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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 5: The Dusty Files
In that instant, I felt as if all the blood in my body had frozen.
Remote Monitoring Program is running.
That line of small text, that eye-shaped icon, felt like a malicious taunt burned into my retina, searing my nerves.
Damn it!
I cursed inwardly, but my body was as stiff as a stone, too afraid to move. My fingers rested on the mouse, yet I didn't dare click on that icon, fearing that any unusual action would immediately trigger an alarm.
He knows. He knows everything.
Fang Huai'an's earlier "heartfelt" lecture, his seemingly "lenient" demeanor—it was all an act! He never intended to let me off the hook! Sitting there, casually typing away at me, he might have been remotely controlling this broken computer at that very moment, implanting the monitoring program!
What does he want to see? Does he want to know if I will continue my investigation? Which file I will hover over with the mouse? Whether I will attempt to copy any information regarding Li Guifen's case?
A wave of overwhelming, suffocating fear gripped me. I felt like a lab rat trapped in a transparent glass box, with a pair of cold eyes outside keenly observing my every move and analyzing my every reaction.
I didn't even dare to shut down the computer immediately, fearing that such an action would be interpreted as guilty conscience.
What should I do?
My mind raced in extreme panic, nearly burning out. I couldn't panic; absolutely not! The more critical the moment, the calmer I needed to be!
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, forcing myself to relax my stiff shoulders. I pretended to be nonchalant as I continued browsing the screen, moving my fingers randomly over the mouse. I opened a few inconsequential folders, pretending to still be "studying" those old cases.
Out of the corner of my eye, I kept a close watch on that eye icon. It was like a festering wound, firmly nailed there, reminding me—every move I made was under someone else's control.
After a few minutes, feeling that my performance was convincing enough, I finally closed all the windows like a normal employee finishing up for the day and clicked the shutdown button.
When I got up, my legs felt a bit weak. I leaned against the table to steady myself, trying to make my steps appear natural. As I passed by the elderly woman still knitting, I even forced a stiff smile and nodded at her.
She didn’t even lift her eyelids, as if I were just air. But inside, I was frantically guessing: Did she know something? Was she deliberately letting me in so that Fang Huai'an or someone else could set a trap for me?
Stepping out of the archive room and back into the corridor, I felt a slight sense of relief, but that feeling of being watched clung to me like a shadow. I sensed that everyone passing by in the corridor was sizing me up with strange eyes. Were they all part of Fang Huai'an's "Old Rules" network? Were they all laughing at me, the clueless outsider?
I quickened my pace, nearly breaking into a run as I returned to my room at the guesthouse.
Bang!
I slammed the door shut, locked it, bolted it, and shoved a chair against it once more.
Leaning against the door, I gasped for breath, my heart racing as if it would explode.
It was over. Electronic Means was completely finished.
Not only could I not use the office computers, but I also dared not touch my own laptop or phone. God knows if they had installed surveillance on my personal devices through the Local Area Network or some other means. With Fang Huai'an's capabilities and connections, such tactics couldn't be too difficult for him.
I felt completely stripped of my weapons, standing barehanded before a beast. All modern investigative methods—information retrieval, data analysis, communication—had suddenly become incredibly dangerous, capable of exposing my intentions and leading to disaster at any moment.
Despair. An unprecedented sense of despair engulfed me.
Was I really left with no choice but to resign myself to fate? To wait until my assignment ended and flee this cursed place like a stray dog? What if… I didn’t even make it to that day?
No!
I suddenly lifted my head and looked at the pale-faced, terrified reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t just give up! I couldn’t die without understanding! Even if it was just to survive, I had to find the truth and discover something that could protect me!
If electronic means wouldn’t work, then I would turn to physical ones!
The files! Yes, the paper files!
Fang Huai'an could delete electronic photos and monitor computers, but he could never destroy or alter all the paper documents from the past thirty years seamlessly, could he? Especially those old case files that had long been archived and might be gathering dust in some corner!
Li Guifen's case! The case from three years ago; the paper files must still exist! If I could find it and see the original autopsy records, the scene investigation notes, or even some unprocessed photos, I might find a breakthrough!
This thought reignited a flicker of hope within me, like seeing a faint light in a pitch-black mine.
But how to search? I couldn't rely on the computer in the archives. Should I directly ask that elderly woman who knits? Absolutely not; everyone around me seemed like Fang Huai'an's informants.
I had to find it myself, and I needed to be extremely discreet, ensuring no one noticed.
For the next two days, I completely lay low. I didn’t touch any computers at the bureau and barely used my phone, only checking in with my family when necessary. I went to the cafeteria for meals at regular times, nodding and smiling at colleagues without saying a word, acting like an ordinary young person who was a bit shy due to being new and out of place.
I tried to minimize my time in the office, spending most of it in my guesthouse room, pretending to read or rest. In reality, my mind was racing, recalling every detail I had seen in the County Bureau building over the past few days, trying to sketch out a "treasure map."
Where would the paper files be stored? Besides that tightly guarded second-floor archive room, could there be other places? Perhaps... the basement? Or some seldom-used storage room?
I began to take advantage of my daily trips to the cafeteria and restroom to casually wander around the office building. My movements had to appear very casual to avoid raising any suspicion. I pretended to familiarize myself with the environment or simply took leisurely walks.
The first floor mainly housed the reception hall and several external windows. The second floor contained the criminal investigation team, Technical Department, and that damned archive room. The third floor seemed to be for leadership offices and meeting rooms.
The basement! Yes, many older office buildings have basements, usually used for storing miscellaneous items or as temporary archive storage.
I found an opportunity during lunch break when there were fewer people around and stealthily made my way to the stairway leading down to the basement. The stairs were narrow and covered in dust, with water stains on the walls. A cold, damp smell mixed with mildew hit me as I descended.
It was dark below; it looked like no one had been down there for quite some time.
My heart began to race. Could this be the place I was looking for?
I glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then held my breath like a thief and cautiously made my way down the stairs step by step.
The basement was larger than I had imagined but filled with various discarded desks, old filing cabinets, and some unidentifiable clutter, leaving little room to move. The light was extremely dim, with only a faint glow coming from the stairway. The air was thick with dust and mildew, making me cough uncontrollably.
I turned on the flashlight on my phone and carefully navigated through the pile of clutter.
This place looked like a dump; it certainly didn’t seem like a storage area for important documents.
Had I guessed wrong?
Just as I was feeling disheartened and ready to give up, the beam of light from my flashlight swept across a corner. There, stacked against the wall, were several large, old metal filing cabinets, rusted and worn, with some indistinct years hastily painted in white on their doors.
My heart skipped a beat!
I approached the cabinets and examined the years written on them one by one. Yes! One of them had “Archived from XX Year to XX Year” written on it! Li Guifen had passed away three years ago; the timeline matched!
I tried to pull the handle of one cabinet. It was cold to the touch and covered in rust. The cabinet was heavy, and it took considerable effort to pry it open just a crack.
A stronger, musty smell of decaying paper wafted out. Shining my flashlight inside revealed it was crammed full of manila envelopes, each labeled with case numbers and names.
This was it! It had to be!
My hands trembled with excitement. I quickly scanned the labels, searching for “Li Guifen” or any related case numbers. There were too many files, stacked haphazardly, and many labels had become illegible.
I had to hurry! The lunch break was almost over; someone could come down at any moment!
Like a treasure hunter in a narrow space, I rummaged through the files rapidly, dust flying into my face and clothes. My fingers brushed against the cold envelopes, my heart racing.
Finally, beneath a nearly crushed envelope that had become somewhat misshapen, I spotted the name that had haunted me—
Li Guifen Accident Death Case
I found it! I finally found it!
I eagerly pulled out that envelope. It was thick and seemed to contain a lot of material. The cover was damp and had some moldy spots.
I eagerly untied the string of the file bag, wanting to pull out the documents inside.
However, just as my fingers brushed against the paper within, my movements froze.
Something was off.
The seal of this file bag... was too neat.
This old-fashioned kraft paper file bag typically has its seal tightly bound with string, and over time, with repeated use, the paper around the string holes would show signs of wear and fraying, leaving marks from the string itself.
But this file bag had smooth edges at the seal, with almost no signs of wear. The cotton string also appeared overly... clean.
This did not resemble the state of a document that had been stored for three years and possibly never touched during that time.
It felt more like... it had been opened recently and then carefully tied up again!
A chill, more piercing than the cold of the basement, instantly spread throughout my body.
Could it be... that even the physical files here had been "processed"?
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