同章对照

Ryan always did science in his underwear.

Clothes embodied society’s restrictions upon the human spirit, the crushing power of civilization attempting to make the individual fit into the mold. But by being mostly naked, Ryan reconnected with his creativity, unbound by conformity; while his boxers represented his lingering attachment to his mental stability, preventing him from going completely off the rails. The one time Ryan had worked completely naked, he ended up building his rabbit plushie.

Also, his boxers felt comfy and warm. Len had made them for him, years ago.

Having rented a hotel room near the city center, Ryan spent the early morning splitting his time between researching information about New Rome and improving his gadgets. The receptionist had given Quicksave a strange glance upon seeing him move upstairs with his hands full of weapons, but didn’t call the Private Security. Masked strangers were nothing unusual in this city.

Of course, Ryan took the time to hack the bedroom’s camera to protect his secret identity, and to avoid panic. He had a lot of unsafe stuff in his arsenal.

Resting on a chair, Ryan typed on his computer with his toes—a skill he spent many loops mastering— while he worked on his coil gun with his hands. The client had wired him his money for yesterday’s delivery, with compliments for Ghoul’s arrest, although the courier didn't care much. The job was just an excuse to travel across Italy, looking for new adventures.

Though he had put his endless wandering on hold, once he heard Len might be in New Rome.

From what Renesco had told him, he should go to Rust Town for information; according to the local Dynanet, that was the nickname given to New Rome's poor northwest neighborhood. The corporations controlling the city had put all the industrial plants there, turning the area into a dumpster. They had even built a wall to prevent vagrants from moving into the other districts.

According to the receptionist, the ‘Junkyard’ was a landmark of that area, an old coal mine transformed into an open landfill. Many rogue Geniuses and adventurers exchanged stuff there. Maybe Len was among them.

Someone knocked on his bedroom window.

Ryan glanced at it, a woman waving her hand at him from the other side. “Hi,” she said. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Ryan’s room was on floor ten, and it had no fire exit.

“Hey!” Ryan grabbed his mask and put it on, alongside the hat. “You’re violating my secret identity!”

“You don’t have one, Ryan Romano,” the woman replied, raising an eyebrow. “And according to your file, you never did anything to hide it.”

“I have a file?” Ryan asked, overtaken by happiness. “I’m famous! How am I described?”

“Deranged, but reliable.’” Sweet! They got him halfway right! The flying woman eyed him from head to toe through the glass. “Don’t you intend to put on your other clothes?”

Ryan chuckled. “No.”

He would always stand against oppressors.

The personal space invader responded with a frown, knocking on the window again, albeit with a bit more frustration than before. “Can you…”

Ryan rose from his chair to open the window with one hand, and kept the coil gun aimed at the newcomer with the other.

Now that he had a better view, Ryan immediately recognized the woman, having seen her on a publicity board yesterday. She was floating in midair thanks to translucent dragonfly wings flapping at high speed on her back, her hands on her waist. This made her look as graceful as a fairy, especially since unlike bugs she made no sound while hovering in place.

“I’m Wyvern,” the show-off introduced herself. She wore a sleeveless, skintight white uniform with Dynamis’ D-shaped logo on the left, and a silver star surrounded by golden laurel on the right. She was probably between her mid-twenties and early thirties, and quite the eye-catcher. “I wanted to thank you for Ghoul’s arrest yesterday.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

Then Ryan started to close the window.

“Hey, wait!” Wyvern caught the window and kept it open; Ryan had heard she could bench press a school bus even while partially transformed, so he didn’t press the issue. “What are you doing in town, Quicksave? Can I call you Quicksave?”

“Sure.” Ryan then shrugged. “I’m a courier, I deliver mail. No matter how many people want me dead!”

“So the Augusti didn’t hire you as muscle?” the superheroine asked, a bit amused by his last comment. “The place you defended was one of their fronts. I figured they might have hired you to defend their turf from the Meta-Gang.”

“Nah, I beat that geriatric disaster because he was in the way of completing my side quest.” Wyvern made a strange face, unable to understand his jargon. The Genome Wars had all but destroyed the video game sector, making Ryan feel very alone. “Oh, by the way, have you heard of a girl my age called Len? Black hair, blue eyes, Marxist-Leninist?”

“Marxist-Leninist?” Wyvern’s frown deepened. “You mean communists? Those guys still exist?”

“I know that’s probably a dirty word in this city of unbridled capitalism, but yes.”

“No, never heard of her.” The superheroine shook her head. “But I can look at our files. Is that why you are in New Rome? Looking for her?”

“Oh yes, she’s beautiful and kind and she’s my best friend!” Ryan couldn’t help but gush about her. "I've been looking for her since forever!"

“I’ll help if I can,” Wyvern replied with a smile. “Actually, I believe I can help you a great deal.”

Oh.

Here comes the recruitment offer...

“I belong to a group called Il Migliore,” Wyvern said, confirming Ryan’s suspicions. “You’ve probably heard of us.”

Il Migliore. A bunch of corporate superheroes who were the official protectors of New Rome, and modern celebrities. Of course, they were also on Dynamis’ payroll, who owned their image, merchandising rights, and told them whom to fight. Nothing like Leo Hargraves’ Carnival.

Now those were real, pro-bono superheroes, wandering knights style! Ryan couldn’t help but admire them, even if they had caused the worst day of his life.

“We’re always on the lookout for new talents, and while you have a… reputation for collateral damage… you possess an extremely useful superpower, and as far as we know you haven’t dabbled into reprehensible enterprises, nor closely associated with wanted criminals.” Poor girl, if only she knew. “Since you stopped Ghoul before he could go on a killing spree, I think you have your heart in the right place.”

“So what, you want me to audition for a movie or something? Because I've only ever tried theater once, and it wasn’t funny.”

Wyvern laughed. “I wish we did fewer commercials and more arrests,” she admitted, Ryan sensing a little bitterness in her tone. “But we do our best to protect citizens. Come visit our HQ, see if you match with our organization. After that stunt with Ghoul, you’ll need people to have your back.”

“I can take care of myself, thanks,” Ryan replied, a bit insulted that she thought he needed coddling.

“Look, Quicksave, the Meta aren’t reasonable like the Augusti,” she insisted. “They are a roving band of Psychos, and you’ve beat up one of their own. Their boss, Adam, eats people.”

“Then he must have a lot on his plate!”

Wyvern didn’t like the joke, her smile straining and her wings slowing down a bit.

“Alright, alright,” Ryan said. “I’ll think about it if I ever get sidetracked on my main quest.”

The superheroine frowned, looking sideways. Ryan suddenly noticed an earplug in her left ear, although he couldn’t hear anything.

“Understood,” Wyvern said, although not to Ryan, before handing the courier a business card. “If you change your mind, visit us at this address.”

“Sure.”

“Take care.”

And on these words, Wyvern flew away. Her wings moved so fast it became impossible for the human eye to notice them. Yet they made no sound either, except for the wind they produced. She was gone within the blink of an eye, moving north and accelerating until she reached near supersonic speed.

The sound frequency of her wings must have been inaudible to humans, or run on abnormal physics; everything was possible with Genomes. The courier memorized that observation for later.

Finally alone, Ryan closed the window and returned to his task. But no sooner did he sit back in his chair, that he received a vocal communication demand on his computer. The Genome immediately recognized the caller as the same person who ordered the Renesco delivery.

He lazily opened the vocal channel with his left toe. “Quicksave Deliveries, what can I do for you?”

“What did the bitch tell you?” an encrypted voice on the other end answered.

Ryan raised an eyebrow behind his mask. “Wait, am I being spied on?”

“Few places are off the grid in New Rome.”

Note to self: find a more discreet hotel next loop. “I’m pretty sure the last person who used that line didn’t encrypt their voice. Who are you, creepy mystery voice?”

“My name is Vulcan,” the caller answered. “I represent the Augusti. We are the organization that runs things in New Rome, and most of Italy.”

“I thought it was Dynamis?” Ryan deadpanned.

“That’s what they say,” the voice laughed. “But Italy only has one emperor, and his name is Augustus.”

Hard to disagree, the guy was invincible and could shoot homing lightning. He had more victims to his name than the cigarette.

“You have our thanks for saving our employee from that Meta trash,” Vulcan said. “All this to say, whatever the winged lizard promised you, we can offer more.”

“Is it an offer you can’t refuse, or an offer-offer? ‘Cause I’m allergic to horses.”

“We need tough people who get things done,” Vulcan replied. “You want women or boys? New hardware, good weapons? Enough Bliss to fly you to the moon? All that shit can be yours… if you prove you’re a team player.”

“And how do I do that?”

An email notification popped up, indicating an address. Ryan quickly checked, identifying the location as a casino called the Bakuto. “We own the establishment,” Vulcan explained. “Come tonight, alone, and don’t make us wait. We never ask twice.”

Ryan ended the call, pondering about the offers. Phew, you beat up one guy—showing extreme restraint and delicateness by your usual standards—and suddenly everyone wanted a piece of you.

Then again, either group could help him find Len, and he had created a save point before coming to town.

That could only mean one thing.

“Multiple routes unlocked!”

瑞恩做科研时，一向只穿内裤。

衣服象征着社会对人类精神的束缚，象征着文明那压倒一切、企图将每个个体都塞进模子的力量。而只要脱得差不多了，瑞恩就能重新找回创造力，不再受循规蹈矩的束缚；平角内裤则代表着他对精神稳定尚存的一丝眷恋，不至于让他彻底脱轨。瑞恩唯一一次光着身子干活，最后就造出了那只兔子毛绒玩偶。

再说，他的平角内裤穿着又舒服又暖和。那是多年前蕾恩给他做的。

在市中心附近租下一间旅馆客房后，瑞恩一大早便开始忙活，一边搜集新罗马的资料，一边改进自己的小玩意儿。前台接待员看见快存抱着一大堆武器上楼，古怪地打量了他一眼，却没有叫私人安保。在这座城市，戴面具的陌生人并不稀奇。

当然，瑞恩还是抽空入侵了客房里的摄像头，好保护自己的秘密身份，也免得引发恐慌。他的武器库里有不少危险的东西。

瑞恩坐在椅子上，用脚趾在电脑上打字——这门本事，他花了许多个循环才掌握——双手则同时在改装线圈枪。委托人已经把昨天那单送货的报酬汇了过来，还夸赞了他帮忙逮捕食尸鬼的事，不过快递员并不怎么在意。这份工作不过是个借口，好让他跑遍意大利，寻找新的冒险。

不过，一听说蕾恩可能在新罗马，他就暂且停下了那永无止境的漂泊。

照雷内斯科的说法，他应该去锈镇打听消息；当地的迪纳网上说，那是新罗马西北部贫困街区的绰号。掌控这座城市的各大公司把所有工厂都设在那里，将那一带变成了垃圾场。他们甚至还修了道墙，防止流浪汉进入其他城区。

据前台接待员说，“废料场”是那一带的地标，原本是一座老煤矿，后来被改成了露天垃圾场。不少不受管束的天才和冒险者会在那里交换东西。也许蕾恩就在其中。

有人敲响了他房间的窗户。

瑞恩瞥了一眼，一个女人正在窗外向他招手。“嗨，”她说，“能聊一会儿吗？”

瑞恩的房间在十楼，而且没有消防逃生口。

“喂！”瑞恩抓起面具戴上，又扣上礼帽。“你这是在侵犯我的秘密身份！”

“你没有秘密身份，瑞恩·罗马诺，”女人挑起一边眉毛，答道，“而且据你的档案记载，你从没做过什么来掩饰身份。”

“我还有档案？”瑞恩喜出望外地问，“我出名了！上面怎么形容我的？”

“精神不正常，但很可靠。”太棒了！他们说对了一半！会飞的女人隔着玻璃，将他从头到脚打量了一遍。“你不打算把其他衣服穿上吗？”

瑞恩轻笑一声。“不打算。”

他永远都会反抗压迫者。

这位私人空间入侵者皱起眉头，又敲了敲窗户，只是这回比先前多了几分烦躁。“你能不能……”

瑞恩从椅子上站起来，一手打开窗户，另一手依然用线圈枪对准来客。

现在看得更清楚了，瑞恩立刻认出了这个女人，昨天他才在广告牌上见过她。她双手叉腰，靠着背后高速振动的半透明蜻蜓翅膀悬浮在空中。这让她显得像仙子一般优雅，尤其是她与昆虫不同，悬停时全无声响。

“我是双足飞龙，”这个爱显摆的女人自我介绍道。她穿着一身白色无袖紧身制服，左侧是迪纳米斯的D形标志，右侧则是一颗银星，周围环绕着金色月桂。她大约二十五六到三十出头，很是惹眼。“昨天抓住食尸鬼，多亏了你。我想来道个谢。”

“噢，不客气。”

然后瑞恩就开始关窗。

“哎，等等！”双足飞龙抓住窗户，不让他关上；瑞恩听说过，她哪怕只进行部分变形，也能卧推一辆校车，于是便没再较劲。“你来这城里干什么，快存？我可以叫你快存吗？”

“当然。”瑞恩随即耸了耸肩。“我是快递员，负责送邮件。不管有多少人想要我的命！”

“所以奥古斯蒂没雇你当打手？”超级女英雄问道，他最后那句话让她觉得有点好笑。“你保护的那地方，是他们用来打掩护的产业之一。我还以为他们雇了你，来防着超能帮抢地盘。”

“没有，我揍那个老不死的祸害，是因为他妨碍我完成支线任务。”双足飞龙露出古怪的表情，听不懂他的行话。基因者战争几乎摧毁了电子游戏产业，搞得瑞恩倍感孤独。“哦，对了，你听说过一个叫蕾恩的女孩吗？跟我差不多大，黑头发，蓝眼睛，马克思列宁主义者？”

“马克思列宁主义者？”双足飞龙的眉头皱得更紧了。“你是说共产主义者？那帮人还存在？”

“我知道，在这座资本主义横行无忌的城市里，这多半是个脏词，不过没错。”

“没有，没听说过她。”超级女英雄摇了摇头。“不过我可以查查我们的档案。你就是为这个来的新罗马？为了找她？”

“啊，对啊，她又漂亮又善良，还是我最好的朋友！”一提起她，瑞恩就忍不住赞不绝口。“我都找了她不知道多久了！”

“能帮上忙的话，我会帮你的，”双足飞龙微笑着答道，“其实，我觉得我能帮你很大的忙。”

哦。

招募邀请来了……

“我隶属于一个叫至优者的组织，”双足飞龙说道，证实了瑞恩的猜测，“你应该听说过我们。”

至优者。一群企业旗下的超级英雄，新罗马的官方守护者，也是当代明星。当然，给他们发薪水的同样是迪纳米斯。集团掌握着他们的形象权和周边商品开发权，还指派他们该去对付谁。他们和利奥·哈格雷夫斯的嘉年华完全不是一回事。

那帮人才是真正的超级英雄，无偿行侠仗义，走的是游侠骑士的路子！瑞恩忍不住敬佩他们，尽管他这辈子最糟糕的一天就是拜他们所赐。

“我们一直在物色新人才，虽然你……在造成附带损害这方面颇有名气……不过你的超能力极其实用，而且据我们所知，你既没有涉足什么不光彩的营生，也没跟通缉犯过从甚密。”可怜的姑娘，要是她知道真相就好了。“你在食尸鬼大开杀戒之前拦住了他，所以我想，你的本心是好的。”

“所以呢，你是想让我去给什么电影试镜吗？我只试过一次演话剧，而且一点也不好笑。”

双足飞龙笑了。“我倒希望我们能少拍点广告，多抓点人，”她承认道，瑞恩从她的语气里听出了一丝苦涩。“不过我们确实在尽力保护市民。来我们总部看看，瞧瞧你跟我们这个组织合不合拍。你对食尸鬼来了那么一出，接下来会需要有人撑腰的。”

“我能照顾好自己，谢谢，”瑞恩答道。她竟然觉得他还需要人呵护，让他有点受辱。

“听着，快存，超能帮可不像奥古斯蒂那样讲道理，”她坚持道，“他们是一群四处流窜的疯魔，而你打了他们的人。他们的老大亚当，是吃人的。”

“那他要消化的可真不少！”

双足飞龙不喜欢这个笑话，笑容变得勉强，连翅膀都拍得慢了些。

“好吧，好吧，”瑞恩说，“如果哪天我偏离了主线任务，我会考虑的。”

超级女英雄皱起眉，朝一旁看去。瑞恩忽然注意到，她的左耳里塞着一只耳机，不过他听不到里面有任何声音。

“明白，”双足飞龙说道，不过话不是对瑞恩说的。随后，她递给快递员一张名片。“如果你改变主意，就来这个地址找我们。”

“好。”

“保重。”

说完，双足飞龙便飞走了。她的翅膀振动得飞快，快到肉眼已经无法捕捉。可除了带起的风声，翅膀本身依旧没有声音。她向北飞去，越飞越快，速度直逼音速，眨眼间就没了踪影。

她翅膀的发声频率一定超出了人耳的听觉范围，要么就是遵循了某种反常的物理规律；基因者身上，什么都有可能。快递员记下了这一观察结果，留待日后参考。

终于又剩下自己一个人，瑞恩关上窗，回去接着干活。可他才刚坐回椅子上，电脑就收到了语音通话请求。这位基因者立刻认出，呼叫者正是委托他给雷内斯科送货的那个人。

他懒洋洋地用左脚趾点开语音频道。“快存速递，有什么需要帮忙的？”

“那婊子跟你说什么了？”另一头传来一个经过加密处理的声音。

瑞恩在面具后挑起一边眉毛。“等等，有人在监视我？”

“新罗马没几个地方不在监控之下。”

给自己记一笔：下一轮找家私密性更好的旅馆。“我基本可以肯定，上次说这话的人可没给自己的声音加密。你是谁啊，阴森森的神秘声音？”

“我叫伏尔甘，”来电者答道，“我代表奥古斯蒂。新罗马，还有意大利的大部分地方，都是我们组织说了算。”

“我还以为说了算的是迪纳米斯呢？”瑞恩一本正经地问。

“那是他们自己说的，”那个声音笑了起来，“但意大利只有一位皇帝，他叫奥古斯都。”

这倒很难反驳。那家伙所向无敌，还能发射自动追踪的闪电。连香烟害死的人都没他多。

“感谢你从超能帮那垃圾手里救下我们的雇员，”伏尔甘说，“总之，不管那只长翅膀的蜥蜴许了你什么，我们都能给得更多。”

“这是那种‘无法拒绝的提议’，还是普普通通的提议？我可对马过敏。”

“我们要的是能把事办成的狠人，”伏尔甘答道，“你想要女人，还是男孩？新装备，好武器？还是多到能让你飞上月球的极乐？这些东西他妈的全都可以是你的……只要你能证明自己懂得配合。”

“那我该怎么证明？”

一条邮件通知弹了出来，上面列着一个地址。瑞恩飞快地查了一下，确定那是一家名叫博徒的赌场。“那家店是我们的，”伏尔甘解释道，“今晚过来，一个人，别让我们等。我们从不开口请第二次。”

瑞恩挂断通话，琢磨起这两份邀请来。呼，才揍了一个人——照他平常的标准，已经是克制又温柔到了极点——突然间就谁都想要他了。

不过，这两个组织不管哪一个，都有可能帮他找到蕾恩，而且他进城前已经建好了存档点。

这只能说明一件事。

“多条路线已解锁！”

阮行舟做实验，只穿一条短裤。

衣服上总有规矩：领子要正，袖口要收，前襟不能敞，靴子不许搁桌上。脱了以后，至少没人能抓着领子管他。短裤是最后一点节制。上回连这点节制也脱掉，他造出了那只兔子。

况且这条穿着舒服。

小澜好多年前做的，腰上的绳换过两次，针脚还在。

八月初十的早晨，归潮开始放汽。窗外几根铜管先后响起，声音低长，像有人在城底下吹埙。阮行舟住在城中的一家旅舍，十层，往下能看见四处屋脊和三座塔楼。塔楼有两座烧煤，一座供神，远看都冒烟。

昨夜他抱着一摞枪上楼，柜上的伙计只问要不要加一床被子。归潮旅舍的见识，和街上的行人一样好。

房里也体贴。床对面的铜鹤眼里嵌着一个小镜头，对着客人，日夜不歇。

阮行舟拆开铜鹤，把传像线接回一段空房的旧影，又替它清了清积灰。现在掌柜不必担心他的危险物品，他也不必担心掌柜看见他的脸。双方都省心。

算匣放在椅子前的矮几上，薄薄的显像板竖起来，密麻麻的线从侧边引向墙上的讯口。他用脚趾敲键，双手拆着线圈枪。起先学这本事，是为了赢一个赌；练到两只脚都能用以后，那个人已经不记得赌过了。

他仍然赢得很漂亮。

昨晚的脚钱已经进账。委托人另外附了一句，谢他帮忙拿住寒骸。阮行舟把凭单划到一边。这趟差事原只是沿海走走，找些新鲜事做，直到他听见小澜可能在归潮。

于是别的地方都可以晚些再去。

他把天衡讯网上的城图放大。西北角有一大片淡灰，标着各号的矿、炉场、制药坊和废料场。这里正式的里坊名称很长，归潮人只叫锈坊。

厂子的烟往那儿排，人也往那儿挤。工业地界与城中隔了一堵墙，从锈坊往城中走，过关口得查工牌。城图上的墙画得端正笔直，从金岸的宣传画里则看不见。

旅舍伙计说，渣坑就在锈坊尽头，原先是个煤矿。煤挖空了，城里开始往坑里倒东西；有人跟着下去捡，捡的人多了，就有了交易。野路子的天工、找零件的游人、活不下去的人，都在那里落脚。

小澜会去这种地方。

她能把别人扔掉的东西重新弄响，还总嫌卖给她的人收得太贵。她说那些东西本就不该是谁的私产；说完以后，价还是要讲。

阮行舟将地图记在心里，正要拧紧一枚螺丝，窗上有人敲了两下。

一个女人浮在玻璃外，向他招手。

“早上好。能谈谈吗？”

十层。外面没有栈道。

阮行舟先抓面具，再抓帽子，飞快戴妥。

“私闯密室，窥探侠客真容。姑娘，你这可不是小事。”

“阮行舟。”女人说，“你住店时填的就是真名。”

“那只是为了迷惑你们。”

“卷宗上也是。”

他一下坐直了。“我有卷宗？”

女人点头。

“评语怎么写的？”

“精神不大正常，办事还算牢靠。”

不错。至少有一半认得很准。

女人的目光往下移了移。“你不打算把衣服穿上？”

“不打算。”

她又敲了敲窗，这回用力些。阮行舟起身，一手打开窗，一手把没装好护壳的线圈枪端在腰侧，枪口没有离开她。

近了看，女人比影幕上晒得黑些，肩背也更宽。背后伸出透明的蜻蜓翼，扇得极快，却听不见该有的振响。她白色贴身制服的左胸是天衡衔尾蛇，右胸是一枚银星，围着金色的桂叶。

“飞廉。”她说，“昨晚的事，谢谢你。”

“不客气。”

阮行舟开始关窗。

她一把扣住窗框。“等等。”

据说这女人变一部分身，就能把满载的客车举起来。阮行舟不想赔第二扇窗，便松了手。

“你来归潮做什么？我可以叫你留一手吗？”

“当然。也可以叫我阮大善人，不过最好等我穿好衣服再叫。眼下我是送东西的。”

“岳家没雇你打架？”

“没有。”

“俏驴是他们的铺子。寒骸最近一直找他们麻烦，我以为你接了守店的活。”

“我接的就是送个箱子。那副骨头拦着不让，我才请他躺下歇会儿。”

飞廉看了他一眼，似乎在把这句话与卷宗对照。

“我也打听个人。”阮行舟说，“林澜，黑头发，蓝眼睛，年纪跟我相仿。觉得天下的矿和炉子都该公有。”

“还信那套？”

“是啊。在这里说这个，会不会另收一笔税？”

飞廉没有笑他，只摇了摇头。“我没见过。但可以查查档。你来这里是找她？”

“她很好看，心也很好。”阮行舟将枪口稍稍垂下，“是我最好的朋友。我找她很久了。”

最后半句话说得很平，飞廉却没有马上接。

街底一辆卖早点的小车敲着铜盆过去。热汽从蒸笼的缝里冒出来，飘不到十楼。

“能帮的，我会帮。”她说，“其实，我们能帮上不少忙。”

来了。

阮行舟靠住窗台，等着听条件。

“我是天衡卫的人，这个你大概知道。我们一直在找有本事、也愿意办正事的同伴。”

天衡卫，归潮最响亮的一群侠客。城里贴他们的画，铺里卖他们的小像，孩子背的书包上也有他们的脸。天衡总号付钱养他们，也替他们保管脸的用法，以及拳头该朝哪边挥。

跟百戏团是两回事。

那些四处走动、不收分文的疯子，才真有几分游侠模样。阮行舟喜欢他们。他生命里最糟的那一天，也有他们的一份。这两件事并不妨碍彼此。

“你的动静是大了些。”飞廉继续道，“但那种能力很有用。档里没有特别恶劣的案底，也没发现你与要犯来往。”

阮行舟没有纠正她。

“寒骸还没杀人，你就拿住了他。这至少说明你愿意救人。”

“进天衡卫先试什么？拳脚还是唱功？我以前登过一次台，台下不大满意。”

飞廉笑了，随即把目光移向对面楼顶。那里有一幅她自己的药液广告，正好也在笑。

“我倒希望少拍几段这个，多拿几个人。”她说。

她说得很轻。阮行舟听见了，便没有再接笑话。

“先来总号看看，不必当场签身契。你把寒骸打成那样，身后有几个人，日子总好过些。”

“我能照看自己。”

“留一手，蜕帮和岳家不一样，很多话跟他们说不通。你动了他们的人，他们一定会找回来。他们那个头目元生，是吃人的。”

“一日三餐？”

飞廉的笑容没了。

“好吧。”阮行舟举起空着的手，“这个不好笑。”

“确实。”

“我先找小澜。有余暇，就去看你们的身契。”

飞廉还想说什么，忽然偏了一下头。阮行舟这才看见她左耳里嵌着一枚小小的听片，银丝藏进领口。

“收到。”她低声说。

这句不是对他说的。

她递来一张硬纸名帖，地址与讯号印在背面，正面是她的代号，旁边还有很小的天衡药业字样。

“有事找我。”

“也管窗户？”

“把枪修好。”她看了眼他腰间，“别先伤着自己。”

下一刻，窗边只剩一股风。

飞廉向北掠过楼顶，身影迅速缩小。以那个加速势头，再远一点，便要追上声音。透明翅膀快到看不清，仍然没有虫翼振动的嗡鸣。

阮行舟扶着窗框看了一会儿。

听不见，不代表没有声音。也可能那东西压根儿不按寻常的道理飞。以后有机会，要再看仔细些。

他关上窗，回到椅子里，刚把枪架回膝头，算匣便亮起一枚红点。

有人请通话。

来讯的密记他认得。昨夜那个黑箱，就出自这位主顾。

阮行舟用左脚趾敲下接通键。

“留一手递送，包活包送。哪位？”

“那只长翅膀的跟你说了什么？”

声音经过好几层折转，忽高忽低，听不出男女，也听不出年纪。

阮行舟抬头看了眼铜鹤。鹤眼里的小镜片仍对着空床，接线没有动过。

“你们连十楼都看？”

“归潮没几处我们看不见。”

下一回换家旅舍。他在心里记下。或者别住旅舍。

“看得这么明白，怎么不肯让我听明白？贵姓？”

“祝融。替岳家办事。”

“哦，昨晚那箱菌子。吃着还鲜吗？”

“我们管着归潮，也管着大半沿海。”祝融没接他的话，“天衡能给你的，我们都能给，而且更多。”

“我以为这城归天衡。”

“他们乐意这么写。”那头笑了一声，像两片铁皮刮在一块儿，“可这地方只有一个天子，姓岳。”

阮行舟倒不大好反驳。

岳君，刀枪不入，雷电会转弯追人。死在那雷底下的人太多，倘若每个都立块碑，沿海的里程牌可以一并省了。

“你救了我们的雇员，这笔情记着。”祝融说，“我们缺办得成事的人。你想要什么？漂亮姑娘？漂亮小伙？新器件，好兵器？还是极乐散？只要你肯入伙，供得起。”

“这算请客，还是下帖索命？我先说，我不大吃牛头马面的吓唬。”

“看你会不会办事。”

算匣轻响，一行地址落在显像板上。

千金台。金岸北段，一座赌场。

“我们的地方。今晚，一个人来。别误时。”

“我通常只误命。”

“请帖只发一次。”

“坏了，我喜欢收藏——”

那头断了。

阮行舟对着暗下去的板子坐了片刻。昨晚不过打倒一个人，还是照着往常的分寸收了手，今早便有两家争着给他安排前程。

他把飞廉的名帖放在显像板旁。

两边都有眼线、档册和能走的门路。两边都可能找到小澜。至于踏进门后惹上什么麻烦，他在入城前留着刻呢。

阮行舟用脚趾重新打开城图，一手拿起螺丝刀，一手转了转那张名帖。

“好。”他说，“有得选了。”