The narrative shared by Lan Lan, originating from Hu Kun, was impossible to ignore. However, with the investigation into Fu Baoxin and Fu Baoling’s case within the department finally yielding its first breakthrough, they couldn’t afford to abandon that lead either. After a few casual exchanges among the occupants of the car, plans and arrangements were swiftly locked into place.
Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin would continue to follow the threads left by Old Hu, digging deeper along his line. Meanwhile, Zhao Wu would spearhead the police task force to thoroughly investigate the background of “Zhixian Import & Export Company”—the entity unearthed from the documents hidden inside the Buddha statue—to see if they could extract any actionable leads.
The two parties parted ways. Seizing the window before the library closed for the evening, Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin paired up to scour the shelves, pulling every available text on Mazu to cross-reference them one by one against Old Hu’s narrative.
Mazu, originally named Lin Mo, was born on the twenty-third day of the third lunar month on Meizhou Island.
Ji Xun’s initial impression upon hearing the story had not steered him wrong; Old Hu’s narrative had indeed woven in numerous threads from orthodox Mazu mythology. Naturally, in traditional folk belief, the Holy Mother Mazu protects the islands and aids the populace, embodying boundlessly virtuous, merciful, and radiant divine grace. She was entirely removed from the macabre, phantom-choked presence—more akin to a malicious specter than a deity—depicted in Old Hu’s warped rendition.
- The Corpses Flaying in the Surf: This element was lifted from the myth “Saving the Father and Seeking the Brother.” In the original legend, Mazu senses that her brother has met with disaster at sea and hurries to the shore, where her brother’s corpse is borne to the surface, cradled and lifted by the cresting waves.
- The Sail of Human Skin: This was adapted from “Hanging the Mat to Move the Raft.” In the orthodox myth, Mazu instructs a crew to hang a simple straw mat to serve as a makeshift sail, allowing the vessel to miraculously cut through the wind and cleave the waves.
- The Pigs and Sheep Towing the Vessel: This was a dark inversion of “The Iron Horse Crossing the River,” a legend where Mazu transforms an iron horse ornament from a roof eve into a living, powerful steed capable of galloping across the water.
As for the remaining structural details that existed outside the realm of traditional mythology—
Huo Ranyin began noting them down sequentially on a blank sheet of paper: tongue, two kidneys, cranium, blood, cuts of meat, nine sheets of human skin.
“Considering what happened to Tang Jinglong, Fu Baoling, and Luo Sui, the most immediate logical leap is that this story serves as an allegory for human organ trafficking,” Huo Ranyin observed. “The biological tally of the kidneys aligns with human anatomy, but why did he explicitly place the emphasis on nine sheets of human skin?”
Ji Xun’s skepticism leaned toward a more practical narrative choice: “Perhaps. But looking at it strictly through the lens of storytelling architecture, why did he choose the tongue rather than the eyes when the captain first perished? In the illicit organ trade, harvesting corneas is far more common and far easier to associate with market value.”
Huo Ranyin lapsed into brief contemplation, inclining his head in agreement with Ji Xun’s counter-argument.
Ji Xun pressed further: “There is another glaring logical discrepancy in the narrative—the act of flaying. Setting aside the casualties who were indiscriminately butchered at the very end, the skin on the corpses of the captain, the sailor, and the manager remained entirely intact. Even the chief mate and the navigator, who had their kidneys gouged out, only suffered incisions across their abdominal cavities. Why were their bodies deemed unusable, unable to be fashioned into the sail?”
“What is your assessment?” Huo Ranyin inquired. A novelist invariably possessed a highly distinct, specialized approach to narrative analysis. Rather than rushing to re-articulate his own perspective, he preferred to let Ji Xun elaborate first.
“The two groups of corpses are inherently different,” Ji Xun stated.
“Different?”
“This story must map directly onto specific real-world events—at the very least, situations or individuals Old Hu personally witnessed or encountered. Because of that, he instinctively drew a sharp distinction between the two groups of casualties,” Ji Xun explained. “Whether it was a difference in alignment, factions, physical states, or some other underlying factor, something separated them into entirely distinct categories. That is why the latter group of corpses was systematically flayed, while the initial group was offered as sacred sacrifices. He established a highly deliberate structural boundary between them.”
“Is there anything else?” Huo Ranyin prompted.
“I have a few additional theories, but they lean far too heavily into subjective speculation to voice right now,” Ji Xun remarked. “Textual interpretation never yields a single standard answer. To prevent ourselves from drifting off into wild tangents, we should anchor our focus to objective, verifiable facts from reality.”
“Let’s initiate our analysis from the intelligence Hu Yan provided,” Huo Ranyin suggested. “Hu Yan stated that Old Hu had previously survived a catastrophic shipwreck. In the wake of that disaster, he suffered total amnesia, altered his identity, and eventually returned under the guise of a Hong Kong citizen. Could this narrative be inextricably linked to the shipwreck he experienced?”
“There should be a strong thematic correlation,” Ji Xun mused, weighing the thought. “The open sea, the cramped sampan… the entire narrative is a visceral study in the absolute terror and claustrophopia of impending death. On an emotional level, it functions as a psychological mirror to the trauma of surviving a real-world shipwreck.”
“Furthermore…” Huo Ranyin closed his eyes, isolating another critical operational anomaly from his thoughts. “Hu Kun survived a maritime disaster and lost his memory. His original wife assumed he was dead and remarried, while he subsequently built a new life with another woman. Both parties established separate domestic units. While one could attribute this strictly to the cruel ironies of fate—and acknowledge it created certain bureaucratic flaws regarding his legal identity—it contains nothing inherently shameful or criminal from a moral standpoint. Why, then, did he immediately execute a scorched-earth divorce the moment his second wife initiated a private inquiry into his background?”
“Indeed, that behavioral reaction borders on extreme paranoia,” Ji Xun agreed, following the logical thread. “And looking at his subsequent choices, Old Hu never established any functional communication with his biological children. He went so far as to covertly shoulder the financial burden of raising his granddaughter, yet even then, with whatever historic resentment his children harbored presumably softened for the sake of the daughter, no reconciliation ever occurred. Those relatives remained entirely absent up until the moment of his death… the only individual who surfaced was Lu Song, and he operated entirely in the shadows.”
“When an individual engages in this systematic pattern of identity alteration and clandestine behavior, what does it suggest to you?”
“They are either fleeing the reach of the law to evade the authorities, or they are running from a lethal transgression to hide from vengeful adversaries. Given what we know of Hu Kun…” Ji Xun tilted his head back, mentally balancing the two dark narratives. He fished a coin from his pocket, flipped it high into the air, and caught it cleanly against his palm. “I’ll wager a single dollar that it’s a combination of both.”
Huo Ranyin cast a frosty, indifferent glance at him, choosing not to bite.
Since Ji Xun was guaranteed to win the wager regardless of the outcome, what was the point of entertaining the bet?
Having finalized their cross-referencing work, they gathered the texts and prepared to take their leave. Just as they stepped past the library threshold, a massive detonation rumbled through the sky, sounding exactly like an approaching thunderstorm.
Yet when Ji Xun lifted his gaze, the firmament remained brilliantly clear and unobstructed, devoid of any gathering storm clouds or ambient moisture. He frowned in confusion:
“Where did that explosion originate?”
“That didn’t sound like thunder…” Huo Ranyin’s brow knit tightly together. “That sounded like a blast.”
Rewinding the timeline back to the exact moment Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin entered the library—
Zhao Wu had lost no time. Upon returning to the precinct, he immediately pulled the comprehensive file matrix for “Zhixian Import & Export Company.” A cursory review of the corporate documentation revealed very little out of the ordinary. They were registered as a standard food import and export business, maintaining a consistent monthly volume of outgoing shipments. The enterprise owned a small fleet of vessels, though they frequently distributed their freight across third-party container ships. Their internal staff was modest—numbering roughly seven to eight individuals—and their annual tax filings sat squarely within the median range for an enterprise of that scale.
No matter how many times one flipped through the pages, the corporate profile could be summarized in a single phrase: entirely unexceptional.
Standing beside him, the vice captain shook his head in mild irritation: “Since when did you develop the habit of trying to crack a case strictly by staring at paperwork? What’s the physical address listed for this outfit? I’ll take a couple of men and execute a field inspection on the double.”
“You don’t know the first thing about auditing corporate ledgers or inspecting maritime shipping vessels. What exactly do you intend to accomplish out there?” Zhao Wu countered, his eyes remaining anchored to the documents.
“I don’t need to read a balance sheet or inspect a hull; I know how to read a criminal. If a perpetrator so much as twitches an eyelash in front of me, I can tell you exactly what kind of malice they’re harboring underneath!” the vice captain scoffed. Without further delay, he signaled two detectives and strode out of the office.
Zhao Wu didn’t bother to check him. Over the past few days, his veteran partner had been subjected to back-to-back operations involving the excavation of septic tanks and the draining of municipal sewer lines; the man was clearly running on a frayed fuse. It was high time to let him get out into the field and stretch his legs—homicide detectives were never meant to be desk-bound bureaucrats anyway.
The physical headquarters of Zhixian Import & Export Company was located down by the commercial port, a short twenty-minute drive from the precinct. Despite his dismissive remarks regarding Zhao Wu’s reliance on paperwork, the vice captain had actually memorized the corporate layout with meticulous accuracy, logging the exact coordinates of Zhixian’s offices and warehouse facilities while scanning the file over Zhao Wu’s shoulder.
Upon arriving at the sector, he swiftly split his forces, directing his two detectives to set up a perimeter around the warehouse to prevent any destruction of evidence or potential flight risks. He then proceeded directly to the main office suite accompanied by his remaining officer.
Though designated as an import-export firm, the physical storefront was distinctly cramped and poorly maintained, entirely lacking the polished, sterile aesthetic of a modern corporate office. Along the left wall sat a clustered row of three to five standard desks. The right side of the unit, by contrast, had been left completely hollowed out and vacant; the open space was broad enough to easily accommodate a small delivery truck, likely designed to facilitate the rapid loading and unloading of cargo.
The documentation had indicated a staff of seven or eight employees, but as the vice captain swept his gaze across the interior, he noted only a single occupant.
It was a young man of thoroughly unremarkable features. As the officers crossed the threshold, he didn’t even bother to lift his eyes from his monitor, where he was actively playing a game of Solitaire. He offered a flat, dispassionate greeting: “The director is out of town for the next couple of days. If you’re here to negotiate a contract, come back later.”
“Police,” the vice captain announced, flashing his gold badge.
The clerk froze, turning his head in sharp astonishment. This gave the vice captain a clear look at his profile.
While he initial impression suggested youth, he wasn’t particularly young—likely sitting somewhere around thirty-five or thirty-six. His physical build was lean to the point of gauntness, carrying a slightly rodent-like aspect to his features. His complexion was distinctly sallow, bearing the classic markers of a sedentary, sub-healthy lifestyle. A quick glance at his desk—which was cluttered with a chaotic array of ledgers, shipping receipts, and loose pens—confirmed his role within the enterprise. He was the company accountant.
The vice captain spotted a stack of business cards resting near the keyboard. The text confirmed his assessment; the man’s name was Zhu Run.
He doesn’t present an immediate physical threat.
The vice captain executed a swift, clinical evaluation, scanning the man from head to toe.
“The police…” Zhu Run faltered, his voice carrying a distinct undercurrent of nervous strain. “What exactly do the police want with us?”
“Nothing major. Just a routine administrative check. Lead the way and open up your corporate warehouse facility for us,” the vice captain instructed calmly.
“There’s nothing inside our warehouse,” Zhu Run countered, his voice spiking slightly in volume.
“Whether there’s inventory inside isn’t for you to determine; we’ll make that assessment once the police have conducted a physical sweep,” the vice captain replied flatly. “What’s the issue? Are you refusing to comply with a police inspection?”
When a homicide detective demands entry, a low-level accountant is hardly in a position to refuse.
Zhu Run rose from his chair with evident reluctance: “No… it’s fine. Follow me, I’ll take you over right now.”
To his credit, he didn’t attempt any stalling tactics, leading the vice captain and his officer directly toward the commercial docks where the warehouse rows were situated.
The port sector was densely packed with corporate entities, featuring endless, identical rows of storage structures stretching across the perimeter. Zhixian Import & Export was a minor operation, and its designated warehouse unit was correspondingly small. The only remotely modern feature of the structure was the heavy security door, which was secured by an electronic digital keypad rather than a traditional padlock.
The vice captain stood directly at Zhu Run’s shoulder, watching closely as the man reached out to input the access code.
Right then, his trained eye caught a minute, highly specific behavioral anomaly:
Zhu Run’s finger struck the first digit automatically, but he immediately hit the delete key. He then hovered his hand over the keypad for a fraction of a second, appearing to pause in deep thought, before initiating a completely new sequence of inputs. The initial digit of this second attempt was entirely different from his first strike.
He misremembered the combination, the vice captain reasoned.
It was a perfectly rational explanation. As an accountant, his daily duties were confined to the front office rather than the warehouse floor; since he rarely had cause to access the storage unit personally, it was entirely normal for the sequence to slip his mind.
The logic held up cleanly. There was nothing inherently suspicious about it.
Yet, at that exact micro-second, his veteran instincts—honed by years of survival on the streets—delivered a sharp, phantom prick to his consciousness. Operating on pure reflex, he took a sudden, decisive step backward, pulling his body away from the doorframe…
Simultaneously, the final digit was registered. The electronic lock emitted two sharp, mechanical beeps.
From the absolute periphery of his vision, the vice captain caught the brief, blinding flash of a crimson indicator light. An instant later, a deafening detonation tore through the air like a localized thunderclap, completely rupturing his auditory nerves. A violent, concussive shockwave erupted from within, blowing the heavy steel warehouse doors off their hinges and launching the officers into the air like autumn leaves in a gale!
BOOM—!
The warehouse had exploded!
