9

The twilight hung like a piece of ink-soaked cloth, weighing heavily on the river’s surface. Spencer stood on the stone steps, his knuckles white with tension. “Search! You must find the person. Alive or dead... even if it’s a corpse.” The rescue team behind him immediately scattered, the sound of the rubber boat slicing through the water piercing the silence. The night breeze carried the dampness of the river into the crevices of his bones. Spencer wrapped himself in a coat that couldn't block the cold, sitting on a stone by the riverbank. He smoked one cigarette after another, the embers flickering in the darkness like the faint hope in his heart. Someone urged him to go back and rest, but he only managed a smile uglier than a cry: She's afraid of the dark, so I have to wait here." The search and rescue operation lasted a day and night, and the rescue workers were all exhausted. When everyone thought they would return empty-handed, they finally heard a few shouts: “We fou