Chapter 1: The Confession at the Bottom of the Lake

The rain had poured relentlessly through the night, as though the sky, weighed down with emotion, could no longer hold back its tears. At five in the morning, the police had cordoned off the area around Ling Lake. The water, eerily still, resembled a freshly pressed sheet of fabric, yet beneath its smooth surface, it concealed a secret that had just been retrieved.

Lin Qiming’s body surfaced at 4:27 AM. When the divers discovered him, his body was already stiff, typical of someone who had been submerged for hours. Yet, there was something unusual: in his hand, he was clutching a plastic-wrapped envelope, sealed perfectly as though it had slept underwater for years without ever being disturbed. Inside the envelope was a yellowed sheet of paper with a single sentence scrawled on it: “You’re not the first.”

Standing by the lake, Li Sen, the deputy captain of the city’s criminal police squad, remained silent for a long while. He had been involved in numerous unresolved cases, but as he gazed at the calm lake, a heavy weight pressed on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. Han Qian, the forensic pathologist, had flipped the body over, revealing the envelope still tightly clutched in his stiffened fingers. She carefully used tweezers to pry it loose, and not a word was spoken by anyone present.

Lin Qiming, aged 34, was a mid-level manager at a real estate company. He was married with a five-year-old daughter. Three days prior, he had gone missing. The last time anyone saw him was at a coffee shop near his office at 3:15 PM. He had stepped out, headed toward Ling Lake, and disappeared from the surveillance cameras. His phone was switched off around 4 PM, with his last known location pinpointed at the lake.

From a logical standpoint, his disappearance appeared to suggest he was trying to escape, but that didn’t seem to fit Lin Qiming’s character. His colleagues described him as calm and responsible, and his wife tearfully recounted how attentive and caring he always was, even preparing clothes for her and their daughter ahead of the changing seasons. They had just booked a family vacation to Hainan for the summer.

This wasn’t a man who seemed ready to run away.

Li Sen’s gaze lingered on the sentence, “You’re not the first,” as he mulled over its significance. He vividly remembered the seven disappearances linked to Ling Lake over the past ten years, although no clear evidence ever linked the lake to the cases. They had all been categorized as “missing persons,” with no concrete proof of foul play. Now, however, someone had left this message in the dead man’s hand as though daring the police to uncover the truth.

If it was true that Lin Qiming wasn’t the first, then who was? Who were the second and third victims? If the note’s claim was correct, this wasn’t an isolated incident—it could be part of a serial plan, even a twisted “ritual.”

That afternoon, the body was brought to the forensics center. Han Qian documented in the autopsy report that the estimated time of death was within 24 hours after Lin Qiming’s disappearance. The cause of death was drowning, and there were no signs of external injuries. His hand joints were unnaturally tense, suggesting he had exerted extreme force before his death. There were no fingerprints on the envelope, and the paper was slightly yellowed, indicating it had been stored for a long time. The paper was determined to be at least five years old.

Li Sen pored over the letter again, noticing that there were no signatures, names, or additional clues other than that cryptic line. He requested all files related to Ling Lake from the past decade, flipping through case after case. While none of the records indicated murder or suicide, each case hinted at a pattern: the victims all behaved normally before disappearing, their phone signals vanishing near the lake, and their families were given no warning.

Just as he was deep in thought, the phone rang. Another body had been found in Ling Lake.

Li Sen arrived at the scene just as nightfall descended. The lake’s shoreline was lined with police cars and ambulances. The body pulled from the water was that of a young woman, dressed in a faded white dress, her long hair tangled in the water’s grasp. Her expression was tranquil, as though she had been sleeping at the bottom of the lake for years. What shocked everyone was that, just like Lin Qiming, she too was gripping a plastic-wrapped envelope.

Inside the envelope was yet another letter. This one was much older, with frayed edges and a more faded appearance, but the writing was still legible. Unlike the first letter, this one didn’t challenge the police—it simply bore a date: three years ago.

The forensic results came in quickly. The woman’s identity was confirmed as Xu Jing, a third-year student at the Art Academy, who had disappeared three years prior. At the time, her disappearance had been suspected to be linked to a romantic crisis, leading to a suicide. She had left no suicide note, and there were no witnesses, so the case had been closed.

Now, her body resurfaced in nearly the exact same position, and the letter she clutched had been written three years before Lin Qiming’s.

Li Sen no longer believed this was just a coincidence. He dug through the records from Xu Jing’s disappearance and found a striking similarity: her phone’s last location had also been traced to the south shore of Ling Lake. As he mapped out the locations of the disappearances, Li Sen was astonished to see that the points formed an irregular arc along the lake’s edge, resembling some sort of intentional arrangement.

“Don’t you think this feels more like... being placed there?” Han Qian’s voice interrupted his thoughts, quiet but certain.

“You mean, they didn’t jump in of their own accord,” Li Sen said.

“No, they were placed there,” Han Qian replied. “A meticulously staged death scene.”

That night, Li Sen stayed late at the office. He pulled up every old case file related to Ling Lake, searching for patterns in the timeline. At 1 AM, the file room administrator brought him an unfiled report marked “Internal Reference, Unresolved Case.” Inside, he found a list of names.

Seven names—five men, two women, including Xu Jing and Lin Qiming. The list was dated ten years ago.

His fingers slowly slid across the list until they stopped at the third name: Shen An. The name was unfamiliar, and the record showed he was 24 years old at the time of his disappearance nine years ago, but his case hadn’t been included in the “Ling Lake Series” at the time.

Before Li Sen could process the information, the door to his office suddenly creaked. He frowned, rising to open it, but the door didn’t fully open. It just moved slightly.

“Come in,” Li Sen called.

No response.

He opened the door, and a dark figure quickly disappeared down the hallway. He rushed after it but found the corridor empty. Instinctively, he looked down at the carpet by his office door. There, lying on the floor, was another plastic-wrapped envelope.

Another letter.

Li Sen bent down to pick it up. The paper was even older than the last, but the ink was fresh. This time, there were no extra words—just three simple ones: “It’s not over.”

Li Sen stood at the doorway, holding the letter, his thoughts tangled like the water plants at the bottom of the lake. Suddenly, he realized—this wasn’t the end. Nor was it the beginning. It was the slow turn of a page in a script that had long been written.

The next morning, the city received a phone call. A woman was crying, reporting that her boyfriend, Shen An, had gone missing after going for a run the previous night.

Li Sen stared at the list from ten years ago. The ink next to the third name hadn’t fully faded.

Ling Lake had never been silent.