed quickly, and there was no further progress in deciphering the diary. Although Tunjiu had moved to a place near my home to make it easier for him to recover his memories, we were still powerless.
Even Xu Fu, who was initially so excited, has stopped coming by. It seems he’s gone off to search for other members of the Immortality Society, and he hasn’t been here in over ten days. John Chou, however, still drops by every day for a drink as usual.
I didn’t tell Rachel Lan anything about what the Replicator said that day. The people who understood these writings have already been exiled to the Shadowwood, and they’re likely extinct. But then I remembered someone.
Jason Zuo, Poison Dreadstar’s first man—but now Poison Dreadstar herself has vanished completely, and she’s probably become a resident of this place, just like us.
I really want to go back to the Shadowwood and take another look, but my strength now is less than a tenth of what it once was. Entering the forest would be dangerous. I’ve talked to John Chou and the others about the forest, but we all agree—there’s no way we’ll find anything there. Those exiled people surviving until now is almost impossible, given the brutal conditions in the forest. The ones I saw had only been exiled for a few centuries at most.
I’ve been distracted these past few days. Things have gotten to this point and we’re powerless, so all we can do is keep living. Just as the Replicator said, time flies—this month, we’ve accomplished nothing.
“What’s wrong, Ethan? If you’re tired, take a few days off.”
I shook my head and kept busy. Actually, keeping myself occupied means I think less, and that’s not so bad.
But being busy doesn’t change what needs to be done.
I’ve considered the worst outcome: living here in the Dark Place with Rachel Lan for the rest of my life, forever, until we forget the past and the future disappears completely. Maybe that’s the worst, but for me, it wouldn’t be so bad.
“Will it really be like this?”
I muttered to myself. From a distance, I saw John Chou heading this way. After entering the shop, he ordered a few things.
“How’s Ms. Yi doing?”
John Chou sighed and shook his head.
“Same as always. Some good food, and wine.”
The people in the shop gradually left—it was closing time again. I went to a table in the corner and carved a new Survival Mark, the sixth one. On this table, used for placing dishes, I’d already carved six Survival Marks.
“Brother, does doing this really mean anything?”
I grunted in response. Back when I was trapped in the Forest of Desire, I did the same thing—found a spot and carved Survival Marks to keep track of time.
“There’ll just be more and more of them.”
I nodded. I knew that even without John Chou saying it.
These Survival Marks will only become more brutal with time—for us.
Rachel Lan might not be able to remember everything now, but when she does, how will she face the past she once had but lost in this Dark Place, and a future with no end in sight?
"I wouldn't be able to take it either. When that time comes, unable to live, unable to die."
I sat down. Lately, this is what we do most—drink and talk.
"Come on, brother, have a drink."
John Chou and I clinked glasses. At that moment, someone walked into the shop, almost dreamlike.
"Boss, want some wine?"
A familiar voice made me widen my eyes—it was Basil Bertram. I stared at him in surprise. He was holding several clear little bottles filled with white liquid.
"Morning Dew Wine. Heh, boss, you’ve never seen this before, right? In the Dark Place..."
In that instant, I grabbed Basil Bertram’s hand, overcome with excitement.
"How is that possible?"
John Chou was just as surprised, staring at the bright white wine Basil Bertram poured from a pale black bottle. Basil immediately opened one and handed it to both of us.
Tasting something so familiar, I nearly cried. John Chou just laughed.
"How much for the good stuff?"
"Customer, this is a new wine we’ve developed. Tastes great, looks rare, right? Five hundred per bottle."
"I’ll buy them all."
I shouted at once, and soon Leah King came in pushing a cart—a whole crate of Morning Dew Wine was brought inside.
It was incredible. This exquisite wine, brewed only by moonlight, had appeared in this world. Judging by Basil Bertram’s expression, he hadn’t remembered yet.
"How about this, boss—I’ll give you ten bottles for free. From now on, I just hope you’ll buy from us."
I nodded, pulled Basil Bertram and Leah King over to sit with me. The father and daughter swallowed, staring at the nearly finished barbecue on the table. I smiled and got up.
"Tonight, with this fine wine, I'll treat you all to a good meal. Let me show you my cooking skills."
Looking at the wine, so rich and glossy, shining under the light—it feels like the only thing worth celebrating in these five months.
The appearance of Morning Dew Wine is like hope for us now. Its gentle glow, like moonlight, is truly delicious. But the real question is, how did Basil Bertram brew it? That’s the key.
"So, how did you brew this? This kind of wine shouldn’t even exist."
"We..."
Basil Bertram was about to say something when Leah King coughed and nudged him with her elbow.
"Trade secret."
John Chou smiled slightly and glanced around.
"This wine of yours is only worth fifty bucks, but you’re selling it to us at ten times the price. Doesn’t that bother your conscience?"
"What are you talking about? My dad and I put a lot of effort into brewing this! It’s delicious—don’t you have taste buds?"
Leah King immediately shouted angrily, but John Chou went on.
"So after all this pushing, have you actually sold a single bottle before today? At this price, how’s a small shop supposed to sell it? You really are heartless merchants."
Basil Bertram just laughed, looking innocent, and Leah King threw her head back and laughed too.
"Our wine sells out fast! Just a few days ago, a boss ordered five hundred bottles. Right, Dad?"
Basil Bertram grunted, and I shook my head helplessly. It looked like getting answers would be tough—the father and daughter weren’t going to talk.
"Alright, enough talking. Let’s eat."
Soon, the father and daughter devoured everything on the table. It seemed they hadn’t had meat in ages—their lives had been hard.
"By the way, where do you live? We’ll need your contact info so we can pick up more next time."
Leah King just laughed.
"Boss Zhang, don’t worry. I’m always running around the streets, and I’ll drop by from time to time. Whenever you need more stock, I’ll deliver it right away."
The father and daughter left happily. Rachel Lan was a little tipsy, so I planned to take her home first. John Chou had already followed. This strange business had to be figured out. After drinking the Morning Dew Wine, both John Chou and I felt our blocked strength returning—our bodies were warm again.
I went back to the shop for a bit. John Chou was already waiting at the door.
"How did it go?"
"We found the place, but there’s probably something wrong with the wine."
I gasped. We opened up the shop, and all the wine had turned black. Most surprising of all, the Morning Dew Wine had lost its flavor—it was just ordinary wine now, even a bit unpleasant.
"Turns out those two are just selling fake wine, haha."
"Don’t joke, John Chou. It’s probably the influence of the dark power that spoiled the wine. Maybe it only lasts a few hours, or maybe..."
"Three hours. The moonlight’s power inside gets swallowed up by the darkness and disappears."
That’s exactly it. The wine’s special pure energy comes from the moonlight of the living world, but how Basil Bertram managed to brew Morning Dew Wine in this place is a mystery.