Chapter 3: The Direction of the Videotape

The night was deep, and the police station was enveloped in silence, save for the occasional footsteps of the duty officers and the dim glow of corridor lights. Li Sen sat alone in the conference room, repeatedly playing the blurry footage. With each viewing, details emerged like bubbles rising from the depths, becoming increasingly vivid. He slowed the footage frame by frame, focusing on the final minutes—the figure slowly walking into the lake, with narrow shoulders and a silhouette resembling Shen An. The video lacked sound, and the expressions of those present were obscured by the darkness. They stood there, silently watching, as if participating in a tacit ritual.

In the last few seconds of the footage, a hand raised a shiny object. In the dim quality of the video, it appeared to be a mirror or a piece of metal, reflecting an unusually bright light. Then, the screen abruptly cut off.

Li Sen frowned, unable to shake the image of that reflection from his mind. He ordered the technical department to enhance the image. Although the clarity remained limited, it became apparent that the object was not a mirror but a smooth metal plate, faintly etched with patterns or inscriptions. He instructed the team to model the object, reconstructing its size and shape. It was likely a custom-made metal artifact, possibly a ceremonial tool.

Simultaneously, he dispatched officers to conduct an in-depth investigation into the "Water Mirror Society." Among the school's retired faculty was a former advisor to the society, named Zhuang Weidong. Li Sen and his team rushed overnight to Zhuang's suburban residence.

Zhuang, now in his seventies, froze upon hearing the words "Water Mirror Society," his fingers stiffening on the teacup's rim. After a long pause, he finally said, "You'd best not delve any deeper."

Li Sen remained undeterred. He laid out the details of Shen An's death, the video footage, and the transcribed letter before the professor.

"What were they doing? What was your role back then?"

Zhuang gazed at the materials, a complex expression crossing his face, as if long-buried nightmares were resurfacing.

"They initially just wanted to film a documentary about urban legends. Shen An initiated it, always saying there were too many tales about the lake that needed documenting. But later, the term 'Eye Beneath the Mirror' emerged, and someone suggested finding a 'water mirror that reveals the truth.'"

"This water mirror—was it a physical object?"

"Yes," Zhuang took a deep breath. "It was reportedly discovered in the school's old library—a peculiar bronze mirror, palm-sized, with a surface resembling mercury. It didn't reflect images but shimmered with a bluish-green hue under light. Shen An and the others took it to Ling Lake. I sensed something was amiss but couldn't stop them."

"Did they perform any rituals?"

"I don't know; I wasn't involved. But afterward... they all changed."

Li Sen's brow furrowed. "Changed? How?"

"Their personalities became erratic, emotions extreme, as if severely sleep-deprived. They spoke of someone talking to them in dreams. Eventually, each of them took a leave of absence—some transferred schools, others vanished. I thought they were just bewitched until three years ago, a girl returned, asking me if the water mirror was still in the lake."

Li Sen's heart skipped a beat. "What was her name?"

"Xu Lin."

Back at the station, Li Sen retrieved Xu Lin's records. She was indeed the fourth person on the list, reported missing three years prior. Her file noted that before her disappearance, she had frequently accessed the library's underground archives, requesting materials on "non-linear time theory" and "ritual psychology."

Another officer brought in a new discovery: based on the video's reflective object, they had captured a blurry symbol in one frame. Upon comparison, it closely resembled a "hidden seal talisman" from Taoist mirror-forging techniques—a mystical artifact said to reveal past and future events.

This was no ordinary religious item; it was an activated object requiring a price to use. Shen An and his peers seemed to have known and participated in this a decade ago.

That evening, the lake district management reported an abandoned electric scooter near the east bank's management post. Investigation revealed it belonged to Xu Lin.

Li Sen led a team to the scene. The scooter was well-hidden among weeds but showed little dust, indicating it hadn't been there long. Inside a bag on the scooter, they found a notebook and a voice recorder.

Opening the notebook, the first page bore large characters: "Don't trust the lake's tranquility."

The subsequent entries detailed Xu Lin's doubts, investigations, and fears over the past three years. She wrote of recurring dreams where something beneath the lake "breathed"—not a physical entity but an "eye of memory" observing all who gazed upon it.

She described how, after the society's filming, each member seemed to have a part of their consciousness "mirrored." It wasn't a ghost but something that echoed their memories through the water's surface at night, replaying their past actions until "debts were repaid" or "the mirror shattered."

And this mirror still lay at the lake's bottom.

The voice recorder contained a woman's trembling voice: "It calls my name at night—not with sound, but a feeling... I dream of standing on the lake's surface, with another me in the water, smiling at me. I don't know which is real... but I know only one can leave alive."

The recording ended abruptly.

Sitting in his car, Li Sen felt an indescribable chill crawl up his neck.

Ling Lake, once considered a scenic urban lake, seemed to have been awakened by a group of young people a decade ago. It was no longer just a natural landscape but a mirror between reality and illusion, reflecting not ghosts but the deepest cracks within the human heart.

Back at the station, he convened all personnel involved in the case. He presented the mirror's history, the video footage, the notebook, and the audio recording. Some began to waver, others found it absurd, and some insisted it was a long-planned psychological manipulation crime.

But Li Sen grew increasingly convinced this wasn't a conventional case. It resembled a script, with Shen An, Xu Lin, and even Zhao Man as characters written into it.

He pondered: if there's a mirror, images, deaths, and disappearances—could there also be a way out?

Perhaps the answer lay in the unfinished footage.

Li Sen accessed the video archive, searching for any backup material from that night. Eventually, he found two unarchived digital files named "Water Mirror 2" and "Water Mirror 3."

He clicked play.

After a black screen, the footage showed someone stumbling through the woods at night, seemingly holding a camera. The background remained Ling Lake. The person appeared terrified, constantly looking back. Finally, they turned the camera on themselves and whispered hoarsely: "If someone sees this, it means I can't escape. The lake knows I've seen its eye."

The footage then shook violently before cutting off entirely.

Li Sen sat down slowly. He finally understood that beneath the lake lay not just a mirror but a projection of memories none of them could bear.

And now, he had begun to "see" it too.