IT WAS THE FIFTEENTH DAY of the seventh lunar month, and the sky was still dark.
Night owls large and small had already returned to their nests. At this time, even the busy streets of Dragon City had begun to empty. Only the occasional insect call emerged from the bushes—sometimes there, sometimes not, making you feel nervous and jumpy.
It was 2:30 a.m. Dew began to appear and the air grew moist, sticky with humidity.
Perhaps it was the wind that made it appear as if the shadow of something constantly hovered in corners. Walking down the street, it seemed like something was always behind you, staring.
It was at this hour that Guo Changcheng walked into the courtyard of 4 Bright Avenue, clutching his notice.
Guo Changcheng, having lost both of his parents at a young age, had been brought up by relatives. He had an unremarkable appearance, had stumbled through a third-rate university, and in terms of personality, was unsociable and cowardly. Unable to find a job after graduation, he had stayed at home doing nothing for the larger part of a year. Some time later, his second uncle, who’d begun to rise through the ranks in the Ministry of Public Security, had forged the necessary connections to find a useless job for his useless nephew, to at least give him something to do.
Guo Changcheng had assumed his future would involve wearing a uniform, parking himself in the gatehouse, making a pot of tea when he got there, working nine to five, and welcoming and bidding farewell to visitors…until this peculiar “Letter of Acceptance” arrived.
When Guo Changcheng first received it, he’d thought someone had made a mistake. In very official Communist-red print, it declared:
Comrade Guo Changcheng,
Congratulations on your acceptance into our department. Here you will enjoy the benefits of a State Civil Servant, while also bearing the weighty responsibility of serving the people. We hope that from this day forward, at this new job, you will be passionate about your work, respect your position, forge ahead with determination, obey your leaders, love and stand in unity with your colleagues, and contribute to the social stability and national prosperity of the country.
On August 31 (the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month) at 2:30 a.m., please bring your Resident Identity Card and this Letter of Acceptance and report to our department in a timely manner (Address: 4 Bright Avenue, first floor, HR Department).
On behalf of all the employees in our department, we welcome you as our good comrade.
People’s Republic of China,
Ministry of Public Security
Special Investigations Department
X year, X month X day
Usually, when asked to report at such a bizarre time, a normal person would assume there was a typo and would at least call ahead to confirm. But Guo Changcheng had always been terrified of social interactions, and staying at home for more than half a year had given him a severe case of telephone phobia. As soon as he even thought about having to call someone, he felt so stressed that he couldn’t sleep for nights on end.
He procrastinated in this way until midnight on the day of August 31, and he still hadn’t made the call.
And so Guo Changcheng came up with an idea that he thought would be the best of both worlds: he decided to pull an all-nighter. At 2:30 a.m., he would go take a look. If no one was there, he would go to the nearby McDonald’s and make do for the night. Then, at 2:30 p.m., he would go back. Either way, he would be there at the correct time.
In the middle of the night, all public transportation had stopped running. Guo Changcheng’s only option was to drive himself. With much difficulty and the help of a GPS, he finally found the right place.
It turned out that 4 Bright Avenue wasn’t right on a street but rather in a well-hidden courtyard. Guo Changcheng stood at the yard’s gate and examined it closely for a long while before using his cell phone light to find the house number on a little plaque under the thick ivy. Below the building number, a tiny row of words carved into the rock said: Special Investigations Department. Under that was a Public Security logo.
The landscaping inside the courtyard was very well done. At the entrance was a parking lot, and when you walked in, there was a row of pagoda trees with leaves so thick and dense they resembled a small forest. Only a narrow path was left open. After Guo Changcheng passed through, he finally saw a little building that looked like the gatehouse.
There really was someone inside—the lights were still on. Through the window, Guo Changcheng saw a uniformed silhouette wearing a police hat, with a newspaper in hand. Once in a while, they flipped the page. Guo Changcheng took a deep breath, so nervous his hands were sweating. His empty brain didn’t even have time to consider why the doorman was still at work at this hour.
“I’m here to report, this is my letter of acceptance. I’m here to report, this is my letter of acceptance. I’m here to report, this is my letter of acceptance.”
Guo Changcheng mumbled to himself like he was reciting a textbook, the lines tumbling around and around in his mouth dozens of times. He finally gritted his teeth, walked over, and knocked shakily on the gatehouse window. Before the person within had fully looked up, Guo Changcheng said, in a breath as weak as thread, as if uttering his last words, “I-I’m here to acceptance… This is my letter of report…”
Confused, the middle-aged man in the gatehouse put down his newspaper and asked, “Huh?”
In spite of his efforts, he’d still managed to mangle his lines. Guo Changcheng wanted to cry, but he didn’t have the tears. The stress turned his face into a purple sweet potato.
Mercifully, the man saw the letter of acceptance in his hand and immediately understood. “Oh… Oh! You’re our new comrade, right? How should I address you? Oh, I see it! Xiao-Guo! We haven’t had a new person in quite a few years. So, not easy finding this place, is it?”
Guo Changcheng finally let out the breath he had been holding. He loved people like this, warm and brimming with enthusiasm. As long as the other person’s mouth was moving, he only had to nod or shake his head. No need to string words together.
“Let me tell you, you’re in luck. It just so happens that our boss is here tonight as well. Come, I’ll take you to meet him.”
As soon as Guo Changcheng heard that, his hair stood on end. He didn’t feel lucky at all—rather, he felt a puff of misfortune float up from his head like a ghost.
Guo Changcheng was good for nothing. Powerful people, such as bosses, were his greatest fear. Ever since childhood, the mere sight of a teacher made his calf cramp. If he saw the principal, even from twenty meters away, he would still change paths to avoid them. He was clearly a law-abiding citizen, but every time he saw the armed police who stood guard on National Day, he reacted like a mouse who’d spied a cat, which made other people throw suspicious glances his way.
Meet the boss? You might as well ask him to go meet a ghost!
Just as cold sweat began to pour out of him in buckets, there came the sound of footsteps. A young man walked out of 4 Bright Avenue’s little garden with long strides. There was a cigarette in his mouth, and his hands were shoved in his pants pockets. He was tall, with upright shoulders, thick brows, deep-set eyes, and a defined nose. He was very handsome, even if his expression was a little dark.
The man’s brows were furrowed, and he walked so fast that wind seemed to rise in his footsteps. The message on his face was clear: “Don’t block the way, don’t bug me, and fuck off.”
In a stroke of misfortune, Guo Changcheng happened to meet his gaze and was immediately terrified by those black eyes, beautiful yet cold. His instinct told him that this hot guy had a bad temper.
But when the hot-tempered hottie realized who Guo Changcheng was, he suddenly braked. In the next moment, his expression transformed, fluid as that of a master actor. That thunderous look was abruptly one of sunshine and open skies, with a kind smile that spread naturally across his face faster than one could turn a page. Along with that smile, two shallow dimples appeared on his cheeks. The cigarette still in his mouth made the corners of his lips seem a bit crooked. With his eyes crinkled a little, he seemed as if he might be up to no good—but just the right amount of no good, which lent him an approachable air.