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墨書 Inktalez
As everyone followed my lead, we began to make our way in groups toward the Heavenly Palace Bathhouse. By the time Dezi and I entered, it was already around eight-thirty in the evening. The roles we were about to play were those of two ruffians, but even as a character like Dezi took on this persona, there was an inexplicable charm about him—truly, he was someone who could outshine others effortlessly.
In fact, when it comes to disguise, the most skilled among us is our Special Investigation Team's auxiliary member—A-Bao. He had spent over a decade undercover within a Drug Lord's organization, living as one of them for ten long years. During that time, A-Bao was forced to kill and was even thrown into a river once, nearly becoming a meal for crocodiles.
Sometimes, I could see an indescribable fear in A-Bao's eyes. Despite his current life of eating and sleeping with money to spare, all of this was hard-earned. I often wondered if he woke up from nightmares at night or if he felt fear when alone.
I digress; the essence of disguise lies in how well one can fit into a particular group’s characteristics. During our training sessions, we learned some theories and studies related to this. To summarize my thoughts: superior disguise relies on eye contact, moderate disguise on actions, and inferior disguise on language.
The first point is crucial because the gaze of individuals in different professions varies significantly. For us in law enforcement, our eyes often carry a cold intensity—what classical literature might describe as "eyes like torches." This is because we frequently interrogate suspects and must closely observe their every move to determine whether their words are truthful. Over time, this creates a distinctive gaze.
For instance, when observing thieves, their eyes seem never to focus on one point. They dart around, avoiding direct eye contact while speaking; their gaze often drifts downward as if they are eyeing your wallet. If you catch their gaze, they typically shy away—these are the individuals who harbor ill intentions.
Taxi drivers exhibit a different gaze; although theirs may also wander, it tends to be slightly elevated compared to the average person. This habit develops from sitting in their vehicles and constantly scanning for potential passengers while being alert to their surroundings.
If you can identify these nuances in gazes, you can convincingly imitate someone and instill a sense of trustworthiness from deep within—a skill that reflects one's essence. While it's easy to perceive someone's aura, articulating it is challenging; mastering the mimicry of gazes is the beginning of imitating one's essence.
Next comes mimicking actions, which is a step down from imitating gazes. If we can't perfectly replicate someone's mannerisms, we can imitate their form instead. For example, if you're mimicking an office worker, you should walk with longer strides, keep your head down slightly, move quickly while frequently checking your watch—this gives off the impression that you're a worker rushing not to be late.
Conversely, if you're portraying a big boss, you should do the opposite: stroll leisurely with an air of confidence and wear a mysterious smile. If you're imitating a nouveau riche person, walk loudly with exaggerated steps while looking down your nose at others and occasionally pulling out your phone as if you're busy with important meetings.
The lowest form of imitation involves mimicking speech patterns; this is also the easiest to replicate since people have recognizable speech habits. White-collar workers tend to use respectful language—words like "you" or "please." In contrast, nouveau riche types often talk about money incessantly: "Brother Wang! Haha! Old Zhang here—three hundred thousand enough? No? Five hundred thousand then! Money's no issue! Anyway, I'm off for a sauna."
At this moment, our goal was to impersonate small-time thugs—a straightforward task. I deliberately opened my jacket to reveal my shirt underneath and unbuttoned the top three buttons for effect. I walked with an exaggerated swagger as if I had Parkinson's disease.
Dezi mimicked my actions as we moved inside.
"Welcome," greeted two young women in qipaos with smiles as they led us toward the front desk. The receptionist was also quite beautiful; upon seeing us, she smiled warmly and asked, "Are you two here for a stay or just for a bath?"
Upon reaching this point, I had a basic understanding of the situation. The bathing industry was vastly different from other sectors; the more legitimate it appeared, the more likely it was to harbor hidden dirt. The better the service attitude of these people, the more you would end up paying. If it weren't for the potential to make money, who would bother to cater to your whims?
With this thought in mind, I deliberately said, "Of course we're here for a bath. Have you ever seen two grown men check into a hotel room? You don't need to ask me that."
"You definitely won't be needing a double room, so will you be sharing a bath or each taking a single room?" the receptionist asked us.
"The cheapest option!" I replied.
The receptionist maintained her smile and said, "That would be the public bath. It's fifty per person, with a fifty deposit, totaling one hundred and fifty. Thank you."
Dezi was about to pay when I subtly grabbed his arm and said, "This is too expensive; isn't this robbery? Is your bathwater made from some divine essence?"
At this moment, I could see that the receptionist was becoming displeased. She replied, "Our prices are standard and reasonable. If you find them unacceptable, please go elsewhere; many places charge only ten. Just turn left and keep walking; there's a bathhouse over there."
With that statement, I knew we could provoke her further. Whatever actions we took afterward would escalate the conflict into an irreconcilable situation. If she couldn't vent her frustrations now, how could she possibly think of hitting me later?
I nodded, which prompted Dezi to hand over the money.
At that point, a Male Attendant led us inside. As we walked, I observed the layout of the Bathhouse: the first floor was the public bathing area where all paying customers washed up. The second floor seemed to have private rooms divided into doubles and singles. The third floor wasn't marked for any specific purpose; it was unclear if it housed guests.
We all had an idea of what the double rooms were for—likely accommodating either two men or two women, or one of each. But what about the single rooms? That raised some suspicions. A man coming alone for a bath could just as easily soak in his own tub.
On the second floor's single rooms, it was likely that some activities we could easily imagine took place. With that thought in mind, I couldn't help but ask the attendant leading us inside, "Hey there, do you have any ladies available? Get one for me and my little brother here; I've been feeling a bit pent up lately..."
The attendant looked at me as if I were a gorilla. After a moment of silence, he finally replied, "We operate legitimately here; we don't offer those services."
"Come on," I said. "I've heard otherwise; why else would I come here?"
"Not at all," the waiter continued.
"You're not lying?" I pressed on, unwilling to give up.
"We're really legitimate here," the waiter insisted.
I feigned annoyance and said, "It's all nonsense. I don't know who spreads these rumors, but it's ridiculous!"
"The entrance is right there; you can just walk in," the waiter politely pointed out before leaving.
We pushed aside the curtain and stepped inside. Dezi didn't understand what I meant and asked me for an explanation while changing clothes. I whispered back, "I spoke quite loudly just now; everyone inside must have heard me. Don't worry, someone will definitely tell you what this place is all about soon. You know, when men communicate, it's either in the restroom or in a bathhouse. I refuse to believe there isn't a regular here waiting for us."
Having worked as a detective for many years, I had caught numerous criminals and learned a lot from them about this matter. Lu Xun once said that there were originally no roads in the world; it was only when many people walked that paths were created. This saying holds true—at places like this, even if there wasn't a path at first, the frequent visitors would naturally create one.
As for Guo Guoqing, besides having anti-social and misogynistic tendencies, his biggest trait was his addiction to certain preferences. The reason we were brought here was likely related to this issue. This place was also located in the northern part of the city, so I figured Guo Guoqing must have visited here often.
After changing clothes, we entered the bathhouse, where several people were already soaking. Dezi and I got into the pool, and I muttered, "What kind of place is this? That guy was talking nonsense; there are no ladies here at all. I wasted over a hundred bucks—if I had that money, I could have gone somewhere else..."
Just as I finished speaking, a man around forty years old with a bald head laughed beside me.
"What are you laughing at?" I snapped.
"You! It's obvious you're new here," the Bald Man replied.
"Yeah, so what?" I asked.
"We heard everything you said inside just now; you've got some guts," he said while patting his big belly. "You can't just ask for ladies like that; even if they exist, who would dare to say so? You're still too young; you lack experience."
"I'm asking if it's really true?" I inquired.
The Bald Man nodded, eyes closed as he replied, "Yes, of course it is. What do you think I'm here for? Let me tell you." He leaned in closer and whispered to us, "This Heavenly Palace has quite a few ladies. Five hundred for a visit, a thousand for the night, and fifteen hundred if you want to take them out. I'm not exaggerating; the girls here are all exceptional. Truly unforgettable, and they are among the highest quality I've ever seen."
Watching the Bald Man speak so passionately, saliva nearly dripping from his mouth, it was clear he was an Old Driver. He continued, "In a bit, you can follow me. When I go in, I'll include both of you in the deal. How does that sound?"
"That sounds great!" I replied excitedly.
"Though I must say, the prices are indeed a bit steep." The old man glanced at the water in the pool, rubbing his three fingers together.
I understood what the Old Driver meant and quickly said, "I'll cover five hundred for my brother; does that seem fair?"
"Fair!" The Bald Man immediately gave a thumbs up. "Fair!"
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