Chapter Two: A Dead Man's Application
“All approved applications have completed personal identity verification.”
The line of red text sat at the very bottom of the screen.
Chen Yaoting stared at it for a long time.
Wang Zhihao stood beside him, the expression on his face slowly shifting from surprise into something indescribably strange.
“So... dead people can pass facial recognition too?”
Chen Yaoting ignored him.
He refreshed the page.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The information hadn’t changed.
Xu Wenshu.
Male.
Seventy to seventy-nine years old.
Application status: Approved.
Identity verification: Complete.
This wasn’t simply a case of someone using another person’s name.
At least, that wasn’t how the system saw it.
“Call customer service.”
Wang Zhihao said it.
“Now?”
“What else? You planning to wait for that dead guy to come kill you next week?”
The remark was absurd, but no one in the office could laugh.
Chen Yaoting immediately searched for the contact information.
There really was a hotline at the bottom of the official page.
He tapped the call button.
The first call: busy.
The second call: busy.
On the third call, the automated system directly informed him that call volume was currently too high and asked him to try again later.
More and more noise began rising around them.
The entire company seemed to have suddenly fallen into another world.
On a normal morning around nine, everyone would either be answering emails or sitting in meetings.
Today, everyone was staring at their phones.
Some people called their families.
Some rushed straight to their managers’ desks to demand answers.
Others pasted the names of the applicants they’d received, one by one, into the company group chat, asking if anyone knew them.
In less than ten minutes, the company’s messaging app had exploded.
“Who applied for me?”
“Is Zhang Yucheng the guy from Plant Two?”
“Does anyone know Liu Xinyi?”
“I’ve got three people.”
“I’ve got twenty-one.”
“Someone in Administration has more than fifty.”
“Does the manager really have 427?”
That was when Zhao Mingyuan suddenly bellowed.
“Everyone, back to your desks!”
No one moved.
Zhao Mingyuan stood in the middle of the aisle, sweat beading on his forehead.
Normally, one outburst from him would silence the entire floor.
Now, it had no effect at all.
Because everyone knew one thing.
In seven days, at least 427 people would be allowed to legally kill him.
Power could disappear a lot faster than anyone expected.
“Are we not working anymore?” Zhao Mingyuan shouted again.
Wang Zhihao said under his breath, “He probably doesn’t dare yell too hard right now.”
The moment he finished speaking, a senior engineer who rarely said anything stood up.
“Manager Zhao.”
Zhao Mingyuan looked over.
“What?”
“You’re on my list.”
The entire office suddenly fell silent.
Zhao Mingyuan’s face went white.
The senior engineer slowly stepped away from his desk.
“I want to ask you something. Did you apply for me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The system says Zhao Mingyuan.”
“There are a lot of people with the same name.”
“It also says Shinrui Electronics.”
This time, no one dared interrupt.
Chen Yaoting watched Zhao Mingyuan.
Zhao Mingyuan’s lips moved once.
After two seconds, he finally said, “The company will handle this collectively later. Don’t discuss it during work hours.”
The engineer laughed.
“Handle it collectively?”
“Yes.”
“You applied to kill me, and the company’s going to handle it collectively?”
Zhao Mingyuan’s expression grew even uglier.
“I never said it was me.”
“Then do you dare open your application record right now?”
Zhao Mingyuan didn’t move.
The answer was already obvious.
The office filled with hushed discussion.
Chen Yaoting suddenly remembered entering Zhao Mingyuan’s name three weeks ago.
He hadn’t pressed Submit in the end.
A strange feeling suddenly rose in his chest.
He took out his phone and logged into My Application Records.
The page loaded.
There was no data.
He let out a breath of relief.
At least the system hadn’t secretly submitted it for him.
But the next second, another thought surfaced.
If his application hadn’t been submitted,
then why were all 73 applicants real?
One of them was even dead.
At 9:48 a.m., Human Resources finally sent out a company-wide announcement.
“Due to today’s special execution authorization notification incident, the company is suspending all in-person meetings effective immediately.”
“Department managers may not require employees to disclose personal Special Execution Authorization information.”
“Employees with safety concerns may apply to work from home.”
As soon as the announcement went out, nearly half the employees began filling out applications.
Wang Zhihao turned to him.
“Are you going home?”
Chen Yaoting looked at the screen.
“Is it safer at home?”
“At least you won’t have to stay in the same building as more than 400 people who want to kill their manager.”
“I’ve got 73.”
“Then you should leave even more.”
“The problem is, I don’t know where those people are.”
“That’s still better than sitting here.”
Chen Yaoting didn’t answer right away.
He was still looking at the news about Xu Wenshu.
The article was very short.
Xu Wenshu had worked at Shinrui Electronics for 28 years. After retiring, he developed a chronic illness and lived alone in Pingzhen, Taoyuan.
The cause of death was a fall from a building.
Police had ruled out foul play.
The family had raised no objections.
It looked like the most ordinary local news story imaginable.
Chen Yaoting kept searching.
He found another old article in an internal company publication.
The headline read: “Retirement Interview with a Senior Employee.”
In the photo, Xu Wenshu wore a company uniform and smiled happily.
The article said he had once served as section chief of the Process Equipment Division.
He had been responsible for several important production lines in the company’s early years.
Chen Yaoting paused.
The Process Equipment Division.
The Engineering Department where he currently worked had originally included that unit.
He scrolled down.
The final paragraph mentioned one thing.
“Xu Wenshu participated in the R17 Automated Production Line Modification Project in 2019.”
R17.
He had seen that code before.
He knew it very well.
The company still retained the R17 designation for an entire legacy system.
Especially its incident-record database.
“Zhihao.”
“What now?”
“Do you know about R17?”
“Sure. The old production line.”
“Did anything happen there before?”
Wang Zhihao thought for a moment.
“I don’t know. I’ve only been here four years.”
“Did anyone die?”
“You’re asking pretty bluntly.”
“Did they or didn’t they?”
“I’ve heard something once.”
Chen Yaoting immediately turned his head.
“What?”
Wang Zhihao lowered his voice.
“I think there was an industrial accident a long time ago.”
“How many years ago?”
“Don’t know. Maybe six or seven?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“From old employees talking.”
“Who died?”
“How would I remember?”
Chen Yaoting opened the company database.
He searched for R17.
The system returned a huge number of maintenance and incident records.
He moved the date range back.
2019.
Hundreds of entries.
Equipment shutdowns.
Sensor abnormalities.
Fixture replacements.
Robotic-arm calibration.
He searched the keyword “accident.”
Nothing.
He searched “injury.”
Nothing.
He searched “personnel.”
More than twenty entries appeared.
One was dated August 31, 2019.
Title:
“R17-3 Unexpected Line Shutdown Incident.”
Chen Yaoting clicked into it.
Insufficient permissions.
He frowned.
He could usually open nearly every engineering incident record.
Not this one.
He checked the creator.
Xu Wenshu.
Modifier.
Zhao Mingyuan.
Chen Yaoting’s hand stopped.
2019.
Zhao Mingyuan had only been an assistant manager back then.
He copied down the record number.
“R17-3-0831.”
Wang Zhihao glanced over.
“What are you looking into?”
“I suspect these people weren’t selected at random.”
“Seventy-three people?”
“At least Xu Wenshu wasn’t.”
“Because he used to work here?”
“Not just that.”
Chen Yaoting showed him the record.
“He created this incident record. Zhao Mingyuan modified it.”
Wang Zhihao frowned.
“What does that have to do with you?”
That was what Chen Yaoting couldn’t figure out either.
He hadn’t joined Shinrui Electronics in 2019.
He’d only come in 2021.
When Xu Wenshu retired, he hadn’t even been with the company.
By all logic, their lives should never have intersected.
Just then, a message suddenly appeared in the company group chat.
It was from General Affairs.
“The B2 archive room is temporarily closed due to a safety-system malfunction. Do not enter.”
Chen Yaoting stared at the message.
The B2 archive room.
A lot of old paper documents no longer kept in the electronic system were stored there.
Wang Zhihao saw it too.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of going down there.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face says you’re going down there.”
“I just think it’s too much of a coincidence.”
“What is?”
“I just found an old accident record I don’t have permission to access, and then the archive room gets closed.”
“Maybe the system really did break.”
Chen Yaoting didn’t answer.
Five minutes later, he submitted an application to work from home.
But he didn’t leave the company.
Instead, he took the elevator down to the basement’s second floor.
Wang Zhihao followed him the whole way.
“Just so we’re clear, I’m only coming because I’m worried a dead person will drag you away if you go down alone.”
“Thanks.”
“If there’s a ghost, you’re going first.”
The B2 parking garage was quiet.
The archive room was at the very back.
When they reached it, a yellow barrier tape really was stretched across the entrance.
The light on the electronic door lock was red.
A sign beside it read: “System Maintenance.”
Wang Zhihao rubbed his nose.
“Can’t get in.”
Chen Yaoting stepped closer.
There was a card reader beside the door.
He held his employee ID against it.
Beep.
Red light.
“Insufficient permissions.”
“See? Go home.”
Wang Zhihao turned around.
A sound suddenly came from inside the archive room.
Something hitting the floor.
Thud.
They both stopped.
Wang Zhihao slowly turned back.
“Is someone in there?”
Chen Yaoting knocked on the door.
“Is anyone there?”
There was no response.
A few seconds later, another sound came.
This one was clearer.
Like a cardboard box being dragged.
Wang Zhihao lowered his voice.
“Fuck, is there really someone in there?”
Chen Yaoting looked to either side.
There was a tiny piece of reinforced glass beside the door.
The lights inside were off.
He could only make out the outlines of rows of metal cabinets.
He pressed close to the glass.
“Can you see anything?”
“It’s too dark.”
Chen Yaoting turned on his phone’s flashlight and shone it inside.
The beam passed through the glass.
Beside the row of cabinets closest to the door, there seemed to be something on the floor.
White.
It looked like a document.
He changed angles.
Suddenly, he saw a piece of paper taped to the inside of the glass.
It wasn’t an original notice.
It was a sheet of A4 paper.
There was only one line of black text on it.
“Chen Yaoting, please come to the archive room to confirm the R17-3 incident.”
His flashlight stopped.
Wang Zhihao saw it too.
“Who put that there?”
Chen Yaoting said nothing.
Because the paper didn’t just have his name on it.
A date was printed at the bottom.
August 28, 2026.
Today.
“Someone knew you’d come.”
Wang Zhihao said it.
There was no trace of a joke in his voice this time.
The two of them stood outside the door.
Suddenly, the electronic lock gave a soft click.
Click.
The red light turned green.
The door unlocked itself.
Wang Zhihao took a step back.
“Maybe... we should call security.”
Chen Yaoting reached for the doorknob.
The door wasn’t locked.
He pushed it open slowly.
The archive room was completely dark.
The air conditioning was off, and the air was thick with the smell of paper, dust, and metal cabinets.
He shone his phone light ahead.
A pile of old documents really was scattered across the floor.
Written in red marker on the cover of the top folder were the words:
“R17-3 Personnel Death Accident.”
Chen Yaoting crouched down.
Wang Zhihao stood behind him.
“Didn’t you say the system only called it a line shutdown?”
“Yeah.”
Chen Yaoting opened the first page.
The first line was the date of the accident.
August 31, 2019.
The second line was the death toll.
“One.”
Name of deceased:
He Chenghan.
Twenty-seven years old.
Equipment engineer.
Chen Yaoting didn’t recognize the name.
He continued reading.
The entire section listing the cause of the accident had been blacked out with ink.
The assignment of responsibility had been covered too.
Only a few signatures remained on the final page.
Xu Wenshu.
Zhao Mingyuan.
And one other name.
Chen Yaoting froze when he saw the third signature.
He knew that name very well.
Because he had seen it just now.
On the list of 73 applicants.
Lin Jianhong.
The first person to apply to kill him.
“Wait.”
Chen Yaoting immediately pulled out his phone to compare them.
No mistake.
Lin Jianhong.
Male.
Thirty to thirty-nine years old.
Reason for application: Other.
Wang Zhihao stood beside him, his face slowly changing.
“Three people.”
Chen Yaoting said, “One dead, one who wants to kill you, and your manager.”
“Not just them.”
He flipped through the pages.
There were twelve names on the list of people connected to the accident.
Six of them
also appeared among the 73.
Chen Yaoting circled them one by one.
Lin Jianhong.
Zhang Guoxian.
Zhou Yating.
Xu Wenshu.
Cai Mingzhe.
Wu Xiufen.
Six people.
All connected to the R17-3 personnel death accident in 2019.
“Yaoting.”
Wang Zhihao pointed below the document.
“Here.”
It was a line of tiny text held down by a staple.
“Accident data archival level: Permanent.”
Below it was another line:
“May not be reactivated without the project manager’s consent.”
The project manager field did not list Xu Wenshu.
Nor did it list Zhao Mingyuan.
Instead, it contained an employee number.
A21749.
Chen Yaoting stared at the string of numbers and letters.
A few seconds later, he picked up his employee ID.
He turned it over.
Employee number:
A21749.
The air suddenly became terrifyingly still.
Wang Zhihao looked at the employee ID, then at the document.
“Impossible.”
Chen Yaoting felt the same way.
This document was from 2019.
He hadn’t even joined the company then.
And yet, on a permanently archived death-accident record from seven years ago,
the employee number listed for the project manager
was his.
Before the two of them could figure out what was happening, the archive room door suddenly closed by itself behind them.
Thud.
All the lights came on.
A freshly printed sheet of white paper was taped to the row of metal cabinets at the very back.
There was only one line on it.
“The list of 73 is not an execution list.”
Below it, in black lettering that looked as if it had just been printed, was a second line:
“It is the list of personnel connected to the R17-3 accident.”