Episode 13: The Boundary of Truth

The air-conditioning in the forensic lab was turned very low, and the air reeked of alcohol and disinfectant, making one's whole body shiver. That icy chill almost made one forget that what lay here were shells stripped of their humanity, one after another.

Situ Hengyi stood before the examination cabinet, his eyes resting on the silver needle, the dissection lamp overhead shining very brightly.

Slender, glaring, cold, with almost no fingerprints on it — yet the needle bore an extremely fine engraved symbol, like some ancient mark.

"We found micro-engraving under the microscope," Qin Lang said, brightening the screen, the fluorescence revealing the outline of the symbol. "It is a Latin word: Judicium — judgment."

Situ Hengyi repeated in a low voice, "Judgment..."

Qin Lang nodded. "The engraving on each needle is different, like some sort of sequential code. Shen Yao's is VII."

He paused, then added, "It happens to be the seventh."

A slight tremor went through Situ Hengyi's heart. He remembered the sheet of paper at the scene — the seventh, Shen Yao, and ten more.

That meant this "judgment" was not a spur-of-the-moment act, but a list drawn up long ago.

He asked, "Has the source of the silver needles been traced?"

Qin Lang handed over the report. "The material is a high-purity silver alloy, not a commercial product. Judging from the machining marks, it may come from a hand-forging workshop, or — some kind of ritual implement."

Situ Hengyi looked at the needle and was silent for a long while. "Ritual?"

"Yes," Qin Lang said with a straight face, looking entirely serious, in a low voice. "I have looked into past cases. In ancient Europe there was a judgment sect that believed in 'redemption through blood.' They held that for a sinner to be pardoned, his blood had to drain away and his soul be purified. And the silver needle — that was the symbol of their 'final judgment.'"

Situ Hengyi's brow furrowed, and a strange association surfaced in his mind — at the scene of Yu Mengge's death, there had likewise been a fine mark on the heart, which at the time had been ruled the result of impact from a fall. But it was not an accident; it was... the same "method of judgment"?

He drew a deep breath. "Pull up Yu Mengge's autopsy report."

A few minutes later, the screen lit up.

The case report, long sealed away, appeared before his eyes once more — on the page, at the blood-blurred area of the heart, was clearly marked: "Wound approximately 0.8 cm long, vertical in direction, suspected external puncture."

Situ Hengyi's pupils contracted slightly. "What did the forensic examiner say back then?"

"It was ruled an accident... The case was not pursued further, and this wound's autopsy report is incomplete. In my many years of experience, this report may be concealing something..."

Situ Hengyi asked again, "Was it switched? Which forensic examiner performed the autopsy?"

Qin Lang looked up at the clock, expressionless, and said coldly, "Dead. Said to have died of a sudden heart attack."

Having said that, he pulled off the plastic gloves on his hands, tossed them into the trash, picked up a cup of cold coffee from the table, and took a sip. "But there's no need to be surprised. Corpses never lie!"

Situ clenched his fists. He knew this was no coincidence. Yu Mengge, Fang Jin, Shen Yao — three names, three ways of dying, yet all ending with the same "silver needle."

Qin Lang added, "But the one who handled the transcript of this case was your mentor — that is, your godfather, Wei Lin."

Situ Hengyi then asked, "The medical report I had Lin Fan bring over last time — what did you find in it?"

Qin Lang turned, took a report from a drawer, his face grave, and handed it to him, saying coldly, "I got a classmate abroad to do a detailed analysis of the report. This is not a simple medical report, but a biological experiment report."

Seeing the puzzled look on Situ Hengyi's face, he explained, "The 'EX-β-YMG NO. 0721 Research Project.' This report is very well disguised. On the surface it looks like anti-anxiety drug neural therapy, but in fact the true purpose of NEX-β is to control the compliance of specific targets."

Microneedle implants enable remote control:

Heightened pain perception, emotional suppression, slowed judgment, cognitive splitting — with the aim of creating "people who will not resist."

Why Yu Mengge was chosen:

His looks and temperament provoked predatory desire from capital; he had a history of psychological vulnerability and was easily dominated; he was a topic of conversation in the industry and could very easily steer public opinion — with the intent of "testing how long a fully controlled person could live under enormous pressure and drug control, and how much he could endure."

Hearing this, Situ Hengyi's scalp prickled, and a chill rose in his heart. "What exactly are they trying to do?"

Qin Lang looked at him expressionlessly as he raised the question, abnormally calm, like a medical report himself. "The experimenters deliberately alternated between drugs and electrical stimulation to strengthen his 'conditioned attachment' to his controller, with the aim of replicating the 'process by which servility forms' — conditioned obedience to the abuser, numbness to pain yet fearful dependence, emotional collapse and the gradual loss of self."

The existence of this experiment was, in essence:

The technological product of capital × desire × fallen researchers.

The reason the experiment files were secretly destroyed was to cover up how certain "big shots" had long used drugs and control methods to impose "slave-like management" on performers.

Yu Mengge's eventual death was regarded internally as:

"The limit test of the model is complete."

His death was not an accident. It was the expected outcome.

The autopsy record was falsified. People like this were merely "consumables of experimental data."

The document lay spread on the desk, white light falling from overhead, illuminating every line with deathly clarity.

Yet as Situ Hengyi stared at it, it was as if he were staring at a pool of black water endlessly spreading.

"Behavior-control drugs... conditioned pain stimulation... emotional suppression..."

Those phrases were not exaggerated, not embellished, and carried no moral judgment — only cold, hard, almost mechanical. But he felt his stomach sinking, as if he had been pushed off a tall building and had not yet hit the ground.

In the files, Yu Mengge had no name, only the code YMG-NO. 0721.

Not even a "person."

He turned to the last page, his fingers trembling slightly.

On it were only a few simple lines:

"The subject finally ceased to respond. Death confirmed."

"The limit test of the model is complete."

"End of record."

That was it?

A person's lifetime of pain, the collapse of an entire soul, all the cries for help, fear, despair...

In the experimenter's pen, it was just one sentence: "The limit test of the model is complete."

Situ Hengyi suddenly felt like vomiting.

Not from disgust, but from a shame that went to the bone —

Shame that he had seen the truth too late, shame that he had once thought Yu Mengge's death was merely an "entertainment industry tragedy."

He closed his eyes, his chest tight as if bound by an iron hoop.

The pain recorded in those files seemed to seep through the cold paper into his knuckles, his blood, his eyes, and would not dissipate for a long time.

Yu Mengge's cry for help before he died — he had never heard it —

But now, he suddenly felt as if he could hear it.

Faint.

Broken.

Carrying a resilience left after being utterly destroyed.

In an instant, he even had an absurd thought — if Yu Mengge had really called his name in that laboratory, he certainly... absolutely... would have rushed in and dragged him out.

But he had not heard it. No one had heard it.

The whole world was looking away.

Situ Hengyi's eyes grew slightly hot, not from sorrow, but because a silent anger was burning up, little by little, in his chest.

He slowly closed the file, as if closing a dead man's eyes.

"Yu Mengge was not killed."

He said coldly to himself.

"He was taken apart, little by little."

And those who took him apart are all still alive.

Living very well.

Living free and easy.

Even continuing in the same positions, with the same methods, under the same rules —

Waiting for the next YMG-NO. 0722, YMG-NO. 0723...

Situ Hengyi's fingers slowly tightened, pressing white marks into the cover of the file.

At that moment, he realized for the first time:

This is not a case.

This is a system.

A system that devours people.

And he was already standing at the edge of the abyss, unable to retreat.

He turned to look out the window. The night was dark as ink, lightning splitting the city's skyline, yet his heart could not calm down. He felt a desolate anger.

"If all of this is a judgment that has gone on for three years..."

"Then who is judging whom?"

Qin Lang, seeing his emotions somewhat out of control, patted him on the shoulder and sneered, "I only talk to corpses. Humans are too strange — they lie!"

At that moment, Lin Fan sent a short video. Something else had happened at the bureau; the surveillance lights on the police station screen were flashing again. It was a signal from the dark web, and a new message popped up: "The Eighth Judgment — begins in three days. Location: Tianze Entertainment headquarters."

Situ Hengyi looked at the video Lin Fan had sent, looked at that line of text, his expression stern. He knew this game was far from over, and the next person to be "judged" was in the world he knew well.

Three days later, Tianze Entertainment was preparing a press conference. In response to the several cases of recent days, as well as the list of performers from "Beneath the Light and Shadow" exposed online, Tianze Entertainment had come under suspicion, and the public even wanted to boycott the company. Many unverified rumors were circulating online, plunging Tianze Entertainment deep into the storm, and its performers were one after another demanding to terminate their contracts.

Tianze Entertainment's stock price plunged. The public kept questioning it for concealing what it knew, deliberately manipulating public opinion, exploiting performers, and more. To salvage its reputation, it wanted to use this press conference to prove its innocence and refute the online public opinion.

The reporters present were extremely curious. The Judge had issued a preview — the Eighth Judgment. Who would the next target be?

The public also flocked in. They had all seen the Judge's preview, and some people were actually holding signs bearing the two characters for "judgment." They had not come to chase stars, but to see who exactly would be the next person judged.

People took out their phones and started livestreaming, to welcome this sacred moment.

The self-media blogger Qian Musheng had also arrived early. After his series of tracking reports on the Judge, his follower count had suddenly risen by over a million. To ride the traffic, he had long since begun his pre-event publicity.

The police had long since begun deploying, but the public still questioned whether the police were once again protecting malign forces, and complaints and criticism poured in...

Su Yi arrived at the scene early on Monday morning to direct the operation. There must be no more slip-ups. He had been scolded harshly by city leaders and accused by the public of neglecting his duties, yet he still went his own way, insisting, "Protecting the safety of people's lives is the duty of us police."

Situ Hengyi sat to one side, with no heart at all for this grand operation plan. He fiddled with the lighter in his hand, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He had said he would quit smoking, but his heart was bitter, with nowhere to vent.

From people's mouths came shout after shout:

"Judge the sinners!"

"Tianze, this man-eating company!"

"We want the truth!"

Lin Fan, having finished assigning the tasks in hand, saw that Situ Hengyi had been gloomy these past few days. She walked over gently and took out a candy. "Boss, have a candy, it'll ease the stress a bit."

Situ Hengyi took the candy from her hand and asked doubtfully, "Are we police really here to uphold justice?"

Xia Zilan had been brought out early to lend the company support. His agent seemed somewhat impatient, complaining hard that those fans were too inconsiderate, crowding around Xia Zilan asking for autographs. She pushed away the fans blocking the way, leaving her hair in a mess. So as not to delay the press conference, Bai Yujing, looking displeased and full of anger, pulled Xia Zilan along and said, "You are far too casual. Company rules say no signing outside. Today is an important press conference. Can't you follow the rules..."

Xia Zilan, wearing sunglasses and looking unconcerned, said with a smile, "Sister Bai, being a performer is not selling oneself. We only sell our art. The fans like us — they are my capital."

Bai Yujing tidied her messy hair, composed herself, resumed her usual gentle and gracious bearing, and said sternly, "Xia Zilan, how did you drive your assistant away again? It took me so much trouble to find someone to look after you."

Xia Zilan, looking innocent, replied with a grin, "Sister Bai, that's not looking after me. That's someone the company assigned to monitor me."

Bai Yujing sighed. "I've pulled in so many resources for you, and you just can't cooperate properly. Last time, in one drama, you were to play the male lead, but you insisted on playing the male second lead. That was a big production!"

Xia Zilan explained, "That male lead role wasn't right for me to play. The male second lead suited me! Those screenwriters can't write scripts. They always write brainless plots — uncle-niece romances, stepmother literature, domineering-CEO series, immortal dramas... Audiences want to see people close to real life. After all, everyone is an ordinary person. We performers rely on performances close to life to show audiences, not an exaggerated life."

He straightened his clothes, tidied his hair, and did not forget to wave to the fans. He smiled happily. "Sister Bai, don't be angry! For my next drama, I'll definitely listen to you." He nudged Bai Yujing, like a small child wheedling an elder.

Bai Yujing pulled him forward a few steps and said angrily, "I can't win an argument with you. For your next drama, you'd better perform properly and stop picking roles at random."

The words had barely left her mouth when they saw a person at once familiar and strange. Jiang Yanzhou, bringing the newly signed performer Gu Moyan, moved through the crowd before them. He wore a black suit. He was not only a performers' agent, but also a contract adviser under Tianze Entertainment. He looked refined, wore framed glasses, and spoke gently and properly, his voice low and magnetic.

His dress was invariably neat and measured, his shirt cuffs always buttoned to the last button. The only oddity was a thin mark on his left wrist, burned by a cigarette. He was also very friendly with his Tianze colleagues. When he saw Bai Yujing and Xia Zilan, he nodded and, looking at Xia Zilan, asked gently, "Xia Zilan, you are a popular young star of today. You really are a beautiful young man."

Bai Yujing, her face stern, retorted, "I'm his agent. Don't get any ideas about him —"

Having said that, she hurriedly pulled him away.

Jiang Yanzhou had once been Yu Mengge's agent. Three years ago he went abroad to develop his career, and recently he returned and only then joined Tianze Entertainment. His background was unclear; he said only that he had worked as a public relations adviser overseas.

But in the short six months he was Yu Mengge's agent, he took Yu Mengge from second-tier to the very top of the traffic charts, and made him an idol worshipped by all.

He understood the business, understood the rhythm of the media, and understood "how to make an audience fall in love with a lie."

The industry called him "the manipulator." His methods were forceful but clean, never leaving a trace.

After Yu Mengge's death, Jiang Yanzhou was mysteriously promoted, bringing with him a new performer — Gu Moyan.

Gu Moyan was a newcomer whose looks and temperament were extremely similar to Yu Mengge's, yet his personality was even colder, like a "designed stand-in."

The outside world rumored that Jiang Yanzhou wanted to "remake a Yu Mengge," but in fact, through Gu Moyan he was making the audience quickly forget past memories.

Gu Moyan once said a thought-provoking line in an interview: "Teacher Jiang says, I'm just a borrowed face."