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墨書 Inktalez
"That is the newly arrived Crispy Pork Skin."
The proprietress suddenly pressed her nose almost against Xu Rong's cufflink, her teeth glinting like shells in the shadows. "The children love it; would you like to try some, officer?"
Xu Rong took a half step back, his back hitting the cold tree trunk. Memories surged like a tide; under the cold fluorescent lights of the Forensic Laboratory, those Lychee Eyeballs soaked in Formaldehyde trembled slightly on the tray, their flesh patterns embedded with the iridescent lines of the iris. Now, the crunching sound made by the boy as he chewed overlapped with the sound of dissection scissors slicing through cartilage.
As night fell, Lao Chen, the Criminal Investigation Team Leader, drove his SUV over the scattered shadows of the parasol trees. Xu Rong tightened his grip on the evidence bag containing remnants of snacks found in a corner of the playground.
"The test results are in," Lao Chen extinguished his cigarette in the car's ashtray, the blue glow of the dashboard illuminating an old scar on his brow. "The arrangement of Collagen... is from human dermis."
Cold air from the basement poured in through the ventilation ducts. Xu Rong stared at the slide sample under the Microscope; at that moment, as the Electronic Clock flipped to 03:00, cells in the petri dish began to tremble irregularly. He thought of those delivery riders who always disappeared at dawn and of the refrigerated trucks arriving at the market just before daybreak, swallowing back bile that rose in his throat.
When Hydraulic Shears broke through the concrete walls of the Suburban Abandoned Canning Factory, Xu Rong finally understood where that hunger in the eyes of those who craved unusual foods came from. On the assembly line, translucent human skin was being cut into neat squares by an automatic portioning machine; at the end of the conveyor belt, a large dryer hummed, continuously spitting out golden Crispy Pork Skin.
Deeper inside a stainless-steel chamber, twenty suspended bodies slowly rotated on an automatic skinning machine, resembling pigs hung upside down in a slaughterhouse.
"Welcome to Gourmet Club."
Laughter echoed from within the shadows, altered by an Electronic Voice Changer. The iron door of Cold Storage suddenly swung open, revealing rows of glass jars glowing with an eerie blue light under emergency lamps. Xu Rong's rubber boots sank into blood plasma that flowed over his feet as he noticed a familiar number printed on one jar's label—it was that of a Dancer missing from the Lychee Eyeball Case.
The emergency lights in Cold Storage flickered overhead as Xu Rong's breath condensed into white mist inside his gas mask. He raised his Portable Ultraviolet Lamp; its beam swept across the numbers on the glass jars, those fluorescent digits pulsating in darkness like some bizarre code.
"B-217," he whispered into his radio, "is last month's missing Nightclub DJ."
Lao Chen's voice crackled through the static, "The lab just sent a report. Neurotoxin has been detected in those Crispy Pork Skins; it could be a Memory Carrier."
Xu Rong felt his temples throb. He recalled the boy on the playground, munching on snacks, his pupils dilated with a madness that didn't belong to his age. If the consumers really inherited the memories of those they consumed... he dared not think further.
Suddenly, a faint vibration echoed from the ventilation ducts. Xu Rong switched off his flashlight and held his breath. In the darkness, he heard the sound of liquid dripping and something crawling across the metal surface.
A sweet, cloying fragrance wafted into his gas mask's filter, reminding him of the organs soaked in formaldehyde in the Autopsy Room.
"Unusual activity detected," he pressed the intercom button, "Requesting backup."
Before he could finish, the vent above him suddenly burst open, and a shadow fell from the ceiling.
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