Conan: About the fact that I have a black brother

The vehicle was like a slowly crawling giant beast, struggling to climb over the winding and rugged mountain road.

As the terrain gradually rose, the surrounding scenery became more desolate and dilapidated. The prosperous and lively scene at the foot of the mountain had long disappeared, replaced by a bleak and lonely scene.

The villa on the top of the mountain in the distance is looming in the hazy mist, like a mysterious castle hidden in the mountains.

Gin drove the car slowly closer and finally stopped steadily at the door.

He stared at the rusty iron lock in front of him with indifference, raised the pistol in his hand without hesitation, aimed at the keyhole and pulled the trigger. The gunshot with a silencer seemed particularly low, with only a slight muffled sound. Then, the iron lock fell to the ground weakly, making a dull thumping sound.

Gin raised his foot expressionlessly and kicked hard at the tightly closed iron door.

With a shrill "creak", the iron gate slowly opened, as if welcoming the arrival of the uninvited guest.

Gin stepped into the courtyard where weeds grew wildly to half a person's height.

The branches of the old trees in the yard grew wildly and tangled in a disorganized manner, and no one had taken care of them for a long time.

It is already late autumn, but the trees still retain their rich green color, as if unwilling to succumb to the change of seasons. On the thick trunks, grooves of varying depths are clearly visible, as if telling of the fierce battles that once took place here.

Gin stretched out his hand and easily grasped a branch as thick as his fist, then shook it a few times with a little force.

The leaves rustled, as if welcoming the visitors.

The tattered rattan chair under the tree had long been rotten and could not withstand the erosion of time and the baptism of wind and rain.

Gin tentatively stepped on it with his foot, and with a crisp "crack" sound, three vines of the chair broke instantly and scattered to the side, just like the past time, fragile and vulnerable to any attack.

Gin didn't know what he was thinking about, and the hostility around him gradually dissipated. He walked slowly towards the door, took out a copper key from his pocket, and inserted it into the keyhole. The keyhole was a little rusty, so Gin increased his strength a little, but was afraid that the key would be broken inside. When he turned the key carefully, the door lock made a crisp click.

The door lock made a slight "click" sound, announcing that it had been successfully opened.

Gin stood quietly in front of the simple and heavy mahogany door, and an indescribable emotion surged in his heart - homesickness. This feeling was rare for a cold-blooded man like him, but it was so real at the moment.

He narrowed his eyes slightly and took a deep breath, almost imperceptibly, as if to take in this familiar yet strange breath. Then, he slowly raised his hand and gently pushed the door. As the door moved, the light outside the door flowed into the house like a golden stream along the gradually widening gap in the door.

The dust that had been deposited for a long time seemed to sense the disturbance from the outside world, and began to dance and float in the air. They intertwined with the light coming in, forming dim halos that hovered in the air like a dream, adding a touch of mystery to the entire room.

Gin stepped into the room, and it seemed as if he was stepping on the traces of time. He felt the switch position with his childhood memory, and after a light "click", the light instantly filled the whole room. However, the scene in front of him made him frown slightly.

The once bright red Persian carpet has now lost its former luster. It is covered with thick dust, and the original bright color has become dull and lifeless, like dried blood; the leather sofa looks even more shabby, and the years have left countless fine lines on its surface, as if telling stories of the past.

He had no intention of staying in this place and quickly climbed up to the second floor along the exquisite carved stairs.

Arriving at the room in the middle, Gin reached out and grasped the door handle and turned it gently. With a slight "click", the door opened.

What came into view was an empty room. The places where the bed, desk and wardrobe should have been placed were now empty, leaving only loneliness and desolation.

Gin's eyes dimmed slightly, as if there was a trace of loss in his eyes, but he quickly concealed it. He quietly left the room and opened the door opposite.

As expected, there was nothing inside, without a trace of people, and even the air was filled with a cold and deserted smell without any sense of worldly affairs.

Gin had expected all this when he handed over the villa to someone else. A look of boredom appeared on his face and he turned and walked towards the stairs.

When he stood at the stairs, his deep, dark eyes involuntarily looked towards the stairs leading to the third floor.

For him, that place had always been an absolute restricted area. It was the only place in the entire villa where he was not allowed to set foot.

Thinking of this, Gin couldn't help but grit his teeth, a slightly sarcastic sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth, then he stepped on the stairs without hesitation and walked upstairs step by step.

The walls around the corridor were covered with murals, but Gin had no interest in appreciating them. He walked straight to the door of the room, looked at the brass door handle, reached his left hand into his pocket, and felt the familiar outline. He felt a little relieved - although he didn't know why he felt uneasy - and held the handle with his right hand and pressed it lightly.

Unexpectedly, he heard the sound of a lock being unlocked.

Those past events that were once buried by time came to my mind like a tide, like an old tree in the courtyard, with its branches growing wildly.

The unwillingness he felt in his youth now filled every corner of his heart like a blazing flame, becoming the most unforgettable emotion at this moment.

He opened the door somewhat roughly.

There was no light on in the room, and the curtains were not drawn. It was pitch black, but Gin was still able to see the general layout of the room with his excellent night vision.

Unlike his and Cointreau's obviously empty room that had been searched, this room was furnished with signs of life.

Gin searched for a while and turned on the light.

There was a thick wool blanket on the double bed, a few yellowed books on the desk in front of the bed, a chair was placed next to the table, and on the table opposite the chair were a few yellowed white papers with pencil handwriting on them. The notes were childish, but there were sharp comments next to them.

Gin took a look and confirmed something.

In front of the book stand was an uncapped pen. Gin picked it up and scribbled a few times but couldn't write anything. He put the pen in his pocket and picked up a stack of papers sandwiched in the book stand. The handwriting on the papers was very flamboyant. Gin could only make out his own name and couldn't understand the rest.

He flipped through the pages one by one. The last page did not contain any long text, only a line of clearly symmetrical short sentences.

[It is difficult to travel, it is difficult to travel, there are many forks in the road, where are you now?]

Gin still didn't understand, but he clearly felt that the handwriting on this copy was much neater. He folded the paper thoughtfully and put it in his pocket.

He remembered what he had learned from Jundu, so he would ask him when he had a chance.

Gin pulled out his chair so he could open the drawer.

The mahogany desk did not deform, and Gin easily opened the drawer, revealing two magazines and a tarnished Beretta.

The drawer couldn't be pulled out completely, so Gin reached in and soon pulled out a plate of half-eaten white pills and a rusty key.

Gin stared at the key in his palm, and for a moment he couldn't figure out which door this key opened.

He rummaged through the drawers and cabinets in the room, but was reluctant to mess up even the slightest bit. After digging the room three feet deep, Gin still didn't find anything strange.

He retreated to the door, and in the dim light, Gin vaguely saw a person sitting at a desk, looking towards him in the direction of the voice, with a puzzled smile on his face but without any impatience.

Gin closed the door and walked down the stairs. His dark figure seemed to have traveled through time and space, and at a certain moment, he overlapped with someone...

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It brings up some old memories, but it doesn’t matter much, it’s just a prelude.