Chapter Four: The Mysterious Organization

Shen An gave a wry smile. “A stranger, someone I’ve never met before. I’d just arrived here when someone spotted me, and then I fell into the water…”

It was all meaningless, inconsequential talk, and Bai Weiwei’s patience was wearing thin.

“What proof do you have that any of this is true?”

Click!

Shen An distinctly heard the sound of a pistol being cocked, and it was aimed right at his head. He couldn’t help but cry out loudly, “Spare me, heroine! I’ve told you everything I know. That person just told me about this matter, and I never saw them again. How am I supposed to prove anything?”

Of Shen An’s terror, perhaps seventy percent was feigned, but the remaining thirty percent was genuine. Some instinct told her that this woman wasn’t as ruthless as she claimed to be, or else she wouldn’t be wasting so much time.

But who could guarantee she wouldn’t actually pull the trigger?

Bai Weiwei looked at the man before her, who, in his panic, was clutching the backseat and awkwardly squeezing himself into the corner near the car door. For a fleeting moment, she almost believed he really knew nothing.

However…reason quickly returned to Bai Weiwei’s mind. If he truly knew nothing, would he be so quick to trust a stranger’s words and venture into the sealed-off, heavily-guarded mountains? Not even a fool would risk their life so carelessly.

Yet seeing Shen An so frightened, and still refusing to speak the truth, Bai Weiwei realized any further pressing would be futile.

It would be better to let him go and investigate quietly; perhaps other clues would emerge. After all, the person who provided him the information was unlikely to contact him just once.

“Phone number. Address.”

Bai Weiwei withdrew her gun and picked up the registration form from her lap.

Shen An breathed a sigh of relief, but before he could speak, he heard her say, “Even if you lied, we have our ways of finding you.”

Shen An instantly regretted underestimating this woman. “186********, Sixth Building, South Grand Garden.”

This time, Bai Weiwei was decisive. She jotted down the information, ignored Shen An, rolled down the window, and called the driver to escort Shen An out of Qianling Mountain.

Shen An knew Bai Weiwei was taking the opportunity to verify his address.

But what choice did he have?

Anyone who could so casually pull out a gun was not someone to be trifled with.

Fortunately, the address he gave was real. Bai Weiwei accompanied him upstairs, and once Shen An fished out his keys and entered, she didn’t press further, merely left a business card, and left.

Shen An examined Bai Weiwei’s card. It listed her name, but no title. In the lower left corner, there was a symbol strikingly similar to the Armed Police insignia.

It did resemble the emblem of the Armed Police, but at the bottom of this badge were two extra letters—“EO.”

“What kind of organization is this?” Shen An scratched his head, utterly baffled.

Given the strict domestic regulations, how could an ordinary person have a gun?

“Never mind, let’s head out and do some checking, maybe get online.”

Pocketing the card, Shen An changed clothes and made his way to the nearest internet café.

At Qingyun Internet Café, Shen An sat by a computer, searching through various forums for recent news.

Everything that had happened today was too bizarre.

News was appearing rapidly online. It wasn’t just Qianling Mountain; similar events were happening elsewhere.

“Dayuan Mountain volcano erupts, spectacular scene with photos as proof.”

“Strange incident in North City—someone fell from a tall building and vanished.”

These places weren’t local, yet the posts came with photos, making them seem authentic.

Shen An grew serious.

Everything was real.

He was utterly convinced.

He opened his contacts. The “future self” who had sent him information wasn’t online. He couldn’t reach him. He typed several “Are you there?” messages, but got no reply.

It seemed that “self” truly wasn’t around.

“Bro, where are you? Something big just happened near your building!”

Shen An opened the message; it was from Sun Ming.

Sun Ming was a good friend—a rich kid who loved chasing girls. They’d met over drinks at a bar.

During the time when Shen An was expelled from school, he had nothing to do all day but drink and hang out at bars. Over time, he and Sun Ming, who also frequented bars, became acquainted.

Initially, they were mere acquaintances.

Until one night, Sun Ming got into a fight at the bar over a woman. There were four or five on the other side, but only two or three with Sun Ming. His companions, intimidated by the burly thugs, ran off.

Sun Ming thought he was about to get badly beaten, but Shen An stepped in. He smashed a bottle, pressed the jagged edge against the other leader’s throat, and said, “If you don’t want to die, get lost.”

From then on, Sun Ming recognized only Shen An as a true friend.

Seeing Sun Ming’s message, Shen An could already guess a few things.

Still, he replied feigning ignorance, “Xiao Ming, what happened?”

“That spicy hotpot place you frequent collapsed in the quake.”

Sun Ming replied at once.

“Why are you so concerned? I heard a lot of weird things happened today.”

“Exactly! What about the boss there? Bro, I was thinking we should go check on her.”

Shen An couldn’t help but smile.

The owner across the street was an attractive woman in her forties, elegant and alluring, with looks that could turn heads anywhere.

Shen An often ate at her place, partly because of Sun Ming, but also because the owner was easy on the eyes.

“Fine, if you want to check on her, go ahead. I’m at the internet café, you coming?”

They chatted idly for a while before ending the conversation.

Shen An then searched for the meaning of the “EO” logo online, but the results were unsatisfactory—mostly just references to letters or abbreviations, nothing conclusive.

That woman was clearly connected to the Armed Police, but her authority seemed to surpass theirs.

Could it be some special department? Something like the Ninth Bureau?

His thoughts wandered as he speculated.

And he wasn’t far from the truth.

Meanwhile, in a luxurious room, Bai Weiwei and a group of men in special uniforms were monitoring Shen An’s every move.

“That kid’s been online the whole time, searching news about special incidents across the country. He even looked up our bureau’s insignia. Seems he knows something, but also seems clueless,” said one of the men, eyes glued to the tablet streaming Shen An’s activity.

He looked like a rookie, just coming into contact with extraordinary events—curious and eager to learn.

“He’s half lying, half telling the truth. But based on his file, he’s a man of courage,” Bai Weiwei said coldly.

“You mean that incident at university?” the man checking the documents asked.

“The details don’t matter. Just keep watching him. I want to know his every move these next few days.”

On the tablet, the boy suddenly glanced around, then quickly searched for a certain website. When it loaded, it turned out to be an adult site. Bai Weiwei instantly stood up and left, slamming the alloy door behind her.

The other staff exchanged glances, then, in perfect unspoken agreement, picked up the tablet and watched with great interest.

Before long, the alloy door opened again.

Bai Weiwei reentered, her face grim as she saw the men watching intently.

“Block that website,” she ordered coldly.

They immediately complied, not daring to utter a word. In no time, the site on the tablet displayed a 404 error.

In the internet café, Shen An stared blankly at the suddenly vanished page.

He’d been visiting that site for a year and never expected it to be shut down.

He tried several times, but the site wouldn’t load.

“Damn! What a lousy site,” Shen An cursed.

He had no idea that it was precisely because of him that this site, a gathering place for countless users, had been taken down.