Baía Soprada pela Monção [Hong Kong]

1991, Hong Kong, Lantau Island

The rain poured heavily, the sea roared with turbulent waves, crashing sand and stones against the shore in a fierce symphony. The noisy rain mixed with the clamorous voices echoed over the tidal flats. Occasional flashlight beams illuminated the fishing boats swaying violently in the wind and rain, their sails flapping wildly, metal sheets clanging deafeningly.

In the distance, atop a hill, a Buddha statue was under construction. Work had begun the previous year, and it was said that when completed, it would be the world’s second-largest outdoor bronze Buddha, second only to the Fo Guang Big Buddha in Taiwan.

But tonight, the Buddha’s usual gentle glow, reflected by the moon, was washed away by the heavy rain. Its massive shadow stood stark against the darkness, the colossal figure silently gazing at the stormy coastline, evoking a chilling sense of foreboding.

A red lifeboat struggled against the wind and rain to reach shore. The beach was already crowded. Several men dressed in black police uniforms took from the boat a long cloth bag, heavy and about the height of a person.

“When found, the person was already dead, trapped between rocks by the waves. Rescue was impossible,” one man wiped rainwater from his face.

The white cloth was lifted, revealing a swollen, pale face.

The deceased wore a black and white police uniform, a rectangular silver badge pinned to his chest. Someone reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a nearly faded business card stained by seawater, the worn lettering revea