activa-t Chapter 14 Red Light, White Light, Green Light
Chapter 14 Red Light, White Light, Green Light
The French Concession police station was like a hornet's nest that had been poked open today.
Two black sedans with police headquarters signs appeared in the yard.
The windows of the conference room on the third floor were tightly shut, and hurried French voices could be faintly heard from inside, interspersed with occasional official explanations.
News of Ruan Wenzhong's violent death spread before dawn. Inside the three-story building, everyone spoke in hushed tones, their eyes darting around nervously.
Several Annamese police officers gathered at the stairwell, their faces grim.
The Chinese constables leaned against the corridor in twos and threes, whispering among themselves. Some couldn't hide their joy, while most were filled with apprehension. With the area above empty, they didn't know which way the next gust of wind would blow.
"Have you heard? Something strange happened in the Italian Concession yesterday too..."
"Sigh, this world."
"Inspector Ruan is gone; this position will probably go to Chief Li..."
There was a restless atmosphere in the air. Loose threads were everywhere, all starting to emerge at this critical juncture.
Just as Zhou Xing turned into the side courtyard, Sun Youfu emerged from behind the boiler room, his sleeves covered in coal dust.
"Old Zhou!"
His voice was low and strained as he quickly caught up. "You're finally back. Last night... Detective Ruan was investigating a cult when he was ambushed and killed in the line of duty."
Zhou Xing's steps never stopped.
Sun Youfu swallowed hard and continued:
"The French consulate was furious, and people from the General Administration also came."
Also, those few members of the "charity association" who were being held captive are all dead.
Not only here, but in the British concession, a night watchman died in the middle of the night, clutching a clay doll in his hand.
In the shack area on the edge of the Japanese concession, three bodies were carried out before dawn, supposedly from the plague. But Old Liao, who collected the bodies, said that the faces of the corpses were covered with yellow paper.
Zhou Xing paused, nodded, and patted Sun Youfu on the shoulder:
"Old Sun, things haven't been peaceful lately. Don't go out too much, and be careful in everything you do."
The frequent murders sound like the work of a charity.
This organization is becoming increasingly reckless in its actions, as if it's rushing to complete some kind of preparation.
A storm is brewing, and I need to hurry.
He walked through the lobby and went straight to the archives in the backyard, expressionless and oblivious to the commotion around him.
The archives are located on the ground floor of the annex building, with a heavy oak door that is peeling and faded.
Pushing open the door, a strong smell of musty paper and dust hit me.
The lighting was dim, with only a single skylight casting a hazy glow onto the rows of dark brown filing cabinets.
The duty room door was ajar, and from inside came Wu Wentong's slow, sticky Mandarin with an Annamese accent:
"...That's just how you Chinese are. Sharp-tongued about small things, but muddle-headed about big things. It was alright when Inspector Ruan was around, but now? Humph."
Zhou Xing pushed open the door and went in.
Wu Wentong sat in his large, peeling rattan chair, opposite a bowing and scraping Chinese constable surnamed Wang, who was in charge of logistics and purchasing.
The two stopped talking when they saw Zhou Xing enter.
"Administrator Wu,"
Zhou Xing handed over a retrieval form, which read, "Category B: Catalog of old case files from the years Bingyin to Gengwu, as well as miscellaneous notes that are not yet categorized."
The reason for the document was simply stated in eight characters: "Organizing old files for verification purposes."
Wu Wentong took it without even lifting his eyelids, and casually tossed the form onto the table, pressing it down on a calendar.
He picked up his enamel mug, blew away the foam, and took a sip.
"Detective Zhou,"
He put down the jar, then raised his eyelids and looked at Zhou Xing's face.
"Now, all file transfers require the signature of Inspector Li or the French Inspector. Yours is not in accordance with the regulations."
Officer Wang, standing nearby, chimed in with a forced smile:
"Zhou Xing, no offense, but Inspector Ruan just left, and there are so many important matters to attend to. Commander Wu is so busy, and you're asking for favors empty-handed?"
What are you busy with?
Isn't it just soliciting bribes?
Zhou Xing narrowed his eyes:
"The police station's regulations stipulate that old case files must be regularly reviewed to prevent omissions. My paperwork is complete and in accordance with the rules."
"rule?"
Wu Wentong scoffed, tapping his fingers twice on the table, his gaze arrogant.
"Is this the rule of your Chinese police force: to cause trouble at times like these? Get out. Come back when there are official orders."
He waved his hand, as if shooing away flies.
"What's with this mere Chinese constable? He doesn't even know how many silver dollars he carries when he's on a mission. He deserves to be a errand boy his whole life."
Just as they were frozen in place, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Li Wenyong strode in. He had changed into a crisper uniform, and although his eyes were still a little bloodshot, his spirit was different.
He glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on Zhou Xing's face for a moment, his fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly.
"Administrator Wu,"
Li Wenyong spoke, his voice not loud, but calm and firm.
"The State Administration requires that all unsolved cases and reports of unusual events from the past three years be compiled as soon as possible and summarized."
Please compile a list of all relevant case files and summaries here and send it to my office before you leave work today.
Then, as if he had just seen Zhou Xing, he casually asked:
"Detective Zhou... is he here too? Is something wrong?"
Zhou Xingdao said, "We need to access some old file catalogs, and Administrator Wu needs a higher-level signature."
Li Wenyong said "Oh," and then gave Wu Wentong a command:
"Organizing the catalog is also a basic task of sorting things out. Detective Zhou is meticulous, so let him sift through the old files first, and you can assist him."
The list has been compiled, and Detective Zhou has reviewed it. He thinks the original files need to be retrieved; please cooperate. I'll complete the paperwork later.
He spoke of it casually.
Wu Wentong's face flushed red instantly, his lips moved, but he ultimately didn't dare to say anything.
Finally, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he squeezed out a single word through clenched teeth:
"……yes."
Li Wenyong said no more, took a document, and turned to leave. As he passed Zhou Xing, he nodded almost imperceptibly.
The smile on Officer Wang's face froze as he slowly retreated to the door.
Wu Wentong, holding his breath, suddenly pulled open a drawer, took out a bunch of brass keys, slammed them on the table, and pointed to the row of cabinets in the darkest corner outside the wall:
"The miscellaneous volumes in category B are all there! Look them up yourself!"
Zhou Xing took the key:
"Please leave for a moment. Remember to close the door behind you, thank you."
Wu Wentong was taken aback, his wrinkles creased, but he ultimately left in silence.
Zhou walked to the row of cabinets.
The cabinet was cold to the touch, the keyhole rusted, and made a harsh "click" when he turned it. He opened the cabinet door, and dust fell in a flurry.
Inside were not neatly arranged files, but bundles of old documents, handwritten copies, and even a few thread-bound books tied with hemp rope.
He found the light switch cord and gently pulled it. A dim light bulb lit up overhead.
Zhou Xing rolled up his sleeves and began searching.
The documents he brought back from the underground chamber last night contained fragmented information, but two keywords stood out: Ghost Market and Tao Zhugong.
But where exactly is it? How do I get in? What are the taboos? I have to piece these together from the accumulated files.
He pulled out a bundle of records wrapped in oil paper, the cover of which read "Records of Abnormal Events Inside and Outside the Concession in the Year of Bingyin (Partial)".
Untying the hemp rope revealed some hastily handwritten reports, the ink faded to brown.
"...On the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, at the third quarter of midnight, a thick fog suddenly rose in the old warehouse area of the Haihe Wharf. The noise of people was as loud as in a market, but there was no one nearby."
Two night watchmen strayed into the area. When they returned at dawn, one was mentally impaired and claimed to see a green light; the other carried an ancient jade in his possession. He died suddenly three days later, and the jade shattered...
I turned to another document: "...on the edge of the British concession, in the desolate cemetery behind the church, on the full moon of each month, white lanterns are hung on the old locust tree."
Some say it's the entrance to a ghost market, but repeated inspections have revealed nothing unusual. It's suspected to be a smokescreen or a charade...
Another, even more tattered, handwritten manuscript, its cover gone, contained some seemingly real yet unreal rules:
"...In the ghost market, no one asks where the goods came from or where they are going. Once the money and goods are settled, they are forgotten as soon as they are gone."
Beware of things that are considered dangerous; they may bring you negative karma.
In the white-light district, there are guides called "lamp bearers," and you must exchange secrets...
The green light is fleeting; do not seek what is not meant to be, for those who force it often meet a violent end…