The Missing Men Became a Wealthy Man's Perfect Wife

Chen Mo stared at the computer screen. The fluorescent tubes in the archives hummed, making his eyes ache. He rubbed his temples, his fingertips picking up a thin layer of dust. No one had properly maintained this archive room for a long time.

On the screen was a missing-person registration form. Over the past year, seventeen names had been listed in neat rows, all men between twenty and thirty years old. The intervals between the reports were evenly spaced, like some kind of regular harvest. He scrolled down to the handling notes. Almost every page bore the same blue stamp: "Case not filed." A hastily scribbled note read: "Unemployed, suspected..."