Ling Lie received her, placing a glass of water on the table. “You haven’t known him for long. Even his family can’t guarantee he’s problem-free, yet you dare to say this?”

Xiao Huan cried, “But Brother Zhao is really attentive! He chose Level D for the sake of us three female colleagues. During the activity that day, he was taking care of us the whole time. I was too scared to jump on the high platform, so he came up personally to demonstrate for me and even waited for me on the opposite platform!”

Ling Lie said, “People have many facets. This world isn’t black and white. Bad people can do good deeds, and good people can commit evil.”

Xiao Huan was stunned, choking out, “But… but…”

Ling Lie saw bewilderment on Xiao Huan’s face. She seemed unable to comprehend how someone like Zhao Jie could be a suspect. She was still too young, having just stepped out of the ivory tower into society. For people her age, interacting with the internet had long become a habit, and there was a trend online now—good people couldn’t do a single bad thing, and everything bad people did was bad.

Black and white, no ambiguity allowed.

Ling Lie tapped on his phone, enlarged the photo of the dagger, and placed it next to the water glass.

Xiao Huan: “This is?”

Ling Lie said, “This is the outdoor dagger found in Zhao Jie’s home. After comparison by our trace examiners, this is precisely the one that destroyed the rope bridge.”

Xiao Huan covered the lower half of her face, tears flowing like a burst dam. It was shock, fear, and lingering terror. She had almost stepped onto that life-claiming bridge. Her friend Xiao Xin had fallen from the bridge and died. Because Zhao Jie made her go last due to her timidity, she had escaped disaster. But that good person, the good person she trusted wishfully, turned out to be the most terrifying devil!

In the interrogation room, faced with the key physical evidence of the outdoor dagger, Zhao Jie merely glanced at it, his expression not changing in the slightest.

Ji Chenjiao stared at his reaction, knowing he wouldn’t say anything.

He wouldn’t explain what he did during the ten-plus days he was missing, wouldn’t explain who he contacted on the “Glimmer” dark web, wouldn’t explain the origin of the dagger, and certainly wouldn’t explain the motive for destroying the rope bridge.

Zhao Jie kept his eyes lowered. Without his glasses, he looked even thinner.

Ji Chenjiao suddenly asked, “Do you know Zhang Chunquan?”

Zhao Jie raised his head, somewhat confused. “Who?”

“A student from Xiarong University, studying materials science. He threw himself into the lake on campus a while ago.” Ji Chenjiao pointed his chin at the evidence bag. “In his dorm, we also found a similar dagger.”

Zhao Jie frowned, as if recalling something.

Ji Chenjiao brought the evidence bag over, staring at a logo on the handle that didn’t look particularly eye-catching.

It was a collapsing high-rise building, but every speck of dust was a square pixel, looking very digital.

When Xi Wan found Zhang Chunquan’s dagger, she thought it was some brand logo and didn’t investigate it closely.

But now, after image comparison, such a trademark didn’t exist.

Rapid breathing suddenly sounded in the interrogation room. Ji Chenjiao raised an eyebrow, his gaze shooting straight at Zhao Jie.

A look of disbelief appeared in Zhao Jie’s eyes. “It’s him? He committed suicide?”

Ji Chenjiao said, “You know him?”

Zhao Jie’s lips moved a few times, fury erupting in his eyes. His anger came inexplicably; Zhang Chunquan committed suicide, what did it have to do with him?

But Zhao Jie didn’t answer. His wide eyes gradually drooped, and he gave a contemptuous laugh. Judging from the shape of his mouth, Ji Chenjiao determined he had just said a word—”Trash.”

---

The “Glimmer” dark web was like a grey-black fog. The sins brewing within it flashed inside, and it became a protective umbrella for these sins, making the police lost lambs in the fog.

Yong Huihao, Tang Qi.

Zhang Chunquan, Zhao Jie.

Last November, this August.

They were pulled together. The things that happened during these periods completely changed their lives.

Ji Chenjiao held a cigarette between his fingers, brows tightly locked amidst the white smoke.

“Xiao Ji, come look at what I found out.” Ling Lie patted Ji Chenjiao on the shoulder. He used quite a bit of force, almost knocking the cigarette from Ji Chenjiao’s hand.

Ash fell onto his pants. Ji Chenjiao quickly brushed it off and turned around.

“There’s a result from the disappearance case screening.” Ling Lie threw a stack of papers in front of Ji Chenjiao. “One of them happened in Dongye City.”

Ji Chenjiao’s eyes moved, and he immediately picked up the documents.

The reason screening disappearance cases was difficult was partly because they were too common, and partly because there were significant differences between police forces in different regions. If it were a major homicide case, other provinces would give the green light for investigation. But for vague disappearance cases like this, the obstacles to cooperation were too great.

But Dongye City was different. Xiao Yu’an, the deputy director of the Dongye City Criminal Investigation Bureau, and Ming Shu, the captain of the Serious Crimes Unit, were Ling Lie’s “maiden family.” This could save a lot of exhausting communication steps.

There were actually quite a few missing people in Dongye City, but the one Ling Lie focused on was special. His name was Yu Dalong, a moderately famous manager with several popular stars under him. He returned to Dongye City from a business trip at the end of October. He was supposed to join an artist on set this month, but after November 3rd, suddenly no one could contact him. From that day on, he made no electronic payments. The situation was similar to Zhang Chunquan and the others.

“This Yu Dalong has another special point,” Ling Lie said. “The prodigal son said Yu Dalong helped them solve a case before, so he’s considered an acquaintance in the Dongye police circles, and he’s good friends with the prodigal son’s apprentice. So when they learned of his disappearance, the prodigal son and the others took it very seriously. That’s why I picked up this case as soon as I checked.”

The “prodigal son” Ling Lie referred to was Ming Shu. Ji Chenjiao had met Ming Shu’s apprentice during a previous collaboration; his name was Fang Yuanhang, an excellent young detective.

Ji Chenjiao sorted out the relationships and said, “The people behind this are getting bolder.”

Ling Lie nodded. “Before, they looked for people with distant family relationships who lived alone. Even if these people went missing, basically no one would report it to the police. Now they’ve actually targeted someone closely related to the police. A provocation?”

Ji Chenjiao said, “Maybe not a provocation, but simply that as some process advances, they need people closely related to the police?”

At this moment in Dongye City, Fang Yuanhang was in a mess due to concern. A while ago, Ming Shu sent him to the capital for training. His good friend Yu Dalong used to message him often, sharply roasting which stars were acting like divas or whose acting was terrible, but after November, Yu Dalong stopped sending messages.

Fang Yuanhang thought he was too busy mentoring newcomers and didn’t think much of it. Recently, after finishing training, he brought local specialties to visit Yu Dalong, only to find that Yu Dalong hadn’t gone on a business trip or taken on new talent at all; he had inexplicably disappeared.

Although Yu Dalong had a sharp tongue, he was a simple and happy little gay man. Ming Shu was also worried. Just as he received Ling Lie’s call and understood the situation in Xiarong City, he decided to send Fang Yuanhang over.

Fang Yuanhang rushed to Xiarong City, bringing a more detailed investigation report.

Yu Dalong last appeared online on the morning of November 3rd. He messaged a minor star he managed, saying he had to leave for a few days for something and threatening the star to practice hard, or else he would deal with them when he got back.

Fang Yuanhang said, “That’s just Dalong’s style of speaking. It’s mostly joking; he wouldn’t really do anything to anyone.”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “In other words, there was nothing unusual about him before he disappeared?”

Fang Yuanhang thought for a while and frowned. “He might have had some psychological burden that he never resolved.”

“What burden?”

Fang Yuanhang spoke about a case last year involving Yu Dalong’s miserable youth. Because he had been effeminate since childhood and knew he liked men during his school days, Yu Dalong was ostracized and bullied by classmates. An uncle saved him and encouraged him to live well. This uncle later became the victim of a major case, and the Serious Crimes Unit once suspected Yu Dalong of seeking revenge for his uncle.

The case was eventually solved and had nothing to do with Yu Dalong. Fang Yuanhang also became good friends with Yu Dalong again, but the murder of his benefactor was likely a thorn in Yu Dalong’s heart for life. The place where the thorn pierced would fester and become inflamed, occasionally causing unbearable pain.

Ling Lie suddenly felt he could understand such psychology. It was like Wei Zhiyong’s death to him, like Yin Hanshan’s death to A-Xue.

“What I can be sure of is that Dalong left voluntarily and willingly,” Fang Yuanhang said. “The last time he called me, he even asked when I would be back. After I told him the time, he said he might not be around and had to go out with an artist. Before disappearing, he also arranged work for his artists. I went to his home to check; it was kept in perfect order. He loves cleanliness; the bed was covered with a dust sheet.”

Pausing, Fang Yuanhang sighed. “I think he might have wanted to find an explanation for himself? But someone exploited his psychology, bewitched him, lured him. What exactly does that organization you mentioned do?”

Neither Ji Chenjiao nor Ling Lie could answer this question. It was obscured by the thick fog of “Glimmer,” silent and ghost-like.

Fang Yuanhang also brought the electronic devices Yu Dalong left at home, which had been handed over to Shen Qi for investigation. Shen Qi was familiar with the process now and, sure enough, found traces of “Glimmer” on them.

Fang Yuanhang became even more worried. Although the other four known people who inexplicably disappeared had all returned, three of them were dead, and the other was suspected of murder.

Later that day, Ji Chenjiao received another reply to the request for assistance in investigating disappearance cases he had sent out earlier. This time, it was from Feng City.

Huang Yi, the captain of the Feng City Criminal Investigation Detachment, now had a close relationship with the Xiarong City Serious Crimes Unit. He spoke with a rough voice on the phone: “We also have a suspicious disappearance case here. It might be the type you want to investigate. And the missing person is an acquaintance.”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Who?”

Huang Yi said, “Xue Bin!”

Xue Bin was a rich second generation. The emotional dispute between him and his girlfriend Zeng Shu led to the expulsion of classmate Lu Feixiang, resulting in a series of subsequent tragedies.

Ji Chenjiao had a deep impression of him and asked, “Shouldn’t Xue Bin be studying abroad right now?”

“Sigh, after that incident, he didn’t go abroad again at all. He felt he wronged Lu Feixiang, so he stayed in the country with Zeng Shu to do charity work and planned to help Lu Feixiang with his lawsuit,” Huang Yi said. “But Zeng Shu called the police saying she couldn’t contact him. He lives alone in our Feng City; his family isn’t here. Our preliminary judgment is that he went missing on November 4th.”

---

In a bizarre cave—

“I ran my mouth about the new receptionist with my colleagues! I mocked the new cleaning lady in the building! I was wrong! I was wrong! I admit it! I paid the price! What exactly do you want? Just for two sentences, do I deserve to die?”

As he was dragged towards the cave entrance by two masked men, A-Bing trembled violently with fear, hysterical. In front of him, the person repeating his mistakes like a robot gradually became smaller, almost melted by the light, like a candle about to burn out.

The “game” had gone on until now. Everyone was exhausted, drained of energy, yet they still had to fight, to shout out the sins committed by the opponent. Even if these sins were fundamentally insignificant, mostly just slip of the tongue in moments of impulse.

But here, in this “extralegal land,” they were all weights tipping the scale toward the death penalty.

A-Bing used all his strength to reach out to his opponent. He was unwilling; he refused to accept this! He had also called out that person’s sins, only he spoke a bit slower, with less momentum, and more reasonably, so the masked man judged him the loser.

What did failure mean?

It meant having his head chopped off, sliced open like a watermelon. He was soon to become a melon, cut by thousands, eaten by thousands!

A-Bing cried until he nearly fainted. In an instant, he recalled many things that had happened over the past twenty-plus years. He argued with friends and colleagues, spoke ill of his boss behind his back, but he also opened his heart to chat with them, helped people, and was helped. He and his girlfriend had incompatible worldviews yet loved each other to death. He missed her very much and didn’t want to argue with her anymore. He hated his father’s nagging and his mother’s dominance, yet every time their birthdays came around, he would generously give red envelopes without stinginess.

Belatedly, he realized his original life was actually wonderful. Everyone had hateful and lovable sides; days were annoying but grounded. He once complained that society was doomed, that other people were hell, asking why things couldn’t be a little more perfect.

Now that he had fallen into this “game” where everyone demanded perfection, he realized that ugliness, wretchedness, and flaws were the original appearance of the world. Despite this, people still stubbornly moved forward. And the so-called perfection now was the true hell.

“No! Don’t kill me—” His voice cracked as he shouted. Something covered his vision, covered his mouth and nose.

In his last moment of consciousness, he knew he was finished. He had become a loser in the “game,” and only death awaited him.

“No!”

A-Bing screamed wildly and bolted upright, like a fish on a chopping board. There was nothing in front of him.

After a few minutes, when his eyes finally adapted to the light, he realized he was sitting on a bed. The curtains were half-open, and the night outside was thick.

His heart pounded wildly, unable to process where this was.

He should have been beheaded, just like the human head he saw during the first “melon cutting.” But he looked down at his hands, then threw off the blanket, neurotically touching his waist, his legs. Still there, all there!

Like a wounded animal, he observed his surroundings in terror.

Finally, the common sense hidden in his brain slowly awakened. He found this place looked very much like a guesthouse room. The equipment was old, the TV still had a big back, and the bed creaked with every movement.

He fumbled out of bed, walking barefoot on the not-so-clean floor, touching things randomly like a blind person.

Table, chair, door handle, hanger…

But he didn’t dare turn on the light. He was afraid this was just a dream before his death. Once the light was on, only bloody reality would be revealed.

He walked to the wall. Like a man who had trekked for too long, he finally collapsed from exhaustion, sliding down.

He hugged his legs, curling into an increasingly smaller ball. Pain churned inside his body. He couldn’t hold it back anymore and began to sob quietly.

Daylight gradually shone through the window. The room seemed covered in a layer of dust, then brightened up. All outlines became clear, including his limbs.

From outside the window came the cries of breakfast vendors, the sound of cars driving, the quarreling of old men and women.

These were like powerful hands pulling at his soul, as if trying to pull him back to that familiar reality.

He shuddered and suddenly stood up, hands pressing on the windowsill, looking out with all his might, half his body hanging outside.

It was an unfamiliar street. The houses were low, not prosperous, and there were even ox carts passing by. A town market was just like this!

More and more sounds filled his ears. His head hurt terribly, yet he felt joy within such a headache.

He… he seemed to not have to die!

He was in reality. No assessment of perfection or imperfection, no masked men, no life-or-death opponents. In front of him were just these ordinary people—fighting, bickering, haggling over sales, but if someone’s kid ran onto the road, someone would always kindly lead them back!

“Young man! What are you doing! Want to die?! Get back inside!” An older woman shouted angrily from downstairs. “How old are you, still hanging out the window!”

A-Bing hurried back inside, pressing his back against the dusty wall, breathing rapidly.

Not a dream! This moment was real; he was real!

And those terrible experiences not long ago were the dream!