I trudged through the rugged mountain path, finally arriving at the back of the hill. In that moment, a surge of pride welled up within me—I'd discovered a secret trail leading straight to the factory zone, and I felt a deep sense of accomplishment. But that pride quickly faded, worn away by the dangers that lay ahead.
While climbing, I nearly slipped on a loose rock. It was a life-or-death moment. Fortunately, my reflexes kicked in just in time—I steadied myself and avoided falling into the bottomless abyss below.
Just as I was about to continue along the winding trail, my phone buzzed. It was a message from my assistant, Liu Ming:
"Brother An, after you left, a man wearing sunglasses and a mask appeared at the law office. He dropped off a note and left in a hurry. The note read: 'Stay out of things that don't concern you.' We're all seriously worried about your safety."
Reading the message, today's events flashed through my mind: that young man, who had desperately run between five or six law firms, adamant about suing the Environmental Agency. If this truly involved a massive project jointly pushed by the Security Bureau, Environmental Agency, and Administrative Authority, then every step he took may have already been under close surveillance.
If they'd followed me all the way here—it wasn't impossible. But I had no way out now. Since I'd already come this far, there was no turning back. I had to get to the bottom of this. Keeping low, I jogged the rest of the way and finally reached the rear of the factory. Because it backed against a small mountain, the original designers clearly hadn't anticipated an intruder from this direction. Only a flimsy iron fence had been installed. For me, it posed little challenge—I clipped through it with ease.
Crouching, I crept forward carefully. Suddenly, a powerful beam from a searchlight swept across like lightning. Instinctively, I held my breath and tensed my body, bracing for discovery. But I was lucky. The beam passed quickly—it was just an automated system, and no alarms were triggered.
The newly built factory ahead didn't appear much different from a typical refinery, aside from its sheer size. But I knew all too well: the real problems were likely hidden deep within its waste disposal system—and in its potential threat to the environment.
Where should I start investigating?As I stood there in thought, unsure where to begin, something caught my eye. Not far ahead, a sign clearly pointed toward the "Waste Discharge Zone." That might be the place I'd been looking for all along.Taking advantage of the cover of night, I made my way toward it, step by careful step. Luck was still on my side—there weren't many guards on patro
When I finally reached the discharge area, I flicked on my flashlight—and froze.Lined up before me was a full set of seemingly complete and well-organized filtration and drainage equipment. Everything looked clean, orderly, even textbook. Had I been wrong about this place?
Doubt crept into my mind, gnawing at the edge of my certainty. Was this factory actually operating legally? Had I misjudged everything?
Just then, something unexpected happened—my flashlight slipped from my hand and tumbled straight toward one of the drainage pipes.
My heart skipped a beat. By all logic, the flashlight should have landed on the multi-layer filter mesh with a loud clatter. But to my shock, it simply bounced off with barely a sound.
What was going on?The silence was unnatural. That pipe didn't behave like it should have. A deep sense of unease settled in my gut. Compelled by curiosity, I decided to take a closer look—perhaps there was more to this pipe than met the eye.I squatted down and examined it intently.The outer surface was polished smooth and solid, almost flawless. But when I tapped it lightly with my knuckles, the hollow echo that came back told a very different story.It was a shell—just a shell.Cautiously, I peeled back the outer layer. What I saw inside left me stunned. The four-layer filter mesh, the purification devices—gone. Completely hollow.
This wasn't a discharge system. It was a direct pipeline for dumping untreated waste.
Rage and disbelief surged in my chest. This factory, dressed in the appearance of legitimacy, was hiding a monstrous crime behind its polished exterior—brazenly releasing toxic pollutants, endangering public health and committing a silent crime against the city itself.Right then and there, I made a vow: I would expose this place for what it really was, no matter the risk.
Back at the law firm, I wasted no time. I immediately began organizing and analyzing the evidence I had collected. I knew all too well—it still wasn't enough. To uncover the full truth, I needed more.Suddenly, I remembered the old woman.Her face was worn by time, her eyes cloudy with sorrow. Her son, a truck driver, had gone missing. She had come to me once, desperate for help, clinging to the last shreds of hope.
I decided to pay her another visit.
Her house stood at the edge of the city, a lonely structure swallowed by dust and silence. When she opened the door and saw me, a flicker of life lit up her tired eyes. I gently showed her the photos I had taken at the factory. She took the phone with trembling hands, scanning each image with painful care.
Then she stopped. Her fingers trembled violently as she pointed to one of the trucks. Her voice cracked, thick with emotion: "That one... That's the one. Before he left, my son asked me to draw that little mark on his truck. He said it was his lucky charm."
A dull weight settled over my chest. Her confirmation left no doubt—those trucks were directly connected to the missing drivers.I reassured her softly and made a solemn promise: I would get to the bottom of this, no matter the cost.As I left her home, a heavy sense of duty pressed down on me. I realized my investigation had only just begun. What lay ahead was unknown—and likely dangerous. But I had to press forward.
This wasn't just about one missing person anymore. It was about a hidden system, a silent crime, and a city at risk.
Back at the firm, I dove into the truck registration databases and transport logs. I needed to trace where those vehicles had gone, what they had carried, and why they had never returned.
The deeper I dug, the more tangled it became. And the more convinced I was—this went far beyond the Environmental Bureau. This wasn't just a cover-up. It was a machine—a carefully orchestrated conspiracy, driven by unseen hands.And those hands were more powerful, more dangerous, than anyone dared to imagin.
As I sifted through the tangled mess of logistics data, another name surfaced again and again—"Shinhai Logistics Development Plan." That young man who had burst into our office, determined to sue the Environmental Bureau, had mentioned it too.
The Shinhai Project.He said something was wrong—deeply wrong—with it. And now, all the pieces were pointing in that same direction.
Every trail led to this plan. Every anomaly circled back to that name.I pulled the city records. Publicly, the Shinhai Project was marketed as an ambitious infrastructure overhaul: modern factories, eco-friendly zones, upgraded supply chains. But the timelines didn't match. The documents didn't match. Even the locations didn't match. And more importantly—the promises didn't match the reality.
If this truly involved the joint efforts of the Public Safety Bureau, the Environmental Bureau, and the Administrative Bureau, then the deception ran deep. Too deep for one rogue office or corrupt officer.No—this was systemic.
The factory wasn't a standalone problem. It was a test site. A piece in something larger, hidden beneath layers of forged permits and carefully staged compliance.A dark suspicion took shape in my mind. What if the factory's illegal waste dumping was just the beginning? What if these missing truck drivers had seen something they weren't supposed to see?
And what if—just maybe—they weren't just "missing"?My hand hovered over the files, cold with realization. I was staring at the edges of something massive. A conspiracy that had likely cost lives. One protected not just by corporate interest, but by the government itself.And now, I had evidence.
Not enough to bring them down—but enough to draw their attention.
The warning note, the mysterious man in sunglasses, the surveillance at the firm—it all made sense now. They were watching. And they knew I was getting too close.
But it was too late to back out.
Whatever came next, I would see it through.