“You…” Mr. Liu said.
He was nervous. The Silver Mask’s hands came together, holding the mask he had just removed.
Will I be recognized? Will this rouse Mr. Liu’s suspicions? If it does…
Huo Ranyin’s gaze stopped wandering and locked firmly onto Mr. Liu’s aging face. One of the old man’s inorganic, glass-like pupils stared back at him with cold detachment.
Who is faster—a man, or a gun?
Those dark, purplish lips—looking as though they had been dipped in poison—moved slightly:
“Your name is Zhou Zhaonan?”
“…” Huo Ranyin relaxed his tensed body just a fraction. “Yes, it is.”
“So young,” Mr. Liu lamented. “When a man gets old, seeing a flesh-and-blood body so young and full of vigor sometimes brings on an involuntary surge of envy and loss of composure.”
“You flatter me.”
“Still, being this young and healthy, there seems to be no need for you to board this ship,” Mr. Liu added. Holding “Zhou Zhaonan’s” file in his hand, he glanced down at it. “Mmm, you were introduced by him.”
“I like to prepare for a rainy day,” Huo Ranyin said, keeping his expression completely inscrutable. “Everyone grows old eventually. Besides, this isn’t merely a ‘medical vessel,’ is it?”
“Young man, there is certainly no fault in wanting to see more of the world. Although we ran into a bit of an incident on this trip, I believe this ship will not disappoint its guests.” Mr. Liu nodded. “Ah-Bang, show Mr. Zhou out.”
Did I pass?
Huo Ranyin’s body relaxed further, leaving only a single layer of strength maintained in his limbs so he could act at a moment’s notice. Having cleared the hurdle, he was in no hurry to leave. Instead, he seized the opportunity to strike up a bit more conversation with Mr. Liu: “I heard that Mr. Liu has a habit of gifting porcelain to close friends.”
“Just a little hobby of mine—can’t help wanting to share it with friends.”
“Would it be too brazen of me to ask Mr. Liu for a porcelain set?”
“How about that Kinkaku-ji set you were looking at outside?” Mr. Liu smiled, pausing thoughtfully. “The beauty of the real versus the beauty of the illusory—a temple destroyed in flames yet preserved forever in that destruction. A very philosophical story, and something I hold quite dear.”
“Of course, I would like that very much.”
The bodyguard ushered the final guest out and quickly returned, taking up his post beside Mr. Liu.
Inside the reception room, only Mr. Liu and his two closest bodyguards remained.
Mr. Liu sat back down in his executive desk chair and began trimming a cigar. He wasn’t doing this to actually smoke it; he was merely using these small, methodical actions to settle his thoughts.
“Still a bit strange,” Mr. Liu muttered under his breath. “I keep feeling like I’ve seen him somewhere before…”
But where?
With features that striking, if he had seen him before, the impression would have been deep.
He took considerable pride in his memory, yet searching through his recollections of recent years, he couldn’t find anyone who matched that face. He couldn’t find a match, yet a persistent shadow hovered unshakeably in his mind—it was truly odd.
He finished trimming the cigar. His eyes swept past the smartphone sitting to the side; a slight impulse flickered in his heart, but he quickly abandoned it. Normally, he could have reached out to external contacts to double-check Zhou Zhaonan’s identity, but right now the entire ship was under a signal jam—he lacked the means even if he had the mind to do so.
Mr. Liu reread Zhou Zhaonan’s letter of recommendation and identity sheet once more before finally filing it alongside the documents of the other bosses he had verified earlier. He then began to analyze the current situation.
Two cases. The first—the tongue-slitting and neck-strangling case. Everyone had the opportunity to commit the crime; with no way to analyze the existing circumstances or identify the killer, it had to be set aside for now.
The second case—the fall into the sea. That one actually offered a few clues for analysis.
First, when the victim fell into the sea, the people on board were split into two groups. One group comprised the vast majority of the people on the ship who, along with him, stayed together in Boss Lin’s third-floor room. The other group consisted of the remaining four standard-suite bosses, who stayed in their second-floor bedrooms.
Assuming a “ghost” was involved in this death, the situation presented a few distinct possibilities:
Possibility 1: The ghost killed the victim.
Possibility 2: One of the second-floor bosses killed the victim.
Possibility 3: Someone on the third floor used a mechanical device to kill the victim.
Possibility 4: The ghost colluded with a second-floor boss.
Possibility 5: The ghost colluded with someone on the third floor.
Possibility 6: Someone on the third floor colluded with a second-floor boss.
Which of these six possibilities is the truth?
…There didn’t seem to be any commotion upstairs.
In the central hall, Meng Fushan appeared to be staring blankly at the paintings on the wall, but his ears were actually pricked, straining to catch the faintest sound floating down from above. He analyzed the situation:
Everyone has gone up now to unmask and meet Mr. Liu. If Huo Ranyin was mixed in among them and discovered, gunshots would definitely ring out upstairs… Huo Ranyin would certainly resist, and with his skill, taking him down without firing a gun would be nearly impossible… Yet up until now, forget gunshots, not a single sound of fighting or disturbance has drifted down.
This likely proves that the background check upstairs went completely smoothly.
Could it be that no outsiders were mixed in among the bosses, and Huo Ranyin isn’t up there after all?
Wait… thinking carefully about it, does a smooth check really prove Huo Ranyin isn’t up there…? It only seems to prove that everyone’s identity aligned perfectly with the files in Mr. Liu’s possession.
But that doesn’t add up either. Everyone saw how strict Mr. Liu’s vetting process for boarding this ship was. The invitation mechanism relies entirely on veterans introducing newcomers. As a police officer, how could Huo Ranyin possibly find a boss qualified enough in Mr. Liu’s eyes to act as his sponsor and get him on board?
Suddenly, a series of footsteps echoed from the staircase.
Leaning against the railing, Meng Fushan looked up to see one of Mr. Liu’s two personal bodyguards walking down. Meng Fushan recognized him as “Ah-Bang.” Of Mr. Liu’s two guards, one was called “Ah-Bang” and the other “Ah-Tang”; the crew under them generally referred to them respectfully as “Brother Bang” and “Brother Tang.”
Ah-Bang reached the first floor and spoke to the crowd: “It’s noon. Let’s eat first. Everyone follow me to the Chinese restaurant on the second floor. So much happened today, so we won’t be lighting the stoves for lunch. Grab some self-heating meal boxes from the kitchen to make do.”
Reminded by Ah-Bang, everyone realized their stomachs were already rumbling.
The group filed up to the second floor and entered the Chinese restaurant. The head chef and kitchen assistant went down the stairs toward the Western restaurant to the first-floor kitchen, returning with everyone’s food. They distributed it all around—each person received a self-heating boxed meal and a bottle of beverage.
Everyone was straightforward about it; they sat down and began digging in.
Ah-Bang, who had brought them up, stepped out for a short while before returning and announcing: “Bodyguards, follow me upstairs—Mr. Liu has instructions. The rest of you stay here and don’t wander off.”
When Mr. Liu had orders, whatever anyone below was doing took a backseat to Mr. Liu’s needs.
The bodyguards dared not delay. Those who ate quickly scarfed down their last couple of bites, while those who ate slowly simply put down their chopsticks, gave up on lunch, and followed Ah-Bang straight upstairs.
The bodyguards had duties, but the crew members had none.
The remaining crew continued eating their lunch. With no “outsiders” around, their conversations opened up; they chatted casually, venting the anxiety and restlessness in their hearts. Having gone through so much in a single morning, they were actually just as terrified, panicked, and uneasy as the bosses. It was just that society sorted people into ranks, and when the exact same emotions were displayed by them, nobody cared.
Amid the buzzing chatter, only Meng Fushan sat alone, mindlessly chewing his rice, completely out of place with his surroundings.
Mr. Liu has instructions.
What instructions?
It wasn’t long before Meng Fushan learned the specifics.
Ah-Bang reappeared in the Chinese restaurant, this time delivering a bombshell:
“The ghost has been spotted!”
There really is a ghost on board? Did a ghost actually commit the murder? Meng Fushan was momentarily astonished. In his earlier conjectures, the probability of a ghost killing anyone hadn’t been very high; on the contrary, he thought the killer was merely using the identity of a “ghost” while hiding among them, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
But now, the ghost had been discovered…
One possibility was that this really was the murderer; another possibility was that the person seen right now wasn’t the killer, but… Ji Xun, who had used every trick in the book to climb up from beneath the deck!
“The ghost appeared on the third floor,” Ah-Bang briefly outlined the situation. “The moment we spotted him, he spotted us as well and immediately fled into a room. We’ve currently pushed the ghost down to the first floor, and bodyguards are now guarding the second and third floors to ensure he won’t escape back up… Now, you all go to the first floor, guard every staircase, and conduct a thorough search of every room, every potential hiding spot, and even the ventilation ducts in the ceiling. Find that ghost at all costs!”
“Understood, Brother Bang!” The crew answered in unison with loud, resounding voices, asking no questions whatsoever.
The appearance of the ghost meant the murder mystery had a lead—and it also meant their own suspicion was lifted. This served as an incredibly potent shot of adrenaline for the crew; instantly, the entire group grew fired up, raring to go.
With the instructions delivered, Ah-Bang took the lead and brought the crew to the first floor. First, he dispatched men to guard every staircase, then split up the already stretched-thin workforce to search every corner for their target.
The crew members quickly charged out. Meng Fushan moved among the crowd; Ah-Bang’s arrangement gave him room to maneuver. He followed the others in and out of every room, heading toward empty areas. He walked fast and searched carelessly, but he was searching for the ghost with more desperation than anyone else—and hoping to find him before anyone else did.
However, things went against his wishes.
Just as Meng Fushan was anxiously waiting to encounter the ghost, a shout suddenly echoed from up ahead:
“Who’s there?!”
Then, that same voice shouted again in surprised delight:
“It’s the ghost! I found the ghost! He’s right ahead—everyone come quickly!”
Dammit!
Meng Fushan recognized the voice—it was the head chef, a burly 40-year-old man.
The ghost had been spotted by the head chef.
Was the ghost seen by the chef… actually Ji Xun?!
