Fang Qi walked down a somewhat dim corridor, a bag of fruit dangling from his hand. Light streamed in from the windows on the right, casting mottled shadows on the wooden floor. Some patches were merely shade, while others were deep, dark stains that had seeped into the aged planks, stubborn as a chronic ailment.
He stopped before a familiar iron door and pressed his right index finger onto the fingerprint lock, waiting for the camera above the door to extend. With a crisp beep, the standard seven-centimeter-thick iron door unlocked.
The square room was not large. All four walls were thick and solid. On the left wall, a number was painted in white—this room’s designated number. A bed, a wooden desk and chair: that was all the furniture. To one side was another door, leading to a simple washroom. High up in the washroom was a small rectangular window, about twenty centimeters tall, through which the only outside light filtered in. Though nominally an observation room, its layout, appearance, and overall atmosphere were no different from a standard prison cell.
The number painted on the wall was a six. This white number was a good sign, because it meant Yu Mi’s condition wasn’t considered severe. If the number had been a red digit, from one through five, it would mean he was very likely to spend the rest of his life in this room—or somewhere even worse.
Fang Qi entered, fruit bag in hand. Yu Mi, clad in a blue-and-white striped hospital gown, was seated at the desk, peeling an orange.
Seeing Fang Qi walk in, Yu Mi said with a pained expression, “Please don’t tell me you bought oranges too.”
“Bingo. Too bad, no prize for you,” Fang Qi said, dropping the bag onto the wooden desk. “What, did they all buy you oranges?”
Yu Mi gestured helplessly with the orange in his hand, then pointed to a carton of milk under the table. “Li Yuan, Jian Wei, and Tong Xiang—all three bought oranges. Sang Liao was a bit better; he brought a carton of milk, but he forgot to tear off the discount sticker.”
“What about Zhou Liao?” Fang Qi asked.
“She said she’d owe me one. She’ll buy something after next month’s paycheck. She has to survive the next week on three hundred yuan,” Yu Mi sighed.
Fang Qi nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Aren’t you going to check the bag first?”
Yu Mi paused, slightly confused. He reached for the bag on the table, rummaged through it a bit, and his eyebrows rose. His fingertips brushed against something hard and angular. It was a pack of cigarettes.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Yu Mi let out a long sigh. He tore open the pack, stared at it for a moment, then pulled one out and offered it to Fang Qi. “Got a light?”
Fang Qi pulled a lighter from his pocket. A small flame flickered to life. Yu Mi leaned in, lit the cigarette, and took a drag. He didn’t speak right away, just narrowed his eyes, letting the slender cigarette burn between his fingers as he stared at the wispy tendrils of smoke rising.
Fang Qi also remained silent, simply turning the lighter over in his hands, studying it.
Only when the cigarette had nearly burned down to the filter did Yu Mi seem to snap back to attention. The two then fell into casual chatter, discussing trivial, inconsequential matters. Fifteen minutes passed quickly. Fang Qi stood up from the wooden chair, leaving the lighter on the table.
“I have to take this back,” Yu Mi said, pressing his hand down on the lighter. “The cigarette pack might pass, but they’ll definitely confiscate a lighter.”
Fang Qi didn’t argue. He pocketed the lighter. “Fine. I’ll see you next week, then.”
Yu Mi nodded, watching Fang Qi walk out and close the door behind him. He then returned to peeling the orange. Once done, he broke off a segment and popped it into his mouth, only to grimace at the sourness. Resigned, he placed the rest of the orange, peel and all, onto the table.
He stood up, washed his hands, then returned to his chair. He did nothing, just sat there, head bowed in thought.
(——————)
“Did he get it?”
Fang Qi had just returned to his car, not yet even starting the engine, when he heard Li Yuan’s voice from the back seat. He turned around, exasperated. “He got it. But he wouldn’t keep the lighter. I had to take it back.”
Li Yuan said nothing at first, just nodding. “That’s enough.”
“Li Yuan, I have to warn you. You need to know what you’re doing right now,” Fang Qi turned back around, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “If this gets found out, none of the three of us are getting away unscathed. We’ll all be in deep trouble. Getting fired would be the least of our worries. Do you understand the severity of this?”
Li Yuan remained silent, as if ignoring his question entirely. Fang Qi sighed. He hadn’t really expected an answer anyway. They knew each other too well. He was long aware of Li Yuan’s stubborn streak. Once she made a decision, no one could shake her resolve.
She had dissolved the ripples of the Lake into the tobacco leaves, then mixed that tampered tobacco into the cigarette pack in specific cigarettes. After that, she had Fang Qi smuggle the pack inside. This way, even if the Pingjiang Division 1 team inspected the pack, there would be no issue. The remaining cigarettes were all ordinary ones. To them, it would just look like Yu Mi was having a nicotine craving and Fang Qi had brought him a pack to ease the itch—a minor infraction. They’d confiscate the pack at most, and that would be the end of it.
Fang Qi was no stranger to the Ripples infused in that shredded tobacco. It was one of Li Siwen’s techniques—converting memories into a readable, tangible substance. What he hadn’t expected was this method of concealment, nor that Yu Mi would react so quickly and so naturally. It was as if… as if he had known all along that Li Yuan would use this method to contact him.
Fang Qi had a very bad feeling about this. A sinking, ominous feeling. Li Yuan was definitely keeping something from him… But he’d still agreed to take part in this. Because Tian Xi had told him she hadn’t sensed any trace of the Lake Cutter’s hand on Yu Mi. This wasn’t the Lake Cutter’s doing. Whatever Yu Mi perceived as his reality… it was genuine. But the damnable thing was, the realities perceived by Fang Qi himself, Li Yuan, and Zhou Liao also felt genuine, untouched by the Lake Cutter.
If not the Lake Cutter, then the problem was far bigger. Yu Mi was the only exception within Team Two. Why? Was it because he was the Team Leader, or was there some other reason? Either possibility meant the situation surrounding Yu Mi was far from resolved. It was like carrying an invisible bomb. He couldn’t, under these circumstances, just let Yu Mi resign himself to fate and quietly wait for death.
“What was in that cigarette?” he finally broke the silence, asking the question.
“A segment of memory. My memory from the Archives Room,” Li Yuan pointed to her head and said quietly. “Not long, about two hours.”
The Archives Room. Great. Fang Qi sighed internally. Now he understood why that old fox Li Siwen—a man who never lifted a finger without a profit—had been willing to get involved in this mess. If this matter ever got exposed, every single person in their entire Team Two, down to the last one, wouldn’t escape the consequences.
His mind heavy with frustration, he pulled his own cigarette pack from his coat, pushed open the car door, and let fresh air flow into the vehicle.
“I’m not trying to gossip, but what exactly is your relationship with Yu Mi? He’s not actually your long-lost older brother or something, is he?” He exhaled a puff of smoke and asked, “And before you say it, I know it’s not that kind of relationship.”
“How much has he told you about it?” Li Yuan asked.
“Almost nothing,” Fang Qi shook his head. “You know his personality. A classic secret-keeper. He’d let words rot in his gut before ever talking about it with anyone else.”
Li Yuan nodded and said quietly, “He and I… we were previously from the same school, so to speak.”
“Same school?” Fang Qi was taken aback. “Who was your teacher?”
“The former Team Leader of the Pingjiang Division 2. His name was Tang Ci. Does that ring a bell?”
“That Tang family member who came over from the Southwest?” Fang Qi asked. “Of course, I remember the name. That incident in ’06, it was on the list of the deceased. He was the former leader of Team Two? I actually didn’t know that.”
“It’s normal you didn’t know. Because of that incident, his name was expunged from the records,” Li Yuan said.
“What kind of person was he?” Fang Qi asked.
“He… his personality was a bit old-fashioned, his words could be sharp. But underneath, he had a sharp tongue and a soft heart,” Li Yuan lowered her head, rubbing her fingers as she spoke slowly. “Back when Team Two was first established, it was full of young graduates like Yu Mi. He was very strict. Always wearing his military coat, a stern expression on his face. So, everyone in the team was a little afraid of him. Yu Mi was too, back then. They all called him Old Tang behind his back, said he was always meddling, a nagging busybody who loved lecturing.”
“Wait a minute, when Yu Mi was a fresh graduate… how old were you?” Fang Qi paused, mentally calculating. “Yu Mi graduated at twenty-three, in 2006. You would have been only fifteen then, right?”
Li Yuan glanced at him, but didn’t comment on it. She just nodded. “I was in the second year of junior high when my Syndrome was discovered. My mother took me to the Public Security Bureau, and they brought me to Team Two, just like Qi Xin. He was assigned to supervise me.”
“I see,” Fang Qi nodded. “Go on.”
Thinking about it, Yu Mi was right. Li Yuan’s background was practically tailor-made to pass the higher-ups’ scrutiny, Fang Qi mused. Raised practically within the Execution Division, watched over by many since childhood… and her mother, upon discovering her Syndrome, had immediately chosen to report it to the police. A textbook case of an ideologically sound and impeccably clean background.
“There was actually a reason people in the team found him annoying. I found him a bit annoying too, at the time. Being around him was really exhausting. He always talked to me about studying, how important education was, how hard it had been for him to find opportunities to learn when he was young, how I was born in a blessed era, blah blah blah. Back then, I just found it grating. In his eyes, it was like I should be studying from the moment school let out until I went to sleep,” Li Yuan’s voice was very soft. “He was the same when interacting with Yu Mi and the others. Always lecturing. No matter what you talked to him about, it would eventually circle back to some life lesson. That’s why Yu Mi and the others didn’t enjoy spending time with him either. Sometimes I’d see him sitting alone and think he looked a bit pitiful, but the moment you started talking to him, that sympathy would vanish without a trace. I really couldn’t stand his nagging… He was just that kind of person.”
Fang Qi glanced at Li Yuan. The person she was describing sounded a little familiar. Wasn’t that basically his own old man?
“I only got truly angry with him once. I was in high school at the time. All the girls were into this hairstyle called the ‘mei-mei head,’ a round bob. I really wanted it too. But he told me going to a barbershop was a waste of money, that he could cut it for me. He even said he used to cut hair for others all the time during his army days. He sounded so convincing, I hesitantly agreed. The result? He put a bowl on my head and cut around the edge,” Li Yuan made a scissor motion with her fingers. “It was much later that I found out, even in the army, he’d only ever cut short hairstyles… but that was long after.”
“There was no mirror when he cut my hair. I sat on the stool, listening to the snip-snip-snip, actually thinking, ‘Wow, he’s pretty skilled.’ I only went to look at my reflection when he was done. At that moment, I felt like the sky was falling. I cried my heart out, pushed him away, and ran home. When my mom saw me, she tried to comfort me, but she just couldn’t help bursting out laughing… I was furious and heartbroken. In my heart, I swore I would never, ever forgive him for this,” Li Yuan said quietly. “That evening, he came to my house with two bags of fruit and snacks to apologize… He didn’t come inside. He just stood at the doorway. Looking back now, I think he was worried about people gossiping about our family. After all, it was just my mom and me in the house. A widow and her daughter. If he’d come in and sat down, it might have sparked rumors.”
Fang Qi nodded, all traces of humor gone from his expression. He had a faint, sinking feeling about where this was going… Talking about memories was a terrible thing. It usually meant the stories being shared were tragedies, and the tragedies within memories are the ones that can never be undone, never changed. It’s like watching a play for the second time; you know what’s coming, but you’re powerless to alter it.
“My mom called for me, but I just stayed in my room. I even locked the door and said I didn’t want to see him, no matter what. So, he had no choice but to leave the things with my mother. Later, he even got Yu Mi to come find me. Yu Mi put in a good word for him, said things like, ‘Old Tang knows he messed up, he shouldn’t have ruined your hair, just forgive him already, blah blah blah,'” Li Yuan spoke slowly. “By then, my anger had actually started to fade. I thought, if he just came to see me one more time, I’d stop being mad. But he never came again… A week later, the door finally knocked again. This time, I went to open it. But the person knocking wasn’t Tang Ci. It was Yu Mi.”
“I was really surprised, because Yu Mi hadn’t brought an umbrella, and he was soaked through. I was just about to grab him a towel to dry off, but he just shook his head. He said he’d only come to deliver a message, and after he told me, he had to rush back to the team to report it… That message was that Old Tang was dead.”
She paused for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I can barely remember what happened after that. Because Tang Ci’s death was considered dishonorable, there was no official funeral for him on the team’s side. Yu Mi and the others held one themselves. It was very crude, since there wasn’t even a body. They just gathered some of Old Tang’s things from his office—his teacup and such—and made a cenotaph. The whole ceremony was a mess, a hodgepodge of different regional customs, because Yu Mi and the others didn’t have any experience organizing funerals… I just sat in a chair the whole time, watching them bustle around. My mind was completely blank. I hadn’t processed what had happened. Part of my brain even thought it was a little funny, too dramatic. If a movie had a scene like that, it’d feel so contrived, definitely a terrible film… But Tang Ci was indeed dead.”
“I’m sorry to hear that story,” Fang Qi said softly.
Li Yuan shook her head. Her expression wasn’t one of sadness, but of calm composure. “I’m not finished yet. Do you remember when Tang Ci died?”
Fang Qi was momentarily stunned. “2009. Didn’t you just say that?”
Li Yuan didn’t speak. She simply handed him her phone. Fang Qi took it, puzzled. On the screen was a video. Confused, he pressed play. A man appeared in the footage, a man wearing a red outdoor jacket.
Fang Qi was, of course, no stranger to the man in the video. He looked up and asked, “Isn’t this that video from the forum?”
Li Yuan nodded. “Keep watching.”
Suppressing his questions, Fang Qi continued watching.
“Today’s log. 2006. Uh, December 21st. The Coiled Incense is completely broken. Even though Tang Ci taught me how to use this thing, I’m still a layman. Can’t make heads or tails of it.”
Fang Qi felt his mind explode, as if a bolt of lightning had struck from a clear sky.
He replayed it. The video still clearly said “2006.” He pulled out his own phone, found the same video on the forum, and played it. It was still 2006.
“Strange, isn’t it?” Li Yuan said, her voice low and ethereal.
“I remember it very clearly. It was ’09,” Fang Qi said quietly. “If Tang Ci died in ’06, then logically, you would have barely just met him then, or not met him for long at all. None of this makes sense.”
Li Yuan nodded. “Yes, it doesn’t make sense. But this is the reality now. Tang Ci died in ’06. If you go ask anyone else in the team, they’ll tell you the same thing. Tang Ci died in ’06.”
Fang Qi pulled out his phone and dialed a number. When it connected, he skipped all pleasantries and asked directly, “Remember that thing about the Tao family’s mountain?”
“Of course I remember. What about it?” Sang Liao’s voice came from the other end. “2006. Why? Is there some new development in that case?”
Fang Qi didn’t reply. He just hung up and covered his face with his hand. His mind was in turmoil.
“Time. The perceived time of every Insider… was stolen away for nearly three years,” Li Yuan said quietly. “Do you know what the interesting part is? At the very start, you said it was ’06. But after listening to my story about Tang Ci, you naturally accepted it as ’09 and firmly believed you’d always thought it was ’09. In other words, the moment you heard me talk about Tang Ci, your memory changed. Or rather, it returned to normal.”
Li Yuan switched on the voice recorder on her phone. Fang Qi heard his own voice spill out:
“…Of course, I remember the name. That incident in ’06, it was on the list of the deceased. He was the former leader of Team Two? I actually didn’t know that…”
A deathly silence filled the car.
“When did you discover this?” After a long, long while, Fang Qi finally managed to calm his emotions enough to ask Li Yuan.
