A group of thirteen people followed the police back to the police station.
Wei Dong looked at the police station's imposing gate and had a feeling that "Mr. Huatui has finally gotten serious."
"Newcomers all need to register here before they can get temporary residence permits." The police led the group to a room where a policewoman was sitting. "Xiao Zhang, these are yours to process the permits."
Policewoman Xiao Zhang seemed to be busy at the computer, her eyes glued to the screen. She slapped a stack of forms over with one hand: "Fill out the forms first! The pens are on the table, and the reading glasses are on the windowsill!"
So, the thirteen people started to find places to fill out the forms. Ke Xun pushed the only chair near the table to Mu Yiran and simply leaned over the windowsill to write, surrounded by a bottle of glue, a pair of reading glasses, and a malnourished cactus.
Ke Xun had never applied for a "temporary residence permit" in the real world. Looking at the forms, they were all basic items, such as gender, place of origin, and ID number. No supporting documents were required.
The girl with very short hair and a somewhat boyish air walked over: "Can I borrow your pen for a bit? Mine's run out of ink."
Ke Xun wrote quickly and finished just in time, so he handed her the pen. He noticed she had already filled the second half of the page, leaving only the first line unfilled. The girl smiled: "I'm used to writing my name last."
Ke Xun suddenly thought it was a good habit; that way, the wasted form wouldn't be "leaving its name" everywhere.
The girl also glanced at Ke Xun's form: "Oh, so that's what it is."
"What else?"
"I was just wondering why this guy's name is 'Science'."
Ke Xun remembered someone calling him "Scientist" when he was little. The name itself wasn't malicious, but when applied to someone as bad at science as himself, it felt full of malice.
Ke Xun watched as the girl picked up her pen and wrote her name—Zhao Yanbao. The strokes were surprisingly strong and powerful, steady and crisp. It was quite unlike the strokes of a young woman.
"Yanbao, are you done?" The girl with long, flowing hair walked over. "What was my former name again? 'Ya,' should I add the 'woman' radical?"
Zhao Yanbao: "No."
"Oh."
So they were childhood friends too, just like Ke Xun and Wei Dong.
"All done?" The policewoman finally deigned to look at everyone, showing no change in expression even upon seeing a 'rare gem' like Mu Yiran. "Hurry up and hand it in!"
Everyone obediently handed in their forms, which the policewoman took and checked one by one, then compared them to something on the computer.
Wei Dong thought to himself: Can your computer here check our affairs?
"No problem, let's get the certificates first." The policewoman took out a thick stack of temporary residence permits, resembling business cards, from the drawer, untied the rubber bands binding them, and began issuing the certificates. "Write your name where you need to fill in your name, and then go to the next room for review and stamping." In
the next room, an older policeman was on duty, wearing reading glasses and browsing through the forms of several people, making marks on some forms, and asking a couple of questions: "Qin Ci, are you a doctor?"
Qin Ci, whose name was called, nodded: "Yes, a surgeon."
"How many years have you been wielding a scalpel?"
"Almost ten years."
"Good, good, we need someone like that here!" The older policeman was overjoyed, wrote his profession on Qin Ci's 'business card,' stamped it, and gave it to Qin Ci. "You'll report to the Central Hospital in a bit."
The certificate in Qin Ci's hand was practically a work permit, which read: Qin Ci, male, surgeon at Xincheng Central Hospital.
This place even arranges jobs? Ke Xun and his companions exchanged brief glances, still unable to grasp the workings of this world.
The older policeman looked at the curly-haired youth again: "Your name is Zhichun?"
The curly-haired youth hurriedly nodded. Only then did everyone notice that the form in the older policeman's hand had their photos on it, taken by a webcam, with the same quality as driving school exam photos.
When were these photos taken? How could they capture faces so clearly? Everyone couldn't help but look around the room, wondering where the cameras were hidden, and there seemed to be more than one.
The older policeman continued to ask Zhichun: "Are you also a surgeon?"
Zhichun nodded: "I just graduated from medical school, and I'm currently just a surgical intern. I haven't had a chance to handle a scalpel yet."
"Did I ask you that many questions? Don't answer randomly if you didn't ask." The older policeman suddenly turned cold.
Zhichun secretly stuck out his tongue, but maintained a smile on the surface: "Okay, I know."
The older policeman's tone softened: "You'll work with Dr. Qin, assisting him."
Zhichun carefully took the work badge handed to him by the older policeman and stood next to his "teacher," Qin Ci.
The older policeman continued looking at the form, perhaps not finding anything satisfactory, and became somewhat exasperated: "What is this? Graphic designer? What does that even do?"
Wei Dong, indirectly called out, stepped forward, cleared his throat, and decided to give the old man a proper introduction to his profession: "A graphic designer generally refers to a technical talent who processes and creates graphics, colors, tones, and creative concepts. They are divided into graphic designers, web designers, and 3D designers. They generally need to be proficient in design software such as Photoshop."
Wei Dong had already memorized this answer from Baidu Encyclopedia. Back when he first started as a graphic designer, he would be asked this question by all his aunts and uncles every year during the Spring Festival. He simply gave the most standard answer, but then the questions would immediately follow—"Huh, a technical talent! How much do you earn a month? Do they all earn an annual salary?"
Wei Dong scratched his head, looking innocently at the old policeman in front of him, only to hear the old man say, "We don't need this kind of talent here."
Whether it was out of professional habit as a graphic designer or a habit forced upon him by being a "painter," Wei Dong had already roughly observed the city. He smiled and retorted, "There were a lot of design companies on the street just now, some even had LED lights flashing recruitment ads, specifically looking for graphic designers."
The old policeman raised his eyes from above his reading glasses and gave Wei Dong a sharp look: "That won't complete the task."
Upon hearing the word "task," everyone's heart tightened, especially the older members—a task? It was brought up so bluntly?
Wei Dong mustered his courage and asked, "Officer Chu, what kind of tasks do we have?"—Chu Zhiyong, this name was written on the old policeman's name tag.
Chu Zhiyong seemed not to hear, his eyes fixed on a form in his hand. He then compared the form with the photos and found Zhao Yanbao in the crowd: "Are you Zhao Yanbao? A psychologist?"
Zhao Yanbao stepped forward and stood beside Chu Zhiyong's desk. Her thinly trimmed short hair appeared the color of pine needles in the twilight. "I'm just a graduate student in psychology; I'm not exactly a psychologist yet."
Chu Zhiyong looked at the somewhat spirited girl before him, pondered for a moment, and wrote his workplace on his ID: Cocoon Detective Agency.
Zhao Yanbao took his ID, noncommittal, and, imitating Qin Ci, pinned it to her chest.
The room was quiet; everyone was waiting for the veteran policeman's assignment, or rather, his decision.
"Why are there so many artists?!" Chu Zhiyong scratched his messy, graying hair. "Famous painting appraisers? Wedding dress designers? Photographers? Painters? Art gallery owners?"
Several of the "artists" were somewhat embarrassed by the comments, but Mu Yiran, the "masterpiece appraiser," maintained a detached expression, his eyes slightly gazing out the window as if admiring the sunset.
"You two big guys, come to the police station," Chu Zhiyong said, lighting a cigarette and taking a few slow puffs.
Ke Xun secretly compared his height with Lion's, hesitating when the old policeman's voice rang in his ears: "Ke Xun, since you've trained in sports, come to our criminal investigation department. And that guy who's over 1.9 meters tall, come to the criminal investigation department too."
And so, Ke Xun happily joined Mu Yiran, and the two even got their marriage certificate... work permits together...
Lion, as a photographer, and wedding dress designer Xiao Qinxian were assigned to the forensic department—Xiao Qinxian was particularly puzzled by this and bombarded him with questions, but the old policeman seemed not to hear them.
Wei Dong was also assigned to the police station, to the household registration department, which, in Chu Zhiyong's words, meant "managing registrations."
The remaining few stood awkwardly waiting for assignments. Chu Zhiyong said to Qin Ci and Zhao Yanbao, "There are four people left. Each of you pick two you can use."
So, the forest-scented Chi Lei was chosen by her childhood friend Zhao Yanbao, and the second person she chose was Zhu Haowen.
Qin Ci gave his choice to Zhao Yanbao; to him, people without medical experience were all pretty much the same, so it didn't matter who he chose. Therefore, the two assigned to the Central Hospital were Su Benxin and the painter Yu Ji.
"It's getting late. Everyone go back to your units. Dormitories have been arranged for you." Chu Zhiyong glanced at his watch, preparing to leave work.
It was getting dark, and they hadn't even touched the edge of the rules of life and death yet. Going back now would only be gambling with their lives.
Ke Xun, a "newcomer" to the police station, stepped forward and saluted the veteran officer: "Uncle Chu, what exactly is our central mission?"
Chu Zhiyong gave a half-smile: "Most young people who come to Xincheng are here to find love. I don't really understand you young people's affairs."
Ke Xun recalled walking through the city streets earlier, seeing billboards everywhere proclaiming "City of Romance." Perhaps this was a way to showcase the city's charm, like the romantic capital of Paris?
Su Benxin had just hung her work badge, which read "Surgery Department, Xincheng Central Hospital," around her neck, but now she couldn't help but think of her central concept when planning this art exhibition—to have a mature love affair. Was this perfect fit for the theme a coincidence or...?
Those who haven't experienced the world of death depicted in the painting will always interpret the artist's intentions with good intentions.
Mu Yiran repeatedly examined his work badge before finally posing his question: "Officer Chu, we can only act when we're under orders. The sooner we understand the core of the mission, the sooner we can complete it. This badge is only valid for 13 days; we probably don't have much time to dawdle."
Everyone hurriedly checked their badges, where a line of small print at the bottom read: "Validity: October 17th to October 30th."
The year wasn't specified, but that wasn't their main concern—"13 days?! What do we need to do in these 13 days?" Xiao Qinxian, with her mushroom-shaped haircut, was the first to ask.
"Find enough beasts," Chu Zhiyong muttered to himself.
"What?"
"Find enough Crimson Beasts." Chu Zhiyong's gray eyes stared at everyone.
"What constitutes 'enough'?" Mu Yiran seized on a secondary point—the explanation of Crimson Beasts would surely come later; there was no need to ask now.
"13 kilograms."