Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 10 A Phone Call from the Center

There was a brief electronic silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a precisely modulated, inhuman synthesized voice, each syllable as if measured with a ruler:

"Order Number: E-0721. Target: Room 301, No. 13, Lane 7, Song'an Road, Old Town, Jiangcheng. Executor: Xu Yan. Please confirm that the cleanup procedure has been completed."

Target? Procedure? These cold words made Xu Yan's stomach churn.

That was not a simple cleanup of belongings, but a "process" with precise numbers.

"It's over." His voice was hoarse as he tried to keep it steady, as if he had just completed a routine move.

"Confirmation received." The synthesized voice replied without delay, exuding inhuman efficiency. "Please deliver all the cleaned items to: No. 88, Keji 1st Road, High-tech Zone, Urban Service Rapid Response Center, Low-Value Materials Recycling Department at 3:00 PM today. After the physical delivery is completed, the remaining balance of the order (0.5 BTC) will be automatically paid."

"Friendly reminder: Please complete the transaction before 15:00 today. Otherwise, it will automatically be upgraded to the L-2 process: location tracking, on-site pickup, and recycling. Thank you for your cooperation."

All items to be cleared?
Xu Yan's gaze was drawn to him like a magnet, suddenly fixing on the burnt and deformed remains of a USB flash drive on the white cloth on the counter.

So, this is their real goal?

The old man's belongings were just a pretext; the real reason they were so eager to recover or confirm their destruction was the observation device that "accidentally" remained at the scene, which came from the "center" itself.

Last night's crisis, which nearly wiped them out, might have been part of the plan all along.

Either successfully silence him, or force him to hand over the items?

He tried to recall the details of last night more clearly, but his mind was like a broken mirror shrouded in fog.

The fragments of memory are sharp and chaotic: the piercing ring of the telephone, the suffocating feeling of a dark shadow looming over, the scorching touch of the camera, the instant the flash explodes...

But the specifics, whether there were any other anomalies in the corner of the room, and even how he found the USB drive were all vague, like ink stains soaked in water.

Forcing oneself to recall things doesn't bring images, but rather sharp, tearing pains that rip through the nerves, followed by an even more unsettling sense of emptiness.

He knew for certain what he had lost, but he didn't know exactly what it was.

This "ignorance of one's own memories" is more terrifying than ghosts appearing out of nowhere.

“…I’ve noted down the address.” Xu Yan pressed hard on his throbbing temples, his knuckles turning white.

"Thank you for your cooperation. Have a pleasant day." The synthesized voice programmatically terminated the communication, the busy tone repeating monotonously like the ticking of some kind of countdown.

Xu slowly put down the receiver; the slight "click" sound was like a thunderclap in the deathly silent hall.

"Is it them?" Chen Zhiwei stepped forward, her voice tense. She sensed an ominous meaning in Xu Yan's instantly cold and hard gaze and the phrase "all the items to be cleared."

"Come and confirm whether the 'order' has been completed." Xu Yan's voice was icy. "The final payment, the address—everything is as standard as an assembly line operation. But what happened last night is highly suspicious."

Chen Zhiwei tossed the USB drive onto the counter, her knuckles turning white: "We have to hand it over. Once we do, they won't pursue us anymore."

Xu Yan sneered, staring at the charred metal on the table: "Hand it over? That's cutting off the trail. The old man, the camera, the observation device—it all ends at this point. They don't want the cleanup results; they want us to retrieve it for them." "But have you thought this through? If we don't hand it over, they'll come knocking." Chen Zhiwei gritted her teeth. "If we hold this thing in the museum and get caught, we're doomed."

“There’s a third way,” Xu Yan said slowly, his eyes cold. “We’ll create a fake situation and use anchor points to interfere. If they take the bait, it means there’s a loophole in the rules; if they don’t take the bait, we’ll follow the line and see who’s really collecting the corpses.”

Silence fell in the room.

Three paths, each carrying its own risks.

Chen Zhiwei stared at him: "You're gambling with your life."

Xu Yan looked back, his gaze sharp as a knife: "Life is worthless anyway."

He turned around, leaned against the counter, and his sharp gaze swept over the USB drive wreckage: "That ghost in the lonely building is abnormally strong. And this... it's not a relic at all, it's bait, it's a bomb! I even suspect that the phone, the name... is itself the 'switch' that triggered its attack. All of this looks too much like a meticulously designed trap."

He suddenly looked at Chen Zhiwei, his eyes like a searchlight trying to pierce through the fog: "What exactly is this 'Urban Service Rapid Response Center'? What exactly did Master say back then? Every word could be very important."

Chen Zhiwei's face turned pale as she tried to recall: "Grandpa... he never went into details. He only repeatedly warned us to stay away from them, but we had to accept their requests."

She paused, her gaze drifting towards the ancestral hall, as if staring at a long-forgotten past. "Once... I overheard him growling into the phone, his voice filled with a weariness and... anger I'd never heard before. He said, 'The sins you've committed have repeatedly disrupted the balance, and why should we always be the ones to mend them in the end?!' He didn't say who was on the other end of the line. But I felt that my grandfather and they were more than just acquaintances... it was more like a forced, painful connection."

To commit a sin. To disrupt the balance. To mend.

These words, like heavy lead weights, fell into Xu Yan's heart, stirring up deep undercurrents.

The burden my master carried was far heavier than I could have imagined.

“Besides this photo studio and the camera, Master must have left something else behind.” Xu Yan’s tone was almost certain. “Anything that can help us see through the fog before us? Notes? Or… something he gave you?”

Chen Zhiwei seemed to be suddenly awakened by those words.

She gazed at Xu Yan, her eyes becoming extremely complex, filled with hesitation, solemnity, and finally, a resolute determination.

She nodded, turned and quickly walked up the narrow wooden stairs leading to the second floor, her footsteps particularly clear in the silence.

Soon, she carried down a box.

It was an old camphor wood chest, not large, but it seemed unusually heavy.

The surface has a warm patina, but there are indelible wear marks on the edges and corners. The brass buckle is engraved with fine cloud patterns, and the keyhole is empty, as if it is not waiting for a key, but for a specific time and a specific person.

"Before my grandfather passed away, he entrusted this to me with great solemnity." Chen Zhiwei placed the box on the counter, making a dull sound, as if something inside it resonated with it.

He said that only after you use that camera to truly seal the first 'soul' can it be handed over to you.

(End of this chapter)