Chapter 37

Chapter 37 The Sea Without Light Part 37

“How could this be? A moment ago, I clearly received a phone call from the police department,” Kui Xin persisted, dragging the conversation out to buy more time.

“You must have misunderstood,” the female operator said. “If you’ve been following the news, you should have seen our wanted poster for Fang Zhi, aged twenty-six, strong, about one-eighty in height. He lives in Jinshui City and is suspected of intentional murder. He escaped to our Tonglin City today. During our investigation of city surveillance, we spotted someone closely matching Fang Zhi’s description. The footage shows that you were the last person he contacted. Ms. Kui Xin, we need your assistance.”

Kui Xin insisted, “I received a call! That call just now was not from the police station. Who was it then? The number on the caller ID was the area code plus the emergency hotline.”

As she spoke, Kui Xin discreetly turned on her phone’s recording function, pulled up the call log, and took a screenshot of the incoming call which she privately shared via social media.

She activated the speakerphone feature and retrieved a rarely used second-hand cell phone from her bedside table, turning it on and charging it.

Smartphones were prohibited at school, so only elderly phones with limited functionality were allowed. When in high school, Kui Xin had used one of these, which cost less than a hundred yuan, was durable, and could take low-resolution pictures and record audio.

The second-hand phone did not have a SIM card installed, hence no signal and unable to connect to the internet, which was perfect for Kui Xin since she only needed its camera and recording functions.

Picking up the second-hand phone, she snapped a photo of the incoming call screen displayed on her smartphone, then opened the recording function on the old phone and positioned it next to the smartphone to capture additional audio.

She prepared herself for both scenarios.

She needed two copies of the picture shown on the incoming screen: a screenshot and a photograph. Similarly, the audio recordings were made twice: one on the smartphone and another on the unconnected, second-hand phone.

“I don’t think the previous call was normal…,” Kui Xin said earnestly. “I swear I received a call from the police. Our school’s anti-scammers campaign says that scammers can manipulate the caller ID’s displayed number. I’m worried about falling for a scam. If you’re really a policeman, please give me your badge number.”

This was a reasonable request; generally, police officers would comply by sharing their badge number as it was public information.

After a moment, the female operator recited a string of digits.

Kui Xin said, “The person you mentioned, Fang Zhi, is he the same person I encountered this morning on Baihua Boulevard? Is he a murderer?”

“We can’t be entirely certain, but the physical description matches. We need more clues to assist in investigating the case,” the female operator responded.

Details. Kui Xin spotted something peculiar.

The male operator who made the first call had answered with absolute confidence when asked if the criminal they were pursuing was the person Kui Xin met.

But in reality, Fang Zhi had covered his face with a hat, rendering it virtually impossible to identify him. Yet, the male operator had been unhesitant in his assertion. This was an anomaly, inconsistent with sound procedural practice.

The second-time female operator was more professional. After Kui Xin posed a similar question, she delivered an uncertain response and disclosed her badge number.

“Today, I saw the news and doubted that the man I followed might be Fang Zhi. But after considering, it seemed coincidental. A murderer wouldn’t normally visit crowded areas. Had I known, I’d have followed him,” Kui Xin slowly continued, attempting to buy more time by prolonging the conversation.

Seemingly annoyed by Kui Xin’s hesitation, the female operator got straight to the point, “We need the direction in which the suspect departed. Which way did he go?”

Kui Xin detected from her tone that further questioning would be futile.

“I didn’t expect to casually meet a murderer like this… I will go directly to the police station to give my account,” Kui Xin stated. “I know how serious this is. Not going unsettles me.”

The female operator paused briefly before politely responding, “Thank you for your cooperation and understanding.”

The call ended.

Kui Xin immediately accessed her social app to review her sent updates.

“What…?”

Kui Xin was surprised to see her message failed to send. The photo was unreadable, and there was no sign of any related screenshot in her album. The recycle bin was empty. Returning to the incoming call screen, the two police department numbers vanished!

She switched to the audio file, clicked the play button, and the voice recording turned into static.

Her phone had been hacked!

Kui Xin realized the seriousness of the situation.

Grabbing the old phone, she checked; thankfully, all the photos and recordings remained intact.

Unconnected, lacking signal, the hacker couldn’t locate her device. Her old phone was secure from intrusion.

Kui Xin wasn’t concerned about her compromised smartphone’s hidden camera being manipulated, given that the camera was already broken. Ironically, it was that damaged camera that let her get a relatively new second-hand phone affordably.

That day, Kui Xin figured, since she seldom took photos, a functional camera wasn’t necessary. She hadn’t anticipated that her cheap purchase would protect her from a minor risk.

The uncertainty lay in when the hacker had breached her phone—just now, or earlier?

Hackers had identified and confirmed her and Fang Zhi in extensive surveillance footage. Identification takes time. At the moment Kui Xin killed Fang Zhi, her phone was presumably uninfected. Her identity had not been exposed, and she had avoided detection by switching her phone to flight mode to prevent connections.

Without revealing her true identity, hackers resorted to impersonating police officers. If her identity had been confirmed, the hackers might not have tried probing her.

“Thank you anonymous hacker,” Kui Xin silently acknowledged.

The intrusion forced Kui Xin to intensify her defenses.

Enemies attacked not only from the real world but also from cyberspace. She needed seamless protection. Any misstep would create a vulnerability.

However, game forums likely were safe, considering Kui Xin’s browsing history revealed nothing suspicious on her phone.

She couldn’t trace any records indicating she visited the game forum or browsed any posts.

Yet, many uncertainties loomed over Kui Xin. She bought a knife online and searched for information on trapezoid blades, actions that raised eyebrows among those paying close attention.

She was compromised, yet not comprehensively.

The situation was dire.

The adversary couldn’t pinpoint who had killed Fang Zhi, but the person surmised Kui Xin was perhaps a player.

In fact, Kui Xin felt her urge to kill was hard to contain.

She gnawed on her fingernails, staring at her phone while contemplating, finally deciding to report to the police station.

Yes, she decided to report.

An ordinary citizen’s reaction to such events would naturally be to call the police, blending into the crowd.

A player and an ordinary person were not mutually exclusive—many users of the game forum were everyday people with common thoughts and lives. What made them uncommon was being thrust into a survival game.

Had things been repeatable, Kui Xin might have acted more prudently, completing her missions more flawlessly due to the information disparity.

As the game progressed, Kui Xin increasingly understood the significance of intelligence, the critical factor in ensuring her survival in the First and Second Worlds.

Clutching her phone, she slipped her shoes on and headed straight for the police station blocks away.

After reporting to the police and selectively explaining the case, it was well past midday.

As the police officer scribbled notes, mumbling to himself, “This is indeed unusual. There are signs of hacking. I recommend you change your phone…”

“I’m a student; changing a smartphone is tough,” Kui Xin lamented.

“Well, still consider it. Your phone is dangerously exposed. If your social media and payment passwords are compromised, what will you do?” the officer pondered.

“The badge number provided during the call wasn’t in our directory, and the person who called was not a cop… Also, we typically wouldn’t use the emergency line directly. It is usually a direct office line number or a regular mobile number,” the police officer explained.

“Do you really need to? Perhaps it’s a bit different depending on the situation,” Kui Xin responded.

“It varies. The dedicated number for 110, the area code followed by 110, or even office lines. If ever you encounter a situation with a wanted criminal as in the news, we might reach out directly or have witnesses come to the station. Confidentiality requests are met by recording calls for evidence,” the officer added.

Kui Xin sighed in realization. “I understand, thank you.”

“Go home, it’s raining heavily. Be careful on the roads,” the officer smiled, adding, “Your awareness is commendable.”

“If con artists try to fool me, they won’t succeed. I’m penniless, there’s nothing for them to take,” Kui Xin whispered softly.

“True, but imagine this… If the man I followed earlier really is the murderer, could I claim major clues for a reward?” she queried, hopeful.

“There would be an award upon case closure, typically no reward otherwise,” the officer clarified.

Kui Xin bid farewell with positive wishes, “I hope the case gets solved soon.”

Outside the rain poured heavily. Kui Xin opened her umbrella and plunged into the downpour.

She navigated through the flooding streets, struggling back home. Just entering the building, she tucked away her umbrella. Her phone vibrated. A message arrived.

“Hello? The world is dangerous. Want to group up?”

Three seconds later, another text.

“I’m the person who called you, I mean no harm.”

—

End of Chapter 37