Dull Knife

Five years ago, a mudslide in Naer Village buried unexposed skeletons. Dark marriage, black medicine, substitution, human remains trading, illegal mining of minerals... The shady story is yet to be revealed. While monitoring public opinion, Yan Liqiu, a data analyst at a media company, discovered clues and resolutely set foot in a remote mountain village with his friend Gan Songxin. They didn't expect that there was a dark web of human remains reselling, and all the clues pointed to the group of volunteers who went deep into the disaster area five years ago. As soon as the investigation reached its core, it encountered strong obstruction from the company, and warnings and dismissal letters followed one after another. In a desperate situation, Yan Liqiu discovered that the last link in the evidence chain was hidden in the last undisclosed video of her closest relative's life. Truth and family love stand on the gallows at the same time. "If writing an in-depth report requires three months of research, but compiling a traffic post that immediately brings benefits to the company only takes three hours, how do you choose?" "If finding out the truth may sting the authority, but staying silent will definitely buy peace, how do you choose?" This is a question for all competent journalists, and indeed for all people. Concept: After writing the last word of "Dull Knife", I realized that it is difficult to classify it as a female story or a suspense story. Initially, what I wanted to write was a story about a woman who had no sexual desire at all. She never wanted a man or a woman. Her life was completely normal, but she was ostracized by so-called "normal people." How should I tell this story? Paradoxically, in the end I chose to tell it using an unsolved case from five years ago. Someone asked me, why are the two seemingly unrelated elements of "asexuality" and "suspense" grafted together? My answer is: because they share the same core - the concealment and pursuit of the truth. Yan Liqiu's story, on the surface, is about exploring the truth of the designated flash flood, but on the deeper level, she is exploring the structure of her own desires. What these two things have in common is that they are both suppressed, rewritten, and even erased by the mainstream narrative of society. The truth of the flash flood is covered up by the interest network, and the existence of asexual people is silenced by the eyes of "normal people". In this sense, Yan Liqiu is more like a kind of self-salvation inspired by the depths of her thoughts. While she is looking for evidence for the disaster, she is also looking for testimony for her own way of living. The suspense genre was chosen not out of market considerations, but because it naturally has the power to deconstruct "normality". Suspense narratives invite readers into a world where all appearances are questionable. This is similar to Yan Liqiu's situation. Everyone thinks that "should have desires" is normal, and her "lovelessness and sexlessness" itself has become a "suspense case." Those who are eager to classify her as a "patient" have exposed their own anxiety and dependence on the narrative of desire. However, I don't want this novel to degenerate into some kind of "justice" work. Yan Liqiu does not need to be saved or cured. Her resistance lies not in changing herself to adapt to the world, but in insisting on her own way of being and questioning the world: Why is only one mode of desire allowed? Why is the imagination of intimacy so poor? This is why at the end of the story, I refused to give her an ending of "successfully falling in love with Wang Daoling". Traditional narratives always expect the protagonist who has gone through hardships to finally obtain a "complete life", and the "completeness" of this happy ending is often narrowed to the completion of marriage and love. But Yan Liqiu's integrity lies precisely in her loyalty to her own desires (or lack thereof). Her relationship with her friend Gan Songxin and her boss Gao Songling is equally precious - that kind of unnamed but mutual understanding of friendship may be the possibility of another kind of intimate relationship. It does not involve "sex", nor does it involve traditional "love" from the public perspective. It is more about mutual understanding and mutual achievement. The setting of the character Gan Songxin is to some extent my reflection on the "fate of supporting characters". In many stories, the secondary characters who assist the protagonist in completing his mission often stay in place and become the backdrop for the protagonist's success. But Gan Songxin chose to leave to find her own stage. This is not a betrayal of friendship, but a confirmation of self-worth. Those women who always stand out of the spotlight in real life deserve to be seen and written about. As for the truth about the flash flood, including the final sentencing, readers will find many unresolved matters. I want to say: Some problems still cannot be completely solved after going through many difficulties and dangers. Yan Liqiu found evidence, but justice may not be fully realized; she confirmed that her existence was not pathological, but prejudice would not disappear. The only thing we can do is to depend on these issues, stay awake in the continuous questioning, and maintain independent viewpoints and positions. This novel is my attempt to uncover the hidden psychology of contemporary youth. In an era when "sex" is both over-spoken and over-tabooed, the silence of those who are asexual is often ignored. They are not ascetics, frigids, or late bloomers who have not yet awakened - they just exist in different ways at one end of the desire spectrum. To see them is to see more possibilities of human nature. Finally, I would like to thank Yan Liqiu. This fictional character taught me: resistance is not roaring, but insisting on existing in one's own way; intimacy is not integration, but understanding each other while maintaining boundaries. The world needs more stories about women, about suspense, about asexuals. Their readers should not be labeled as "curious". Each of us deserves to be seen, understood, and recognized.