I lay on that cold stainless steel bed, a ring of lights blazing above me like the sun pressed against my face, searing my eyes until even the whites ached.
"Chen Xiao, confirm one last time: you voluntarily accept memory erasure and new identity implantation. Mission codename 'Whale Fall.' Correct?" The speaker was a woman in sterile scrubs, her face masked except for her eyes. A smear of iodine stained one eyelash—as if to remind me she'd just disinfected someone's neck.
I nodded, my throat dry as sawdust. I coughed. "Yes. I'll sign."
A pen spun in someone's hand before landing in mine. It was unnervingly light, and my sweaty palm nearly fumbled it.
"Shaking?" The woman laughed, her voice muffled by the mask. "It's not an execution."
Bullshit, I cursed inwardly. An execution at least leaves a body intact. This was burying myself alive—mind and all.
The contract was four pages thick, dense with tiny text like ants marching into my eyes. I strained to read the "Risks" section, but the glare on the paper only let fragments leap out: "irreversible," "personality dissociation," "3% mortality rate."
Three percent. It sounded low—until it's you. Then it's one hundred fucking percent.
"Officer Chen, don't stall." A male doctor tapped a metal tray beside me. I recognized him—Zhao Bo from Tech. At the station, he was all smiles. Now, masked, his eyes darted like a fruit vendor sizing up melons. "Half the anesthetic's already in. Delay any longer, and you'll feel everything."
I took a deep breath and pressed the pen to paper. "Chen Xiao." The final stroke dragged long, like a knife slicing through the page.
As I finished, a hollow space opened inside me—as if signing my name had signed away my soul.
"Done. Leave the family section blank." The woman snatched the contract. "You don't have anyone anyway."
I smiled bitterly. Parents long gone. Wife? The divorce papers gathered dust in a drawer. My only "family" was the ginger cat I'd left behind, probably gnawing the sofa in hunger.
"Restraints," Zhao Bo ordered.
Nurses strapped my wrists and ankles to the bed. The buckles clicked like nails hammered into a coffin. I seethed but kept my face calm.
"Don't be afraid," Zhao Bo patted my shoulder. "Sleep. When you wake, you'll be someone else."
Fuck you, I thought. What if I don't wake up?
The shadowless lamp above began to spin—circles within circles, like a kaleidoscope from childhood. My eyelids grew heavy.
"Chen Xiao, one last truth," the woman's voice drew near. "Do you regret it?"
I wanted to say yes, but my tongue had numbed. Only a garbled "Mhm" escaped.
"Can't hear you," she teased.
I clenched my teeth, forcing out my final words: "No... regrets."
Inside, a voice screamed, slapping me: Liar! You're terrified.
The anesthetic surged up my vein—an icy thread crawling from wrist to heart. My heartbeat pounded like a drum in my chest, faster, faster, then—
Silence.
Darkness flooded in. In my last flicker of consciousness, I heard Zhao Bo mutter, "Blood pressure's crashing. Administer epinephrine."
Then, the world muted.
...
Sometime later, electronic beeps pierced the silence. I opened my eyes. The same lights, but softer now—gentle as moonlight.
I tried to lift my hand. The restraints were gone, leaving only red marks on my wrists.
"Awake?" The woman's voice came from my right.
I turned. She'd removed her mask—younger than I'd imagined, but her eyes held the exhaustion of a veteran cop.
"Success?" I rasped.
"Theoretically." She handed me water. "But memory reconstruction takes time. For seventy-two hours, you'll have flashes—like a blackout."
I gulped the water. Warmth washed the bitterness from my throat, but not the dread in my chest.
"Who am I now?"
"Chen Er. Adopted son of Du Ming, head of the Black Whale Syndicate. Kidnapped at eight. Stabbed a man at eighteen. Took a bullet for Du Ming at twenty-eight." She recited it like a menu.
I grinned. "Sounds more legendary than the real me."
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Don't celebrate. In three days, you'll wish you hadn't smiled."
I looked down. A fresh scar stitched across my chest—a centipede of flesh. I touched it. The pain was real.
"This wound..."
"Du Ming stitched it himself," she cut in. "Remember: you took a bullet for him. That's your pledge of loyalty."
My heart lurched. Even the wound was scripted.
"The earpiece?" I asked.
Zhao Bo approached, pressing a grain-sized black device behind my ear. "Invisible. Don't pick at it, or you'll lose signal. Check-in daily at midnight. Three sentences max. No chatter."
I touched it. Cold. Like a dead man's tooth.
"Any more questions?" The woman checked her watch. "You leave on a fishing boat in ten. Sea air's salty—keep the wound dry."
I opened my mouth. What if I don't come back? Instead, I asked, "Got a cigarette?"
Zhao Bo rolled his eyes. "No smoking post-op."
The woman fished out a peppermint lollipop and shoved it into my mouth. "Make do."
Sweetness exploded on my tongue, but all I tasted was bitterness.
A gurney rolled in. They loaded me onto it like cargo. Wheels screeched against the floor.
Passing a hallway mirror, I caught my reflection: pale, stubbled, eyes so unfamiliar it chilled me.
That was me. And yet, not me.
The elevator descended. Lights flickered. B1, B2, B3... The lower it went, the colder the air.
"Here."
The doors opened. The stench of engine oil and the fishy tang of the sea hit me. Ahead lay a damp corridor ending at a battered ambulance painted with "Black Whale Logistics."
The driver was bald, a whale tail tattooed on his neck. He grinned. "Second Brother. Heard a lot about you."
Fuck you, I cursed inwardly. Outwardly, I smirked. "Drive slow. I get seasick."
Before boarding, I glanced back. The woman and Zhao Bo stood at the elevator, their shadows stretched long by fluorescent lights—like two nails driven into the ground.
I wanted to cry, but the tears didn't come. The door slammed shut, swallowing me in darkness.
The engine roared to life. I fished the lollipop stick from my pocket. Tiny words were printed on the plastic:
"Stay alive to remember who you are."
I clenched it. The sharp end dug into my palm.
Outside, the last sliver of daylight vanished. I knew it then: Chen Xiao was already dead. Now, only Chen Er remained.
And I had to live for him.