The relentless string of murder cases was driving Cheng Yu out of his mind.
"What time is it?" he asked his partner, Liu Qi.
Liu Qi pushed aside a stack of case files, fished out his phone, and glanced at the screen. "We've been at this three hours past quitting time." He let out a yawn and buried the phone back under the paperwork.
Three months ago, Xinshi City—a place that had always known peace—had seen the sudden outbreak of homicide. The methods were wildly inconsistent. The motives were completely obscure. By all appearances, none of the killings were connected.
But Cheng Yu believed there was a pattern, maybe even a single killer.
The reason was simple: not one of these murders had left behind a trace of evidence, not a single clue. It defied belief that Xinshi had suddenly spawned so many psychopaths all gifted in the art of leaving nothing behind.
And then there was a deeper reason, one he kept to himself...
Cheng Yu gazed out the window and let out a long, slow breath. "I'm getting hungry. Let's go grab something to eat."
Liu Qi didn't look up, just waved a file in the air to signal how swamped he was.
"Fine. Want me to bring you back something?"
Liu Qi ignored him entirely.
Cheng Yu pulled on his uniform jacket and stepped out of the Enforcement Bureau alone.
The night sky was a fluorescent blue, studded with countless points of pure, bright light. Where it met the ground, it bled into the pale yellow glow of the streetlamps. Stirred by the evening breeze, it rippled like water, dissolving into faint, luminous halos.
Bathed in that very halo, Cheng Yu did not head for any food stall. Instead, he walked at an unhurried pace to Future Square.
At the center of the square stood a massive black screen, and suspended on that screen, steady and still, was an azure-blue numeral.
2
It represented the number of possible futures for the world.
Centuries ago, the Research Institute, then based in Xinshi, built a machine capable of detecting causal entropy. To celebrate this epoch-making achievement, the Foundation funded the construction of a grand plaza in the heart of the city.
The display at its center once flickered with infinite, ever-shifting numbers, revealing to all an infinity of futures.
That was until the Institute used the machine to kill god.
The Government, the Foundation, and the Institute formed a triumvirate and developed a new function: the erasure of causal entropy. With a finite, predictable future, the world was made peaceful and orderly.
From that day forward, every person's fate was planned.
Society was divided into three tiers. First-Class citizens formed the core of the Government, the Foundation, and the Institute. Second-Class citizens worked at their fringes or in subordinate bodies. Everyone else was, quite equitably, designated Third-Class.
The machine that killed god became known as the Entropy Annihilator.
After that, the Institute relocated out of Xinshi. The number on the big screen in Future Square has never changed since.
The Institute couldn't possibly have arranged for this many murderers to descend on Xinshi at the same time. It makes no sense.
Click.
Snapping the metal cap of his lighter shut, Cheng Yu stuck a cigarette between his lips and walked toward the low stone platform supporting the screen, intending to sit and rest for a moment.
A soft voice sounded from behind him.
"Two, two, one, three, one, one, three!"
A meaningless string of numbers. That was Cheng Yu's first thought.
Years of an enforcer's instinct took over. He spun around.
A young man, draped in the same halo of light, was walking along the road bordering the square.
He was slender, dressed in a short-sleeved school uniform, and his bare arms and delicate features, illuminated by the streetlight, held a pale, almost poetic purity.
His eyes were downcast, his steps light and nimble as he avoided every crack and seam in the pavement. Each time he cleared a section, his long eyelashes fluttered deftly and he hummed a note—sometimes a string of numbers, sometimes a snatch of unfamiliar melody.
Just as the distance between them shrank to six pavement seams, Cheng Yu spoke.
"Kid, what are you doing out alone this late?"
Startled out of his concentration, the young man showed no irritation. He stopped four seams away. "Good evening, Officer." His voice was polite, with the clarity of a nightingale's song. "I just got out of cram school. I thought I'd take a short walk before heading home."
The explanation did nothing to ease Cheng Yu's suspicion. In his mind, the deliberate avoidance of cracks, the humming of nonsensical syllables, the thin clothes on a chilly night, and walking alone during a spate of murders—these were all textbook traits of a psychopathic serial killer.
"Let me see your identity code, kid."
Cheng Yu's muscles tensed almost imperceptibly. He was unarmed. If this turned into a fight, he didn't know if he could gain the upper hand against someone who had potentially killed dozens.
The young man seemed utterly oblivious to the tension. He tugged down the collar of his uniform, revealing the skin between his neck and collarbone. There, a pale, slender throat bore an inverted-triangle tattoo.
Cheng Yu activated his Enforcer's Eye. His right eye glowed bright blue as it scanned the mark.
Qin Hao. Male. 17 years old. Third-Class Citizen. Student at Xinshi No. 9 Middle School.
Just a student.
Cheng Yu's own daughter, Cheng Lu, attended No. 9 Middle School as well.
Seems I'm just on edge.
Looking at this boy who was the same age as his daughter, Cheng Yu gave a rueful smile and shook his head, deactivating the Eye.
"Kid, don't you watch the news? Xinshi isn't safe lately."
Qin Hao's face showed not a flicker of alarm. His pleasant smile even eased some of the tension coiled in Cheng Yu's chest. "Everything is destined, isn't it, Officer?"
The boy tilted his head slightly toward the screen, the azure number reflected in his bright, crystalline eyes.
Cheng Yu sighed, dropped his cigarette to the ground, and crushed it under his heel. "Sit with me a minute, kid. Then I'll walk you home."
They sat down together on the ground beneath the giant screen.
The night breeze came in fits and starts. Cheng Yu's sharp nose picked up a mix of scents: street food, the rust of discarded metal at the roadside, a faint, clean fragrance from the boy, and the stale tobacco smell clinging to his own clothes.
"What do you think that second future looks like?" Cheng Yu asked, jerking his chin at the screen.
"I think you shouldn't worry about it, Officer," the boy said with earnest seriousness. "No one should be troubled by it. Even if the Institute hadn't erased it, that second future isn't something we could ever control. Maybe it's just an anomaly."
His clear voice paused, and Cheng Yu felt the boy's gaze on him. "Like the two of us. Two people who never should have met, crossing paths here by accident."
Cheng Yu raised an eyebrow, a little surprised. "Don't you ever wish that second future were yours?"
Children born to parents of the same class inherited that class. A higher-class citizen could marry someone of a lower class, but their offspring would be certified at the lower of the two tiers.
The children of Second and Third-Class unions could, through examinations, enter the outer bodies of the Triumvirate and be promoted. But if both parents were Third-Class, their children were Third-Class forever.
Unless that second future smiled upon them...
The azure number was everyone's last, secret fantasy of a different tomorrow. Qin Hao's identity code showed both his parents were Third-Class.
"No!" The answer was immediate. "If that kind of future fell to me, it would mean everyone else had lost it. I wouldn't like that."
The response caught Cheng Yu off guard. He looked back at the number, his mind drifting into a daze.
Some time passed. The night air grew colder. The boy shivered involuntarily and rubbed his arms with his palms for warmth. "I should go home now, Officer."
Cheng Yu was still staring at the screen, lost in thought.
"May your future be bright," the boy said, offering a polite blessing. Then, with those light, nimble steps, he walked out of the square.
AAAAAAAAAHHHH—!!!
A piercing scream tore through the quiet night, jolting Cheng Yu from his trance.
He shot to his feet and ran into the wind, toward the source of the cry.
Two blocks from Future Square, at the mouth of an alley, a woman in heavy makeup and streetwalker's clothes sat collapsed on the ground, her face a mask of terror.
Cheng Yu reached the alley entrance, looked inside, and his sallow complexion drained to a ghastly white.
"Calling Base! Calling Base! This is Enforcer 0921! I have a homicide at the intersection of Dongxin Street and Airong Road, near Future Square!"
"Requesting Enforcement Soldier backup! Requesting Enforcement Soldier backup!"
"Repeat, homicide at Dongxin Street and Airong Road!"
"Requesting Enforcement Soldier backup! Requesting Enforcement Soldier backup!"
The transmission done, it was as if all strength had left him. He slumped to the ground.
Beside him, the woman kicked off her high heels and scrambled up, screaming, ready to bolt. "Freeze! This area is now locked down!"
She fled in blind panic, ignoring his command. And Cheng Yu had no strength left to stop her.
He looked into the alley and buried his face in his hands in anguish.
Inside lay freshly butchered flesh, neatly carved, covered by the torn shreds of a school uniform.
And half a skull, bearing half a face—the face belonging to the boy named Qin Hao.
Blood was sprayed across the walls in wild, chaotic patterns, a vivid, poetic crimson.