Chapter 1: The Critical Point
Slap! Several identity documents were thrown onto the cold iron table, scattering across it like a fan. Each document bore the same photo, yet different names.
Under the dim yellow light, Lin Mian raised her gaze, her eyes fixed on the man across from her, who was holding the documents. His name was Qin Zhao'an, a senior investigator from the Port Smuggling Bureau, his hawk-like eyes staring at her with sharp intensity.
"Lin Mian—or whatever your real name is," he said, his voice deep and unyielding. "Explain which of these identities is truly yours."
Lin Mian remained silent, though her fingers instinctively curled into tight fists. Her hands were cuffed to the cold metal armrests of the chair, and bruises marked her wrists. Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her chest, but she forced herself to maintain a calm exterior. The harsh scent of disinfectant filled the air, almost suffocating in its sterility. The light above her seemed blinding, and sweat beaded on her forehead, but her expression remained composed and detached.
Qin Zhao'an waited for a few seconds, but when no answer came, he scoffed and slammed the documents back onto the table. "Name, nationality, origin—if you don't speak up, things are only going to get worse for you."
Lin Mian closed her eyes briefly, then reopened them, her gaze dark and unwavering. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, her voice hoarse, but carefully controlled.
"Still lying?" Qin Zhao'an's eyes narrowed as he pulled a file from the table, flipping through it with deliberate slowness. "Lin Mian, female, twenty-six years old, no legal entry records. Last week, in the dead of night, you attempted to enter Yu Port using a fake ID, and we caught you in the act." He snapped the file shut, his eyes boring into her. "This isn't the place for lies."
Lin Mian felt a slight tingling in her fingertips. Every word he spoke felt like a needle pushing deeper into her chest. Yet, she inhaled deeply and kept her composure. "I'm not lying," she said, her voice steady despite the knot of fear tightening in her stomach.
"Not lying?" Qin Zhao'an suddenly leaned forward, his palms slamming onto the table as he closed the distance between them. His voice dropped to a low, oppressive tone. "Then explain this." He pointed at the documents and items spread on the table. "Six different IDs, a satellite phone, and your passport, which almost passed through our checks. Tell me, what kind of ordinary smuggler carries these things?"
Lin Mian's pupils constricted, but she quickly regained her composure. She knew better than to show any weakness. "The satellite phone isn't mine. I was just… helping someone transport goods across the border," she said, fabricating an excuse on the spot. "These IDs are for refugees. I have no ill intentions."
The lie left her lips easily, almost as if she had convinced herself of it. But Qin Zhao'an was not fooled. "Refugee?" He repeated her words slowly, his tone cold. "You certainly know how to choose your words. Unfortunately for you, we have evidence that you're not just some ordinary refugee."
Lin Mian's heart sank, and her breath caught in her throat. Evidence? She struggled to maintain her composure, but her fingers dug into her palms. Qin Zhao'an pulled several photographs from the file and laid them out in front of her. Under the harsh light, Lin Mian recognized the images captured from the port's surveillance cameras. In one shot, she was seen near a warehouse at the docks, and in the next, the screen showed only an empty corridor.
"You're quite good at disappearing from surveillance footage," Qin Zhao'an said slowly, his voice as cold as ice. "Where did you go? Did you have someone help you, or did you use some kind of trick?"
Lin Mian stared at the photos, her palms beginning to sweat. She hadn't known whether anyone had noticed the surveillance gap, but now, with the evidence right in front of her, there was no way to deny it. Her heart raced in her chest. Yet, on the surface, she met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "I don't have any accomplices. I don't know any tricks."
Qin Zhao'an straightened up, his eyes never leaving hers. He studied her for a long moment, then sneered. "No accomplices? So you went solo? How convenient."
He took a few steps back and raised his voice. "Who's behind you? Who gave you these fake IDs and equipment? Which organization are you working for?"
Lin Mian remained silent. She could feel her silence stoking his anger. Qin Zhao'an wasn't used to this kind of standoff. He inhaled sharply, then suddenly pulled out a chair, sitting down with a loud scrape. He leaned in, so close that the table barely separated them.
"Aren't you good at talking your way out of things?" He stared into her eyes, as if trying to peer into her very soul. "Let me ask you again—who are you? A spy? An insider for a smuggling ring? Or perhaps a member of a terrorist organization?"
Lin Mian's throat tightened. She knew that each question was designed to force her into admitting an identity, providing a reason for her actions. But she couldn't confess to any of them. She could only remain silent.
The interrogation room was thick with tension, the only sound the hum of the overhead light. Qin Zhao'an's gaze remained fixed on her, his expression hardening as he pressed her for an answer. Lin Mian simply lowered her gaze and muttered, "I've said everything I need to say."
The moment her words left her lips, Qin Zhao'an slammed his fist onto the table. His jaw tightened, and his anger surged. "You'd better pray that everything you've said is true. Or else—" He leaned in, his voice chilling as he whispered near her ear. "Here, no one can protect you."
He stood up abruptly and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The sound of the door locking reverberated through the stillness. Lin Mian stared at the cold metal door, her fingers trembling with the weight of the moment. She squeezed her eyes shut, her lips pressing tightly together. In just a few minutes, all her hopes had been shattered, and fear and uncertainty flooded her. The sound of her own heartbeat seemed deafening in the empty room.
Minutes passed before she opened her eyes again, forcing herself to calm down. Faces from her past flashed through her mind—some clear, some blurry. She didn't know what awaited her next—more interrogation, or perhaps becoming a pawn in a much larger game. But one thing was clear: sleep would not come tonight, and the battle over her identity had only just begun.