On June 14, 2026, at 9:42 AM, a rubber raft carrying six outdoor adventurers was swept by a rainstorm onto an unmarked tropical island. The damp smell of rotting leaves pressed down with thick greenery, and on the soft mud at their feet was clearly a string of fresh footprints—exactly six.
But there were only five of them.
Backpack leader A Ye pulled out a machete and slashed through obstructing vines, his knuckles white from tension: "Don't touch anything. Check all the locators in your backpacks. I counted—when we came ashore, there were only five sets of footprints on the beach. This sixth one followed us into the jungle."
Lin Zhi, a geography student with black-rimmed glasses, crouched with her fingertips hovering above the footprints without touching, frowning deeply: "No, the depth is wrong. The force points of this sixth footprint are all on the toes. Normal walking wouldn't exert force like that—someone stepped on tiptoe and deliberately followed your footprints, pretending to be the sixth person."
Su Xiao, a professional nurse, suddenly clutched her medical kit tightly, her voice trembling but clear: "I just counted the supplies. A bottle of hemostatic powder is missing. It was there on the raft just now. None of us would steal an unopened medicine. Someone boarded the raft and hid among us."
Da Chuan, a former soldier with a buzz cut, clicked the safety off his shotgun and swept his gaze over the four faces around him: "During last night's storm in the raft, I counted heads—there were definitely six. It was too dark; I thought I was seeing things. That guy kept squatting at the bottom of the raft, never made a sound."
Lao Qi, an antique dealer in a printed shirt, stepped back half a pace, his back against a moss-covered red tree, pointing at the crooked carvings on the trunk: "Stop arguing. Look at the date on this tree—June 14, 1986, exactly forty years ago to the day. A group of people was also trapped on this island. The last line of the carving reads, 'The fifth is fake.'"
The five of them froze instantly.
A Ye suddenly turned to Lin Zhi: "You joined our expedition only last week. Before departure, you had no outdoor hiking experience. Why did you insist on coming to this uncharted island?"
Lin Zhi adjusted her glasses, and from her notebook fell an old yellowed photograph. It showed a group of five explorers from 1986, and in the corner was a girl with a face identical to hers: "My grandmother was in that team. She wrote in her diary that she watched the other four kill each other and survived by hiding in a tree hollow until rescue. She told me to come to this island today, to find five people and bring back the truth that had been left unspoken for forty years."
Su Xiao suddenly grabbed Lin Zhi's wrist, feeling an old scar under her sleeve, and turned pale: "No, this scar is exactly like the one on my grandmother's hand! She was the nurse in that team. Her diary says a girl kept impersonating team members and would gather five people on the island every June 14 to repeat the events of that year!"
Da Chuan aimed his shotgun at Lao Qi, the barrel steady: "I searched your backpack earlier and found a vintage pocket watch from forty years ago—it belonged to the expedition leader. The expedition invitations you sent out last week were addressed using the rescue records from that year. You deliberately lured us here."
Lao Qi suddenly smiled. Decayed leaf fragments fell from his printed shirt as he pulled out five identical copper keys from his pocket, each engraved with the number 1986: "I've been waiting for this day for forty years. Back then, the five of us found a golden altar at the island's center and agreed not to hoard it, but they four joined hands and pushed me off a cliff. Every year on this day, I find five people to come to the island—just to see who made the first move back then."
As he spoke, the decaying leaves at their feet were swept away, revealing a smooth stone slab. On the slab were precisely five footprints, perfectly matching the sole patterns of their shoes. In the groove at the center lay a sixth bottle of unopened hemostatic powder, dated June 14, 2026.
On the last page of Lin Zhi's notebook, a line of text had appeared, the ink still fresh:
"While you were talking, did you count how many people are standing here now?"
From deep within the jungle came the faint rustle of leaves. Six footprints, on the soft mud behind them, extended in different directions.
