Meng Fushan followed Chen Jiashu and Chen Jiashu’s ever-present bodyguard, A-Bin, as they navigated the sea.
This submarine cruise ship had departed from a port in Vietnam, stopping at several locations along the way, with the number of passengers increasing at each turn.
Blue seawater swayed outside the glass windows at the base of the ship, and the ceiling lights flickered silently. The bright, clinical light shone down, adding a ghostly, stiff whiteness to the masks worn by everyone in the room.
Every person sitting here wore a mask covering the upper half of their face, exposing only their noses and mouths.
Meng Fushan glanced around the cabin with his peripheral vision, careful not to be obvious.
The underwater scenery was actually quite beautiful, with various nameless sea fish occasionally drawn to the vessel, bumping blankly against the glass. Yet, the middle-aged men here—dressed in high-end attire with luxury watches on their wrists—seemed entirely uninterested in the ocean, perhaps bored by the frequency of these trips. Most were either closing their eyes to rest or staring down at their phones.
Perhaps because of the masks, there was zero desire for conversation.
Only two people in the corner, who seemed to be a pair like him and Chen Jiashu, were whispering to each other. But their voices were too quiet; sitting a whole cabin away, Meng Fushan couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Meng Fushan withdrew his gaze and casually glanced at the crew member sitting at the cabin door, mere inches away.
The crew member wore a regulation seaman’s uniform—even inside the cabin, he kept his cap on. His skin was a rough, tanned bronze from a life spent at sea, and he wore a rigid, soulless smile etched into his face, making him look somewhat like a robot.
His gaze then landed on Chen Jiashu to his left.
Chen Jiashu had his eyes closed, resting, though one hand rested casually, almost imperceptibly, near his waist.
While the kidney transplant had been effective, the surgery had taken its toll. Chen Jiashu’s originally jet-black hair now showed hints of white. His mouth drooped, his lips a bruised purple, and the stiff, pale pallor covering the lower half of his face made him look like a corpse.
To Chen Jiashu’s right was A-Bin.
A-Bin wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings, focusing instead on his phone. There was essentially no signal at sea, and he looked quite impatient, yet he persisted in staring at the screen. Because soon—when the ship reached its destination—everyone’s phones would be confiscated.
Because they were going to see… Mr. Liu.
After lurking by Chen Jiashu’s side for so long, through all the hardships, he had finally gained the chance to meet Mr. Liu.
Mr. Liu, who was surely connected to Ji Yu’s death.
Mr. Liu, who might be the mastermind behind Ji Yu’s death and the demise of Ji Xun’s parents.
Meng Fushan withdrew his gaze.
He stopped observing anyone else in the cabin and focused solely on what lay beyond the glass.
As time passed, the color of the seawater turned deep, as if ink had been dripped into the blue, covering the glass like a membrane. The once-vibrant fish were now coated in a layer of leaden gray, leaving behind only ghostly shadows that flickered in and out of sight.
I am walking toward the person I have been stalking all this time.
Meng Fushan heard his own heart thumping, tense and strained.
Thump—thump—thump—
Soon… soon… finally… I will be able to see him.
Thump—thump—
My eyes have always been secretly watching him.
Thump—
His eyes—are Mr. Liu’s eyes secretly watching me, watching us… watching everyone here?
Suddenly, a protruding, flat eye pierced through the deep blue and stuck to the ship’s glass.
THUMP!
Meng Fushan’s nerves caused his cheek muscles to twitch.
He steadied himself and realized the eye outside was just a fish eye. The membrane over it was a translucent, dim gray—dead and lifeless. It watched him, swimming alongside the ship until, without warning, the vessel came to a sudden halt, and the eye vanished into the darkness.
At that moment, the crew member at the cabin door seemed to be pressed like a switch:
“We have arrived!”
The cabin door opened. Guided by the crew, the passengers filed out from the bottom of the sightseeing ship and onto the deck. The sky was pitch black; thick clouds rolled overhead, obscuring the moon and stars, revealing only scraps of light through the gaps in the clouds.
It was these fragments of light that illuminated the giant beast in front of the cruise ship… A long, snake-like boarding tunnel extended toward them, connecting to a massive, monstrous vessel lurking on the sea, blacker than the darkness itself.
Guided by the crew, the people on deck entered the connecting passageway between the two ships. Meng Fushan followed Chen Jiashu among the crowd, walking up the red-carpeted gangway. The sound of the sea wind and waves squeezed through the gaps in the tunnel, lashing against their backs, urging those inside to hurry forward.
The tunnel was short. Soon, they entered the interior of the cruise ship.
First came a corridor filled with oil paintings and animal heads, followed by two large doors. When they pushed the doors open, Meng Fushan finally saw everything.
It was a vast, glittering palace.
The hall was brightly lit. Heavy red velvet curtains hung from the eight-meter-high ceiling, opulently and heavily obscuring every window. A crystal chandelier suspended in the center of the ceiling sparkled brilliantly. Under the chandelier sat a black dais.
Next to the dais was a buffet area where champagne glasses were stacked into a tower, with champagne cascading from the top like a waterfall. All manner of delicacies were arranged around the champagne tower—a veritable feast.
Further out, there were sofas and round tables.
The guests were either lounging on sofas, smoking and chatting, or watching and cheering around round tables. At the tables, games—Baccarat, dice, Blackjack, American Roulette—were all in play. Every time a round ended, it triggered a wave of cheers or sighs.
Back on the cruise ship, everyone Meng Fushan saw had been male. Here, the number of women had suddenly increased.
Basically, every man wearing a half-mask had a young woman standing beside him. The young women wore court-style dresses fitting the hall’s decor, clinging to the masked men like little birds. There seemed to be nothing wrong with them, except for the strips of cloth tied over their eyes.
But for some reason, every woman in the hall had a silk cloth wrapped over her eyes.
Was the silk translucent?
With their eyes covered, didn’t they find it inconvenient to move around?
“Is this the gentleman’s first time here?”
The waiter leading the way asked, smiling pleasantly at Chen Jiashu.
Chen Jiashu nodded slightly.
“Chen-Chen.” The waiter turned and called out.
A woman arrived in response. Beside her was another waiter in black, who took her hand and handed her over to Chen Jiashu.
She was very young, like every other woman in the hall, dressed in luxurious clothing with silk ribbons wrapped around her eyes.
“No need,” Chen Jiashu refused.
“Please don’t be in such a hurry to refuse,” the waiter said. “Every boss who comes here has such a woman. You own everything about her.”
Everything.
Did he mean they provided a escort for every “boss”?
Meng Fushan thought to himself when, suddenly, a “clanging” sound echoed through the hall. The grandfather clock against the wall struck ten times—it was exactly ten o’clock at night.
The sound drew everyone’s attention.
Meng Fushan noticed that on the massive black dais he had seen upon entering, a gambling table was slowly rising.
A dealer in white gloves took the stage, bowing to everyone in the hall. Then, from the stairs on either side of the dais, two masked men emerged, each leading a female companion.
The one on the left was very fat; the one on the right was very tall.
They sat at their respective positions. The crowd suddenly stirred, like a wind blowing over the tide, wave after wave—everything signaled that something exciting was about to happen.
At that moment, the giant LED screen behind the dais lit up, displaying:
Game Mode: Sic Bo (Dice)
The screen switched to a view of the gambling table, filming the five people around it.
The white-gloved dealer shook the dice cup. Both sides placed their bets—the tall one bet on Big, the fat one on Small. Both sides had stacks of colorful chips on their tables, but strangely, the chips weren’t stacked in front of the men; instead, they were all piled in front of the women seated with them.
Sic Bo is a game of probability; both sides win and lose.
Since the gambling on the dais began, all the surrounding tables stopped. The gamblers who had been dispersed around the room gathered around the dais, watching the game.
Not long after the game started, both sides still had plenty of chips, yet the spectators grew impatient. Noisy urging erupted from all sides:
“Bet big!”
“If you’re a man, don’t stall, hurry up!”
“Believe in yourself, luck is on your side today!”
The voices echoing through the hall were like clusters of fire, igniting the rationality of the two gamblers on the dais.
The tall one lost his patience first. He waved his arm, pushing all the chips piled in front of the woman to the center of the table:
“All-in! One hand determines life or death!”
The woman next to the tall man seemed very nervous; she accidentally knocked over the glass beside her.
But the sound of the glass shattering was almost inaudible in the lively hall.
The fat man hesitated, looking frequently at the woman beside him. The woman’s hands were also gripping his arm tightly, which provoked dissatisfaction from others in the hall. People shouted “Coward!” at the fat man, and the dealer politely reminded him: “Sir, once you are on the black dais, you must gamble.”
Meng Fushan immediately understood: the rule on this dais was that once you were on it, both sides had to gamble until the end—either all chips were lost, or all chips were won.
How much were their chips worth?
The fat man sat uneasily. Finally, gritting his teeth, he pulled his arm from the woman’s grip and pushed all the chips on the table to the center.
They were still betting on Big and Small.
The dealer shook the dice cup.
The tall one chose Big, the fat one chose Small.
Five-second countdown. The cup was lifted. Three dice: one six, one four, one two—total twelve, Big.
The fat man lost.
A loud shout erupted in the hall.
The cheers came from all directions, as if they were bursting from the mouths of everyone in the hall.
The LED screen displayed everything clearly. Meng Fushan saw that after the dealer revealed the result, he pressed a button on the table. A semi-circular glass dome suddenly rose behind the chair of the lady next to the fat man. At the same time, several straps bound the woman firmly to the chair.
A shrill scream erupted from the blindfolded woman’s mouth.
But such a scream still couldn’t break through the high-pitched wave of sound created by all the guests in the hall.
Amidst the roar, the dealer pulled a silver handgun from under the gambling table and handed it respectfully to the tall man.
The tall man’s thick hand grabbed the pistol.
The silver gun looked so exquisite, so fascinating in his palm. The faint shimmer of the crystal chandelier seemed to cast onto the weapon; on the screen, it looked so magnificent.
A flush of excitement spread across the tall man’s face, gathering on the lower half of his face exposed by the mask. He held the gun and gestured toward the woman bound beside the fat man. Opposite him, the fat man had a face of deathly gray, standing up blankly, dodging and moving away from the woman beside him…
What would happen next?
A chill rushed from Meng Fushan’s feet to his brain.
He stared fixedly ahead.
Could it be… could it be…
“BANG!”
The tall man pulled the trigger with a cruel grin. The gunshot rang out—a sound like fireworks, with an effect like fireworks.
The bullet struck the woman brought by the fat man.
It entered through her chest and exited her back, spraying a burst of blood that splashed onto the glass dome behind her in a fan shape.
The blindfolded woman didn’t die immediately. Her body convulsed in the chair, and more and more blood spread from her back. She made a wheezing, gasping sound, like the death rattle of any dying creature.
For a few short minutes, no one moved.
Until the flowing blood took the last bit of her life.
The seat was soaked in blood; she stopped moving entirely.
On the scene, a sigh rose from all the onlookers.
Then, a burst of cheers, a roar of laughter, and a beast-like roar!
The atmosphere in the hall had been pushed to its climax by blood and death. The winner was triumphant, the loser dejected!
“Everything is everything. Including her body and her life. She is your chip, a necessary condition for participating in the gamble; she is also your surrogate, offering her life for you on the black dais.”
A hoarse, elderly voice suddenly came from beside him.
Meng Fushan shivered and turned abruptly to see a thin, withered old man standing next to him.
The old man looked to be in his sixties. He was the only person in the hall, other than the waiters and those women, who was not wearing a mask. His greying hair was streaked with yellow, like the result of melanin fading away. He wore a single-lens gold-rimmed monocle. The eye outside the lens was bright and piercing, but the other eye covered by the lens was shrouded in a layer of gray opacity, as dim as the fish Meng Fushan had seen earlier.
He extended a hand toward Chen Jiashu, friendly and kind.
“My surname is Liu.”
He was Mr. Liu!
