Chapter 17 – The Sleeping Ones
City B was quieter than expected—its streets washed clean by recent rain, its sky a permanent shade of grey. The facility sat on the outskirts, nestled behind a façade of modern wellness branding and high-security fencing.
Bai Xueqing adjusted her fake glasses in the rearview mirror. Her sharp, elegant features were subdued beneath a soft bob-cut wig and beige lab coat. Mo Chen, beside her, looked almost uncomfortable in his nerdy IT technician disguise.
"Can't believe you made me wear this," he muttered, adjusting his ridiculous wire-framed glasses.
"Your cheekbones are suspiciously sharp for a cable guy," Xueqing said, lips twitching. "Try not to smolder."
"Try not to fall for me mid-mission."
"I already regret bringing you."
They slipped past the front desk using forged IDs and a planted maintenance request. Mo Chen had spoofed the facility's appointment system an hour ago, creating a "critical server outage" in their biometric wing. The receptionist barely looked up before waving them through.
As they walked down the sterile, white-tiled hallway, Mo Chen whispered, "Security is tight, but not military grade. They're hiding something, but they're not expecting company."
"Overconfidence is a weakness," Xueqing murmured. "Let's exploit it."
They took the elevator to the restricted floor, bypassing the fingerprint scanner with a cloned print Mo Chen had lifted from a staff member's discarded water bottle.
The doors slid open with a whisper.
Inside, everything changed.
Gone were the bright lights and polished surfaces. The hallway ahead was dim, lit only by flickering emergency strips along the baseboards. The air was colder, heavier, laced with antiseptic and something darker—something metallic.
Blood.
Mo Chen handed Xueqing a sanitized earpiece. "Stay close."
They moved in silence.
Beyond the first set of reinforced doors, they found the source of the stench: a lab. Or what was left of it.
Glass shattered across the floor. Monitors lay cracked, blinking faintly. One corner of the room was blackened—scorched by something like an electrical fire. And in the center—
"Pods," Xueqing said, stopping short.
Three large capsules, shaped like coffins, stood upright, connected to tubes and wires. Inside each floated a human figure—unmoving, pale, suspended in fluid.
Subjects.
Clones.
Mo Chen moved to the terminal beside them, fingers flying across the keyboard.
"Files encrypted," he said. "But I can see timestamps. These weren't cryogenic. They're being... stabilized. Stimulated with artificial memory patterns."
Xueqing stepped closer to one pod and peered through the foggy glass. Her heart skipped.
It was a young woman. Familiar. Too familiar.
She touched the glass slowly. "That's… that's me."
Mo Chen looked up sharply.
"Not exactly," she murmured. "But close. Face structure. Eye shape. This is a prototype using my DNA."
"They're building vessels," he said. "Trying to replicate someone."
"No." Her voice dropped. "They're trying to recreate someone."
Just then, an alarm beeped quietly from the terminal.
Mo Chen cursed. "They tripped a silent protocol. We've got five minutes, maybe less."
They turned to leave, but Xueqing hesitated. Her eyes swept the lab one last time—then locked on a drawer under the terminal.
Inside: a small journal. Handmade, stitched with gold thread.
She stuffed it into her coat.
---
By the time they exited through the rear fire escape, a black van had pulled into the facility's front gate. Armed men stepped out, dressed in sleek, matching uniforms—no insignia.
"Ghosthand's people," Mo Chen said. "We leave now."
---
Back in their safe house, Xueqing flipped through the journal. The script was archaic—coded, ancient, from the previous dynasty. But she could read it.
She read aloud:
> Subject BQ-X. First sample rejected. Emotional inconsistency too strong. Subject 3: promising. Clone retains fragments of inherited memory—specifically, betrayal. Hatred. Her will is near identical to the original Bai.
Mo Chen's eyes darkened. "They were trying to resurrect your vengeance."
Xueqing sat still. "No. They were trying to create a version of me who wouldn't hesitate to burn the world for them."
"Someone they could control."
She nodded. "A weapon. Not a woman."
He knelt before her, gently taking the journal from her hand. "You're not them. You're not a copy. You're you."
"I know."
But her voice cracked just slightly.
He touched her chin, lifting her gaze to his. "And I will burn every last lab they've built if they try to erase even a piece of you."
She let out a breath. "That's not a plan. That's a war."
Mo Chen's smile was razor-sharp. "Good. I've been itching for one."
They both turned toward the city skyline, dark clouds looming again. But this time, Bai Xueqing stood taller, stronger. She had faced the grave once and returned.
Now, she'd face her shadow.
And this time, she wouldn't be alone.