Chapter Twenty: The Boar Seal

What I pulled from the pig’s belly was a lock of a woman’s… black hair.

Staring at that strand of hair, still clinging with shards of ice, a wave of nausea rose up in my throat. The memory of that time, when I ate the legendary beauty bass and was possessed by a vengeful ghost, vomiting up long hair, suddenly surged into my mind.

I instantly shook off the hair as if electrocuted, paid no heed to Wang Hou’s astonishment, and immediately squatted down, retching.

Everything I had eaten that evening—all of it ruined…

Throughout the ordeal, I only dared to glance once at the pork. But that single look nearly made me faint again!

Amid the pale flesh, through the slit Wang Hou had cut, a lock of a woman’s hair was “flowing out” from the opening.

And as I followed the hair and peered inside… I saw a blood-red eye staring back at me!

I jerked my head down, retching even more violently.

“There’s… there’s someone in the pork!” I forced myself to speak through the taste of bile, gesturing at Wang Hou with my hand in a cutting motion.

Wang Hou understood and, using the knife, unpicked all the threads holding the pork together.

When he undid the last piece of string, the pork suddenly fell open like two gates swinging apart.

A naked woman tumbled out, sprawling onto the icy ground.

Wang Hou recoiled a step. I wiped the bile from the corner of my mouth, steeled myself, and forced my gaze upward.

Only then did I see: it was a young woman, her face beautiful but deathly pale, her entire body coated in an unknown oily liquid, her hair and face still tangled with ice.

From amidst her black locks, a pair of enormous, blood-red eyes stared at me, wide and vacant.

It wasn’t her nakedness that unsettled me most, but those blood-red eyes… I couldn’t understand—frozen as she was, why were her eyes still open?

I couldn’t bear to look any longer, so I quickly took off my jacket and draped it over her, both to give her some dignity and to keep her warm.

Wang Hou stared in shock, then in anger, at the woman who had been wrapped in pork. Without pause, he again drew his knife and sliced open another piece of pork.

At the first cut, more strands of a woman’s hair and scalp appeared.

Every one was a young, beautiful girl.

Stunned, Wang Hou wanted to keep cutting, but I stopped him by force.

“Stop! If you keep going, you’ll kill them!” I said urgently, standing up.

“I’m trying to save them! Why are people stuffed inside pork?!” Wang Hou shouted, unable to contain himself, his voice far too loud for someone “undercover.”

Staggering, I knocked on a few of the suspended pork slabs and replied, “These things—they’re called oil-sealed ice shells. They just added an extra layer of pork on the outside for insulation.”

“What?” Wang Hou stared in disbelief. “These women… are ingredients?”

I didn’t know how to answer, because I didn’t know myself.

The so-called oil-sealing is a special preservation method invented by the Japanese years ago. In the culinary world, certain foods need to be stored at low temperatures but cannot freeze on the surface. So, a thick layer of fat is applied, then wrapped in foil or other material, and doused with water. Since oil and water don’t mix, a sealed layer forms between the food and the ice, preserving it for long periods.

Though complicated and seldom used, this method best preserves the freshness of ingredients, especially meat and seafood. It’s a top choice for high-end cuisine.

I was certain the women inside the pork were being preserved by the same principle—oil-sealed ice shells. As for whether they were ingredients… I dared not imagine it.

At that moment, looking at these glutinous rice dumpling-like chunks of pork, I suddenly recalled something Xian Hongye once told me.

“Old Wang!” I asked Wang Hou, “How many colleagues who dined with Hongye are still missing?”

“Four!” he answered. “I found out during my investigation today.”

“All four… are women, right?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Wang Hou nodded, then looked at my dark expression as if suddenly realizing something.

Turning to the “pork sacks” containing people, my emotions tangled between anger and terror, I said, “If my guess is correct, the people inside were all female patrons of this sinister restaurant. In the end… they all wound up here. Even Hongye, the one you care about, nearly became one of them.”

My mind flashed with the old squad leader’s words—this place would drain you of your money, your life, even your very soul.

Wang Hou fell silent, but I could see the shock on his face—a kind of shock he’d never known.

He rolled up his sleeves, ready to rescue them.

“I told you, don’t!” I stopped him, explaining, “If you pull them out now, it’s as good as killing them!”

“Why?” he demanded.

Instead of answering immediately, I reached out to check the pulse of the first woman who had fallen.

Her artery was slow but steady.

Just as I thought.

Relieved, I told Wang Hou there was no immediate danger—the women had been sedated, coupled with the low temperature, and had entered a state of suspended animation. If we pulled them out, without the insulating pork fat, their sluggish blood flow would doom them in the freezer’s cold.

I knew what we needed to do was call the police—this case was huge. The illegal detention and enslavement alone was enough to sentence every ringleader to death.

I quickly pulled out the phone Wang Hou had given me, ready to dial emergency services.

But as soon as I took out the phone, my heart sank.

No signal.

“Damn it! No signal!” I cursed, nearly smashing the phone in frustration. Of all times, of course.

But at the last moment, I restrained myself.

A new worry surfaced…

After a brief consideration, I handed the phone back to Wang Hou, telling him to “take photos as evidence,” and then we had to get out.

“Aren’t we going to save them?” Wang Hou asked.

“We save Hongye first. You take the photos! Once you finish, we leave,” I replied simply.

Wang Hou didn’t quite understand and complained I was “cold-hearted,” so I had to waste a few more moments explaining my plan.

My thinking was straightforward: I’d use the damning photos as leverage to threaten that boss Bai. Once he told me how to save Xian Hongye, I’d deal with him properly.

Of course, I didn’t do this for Hongye out of affection, but because I feared that once the police arrested boss Bai, we might never learn what we needed. The police had procedures to follow, and I wasn’t sure if Hongye or these half-dead girls could last that long.

After I explained, Wang Hou, though thinking me selfish, agreed.

We removed our sunglasses and ditched our disguises, preparing to leave the cold storage and confront boss Bai directly.

But with a loud bang, I heard the cold room door slam shut behind us.

In that instant, Wang Hou and I realized we’d been locked inside the cramped freezer.

A trap? I asked myself in shock.

Suddenly, I remembered something I’d overlooked… Hadn’t we entered this place a little too easily?

So easy… it felt unnatural.

When boss Bai gave that odd smile earlier, I was wary. Even before coming here, I’d questioned why no one followed us, why such a strange cold room had so few locks, why we’d gained access to the heart of the sinister restaurant so easily. Why were we so naive?

With the barrage of visual shocks, my vigilance had slipped, and now, we were caught utterly unawares.

But there was no time for regret.

“Wang Hou!” I called out instinctively in the crisis.

His answer only deepened my dread.

“Quiet!” Wang Hou commanded tensely.

Then, in a low voice, he said, enunciating each word, “Something… has entered the cold storage.”

“Listen!” he whispered.

But what was I supposed to hear? I didn’t know.

Still, since he said so, he must have had his reasons. After all, he’d been a reconnaissance soldier and had experience facing danger.

In the darkness, I half-crouched, straining my ears for the slightest sound, just as I’d been trained.

But all I could hear was the accelerated whirring of the refrigerant—nothing else.

Minute by minute, the temperature in the freezer dropped lower and lower, my nerve endings screaming warnings of the cold. I knew if I stayed motionless much longer, I’d freeze solid.

And once frozen, I’d be as helpless as a fish on the chopping block.

Agitated, I called out, “Wang Hou! What are you doing?”

Silence was my only reply—Wang Hou seemed to have turned to stone.

“Wang Hou? Washing machine? Don’t scare—”

Before I could finish, the lights in the freezer suddenly went out.