Zhang Haiyan took a bite of a cookie and smiled. His military rank was much lower than Zhang Haixia’s, who was already a minor character; he feared he was even worse off. However, he had never paid much attention to these things. Compared to that, aren’t military ranks and levels just jokes these days?

He said to Miss Dong, “Miss Dong, to be honest, my doubts are not just about this. My first question is: does the Nanyang Archives really exist?”

Miss Dong wanted to speak, but Zhang Haiyan interrupted, “Do you know? The Nanyang Maritime Bureau told me that they never had a Nanyang Archives among their subordinate institutions, nor have they ever heard of such an organization. I checked all the information, and indeed, there is none—do you know what’s going on?”

Miss Dong lit a cigarette and said, “So you’re a low-level spy.”

Zhang Haiyan looked at her, thinking, are you trying to brush me off with a lack of rank? Even if my rank is insufficient, it wouldn’t warrant such a huge deception to guard against a junior employee like me.

“The Nanyang Archives has never been related to the Nanyang Maritime Bureau. Using that term is simply because explaining the origins of the Nanyang Archives to people like you is too complicated; it’s easier to just say it’s government-run.” Miss Dong pushed the ashtray, indicating that Zhang Haiyan could smoke. “In fact, the origins of the Nanyang Archives are even more complex; not being government-run doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“If it’s not government-run, is it privately run?” Zhang Haiyan asked. “Isn’t that the mafia? Are we a subordinate organization of the Qing Gang?”

“Then I’ll have to tell you a story.” Miss Dong stood up and opened the cabinet behind her, and Zhang Haiyan discovered that there was a passage inside.

Miss Dong gestured for him to follow. Zhang Haiyan lit a cigarette and walked over. She said, “I’m going to show you the truth about the Nanyang Archives. You’re still an ordinary person now; you can choose to leave. These things aren’t so pretty. After you see them, many things will change.”

Zhang Haiyan chuckled. Surviving on a rocky island full of plague victims, with no food or fresh water, swimming thirty kilometers in the water to board a ship to kill people, and then jumping into the sea to escape, cutting the flesh under his tongue and placing a blade there—these experiences had long since made him anything but ordinary.

Moreover, without the Nanyang Archives, what was he? Did it matter whether he was ordinary or not?

He needed to know the truth.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Miss Dong said. “Ordinary people who have done some extraordinary things always think they are no longer part of this world. I’ve seen too many of them over time. Let’s go.” Miss Dong walked in first, and Zhang Haiyan followed. He first saw that both sides of the passage were lined with human skin, and on the skin were tattoos of some beast-like creatures.

“What is this?”

“Do you know why most of the people from the Nanyang Archives have the surname Zhang?” Miss Dong asked. Zhang Haiyan shook his head. He was aware of the Zhang surname, but he had never been interested in the reason behind it. Personally, he thought the Zhang surname was common; perhaps it was to avoid drawing attention, which was better than being called Bai. It immediately sounded like there was a story behind it.

“In Northeast China, there is a Zhang family that resides in Baishan and engages in a special kind of trade.” Miss Dong paused in front of a piece of human skin, her gaze seemingly drifting back to a long time ago.