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墨書 Inktalez
"Aliens! Aliens!"
The screams echoed from downstairs in the Micro Light Public Welfare Office. Lin Xiaofan lifted a corner of the blinds, and the sight below made his stomach churn—at least two hundred people were gathered at the entrance, holding a variety of placards: "Hand over alien technology," "The system belongs to all humanity," "Lin Xiaofan is a government experiment..."
"The back door is blocked too." Su Yuqing hung up the phone, her face pale. "The news station's broadcast van is parked at the end of the alley."
Lin Xiaofan's phone vibrated violently on the table. Since this morning, he had received hundreds of messages—some were curious inquiries, others were threats, but most were various "collaboration invitations" from self-media and research institutions. The most disturbing was a statement from the Zhao Foundation, claiming they would "assist relevant departments in investigating this mysterious system that may threaten national security."
"That old fox Zhao Tianming..." Lin Xiaofan threw his phone onto the sofa. "He has a system himself!"
Su Yuqing fiddled with an old radio, trying to gather more information from the outside world. "The current problem is how to prove your system has nothing to do with aliens."
Amidst the harsh static noise, a clear broadcast suddenly cut in: "...Mr. Zhao Tianming revealed today that Lin Xiaofan's father, Lin Jianguo, was sentenced for fraud involving compensation from a mining accident..."
"Shut up!" Lin Xiaofan slammed his fist against the wall, blood seeping from his knuckles. "My dad was the whistleblower! He was the victim!"
【Ultimate Task Notification】
【Get 1,000 people to sincerely pray for you within 72 hours】
【Current Progress: 3/1000】
【Note: Sincerity cannot be faked】
Lin Xiaofan stared at this bizarre task, his temples throbbing. Who were the three pray-ers? His mother, Su Yuqing, and... Old Zhou? If he were still alive.
"We need to get out of here." Su Yuqing suddenly shut off the radio. "The crowd downstairs is getting restless."
As if to confirm her words, a loud crash of breaking glass erupted from below, followed by a chorus of screams. Lin Xiaofan looked out the window and saw several masked individuals throwing stones at the building's glass doors.
"Follow me." Su Yuqing grabbed him and dashed toward the fire escape. "Let's hide in Old Zhou's studio; no one knows about it there."
They slipped out of the underground parking garage like fugitives, wearing masks and baseball caps, taking the most inconspicuous bus across the city. Along the way, advertising screens displayed news reports; Lin Xiaofan’s photo covering his phone was blown up in every corner.
Old Zhou's studio was hidden in an old district slated for demolition. As they pushed open the door, dust particles danced in the sunlight like golden mist. An easel was draped with a white cloth, and unfinished paintings were piled in a corner; the smell of turpentine reminded Lin Xiaofan of his father—who used to enjoy working on oil paintings in their garage.
"Look for clues." Su Yuqing began rummaging through Old Zhou's drawers. "About the mining accident, about your father..."
Lin Xiaofan's attention was drawn to a stain on the wall. As he approached, he realized it wasn't just a stain but rather the edge of a painting that had been deliberately painted over in black. He wiped it with his palm, revealing a familiar outline of miners—another variant of "Son of a Miner!"
"Su Yuqing! Come look!"
Together they moved aside the heavy easel to reveal an iron box hidden behind it. Inside were his father's work ID, several yellowed pay slips, and an unmailed whistleblower letter. The paper had become brittle over time, but the handwriting remained clear:
"Provincial Safety Supervision Bureau: The Xishan mining accident was caused by human negligence... Zhao Tianming instructed to tamper with gas monitoring data... withheld compensation for victims... evidence is hidden beneath the paint layers of Zhou Guoan's painting 'Son of a Miner'..."
The date at the end of the letter made Lin Xiaofan tremble all over—it was the day before his father's "accident."
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