Lin Yue did not sleep. The conversation with Gu Jing replayed in his mind like a looped recording, each iteration revealing new layers of manipulation. The war criminal had been clever—he had framed his argument not as a threat, but as a plea for order. He had positioned himself as the guardian of stability, the protector of the crew's fragile unity. And he had given Lin Yue a choice that was not really a choice at all: accept the lie and survive, or challenge it and bear responsibility for whatever chaos followed.
By 04:00, Lin Yue had made his decision. He could not fight Gu Jing alone. The war criminal had decades of experience in deception, a network of institutional protection that extended far beyond Xuanbing Station, and an intimate understanding of human weakness. Lin Yue had only Xu Wei's notebook, a data drive full of horrors, and the desperate hope that somewhere among the thirteen surviving crew members, there were allies he could trust.
He began with Zhang Li.
The meteorologist was in the observation dome when Lin Yue found her, sitting in the darkness with her instruments arrayed around her like silent companions. The aurora was active that night, sheets of green and violet light cascading across the sky, and Zhang Li was supposed to be recording the electromagnetic data. But her instruments were idle, and her gaze was fixed on the horizon with the hollow intensity of someone who was not seeing anything at all.
She startled when Lin Yue entered, her hand flying to her chest. "Doctor Lin. You frightened me."
"I apologize." He sat down across from her, the curved glass of the dome arcing over them like the interior of a frozen bubble. The aurora cast shifting shadows across their faces. "I need to talk to you about something. Something I can't discuss anywhere else."
Zhang Li's expression tightened. She was a small woman, bird-boned and nervous, with the kind of perpetual anxiety that made her excellent at monitoring data and terrible at confrontation. Lin Yue had treated her for stress-related insomnia three times since the winter darkness had begun.
"Is this about Xu Wei?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"It is." Lin Yue hesitated, then decided that half-measures would not serve him. "I don't believe the story Commander Luo told us. I don't believe Jiang Ziming killed Xu Wei and Zhao Kai over a romantic rivalry. And I have evidence that someone else on this station is responsible."
Zhang Li's eyes widened, and for a moment, Lin Yue saw something flicker in them—not surprise, but recognition. As if she had been waiting for someone to say these words.
"I know," she said.
Lin Yue stared at her. "What do you know?"
"I know that Xu Wei was investigating someone. She came to me three weeks ago, asking about old weather data from the 1970s. She wanted to know if there were records of military flights to the Antarctic during the southern border conflict. I thought it was strange, but she was so intense about it, so I helped her. I found flight logs that had been buried in the archives—transport planes, unscheduled, carrying personnel whose names were all redacted. One of them landed at the old Xuanbing outpost in 1975, the year before it was decommissioned. The manifest listed a single passenger: a Colonel T.A."
Lin Yue felt the pieces shift in his mind, a new connection forming. The Antarctic had not merely been a hiding place for Tu Anjia. It had been part of his escape from the beginning. The military had flown him to the bottom of the world, where no one would think to look for a war criminal, and left him there to reinvent himself.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Lin Yue asked.
"Because I was afraid." Zhang Li's voice cracked. "Xu Wei told me to keep quiet until she had more proof. She said there were people in the Longyuan Antarctic Administration who were complicit in the cover-up. People who would silence anyone who got too close. When she died, I thought—I thought they had gotten to her. And I was too terrified to say anything."
Lin Yue reached out and took her hand. It was cold, despite the dome's heating. "You're not alone anymore. But I need your help. I need to know everything Xu Wei told you. And I need you to keep this conversation secret."
Zhang Li nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. "There's something else. Something I didn't tell anyone. The night before she died, Xu Wei gave me a package. She said if anything happened to her, I should give it to someone I trusted absolutely. I've been waiting for that person. I think—I think you might be him."
She reached into her equipment bag and withdrew a sealed envelope, the kind used for inter-station mail. Lin Yue took it, feeling the weight of paper inside. He did not open it immediately. The observation dome was too exposed, the glass too transparent. Anyone watching from the station below would see them.
"Did Xu Wei mention anyone else she was working with?" Lin Yue asked. "Besides Zhao Kai?"
"She mentioned the electrician. Sun. She said he had helped her access the old power grid schematics, the ones that showed the layout of the original Xuanbing outpost. She was trying to figure out where someone might have hidden records from the 1970s. She thought there might be a cache somewhere in the old sections of the station."
Lin Yue filed that information away. Sun, the diabetic electrician, was another potential ally—and another person Gu Jing might target if he suspected involvement. The circle of people who knew the truth was widening, and every expansion increased the danger.
"Thank you," Lin Yue said, pocketing the envelope. "Stay quiet. Stay safe. And if anyone asks, we were discussing your insomnia medication."
He left the observation dome and made his way back through the station's corridors. The envelope burned in his pocket like a coal. He needed to open it in private, but first he needed to check on something else—Jiang Ziming. The mechanic was still confined to his quarters, and Lin Yue had not seen him since their conversation the previous day. If Jiang had told anyone else about Gu Jing's true identity, the situation could spiral out of control before Lin Yue had a plan.
Ma Zhong was still standing guard outside Jiang's door, though his posture had slumped with exhaustion. He straightened when Lin Yue approached, his eyes narrowing.
"Commander's orders," Ma Zhong said, before Lin Yue could speak. "No visitors."
"I'm not a visitor. I'm his physician. I need to check his condition."
"His condition is the same as yesterday. He's alive. He's quiet. That's all you need to know."
Lin Yue studied Ma Zhong's face. The man's loyalty to Luo Heng was absolute, but there was something else there—a flicker of doubt, perhaps, or a crack in the rigid facade. Lin Yue decided to take a risk.
"Ma Zhong, can I ask you something? Off the record?"
The guard's jaw tightened. "Depends on the question."
"Did you know Xu Wei? Personally, I mean. Not just as a colleague."
Ma Zhong was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded, a fractional movement that seemed to cost him something. "She helped me. A few months back, when I got the news that my mother had died. I couldn't get home for the funeral. Couldn't even send a proper message. Xu Wei sat with me in the mess hall for three hours, just listening. She didn't try to fix anything. She just listened." His voice roughened. "She was a good person."
"She was," Lin Yue agreed. "And I don't believe she died over a romantic rivalry. I believe she was killed because she discovered something dangerous. Something that someone on this station is willing to kill to keep hidden."
Ma Zhong's eyes met his, and for the first time, Lin Yue saw the man behind the soldier. He was not stupid. He was not blindly loyal. He was afraid—afraid of what would happen if the order he had dedicated his life to preserving began to crumble.
"If you have evidence," Ma Zhong said slowly, "you should take it to Commander Luo. He's the authority here. He'll handle it."
"Commander Luo has already made his decision. He chose the simple story over the complicated truth. If I go to him now, without allies, without proof that can't be dismissed, he'll bury my report and I'll be the next person to have an accident."
Ma Zhong was silent again. The station hummed around them, the sound of the heating units cycling on and off. Finally, he stepped aside.
"Five minutes," he said. "And if anyone asks, you were never here."
Lin Yue slipped through the door. Jiang Ziming was sitting on his bunk, exactly as he had been the day before, but something had changed. His eyes were clearer, more focused. He looked up when Lin Yue entered, and there was a flicker of something like hope in his expression.
"Doctor Lin. I didn't think you'd come back."
"I need more information," Lin Yue said, sitting down across from him. "You told me Gu Jing made you kill Xu Wei and Zhao Kai. But I need to know the specifics. How did he communicate with you? How did he coordinate the attack?"
Jiang's face twisted with shame and fear. "He spoke to me privately. In the maintenance tunnels, where no one could hear. He told me about his past—about Nandao, about the cover-up, about his escape to the Antarctic. He said if Xu Wei exposed him, the government would shut down the station to bury the scandal. Everyone would lose their jobs, their reputations, their futures. He said he was protecting us."
"And you believed him?"
"I believed the consequences. I've seen what happens when scandals break in the Longyuan Republic. Careers destroyed. Families ruined. People who speak out get silenced, one way or another. Gu Jing said if we handled the problem quietly, no one else would have to suffer. I thought I was doing the right thing." Jiang's voice broke. "I was wrong. I know I was wrong. But by the time I realized that, it was too late."
Lin Yue leaned forward, his voice low. "Jiang, I need you to understand something. Gu Jing is not going to let you live. You're a loose end. The only reason you're still alive is that he needs you to maintain the love triangle story. But the moment that story is secure—the moment the crew accepts it completely—you'll have an accident. A suicide, probably. Something tidy and tragic that closes the case permanently."
Jiang's face went pale. "I know," he whispered. "He told me. He said if I ever deviated from the story, he would make sure I died slowly. But even if I stick to the story, he'll kill me anyway. I'm already dead. I've been dead since the moment I picked up that wrench."
Lin Yue felt a surge of anger—not at Jiang, but at Gu Jing, at the system that had protected him, at the decades of lies that had made this moment possible. He forced the anger down. He needed Jiang alive. He needed him as a witness, as proof that the official story was a fabrication.
"I'm going to get you out of this," Lin Yue said, with a conviction he did not entirely feel. "But I need you to do something for me. I need you to write down everything—everything Gu Jing told you, everything he made you do, everything you know about his true identity. Write it in your own handwriting. Sign it. Date it. Make it a confession, but not the confession he wants. A confession that tells the truth."
Jiang stared at him. "What good will that do? No one will believe me. I'm a murderer."
"They'll believe evidence. Physical evidence. Written testimony corroborated by documents. I have Xu Wei's research, her photographs, her archives. If your confession matches her evidence, it creates a record that can't be easily dismissed. But I need you to do this quickly, before Gu Jing realizes what we're doing."
Jiang nodded slowly, a fragile determination forming in his hollow eyes. "I'll do it. I don't deserve to survive this. But I don't want Xu Wei and Zhao Kai to be remembered as victims of a love triangle. They deserve better than that."
Lin Yue left Jiang's quarters, nodding to Ma Zhong as he passed. The guard did not speak, but his eyes followed Lin Yue down the corridor, and there was something new in his expression—a question, perhaps, or the beginning of an answer.
Back in the medical bay, Lin Yue locked the door and opened the envelope Zhang Li had given him. Inside were three items: a letter in Xu Wei's handwriting, a small brass key, and a hand-drawn map of Xuanbing Station.
The letter was brief.
Doctor Lin,
If you're reading this, I'm dead. I'm sorry to put this burden on you, but you're the only person I trust to finish what I started.
The key opens a storage locker in the old section of the station—Section D, which was sealed off after the 1976 decommissioning. The map shows you how to access it. Inside the locker, you'll find the complete files I compiled on Gu Jing's true identity. Original documents, not copies. Irrefutable proof.
But there's something else in the locker. Something I found while I was searching the old archives. I didn't have time to investigate it fully, but it frightened me more than anything else I discovered. Gu Jing is not the only person on this station with a secret. There is someone else—someone who has been protecting him, not out of ignorance, but out of complicity. I don't know who it is. But I know they've been communicating with Gu Jing through encrypted messages embedded in the station's regular transmissions. The communications officer position gave Zhao Kai access to those transmissions. He found patterns—repeated phrases, coded references—that suggest a network, not just an individual.
Be careful who you trust. The lie is bigger than one man. It always has been.
—Xu Wei
Lin Yue read the letter twice, his blood running cold. A network. Not just Gu Jing, hiding alone in the ice, but a web of complicity that extended through the station and beyond. Someone among the surviving crew was actively helping the war criminal maintain his cover. And that someone might be anyone—the cook, the electrician, the meteorologist who had just handed him this envelope, even Commander Luo himself.
He looked at the hand-drawn map. Section D was located in the oldest part of the station, a wing that had been closed off when the new modules were added in the 1990s. According to station legend, it was structurally unsound, prone to ice accumulation and temperature fluctuations. No one went there. No one had reason to.
But Xu Wei had found a way in. And she had hidden her evidence there, in a storage locker that only this key could open.
Lin Yue folded the map and tucked it into his jacket. He would need to go to Section D. He would need to retrieve the files and figure out what Xu Wei had meant by a network. But first, he needed to survive the next few hours without alerting Gu Jing or his unknown ally.
The station intercom crackled to life. Commander Luo's voice filled the medical bay, tinny and distorted.
"Attention, all crew. An emergency meeting will be held in the mess hall at 08:00. Attendance is mandatory. Repeat, attendance is mandatory."
Lin Yue's heart sank. Emergency meetings were rare, and they usually meant one of two things: either a new crisis had emerged, or Luo Heng was tightening his grip on the crew. Either way, it would bring everyone together in one room—including Gu Jing, including the unknown accomplice, including all the potential allies Lin Yue was trying to cultivate.
He would have to face them all. He would have to maintain the facade of the cooperative physician, the man who accepted the official story, while secretly planning to dismantle it. And he would have to watch every face, listen to every word, searching for any sign of who among them was feeding information to the Butcher of Nandao.
Outside the medical bay window, the aurora flickered and died, plunging the ice into deeper darkness. Somewhere in the station, a door opened and closed, footsteps echoing in the corridor. Lin Yue turned off his terminal and waited for the meeting, the weight of Xu Wei's key pressing against his chest like a talisman.
The comfortable lie was still holding. But it would not hold forever. And when it shattered, the pieces would cut everyone who had believed it.
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