On a crisp autumn morning, the flashing cold-colored lights of police cars illuminated the quiet suburban villa area.
Su Wanqing stood outside the iron gate, gazing up at the three-story European-style villa before her. The lights inside had not been turned off, just as usual, yet there was an eerie sense of stillness. She whispered to Lu Chenzhou, "The emergency call came in at 4:30 AM. The neighbors heard a loud bang. The caller was the cleaning staff, who found the victim lying in the study."
They passed through the living room and arrived at the study on the second floor. The victim, Lin Chenghai, aged 54, was the former chief expert at the National Cryptography Research Institute. He had retired five years ago and settled here, living a low-profile life, avoiding public affairs, and in recent years, almost completely cutting off contact with the outside world.
The body lay on the carpet in front of the desk, with the victim's right hand clutching a broken mirror, his fingers turning purple from the force of his grip. There were several mirror devices placed on the desk, on the floor, and even in the corners of the room—some were complete reflective mirrors, while others had been precisely cut at specific angles, resembling an optical array.
"The preliminary cause of death is blunt force trauma to the back of the head," Su Wanqing said softly while taking photos. "But the victim was clearly engaged in some kind of attempt before death—these mirrors weren't placed randomly."
She bent down to inspect the back of the mirror that the victim was holding. Her fingers paused for a moment, signaling Lu Chenzhou to come closer. "There are bloodstains with writing here."
They carefully peeled away the mirror piece, and in the indentation, they saw a series of numbers written in blood, scrawled messily:
2 1 6 9 3 8 4 7
"It looks like random scribbling," one of the forensic investigators frowned.
"No," Lu Chenzhou said, his gaze scanning the arrangement of the mirrors in the room, his expression growing more serious. "This sequence of numbers... is meant for the mirrors."
Su Wanqing immediately understood his meaning. "You mean the true meaning of the numbers can only be revealed through the reflection in the mirror?"
The two of them used the mirrors previously placed on the floor to recreate the victim's perspective. Through the reflection, the sequence of numbers turned into:
7 4 8 3 6 9 1 2
"It looks like a code," Su Wanqing quickly noted down.
"Or perhaps, it's a password."
They input the numbers into the police database, but there was no match. However, by reviewing the victim's communication records, Lu Chenzhou discovered that he had been frequently visiting a private bank in the city center over the past two months, with the most recent visit being just three days ago, shortly before his death.
The police immediately contacted the bank for verification. Sure enough, the bank confirmed that Lin Chenghai had rented a high-level safe, which required dual authentication: a password and a fingerprint.
With the forensic department's cooperation, Su Wanqing extracted the victim's fingerprint model, and after following the authorization process, they slowly opened safe number "1349" in the bank's underground vault.
Inside the safe, there was a small black fireproof document bag. Upon opening it, the faint scent of ink and metal filled the air, as if some outdated secret had been revived.
Inside the bag was a file several dozen pages thick, along with a USB drive.
"It's handwritten," Su Wanqing flipped open the first page. "It's all in his own writing."
The title of the first page read:
"Mirror Plan: Level 1 Core Members' Code Names and Action Map"
The file detailed an underground criminal organization codenamed "Mirror." Unlike "Dark Abyss," this organization focused more on information manipulation and financial infiltration, employing a "invisible control" strategy. One of the most shocking revelations in the file was that "Dark Abyss" was actually just one of "Mirror's" external operational branches.
"So, the 'Migratory Bird Plan' and the subway bombing case we saw earlier... they were actually led by 'Mirror,' not isolated terrorist attacks," Lu Chenzhou murmured.
The encrypted file stored on the USB drive also included operational codenames for members of the organization, mission logs, and even the real identities of several members—two of whom turned out to be high-ranking contacts within the public security system.
Su Wanqing clenched her fist. "We've always thought 'Dark Abyss' was the greatest enemy, but it turns out they were just a surface pawn in the game."
"And Lin Chenghai… perhaps he was silenced because he knew too much," Lu Chenzhou's voice was low. "But he chose to leave behind this clue in the form of a mirror code before he died."
They handed the file and USB drive over to the Central Intelligence Department and initiated a special investigation, secretly screening all involved parties. At the same time, they elevated the "Mirror" organization to a national-level target for suppression.
That night, Su Wanqing sat in her office, flipping through Lin Chenghai's notes. One passage caught her eye—it was written in a crooked, yet incredibly moving, hand:
"People often say the world in the mirror is false, but I've seen too many truths hidden in the reflected light. If I fall, let the truth emerge through the mirror."
Su Wanqing gently closed the notebook, her gaze resolute.
"The Mirror organization may be more cunning and vast than 'Dark Abyss,' but as long as there's a clue left, we won't stop."
Lu Chenzhou stood behind her, silently watching her shadow in the night, and whispered, "We've only seen one side of the mirror. Behind it, there's an entire maze."
And in the mirror, the outline of the next storm was slowly beginning to take shape.