Chapter 11 — A Day as a Janitor

The core of the lock shows no fresh scratches, and the iron ring is entirely free of any deformation. Someone used a matching key to unlock it first, and then deliberately vandalized the locking mechanism to make it look like a forced break-in.

Gu Nan immediately recalled a crucial detail. The spare key had once been checked out by the Administrative Center.

Luo Qian, who was being escorted behind them, turned as pale as a sheet of paper upon hearing this. She hurriedly blurted out, I only borrowed the key because Director Zheng Huairen told me to; I have never stepped foot in this place before. I turned to look at her and asked, After the key was borrowed, who signed the ledger to confirm its return? Luo Qian’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

I signed for it.

Did you actually lay eyes on the key itself?

She had no answer. The police officer meticulously jotted down her statement. We proceeded further into the abandoned factory. The interior of the workshop smelled heavily of damp mold and oxidized iron. The beam of a flashlight swept across the decaying wall, illuminating a faded slogan that read: Honor Your Word, Keep Your Faith. Shen Zhaoan came to a halt before the slogan, his gaze trembling faintly. I did not stop walking. The old storage room was located in the deepest recess of the building. The heavy door was left ajar. Fresh footprints marred the dusty ground, accompanied by scattered, glistening drops of fresh blood. A police officer raised a hand to signal us to stay back. The warehouse door was pushed open. Total chaos reigned within. Two rows of aged shelving units had been violently toppled over. The iron drums pressed against the wall had been breached, their lids askew. Gu Nan’s voice tightened sharply.

The duplicate is gone.

Shen Zhaoan leaned heavily on his walking cane, the sinews on the back of his hands bulging with tension. I squatted down beside the iron drum. A fine layer of dust coated the bottom. Within that dust lay a very faint, slender indentation, as if an object had rested there continuously for a long time. I reached out and brushed my fingers along the bottom edge, discovering a loose iron plate. The police used a specialized tool to pry it open. From the hidden compartment, a parcel wrapped in oiled parchment was revealed. Shen Zhaoan’s breath hitched in his throat. Gu Nan instantly retrieved an evidence bag to hold it. When the oiled parchment was unwrapped, it contained no red roster, but rather the photographic negatives of a group portrait taken thirty-two years ago. Pinned beneath the negatives was a handwritten note: If both the original and the duplicate are lost, take the confirmation list on the back of the negatives as valid proof. Signed at the bottom by Shen Zhaoan, bearing the exact date the old factory ceased operations. Shen Zhaoan stared fixedly at the handwriting, speaking in a low, hollow tone, I had almost forgotten about this entirely. I replied softly, Someone else has not forgotten.

Before my words could fully fade, a dull thud echoed from the dark interior of the warehouse, as if someone had kicked hard against an iron drum. Instantly, every flashlight beam converged on the sound. Behind a fallen shelving unit, a blood-stained sleeve became visible. The police rushed forward and rolled the figure over. It was Old Qiu. Sweat poured down his face, his mouth was sealed tightly with adhesive tape, and his hands and feet were bound. Yet, he was still breathing. I looked toward Shen Zhaoan, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Old Qiu began frantically shaking his head, his wide eyes staring in sheer terror at the warehouse door. I whipped my head around to follow his line of sight. Out in the deep shadows, someone was viciously throwing the heavy bolt, locking the warehouse door from the outside.

The heavy thud of the iron lock engaging reverberated ominously. The police immediately rushed forward to batter against the heavy wooden panels. No response came from the outside. In the very next second, a powerful, pungent smell of gasoline drifted from the corner of the warehouse. Gu Nan’s expression shifted drastically.

Someone is pouring gasoline.

A flashlight beam cut through the dark. The ground near a pile of old, discarded fabric was soaked through. A thin wire extended from behind the fabric, its terminal end connected to an antiquated ignition device. The police officers urgently shouted for everyone to retreat. The windows at the rear of the warehouse were sealed shut with iron bars, leaving only a single row of ventilation openings high near the ceiling. Shen Zhaoan was advanced in age and lacked the physical capacity to move quickly. I stepped forward and ripped the adhesive tape from Old Qiu’s mouth. He coughed violently, his entire body trembling.

It was not me. Sister Qin, I never meant to harm you.

I gazed down at him coldly. Save the explanations for after we get out of here.

Tears burst from Old Qiu’s eyes. There is a small service door at the back, blocked off by a stack of shelves. They used to use it to haul away industrial scrap.

I immediately glanced toward the furthest corner. Piles of aged wooden crates stood stacked half as high as the wall. The police dispatched two men to clear the obstacle. The fuse had not yet ignited, but the crimson warning light on the ignition device was blinking steadily. Gu Nan’s voice was taut with strain.

It looks like it is being remotely controlled.

The police demanded that everyone power down their mobile devices immediately and attempt to call for outside reinforcement. However, the walls of the old warehouse were exceptionally thick, and the signal fluctuated wildly, failing to connect. I grabbed Old Qiu by the collar of his shirt.

Who told you to send that message?

Old Qiu wept bitterly as he shook his head. I did not send it. My phone was taken by Deputy Director Zheng. He told me to drive a truck to this old factory and said all I had to do was drop the container inside the warehouse. It was only after I arrived here that I realized the container did not hold documents, but rather a set of blood-stained clothes and a fabricated registry. I wanted to run away, but someone ambushed me and knocked me unconscious.

Who was it? I demanded.

Old Qiu’s lips quivered uncontrollably. I could not see his face clearly, but on the back of his hand, there was a distinctive burn scar.

Luo Qian, standing nearby, abruptly raised her head. I caught the instant change in her demeanor. You know who that is.

Luo Qian clenched her teeth and remained silent. I stepped a fraction closer to her. If you continue to shield him now, you are only walking straight into the fire yourself.

Tears spilled over Luo Qian’s lashes instantly. It is Zheng Huairen’s nephew, Cao Bin. He used to handle asset liquidation at the Administrative Center, and he was caught quietly selling off discarded equipment, a matter I managed to cover up for him. Zheng Huairen forced him to resign, telling him that he might still come in handy in the future.

The police rapidly documented her confession. Gu Nan spoke in a low murmur, Cao Bin’s name was not on the roster of personnel authorized to be on company premises tonight. I turned my gaze back to Old Qiu.

Whose blood was on the back seat of that car?