Episode 5: Beneath the Veil of Fog

Night fell, plunging the city into darkness. People were still immersed in the revelry of neon lights and wine, numb people who had never cared about anything happening around them. To them, happiness spread like poison. But this happiness was painful, and bewildering; they searched aimlessly for an antidote to their suffering, yet they forever ignored what the source of happiness actually was.

A murder that had happened a few days earlier had already been covered up by the authorities using entertainment gossip, diverting the public's attention. The masses, who loved nothing more than a spectacle, had long been drawn away by other gossip. Discussion on the major social platforms had died down, and the public enjoyed it all, as if it had become their spiritual anaesthetic.

By dawn, the internet had exploded.

News of "a famous director's bizarre death at his premiere" topped the trending lists within less than an hour, with clicks passing a hundred million.

But before anyone could open the details, the headline had been changed to — "Premiere Accident": an accident at the venue; the organisers had yet to respond.

A few hours later, the topic was pushed aside by hotter entertainment news: "Girl-group member goes public with a romance," "A rising young idol exposed for yin-yang contracts," "A certain film queen exposed as a tycoon's kept woman — a golden house hiding a beauty," and a string of other startling entertainment stories, discussed, forwarded and debated across the major platforms...

On screen, brilliant smiles and endless flashes — no one mentioned that bloody premiere any more. Everything was buried under this information; the trending lists had been suppressed. It meant someone did not want the public to know about it, and wanted to play it down.

On a blog post, one online comment, liked more than ten thousand times, read: "Who knows the truth? It's not us who died, anyway."

Inside the entertainment industry, everything was even quieter, as if this person had never existed. His traces online had been erased, and the works he had once directed had been taken down by the platforms, as if the industry deliberately wanted to block out this person — while everyone else could simply go on living.

The film company urgently issued a statement, claiming "Director Fang Jin died suddenly due to physical causes." The public-relations operation seemed extremely practised. Investors pulled out, the production side froze the project, and the film "Next Stop: Tornado" was removed from platforms and would no longer be released to the public.

Some said it was industry self-preservation, to avoid harming investment returns; others said someone was silencing people — the Fang Jin case might implicate capital behind the scenes, and to cover it up, everything had to be banned outright.

Several industry reporters tried to dig deeper into the truth, but they too received threats forbidding them from reporting anything further. The next day, their accounts were "permanently frozen."

The news page displayed — 404: Page not found.

Whenever anyone discussed the matter on online platforms, their posts were all deleted and their accounts banned; in serious cases they were even summoned for a talk, on the pretext of spreading rumours. The internet fell silent, while netizens spread all kinds of rumours, varied and bizarre — of course, some people believed them.

Qin Shaohua sat alone in a café, looking at the latest entertainment headlines. He took a sip of coffee, his gaze sharp, and set the cup down elegantly, looking out at the busy pedestrians through the window. He smiled faintly, looked at the information displayed on his laptop, and tapped the keyboard a few times. He had long expected this outcome; this was simply their usual tactic.

Situ Hengyi listened to this news at the bureau, his face almost expressionless. He had never cared about entertainment news, but seeing a person's past covered up like this seemed to be their consistent method. It looked as if the truth would be very hard to uncover.

Qin Lang sneered: "Society forgets too fast. Someone dies today, and tomorrow they become traffic. Even trending lists are all about timeliness."

Seeing that it was Qin Lang, Situ Hengyi raised his voice and asked: "Aren't you supposed to stay in your autopsy room? What are you doing in a place for the living?"

Qin Lang's eyes lit up, and he chuckled: "The dead don't talk, but the living lie." He picked up a stack of documents, looking dejected. "The lab report you were in such a hurry for last time — I've rushed it out. Fang Jin was poisoned with pufferfish toxin, and he had also long been taking a hallucinogenic drug — that is, methamphetamine!"

Situ Hengyi said in a low voice: "Do all these public figures like taking drugs? Was the pufferfish toxin administered by the killer?"

Qin Lang laughed along: "The pufferfish toxin was administered deliberately — perhaps to send some kind of signal!"

Situ Hengyi asked: "Another signal? What signal?"

Lin Fan sat to one side, her fingertips unconsciously tapping a pen. "They're not really indifferent," she said quietly, "they just feel — that other people's deaths aren't worth anything!"

Her phone screen lit up: an anonymous email had just arrived with one line: "The real play is never on stage."

Her chest suddenly tightened, and she cried out in alarm: "Chief, someone sent me a terrifying email —"

Situ Hengyi and Qin Lang went over to look. It was a provocative email, but the sender was anonymous. "Was this sent by the killer? Or is it a prank?"

Qin Lang, looking completely unconcerned, laughed a few times: "I'm going back to collect corpses. So many people die every day — how come we never see a few of the ones who deserve to die!"

Those truths that have been covered up, that are not permitted to be seen — perhaps they are the true script of this world.

The electronic screens on the street were still looping advertisements. Stars on the red carpet, smiles, applause, scene after scene flashing past. Pedestrians had long been numbed by this information; their way of thinking had long become like that of a robot, never pausing to consider the reason behind each event.

Only no one mentioned the director whose heart had been pierced beneath the light and shadow. His death symbolised this society's indifference, and also symbolised people's numbness toward the truth.

Even the theme song of that film was taken down. A production costing over a hundred million was directly sealed away in the abyss, and the investors felt not the slightest regret. In their eyes, money was their greatest capital.

The only fragment still circulating was a blurry piece of audio — someone singing, voice low and mournful, its final line dissolving into the wind: "Beneath all the bustle lies only dead silence."

Three days later, the sun shone brightly, the air carrying a fresh vigour, no longer oppressive. People had long forgotten their grief and welcomed their new day.

Under the spotlight, Xia Zilan counted as a star among stars — handsome, a contemporary popular young idol, able to sing and dance, having played several outstanding roles, and deeply loved by audiences. Having finished his engagements, his assistant reminded him that he next had to rush to a fashion show. He nodded, took a jacket from his assistant's hands, put it on, pulled a pair of sunglasses from his top pocket, put them on, straightened his clothes, gathered himself, and walked toward the door.

At that moment, the door was surrounded by his fans, their screams and cheers... making him seem a little uncomfortable, yet he still had to put on an approachable air.

Walking toward him was the singer Fan Shiqi, a pop singer in the music world who had released several albums and also played several fairly outstanding roles on screen — a second-tier star of sorts. This time he had a simple working relationship with Xia Zilan. He still acted like a big shot; in this industry he had always been arrogant, always feeling that his achievements today were entirely due to his own ten years of hard work.

At the door, seeing many fans shouting his name, a proud smile could not help appearing on his face. He wore an arrogant expression. It had taken him ten years to reach today's success. He gave Xia Zilan a disdainful look and said lightly: "I hear you're also a newcomer from a talent show. You performed well today. Work harder in future — whatever you do, don't let those fans think your public image is bad!"

Xia Zilan smiled faintly, very politely: "Teacher Fan, thank you for today! By the way, have you heard? Fang Jin died at his premiere. It sounds like a terrible death..."

Fan Shiqi's face changed. After a few seconds, he thought it over, then put on an indifferent expression again: "People die every day. That was his misfortune! Every day I have to rush through many engagements, several concerts, and then go into a film crew — how would I remember such people?"

Xia Zilan still replied very politely: "Teacher Fan, you once acted in one of Fang Jin's films. You worked together. Have you forgotten?"

Fan Shiqi revealed a calm smile: "I remember now — there was such a thing, but that was several years ago. I don't remember it!"

With that, he put on his jacket, put on a mask, and walked out. Fans at the door screamed excitedly. Xia Zilan watched his retreating back coldly, his face immediately hardening, and said quietly: "We're going to the fashion show. Turn down all invitations to drinking parties for me. I'm tired..."

"But — aren't we supposed to discuss our next film collaboration? If we don't go, there will be a huge loss," his assistant immediately explained. "The company has arranged excellent resources for you..."

Xia Zilan sneered: "If you think it's so good, then you go! I don't need this hypocritical stuff. I'm an artist, not a PR young master."

With that, he turned and left, his fans following behind him asking for autographs. He turned and signed for each of them, smiling: "Be careful, all of you! Don't forget there's a performance next week, and watch out for roadblocks —"

A few more days passed. Situ Hengyi had made no progress whatsoever on the case. He had checked Fang Jin's close friends before his death, as well as his family, and learned that he was an extremely cautious person. Before his death, he had been closest to another director, Shen Yao, and the two had even organised a Rotten Mango Awards ceremony, specially set up to present awards to the actors, directors and others behind bad films — ostensibly to encourage filmmakers to make good films, but in reality deliberately to embarrass them.

Evidently, Fang Jin had also offended quite a few people in this industry, and the entertainment world's behaviour showed its dissatisfaction with their conduct. Now that he was dead, he had instead become a pawn everyone could spit on.

What struck him as strangest was that not even the major media had reported the matter. His passing was treated as if he had never appeared in this world at all — everything about him could actually be deleted from the internet.

What struck him as strangest was that, within the entertainment industry, the deaths of directors and actors like this were all attributed to depression, closed as suicides, or else announced to the public as moral failings, followed by a ban. As a criminal investigator, he rarely paid attention to entertainment gossip. He had also sent officers to find the audience members who had argued with Fang Jin at the press conference a few days earlier, but after several days of searching, there had been no progress at all.

Just as he was looking at the documents organised on his computer, looking at this messy material, the complicated personal relationships, and several autopsy reports — at that moment, an officer ran in and immediately reported: "Chief, someone has come to turn himself in, saying he killed Fang Jin..."

Situ Hengyi put down the file in his hands and went to find out what was going on. He walked into the interrogation room and saw a woman full of anxiety, mentally dazed, her eyes darting about. She bowed her head, her hands constantly kneading together, not daring to face what had happened. Situ Hengyi sat opposite her and offered a few words of comfort: "Does Fang Jin have anything to do with you?"

"No," she immediately raised her head, mentally dazed, gripping the table with both hands, her gaze fixed. "Damn them, they all deserve to die. They killed my brother..."

Situ Hengyi asked again: "Your brother? Who?"

"Brother Xiao Yu," she said, suddenly energised, raising her head and speaking in one breath: "They killed him. Why won't you open a case? Why won't you arrest the villains? They're all devils. Brother Xiao Yu has come back for revenge. They all must die..." She spoke louder and louder, her eyes growing fearful, her expression turning strange: "Don't trust people. They're lying. They all deserve to die. Fang Jin is only one of them. This is only the beginning, ha ha..."

Situ Hengyi fell into thought. Could it be that more people would be killed? It seemed he should look into the Yu Mengge case from those years — there must surely be a connection.

"Let her go. She's not the killer at all," Situ Hengyi said sternly to Gao Feng: "The killer understands medicine and can also dissect. She is not the killer at all. She is clearly mentally unwell. Notify her family to take her home."

Situ Hengyi remembered that the bureau should have a file on the Yu Mengge case. He wanted to pull up the relevant case, but when he checked the computer records, it turned out to be encrypted and inaccessible. Leaning back in his chair, he looked somewhat lost. Lin Fan walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "Yu Mengge was a very famous singer back then. He sang many songs, and was later ruled a suicide."

She brought a cup of tea, smiling cheerfully: "He was truly multi-talented. If he hadn't died, he could have become a first-tier star, even the brightest new star — he could very possibly have become a superstar. But —"

Situ Hengyi turned and asked: "Lin Fan, how is it that his case is encrypted?"

Lin Fan shook her head, looking puzzled: "He was only a singer, and yet it's encrypted? There should be records in the archive room. I was transferred here from another district, so I don't know what happened either."

Situ Hengyi planned to go to the archive room to find the Yu Mengge case file, but when he got there and searched around, he could not find it. Someone had gotten to the archive room a step ahead of him and taken the relevant records. Clearly someone did not want him to know the contents of the Yu case.

He had a premonition: the fact that this case had been encrypted meant only the higher-ups could have done it. And the fact that Fang Jin's information had been suppressed by the major media also meant that this case would trigger another case, and that the waters behind it ran deep. His every move was already known to the other side — they had even beaten him to the Yu case records.

All the clues seemed to point to the Yu case. How many more people would the killer kill?

One question kept circling around him, leaving him feeling a little suffocated —