Chapter Five: The Note

  Tian Wenliang had met with me just three days ago and given me a task, at the time I didn't notice anything wrong with him, he even looked radiant. If Sherlock's words are true, then wasn't Tian Wenliang already dead for a week when we met? However, the deceased in the photo is indeed Tian Wenliang himself, this face, especially that unique birthmark, can't be mistaken.

  I puffed heavily on my cigarette, finishing one in three drags, my throat burning with a fiery pain, feeling anxious and disordered. Had I been deceived by an actor who was extremely skilled at makeup and pretending to be a zombie? Or had my eyes become so dull that I couldn't even tell the difference between the living and the dead?

  He pulled out another cigarette, Sherlock lit it for me again and asked in fluent Chinese: "Hey, Mr. Hong, you seem to know something. Can you tell us who this person is?"

  I didn't answer, and the identity of the agent is still not willing to be exposed for the time being.

  Sherlock saw that I didn't want to talk, and didn't force me. Mysteriously, he pulled out another photo from his pocket and said, "This is a close-up of the dead man's throat."

  I saw Tian Wenliang's throat being pried open, a strong beam of light shining in, and the inside was empty and hollow. I found it a bit strange, as if something was missing.

  Xie Lao San stretched out his head and took a curious glance, then exclaimed: "This person has no tongue."

  I stared at Sherlock, who gave a mysterious smile: "The bizarre thing about this case is the cause of death. His tongue is nowhere to be found, but that's not what killed him. What really took his life was his internal organs... it seems they were eaten by something."

  I was shocked and said: "How did you know it was eaten?"

  Sherlock had been prepared and rummaged through his clothes again, pulling out a third photograph.

  "Damn it, how many pictures do you have? Take them all out at once." I muttered a sentence, glanced at the photos with my remaining light, and suddenly felt a twitch in my stomach. The green and red fragments on the photo were not internal organs, what else could they be?

  "This was discovered after the forensic autopsy. The person had no external injuries, but there were massive bite marks on their internal organs. After analysis, it was determined that this was not caused by rats or other animals biting after death, but rather while they were still alive. Oh God, what a painful way to die." Sherlock's eyes gleamed with an excited, abnormal energy as he pointed at the large pile of unrecognizable internal organs, listing them off like a treasured collection: "This is half of the heart, this is a quarter of the kidney, and this is another quarter of the kidney...this is one eighth to one ninth of the spleen..."

  Even Sherlock's companions, John and Spike, couldn't bear it anymore, pulled his sleeve and said a string of unintelligible bird language, before Sherlock reluctantly stopped introducing.

  I stared at him and asked: "How many more photos like this do you have?"

  "There are three more, all anatomical diagrams, but the content is a bit repetitive. Do you want to take a look?" Sherlock reached into his pocket, and I hastily stopped him: "Forget it, forget it, my stomach can't handle this kind of visual stimulation, you keep it for yourself."

  Next, Sherlock and I briefly discussed the discovery of the body. It was roughly that a female worker on her way home from work at dawn stumbled upon it and cried out for the police. The police carefully searched the surroundings and found no signs of the body being forcibly moved, guessing that it had been transported here by car or some other tool. Sherlock glossed over the details, talking about criminal psychology, especially curious about the killer's modus operandi.

  I'm not interested in solving the case, my mind is focused on the fact that Tian Wenliang is dead. As for how he died, it's none of my business. From what I know, there was a mysterious department within the Military Bureau, the predecessor to the Secret Service, with an unknown name. The members were patriotic monks from famous mountains and rivers who were invited by Dai Li in his early years. It is said that they had several fierce battles with Japanese evil masters, and their abilities are beyond my understanding. Their methods of killing people are unheard of, so although I'm curious about Tian Wenliang's death, it's just curiosity. Sherlock noticed my lack of interest and changed the subject, bringing up some unsolved cases in England.

  There is ten minutes left.

  I couldn't swallow the rest of my meal, so I laughed it off and excused myself. Sherlock was clearly not ready to end our conversation, but I wasn't in the mood to continue discussing the intricacies of serial murder methods, so I left the restaurant rather abruptly.

  On the way back, I pondered for a moment. Firstly, what was the situation with Tian Wenliang's death? Secondly, when Sherlock mentioned Tian Wenliang to me, was it purely a sudden interest or had he planned it beforehand? If it was the latter, then this foreigner's purpose and identity were worth considering.

  Before long, I came back in front of the door of my own room again.

  Just inserted the key into the keyhole, click... The door opened.

  "It's not locked." I was stunned, no way, I shouldn't have made such a low-level mistake. At this time, a faint noise came from inside the room, and my face immediately changed color - there's someone inside!

  Thinking of this, he instinctively reached for his waist, muttering to himself that it was bad, as he hadn't brought his pistol on board and now didn't even have a knife. Gripping the door handle, he hesitated for a few seconds, then steeled himself and went in!

  "Which blind one, get out here for me!" I growled in a low voice. At this time, the corridor was empty, and everyone had gone to the cafeteria to eat. In order to scare and boost my own courage, I wrapped my right hand with my coat, posing as if holding a gun, and menacingly said: "If you don't come out, don't blame me for being ruthless!"

  I pushed the door open, and it creaked. The room was dark, but I could see everything clearly in the faint light from the corridor outside. There wasn't a single person. I swallowed my saliva, and my gaze naturally swept towards the half-closed wardrobe and under the bed. If someone was hiding, it could only be one of these two places.

  But before that, I had to make sure there was no one in the room. I pushed the door open as wide as possible and leaned it against the wall until there was no gap left, only then did I let out a sigh of relief, confirming that no one was behind the door.

  Turn on the pendant lamp switch by the door, and a soft green light fills every corner.

  "Count to ten, or I'll shoot if you don't come out!" I counted in a low voice: "Ten, nine, eight, seven..."

  Still no response.

  One side counting, slowly moving inside, quietly bending down to squat, and then swiftly sweeping under the 'bed' with lightning speed, it's dark, but I'm sure there's no one. Suddenly, I was determined, stuck in front of the wardrobe, the other hand 'felt' on the desk, picked up a glass ashtray, and said: "Three, two... one!"

  "Don't take me for granted." I kicked open the slightly ajar closet with my toes, opened my eyes wide and stared inside, muscles tense, spirit highly concentrated, raised my arm ready to strike at any unusual movement, ashtray at the ready.

  Suddenly, a puff of black powder burst out from inside the wardrobe.

  My line of sight was suddenly blocked, I hastily threw the ashtray, but it hit nothing, only feeling a gust of wind whizzing past my side, rushing straight to the 'door'.

  I was furious and couldn't see the road, so I could only feel my way towards the door at the fastest speed.

  In less than a second, I heard a loud crash!

  The door was slammed shut.

  "Don't even think about running away!" The black powder came and went quickly, I hastily grabbed the handle in an attempt to open the door.

  Just then, a cold gun muzzle was pressed against the back of my head.

  I shuddered all over, my head buzzing loudly, this guy actually never intended to run from the start!

  The person flipped open my jacket, saw the homemade "gun" I was holding, and let out a crisp "tsk". He snorted coldly, and with some force, poked me with the gun muzzle, as if venting his dissatisfaction at being fooled by such a crude trick.

  "Brother, let's talk business. I have a silver dollar on me, it's all my family's property, just take it and use it to buy tea." I pretended to be calm, fearing that this person would think I'm rich, one silver dollar wouldn't satisfy his appetite.

  That person didn't pay attention to me, using a deliberately changed tone of voice to command: "Turn around slowly." As he spoke, his left hand rested on my left shoulder and turned me 180 degrees clockwise. He also followed the turn, and in the end, I still couldn't see his face clearly. I also didn't dare try to sneak a peek with my peripheral vision, as police experience told me that this was someone who was extremely vigilant, and it's best not to provoke him carelessly.

  Suddenly, the man stuffed a note into my hand. Before I could react, the muzzle moved away, and all I heard was a thud, the sound of something heavy falling to the ground, followed by a loud crash as the man made his escape through the door.

  I hastily turned around and chased after him.

  However, when I chased him to the corridor, he had vanished without a trace, and I didn't even see his back.

  I kicked the wall in anger and walked around the corridor in frustration, but apart from a few sailors and passengers, I didn't see any suspicious people.

  "It's too embarrassing, if the people in the bureau find out, I'll be laughed to death." I sulkily returned to my room and found that what had fallen on the ground was a revolver, which I hastily picked up, full of bullets.

  I took a deep breath, calmed down my emotions, sat at the head of the 'bed', and only then looked at the paper strip in my hand. This paper strip was only ten centimeters long, one centimeter wide, and made of very ordinary white paper.

  However, with just one glance, the content above made my emotions, which had just calmed down, surge up again in huge waves.

  "Code 0938, proceed to room 108 to investigate suspicious individual, execute immediately."

  "Next caller: Code name T-0901"