And just like that, Hao Wenming took Fatty Sun and me down to Investigation Room One. As soon as we left the Director's office, Director Hao became much more talkative, completely different from his silent demeanor just moments earlier. I was a bit surprised by the sudden change—before we even got to Room One, he was already calling us "Xiao Shen" and "Fatty."
Investigation Room One was set up like a large shared workspace. The outer office had around ten desks. Inside was a smaller room—Hao Wenming's personal office. I gave it a quick glance; it had all the standard office furnishings, though the place felt rather deserted.
"Those two desks by the door are yours," Hao Wenming pointed at the two desks. "With you two, that makes ten people in Room One. But most of the team has been temporarily reassigned to Room Two. They won't be back for at least two weeks. One guy's still around—let me introduce you. Po Jun! Where are you?"
"Right here."The voice came from behind us. Fatty Sun and I turned to see a giant of a man entering from the hallway.
He looked to be in his late twenties, not quite thirty. Despite his massive frame, his movements were remarkably agile. When he walked past me, I judged that—even at my height of 1.78 meters—my head didn't even reach his shoulder.Seeing Hao Wenming, he said, "Boss Hao, Director Ouyang from Room Five called. He wants you to bring the newcomers to pick up their equipment. He's in a rush to get off work." He spoke in a flat, monotone voice, no intonation whatsoever.
"What's Lao Zuo in such a hurry for? He can wait." Hao Wenming waved him off, then turned to us. "Let me introduce you. This big guy's name is Pu Jun, but we just call him 'Po Jun'—it stuck. He's been here a few years already. You could say he's one of the veterans at the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation."
Then he turned back to Po Jun and pointed at us. "This one's Shen La, and the chubby one is Sun Desheng. Honestly, you two really didn't get lucky with your names. Let's just call you 'Lazi' and 'Sun Dasheng' from now on."
I didn't mind—I was called Lazi back in the army anyway.Fatty Sun laughed heartily, "Sure, works for me. Just a codename, right? You can call me Fatty Sun too if that's easier."
We exchanged a few pleasantries with Po Jun, then Hao Wenming led us out of Investigation Room One and gave us a tour of the Bureau. The whole building was unusually quiet, not many people around.
When we got to the fourth floor, we saw an elderly man leaning lazily against the door of an office labeled "Investigation Room Five."
The old man's face lit up when he saw Hao Wenming, and he immediately barked at him in thick Shaanxi dialect, "Eh, you damn slacker, took you long enough!"
Hao Wenming rolled his eyes and replied in his native Beijing accent, "Lao Zuo, what's the rush? Seriously, it's not even that late yet."
But Lao Zuo clearly wasn't in the mood for small talk. He ignored Hao Wenming, grabbed two briefcases with combination locks from the ground, and shoved them into our hands. "You two are the newbies, right? Don't need to say anything. These are your standard issue kits from the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation. Take them. We'll handle the paperwork later."Without waiting for the elevator, he dashed down the stairs.
Fatty Sun and I stood there holding the cases, stunned, watching the old man disappear around the corner.
Hao Wenming shook his head and muttered, "He must've found something good again." Then he patted us both on the shoulders. "Come on, I'll take you somewhere to try out the gear. I'll also tell you a bit more about the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation."
In 1982, a department known as the "Office for Special Case Handling" was spun off from the Ministry of Public Security. This so-called "office" was so low-profile it bordered on being invisible. Even within the ministry, few knew what exactly it did or what powers it held.
In truth, the department dated back to the early days of the People's Republic. It was established on the basis of the Nationalist-era "Committee for Religious Affairs." Its earliest predecessor was a special division of the Capital Garrison Forces. Later, it was incorporated into the Ministry of Public Security under the name "Special Archives Administration Office."
Back then, the Special Archives Office had only seven staff: one director and six clerks. The first director was a former regimental political commissar from the Volunteer Army who had returned from Korea. As for the six clerks, not much is known about them. But this modest team would eventually lay the foundation for the six Investigation Rooms of the future Bureau of Paranormal Investigation.
In its early days, the office was located in the outskirts of the capital—where the Bureau still stands today. It was a forgotten corner of the city. Aside from a finance officer coming by once a month to deliver wages and office funds (for some reason, they weren't allowed to collect these from the ministry directly), almost no outsiders ever visited.
The seven people's daily work mainly involved reading and recording archives and old newspapers from the pre-liberation era. They even went to the Palace Museum to borrow and meticulously copy palace archives from the Qing and Ming dynasties. Then, six clerks would take turns going out on missions—each trip lasting three to five months. Where did they go? What exactly did they do? No one ever asked.
Before each trip, the clerks were given over a thousand yuan in office funds (a huge sum at the time), plus over ten thousand jin of national grain coupons, and a stack of official letters of introduction stamped with the Ministry of Public Security's seal. Remarkably, every time they returned, the funds and grain coupons were completely spent, though sometimes a letter or two of introduction remained unused.（Note: At that time in China, due to the shortage of materials, when purchasing consumer goods such as grain, meat and cloth, in addition to paying money, a kind of ticket was also needed as proof to obtain the corresponding quantity of goods.）
The returning clerks never came back empty-handed either. Each time, they would haul back loads upon loads of cargo. The goods in the trucks were always tightly covered. What they transported was a mystery to everyone. Yet whenever this happened, the entire archive department staff would rush to the warehouse, spending several days inside.
In the early 1970s, during a particularly sensitive period, the first director of the Special Archives Management Section retired. To avoid being criticized by the Red Guards, a Section Chief surnamed Zhang from the Ministry of Public Security chose this obscure location and volunteered to take over.
Unfortunately, news leaked. Just a few days after the new director took office, a Liberation truck loaded with twenty or thirty Red Guards stormed over. Their original plan was to drag the new director out for criticism. But when the young radicals heard there was a "Special Archives Management Section"—such a pristine and "pure" unit—they changed their minds. After all, so many years into the "Cultural Revolution," was there really any unit left uncriticized? This was an insult to the "Cultural Revolution" itself.
When they were still two li (about one kilometer) away, the Liberation truck stalled. Two li is just a ten-minute drive. The young guards jumped out in a frenzy, unfurled banners, lined up, and shouted slogans as they ran toward the archive building.
Though it was only two li, the hundred or so of them had not arrived even by nightfall. Initially thinking they had taken a wrong route, they turned back—but then discovered the trucks had vanished. The road, which was supposed to be a straight path without forks, suddenly seemed endless.
At this point, everyone felt something was wrong. They had walked so far but hadn't seen a single person. They were supposedly in the suburbs—not exactly remote. Moreover, some of the young guards lived nearby and had come to coordinate the action. One local guard was bewildered. "Where the hell are we? Does anyone know how to get back?"
"You don't know; how would we?" another said.
"We've come this far. What now?"
"What else can we do but keep going, see where we end up?"
"Are you kidding? There's no village or shop around here; why go forward?"
The group began to panic.
After a long hesitation, the local guard suggested, "Keep going. I think there's a station about seventy to ninety li ahead."
"Seventy or ninety li?"
"Maybe a dozen or so."
"Yeah, right. Who knows what's ahead? Could be a haunted graveyard or something."
The local guard laughed nervously, "I've lived here over twenty years. The nearest graveyard is fifty li away at Jiubao Mountain. No haunted graveyards nearby, no tombstones even."
"Then… what's that?" The young leader pointed to a dark patch not far off.
Less than fifty meters away lay a chaotic pile of over a thousand tombstones. That night's pale moonlight cast a sinister glow. Many tombs were so old that coffins had begun to rot and show, and a few revealed ghostly white bones still flickering with eerie blue flames.
"You said the graveyard was fifty li away. What's this then?" The leader pointed at the white bones.
The local guard broke into a cold sweat. "Damn it, can't be… must be ghostly illusions."
"Stop the nonsense! There's no such thing as ghosts or gods! We're just lost. Who are we? We're Red Guards, defenders of the great leader! We're staunch atheists. Who's scared of ghosts?"
The leader's words were loud and resolute, rallying the group. Yet when he continued, his voice lost most of its strength, "Still… better turn back. There's no road ahead."
Though dispirited, it was true. As they turned, they were shocked by the scene before them: the once broad road had turned into an endless graveyard.
Everyone was speechless. The sky cooperated, showering countless white paper offerings. A mournful, heart-wrenching voice drifted over from afar: "Come back, come back… come back…"
The sound was so tragic and piercing that the guards felt their blood run cold, their hair standing on end.
The local guard broke first, screaming desperately, "Ghosts! Run!" His cry woke them from their stupor, and the guards fled in panic.
The next day, news came from Shijiazhuang, Hebei Province. At around 3 or 4 AM, a group of about twenty Red Guards appeared running wildly down a street in Zhengding County, fifteen kilometers from downtown Shijiazhuang. Witnesses, including street cleaners, reported hearing them shouting about ghosts and spirits.
The Red Guards were so agitated that the cleaners did not dare approach. They reported the situation to the local police and revolutionary committee. Eventually, seventy to eighty people were needed to subdue the guards, who collapsed unconscious.
An experienced officer examined their eyes by pulling their eyelids and found a thin, waxy film covering their eyeballs.
Hours later, when dawn broke, the guards regained consciousness and the waxy film dissolved. Bewildered, they asked, "Where are we? How did we get here?"
After this incident, no one in the capital area dared disturb the Special Archives Section anymore. Soon after, the unit was renamed the "Special Cases Processing Office," with six departments and a full staff turnover except for the director. The original six clerks were reassigned to various local government agencies.
The renaming was a clever cover-up, which surprisingly worked. After a few months, no one mentioned the incident again. Even those involved had increasingly blurred memories of what happened.
The Special Cases Processing Office worked more discreetly, though the six department chiefs remained restless, frequently traveling around the world as the six clerks once did.
By 1980, after the downfall of the "Gang of Four," Director Zhang returned to the Ministry of Public Security and was promoted to Deputy Minister. The original Department One Chief Gao Liang was promoted to Director of the Special Cases Processing Office.
Within days of Deputy Minister Zhang's appointment, he separated the Special Cases Processing Office from the Ministry. Insiders thought this was a questionable move—after all, the office had protected Zhang for over a decade, and now that he had power, he was discarding them.
More troubling than leaving the Ministry was that people started showing interest in the places where Deputy Minister Zhang had fought and lived. The long-forgotten office was suddenly back in the spotlight. To avoid trouble, it was renamed again—the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation was established.
Shortly after the Bureau was formed, a difficult case emerged in Jiangxi Province. Details were vague, but Director Gao personally led a team there. When they returned a month and a half later, they brought back a young man with white hair.