Return to 1983: Top Secret Files

A musty smell. The damp air, carrying the tarry odor of cheap cigarettes, forced its way into his nostrils. Gu Chen's back stiffened abruptly, slamming against the hard wooden chair back with a dull thud. The faulty light bulb overhead flickered erratically, its light dancing on the dusty concrete floor like an ominous premonition. His gaze focused. Long, pale fingers pressed firmly onto a piece of letter paper. The pen nib smeared ink on the paper, completely obscuring the line: "Regarding the loss of the company bicycle, I deeply regret..." Beside him was a desk calendar, the red lettering glaringly bright, like freshly dried blood: June 15, 1983. Outside the window, a torrential downpour. Raindrops pounded against the single-pane glass, making a crackling sound. Memories were reassembled in that instant. The ICU ward of 2023 vanished, replaced by the cramped, dark archives room of the Nanjiang City Public Security Bureau from 1983. He returned. This twenty-year-old body now housed a seasoned soul who had spent thirty years navigating the front lines of criminal investigation. "Bang!" The wooden door to the archives room was violently flung open. A damp, cold wind, carrying rainwater, rushed in, rattling the self-criticisms on the table. A tall man in a dark green raincoat stormed in, rainwater streaming down his hat brim and pooling on the floor. "Wake up! Get all the files on the female workers at the West City Leather Factory!" The man wiped the water from his face, his voice deafening: "Especially those named Li... Li something Mei! Hurry up!" Qin Dayong. The current captain of the criminal investigation team, his temper even more explosive than his frequently broken-down Jeep. Gu Chen didn't need to search his memories; the vast virtual archive deep within his brain responded instantly. Countless files spun rapidly through his mental palace, finally settling on a red file folder marked "Top Secret." [File of the 1983 "Red-Clad Serial Murders"] [Victim 1: Li Hongmei] [Time of Death: 9 PM, June 15, 1983] Gu Chen raised his wrist, glancing at the Shanghai brand watch, fogged with moisture. 9:30 PM. Half an hour late. "What are you standing there for!" Qin Dayong slammed his fist on the table, the ink bottle bobbing. "Someone reported a female leather factory worker missing! I'm investigating her social connections!" Gu Chen didn't move. He sat on the creaking wooden chair, his faded police uniform looking somewhat loose, but his eyes, hidden behind his glasses, were as still as a deep well. "No need to look anymore." His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise of the downpour. Qin Dayong froze, wondering if he'd misheard: "What did you say?" "I said, no need to check the files." Gu Chen slowly and methodically capped his pen, his movements as steady as a newcomer who'd just had his bike stolen and was writing a self-criticism. "Li Hongmei isn't at the factory, nor in the dormitory." He looked up, his gaze piercing through his glasses, fixing on Qin Dayong's anxious face. "She's by the Nanjiang River, under that crooked willow tree." Qin Dayong paused for two seconds, then a surge of anger welled up inside him. This kid is usually so timid, even struggling to guard the gate, what's wrong with him today? "Gu Chen! A life is at stake, and you're making up stories for me?" Qin Dayong strode forward, his rough hand grabbing Gu Chen's collar, spitting as he spoke. "What? Did you install eyes by the river? If you delay the rescue, I'll skin you alive!" Gu Chen let him drag him, offering no resistance, his tone still chillingly calm. “She was wearing a red dress.” Qin Dayong’s grip loosened. A red dress? In this awful weather, with the whole city torrential rain, what respectable woman would wear a red dress to the riverbank? “Ring ring—!!!” The black rotary dial phone on the table rang sharply. In this enclosed space, the ringing was like a saw, severing Qin Dayong’s taut nerves. Gu Chen straightened his crumpled collar and gestured towards the phone with his chin. “Answer it, Captain Qin.” Qin Dayong gave him a suspicious look, then grabbed the receiver: “Hello! This is Qin Dayong!” The receiver was heavily leaky, and the operator’s terrified shout echoed in the archives room. “Captain Qin! Someone reported a body! A body has been found downstream of the Nanjiang River!” Qin Dayong’s pupils shrank to pinpoints. The veins on the back of his hand gripping the receiver bulged; he even forgot to breathe. “Location? Characteristics?” “Right under… the crooked willow tree! The deceased… the deceased was wearing a red dress!” Silence. Aside from the sound of rain outside the window, only Qin Dayong's heavy breathing filled the room. He stiffly turned his neck to look at Gu Chen. That young, pale face was completely expressionless, as if the phone call just now was merely a trivial line in his script. This certainty sent a chill down Qin Dayong's spine. "You…" Qin Dayong's throat was dry. Gu Chen had already stood up, taking a raincoat from the wall with movements as swift as if he'd rehearsed countless times. "In this kind of downpour, traces at the scene won't be preserved. I'm the archivist; I know best the filing requirements for this kind of special homicide case." He buttoned up his raincoat, not looking at Qin Dayong, but walking straight to the door. "I'll go to the scene with him and keep an eye on the evidence, so it doesn't get trampled." The reason was impeccable. Qin Dayong's mind was still reeling, but his body instinctively obeyed this inexplicable aura. “Okay…let’s go!” …The jeep jolted wildly along the muddy dirt road. The windshield wipers swung frantically, but couldn’t clear the rain from the windshield. The air pressure inside the car was terrifyingly low. Qin Dayong gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes repeatedly glancing at the passenger seat. Gu Chen was resting with his eyes closed. As the car swayed, he replayed the details of the “Red Dress Case” in his mind. The first victim, Li Hongmei, was strangled to death with a red silk sash. The killer was highly ritualistic, specifically choosing to commit the crime on rainy days, using the rain to wash away fingerprints and footprints. This was also the intractable problem of low crime-solving rates in the 1980s—no surveillance, no DNA, rain washes away the evidence, and it’s a dead case. In his previous life, this case dragged on for ten years. It wasn’t until the killer was caught in a robbery that he confessed. Ten years, seven red dresses, seven lives. This time, now that he’s back, this must be the last one. "Screech—" The jeep screeched to a halt, skidding along the gravel road of the riverbank. In the distance, beams of flashlight crisscrossed in the rainy night, casting eerie shadows on the crooked tree. "Get out!" Qin Dayong roared, rushing into the rain. Gu Chen followed closely behind, the cold rain stinging his face, carrying the fishy smell of the river, and… a faint, almost imperceptible, metallic scent. The police tape wasn't yet in place. Several police officers from the local station stood around the tree, their messy footprints scattered across the muddy ground. Gu Chen frowned slightly. "Get out of the way! Who gave you permission to get so close!" Qin Dayong roared. The crowd dispersed. Gu Chen stood behind Qin Dayong, his gaze piercing through the rain, landing on the tree. Even after seeing countless black-and-white photos in the case files, witnessing this moment with his own eyes was still a visual shock, like a hammer blow. On the muddy beach, that splash of red was glaringly bright. The young woman lay on her back, her red dress soaked through, clinging to her stiff body, outlining her final struggle before death. Her hands were clawed at the sky, her fingernails embedded with black mud. "Damn it, it really is a red dress," Qin Dayong cursed, turning to Gu Chen with a complex expression. "Go check if it's Li Hongmei." Gu Chen nodded, took the flashlight, and approached, avoiding the jumbled footprints. He didn't look at her face. The beam shone directly on the victim's ankle. This was his professional habit, and also crucial for verifying the killer's identity. The case file stated: the killer would tie a bow on the victim's left ankle as a "completion" mark. The beam fell, illuminating the pale foot. Gu Chen's fingers gripping the flashlight tightened abruptly. There was no bow. Instead, a deep, purplish-black ligature mark was embedded in the flesh. The mark had a bizarre geometric shape, like an inverted five-pointed star, the surrounding flesh rolled back, a nauseating bluish-purple hue. No. Gu Chen stared intently at the wound, a chill running up his spine to the top of his head. The file he knew by heart from his past life had never recorded such a mark! Was it because his rebirth triggered a butterfly effect? Or…? The file from back then was wrong from the very first page? “Did you see anything?” Qin Dayong leaned closer, his breath hot against Gu Chen’s ear. Gu Chen slowly stood up. Rain dripped from his hair onto his glasses, blurring his vision. He took off his glasses, casually wiped them with the corner of his shirt, and put them back on. His eyes behind the lenses were colder than the dark river water. “It’s Li Hongmei.” Gu Chen pointed to the corpse’s bare feet, his voice low but carrying a chilling certainty. “But the previous investigative directions might have been completely wrong.” Qin Dayong was taken aback: “What do you mean?” Gu Chen didn’t explain. He looked at the unfamiliar “devil’s mark,” and the hunter’s instinct that had slumbered for many years within him awakened completely. History had changed. This was no longer an old case he could solve simply by flipping through a book. His opponent now was a completely new, unknown monster. “Captain Qin.” Gu Chen turned, his back to the corpse, staring into the darkness. “Notify the forensic doctor, and also, extend the perimeter by five hundred meters.” Qin Dayong instinctively opened his mouth to curse. Five hundred meters? That would require sealing off half the riverbank! But looking at Gu Chen’s straight back, the inexplicable pressure made him swallow his curse. "Xiao Wang! Did you hear me! Pull the line! Five hundred meters! If it's even a meter short, I'll kick you!" Qin Dayong roared, then froze for a moment. How did he, a dignified criminal investigation captain, get assigned this task by a mere archivist writing self-criticisms? Gu Chen ignored the commotion behind him. He looked down at the mud stain on his palm, his eyes sharpening. The rules of the game had changed. Since the script didn't match, then they'd find the scriptwriter.