The second hand on the watch ticked forward, a rhythmic clack-clack like invisible drops of water falling one by one onto Huo Ranyin’s pulse.
He stared at Ji Xun’s face.
At this moment, the lingering trace of guilt and evasion he had felt earlier vanished entirely. He began to look at Ji Xun openly, searching for any telltale sign.
He saw that the exact fraction of a second Meng Fushan’s voice cut through, Ji Xun’s expression shifted minutely. It was so subtle that by the time Huo Ranyin took a second glance, that face had already wiped away every shred of evidence.
Ji Xun’s gaze met his at the same time.
They locked eyes for two seconds. Ji Xun’s lips parted slightly, but no sound escaped.
Ji Xun was still hesitating.
What would he say to Meng Fushan? No matter what words he chose, as long as Huo Ranyin was still standing in this room, they wouldn’t be the words Ji Xun truly wanted to speak.
Huo Ranyin lowered his eyes nonchalantly, keeping up the appearance of typing a message to a colleague. However, the fingers moving across his screen quietly navigated to his sound settings and triggered his ringtone.
The phone blared to life, mimicking a sudden, urgent call.
Huo Ranyin stood up and gestured to Ji Xun, indicating he was stepping out to take it. Without another glance at the man, he quickly left the hotel room and stepped into the corridor.
Separated by a thin hotel wall, divided by a door left slightly ajar.
A bizarre light seemed to bleed from the gap in the doorway. Ji Xun’s lowered, tightly controlled voice spilled through the earpiece. Beneath Huo Ranyin’s feet, the red plush carpet seemed to sprout long, threadlike fibers, twisting like tapeworms, while the abstract color-block paintings on the wall blurred into bleeding streaks of red, yellow, green, and blue.
Huo Ranyin dialed Bureau Chief Zhou.
The moment the call connected, Chief Zhou’s voice erupted like splashing lava: “Think your wings are big enough to fly solo, do you?! I’m telling you, you better show some damn discipline! You are not permitted to conduct unauthorized private operations—”
“Chief Zhou,” Huo Ranyin interrupted calmly, “Meng Fushan is on the line with Ji Xun right now.”
Through the Bluetooth earpiece, Ji Xun’s questions to Meng Fushan were growing increasingly urgent, one pressing harder than the last:
“Where are you right now? Why won’t you show yourself? Does Chen Jashu’s death have anything to do with you?”
“Ji Xun, drop it. This has nothing to do with you,” Meng Fushan replied coldly.
“I’ve met Meng Fushan before,” Huo Ranyin whispered to Chief Zhou. “I know his voice; I wouldn’t mistake it. I am requesting, once again, an immediate intercept and trace on Ji Xun’s communications.”
A heavy silence hung on the line for a single heartbeat before Chief Zhou let out a vicious curse, though it wasn’t clear who it was directed at.
Then, Chief Zhou ordered: “Keep Ji Xun talking. That call cannot end. I’ll have the tech team set up the trace immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Huo Ranyin murmured.
Inside the room, Meng Fushan spoke again: “Where are you right now?”
Ji Xun quickly supplied the name of the province and city he was in, adding, “If you don’t want to see the cops, let’s meet up. You don’t have to give the location to them—just give it to me. How about it?”
Meng Fushan fell silent. Was he scoffing, or was he weighing his options?
“I’m not a cop anymore, and we’re old classmates. You can at least trust me, can’t you?” Ji Xun pressed. “If you didn’t trust me at all, you wouldn’t have made this call in the first place.”
“You trust me?”
“Subjectively? Of course I trust you completely.”
“Subjectively,” Meng Fushan mocked.
“What else do you want? Objectivity isn’t up to me; it’s up to you,” Ji Xun retorted, his tone carrying its own edge of sarcasm. “But you keep hiding and hoarding it, as if keeping a secret long enough will somehow birth a brand-new little secret.”
Ji Xun’s attitude, on the surface, was flawless. He wanted Meng Fushan to surface; he wanted him to clear things up with the police. If that failed, he was willing to meet him personally to get the truth.
Huo Ranyin listened intently, analyzing every syllable.
But why did Meng Fushan choose to contact Ji Xun in the first place? What is his objective?
Ultimately, it didn’t matter. The moment the trace succeeded and locked onto Meng Fushan, the entire mystery would unravel.
“Captain Huo, we’ve begun capturing and analyzing the signal to pinpoint Meng Fushan’s exact coordinates,” Zhong Xiaojin, the cyber-division detective, reported into Huo Ranyin’s ear.
On the other line, Meng Fushan bantered dryly with Ji Xun: “You might not wear the badge anymore, but every word out of your mouth still sounds like a cop. I originally intended to see you one last time, but it looks like meeting you is no different from walking straight into a precinct.”
“Captain Huo, Meng Fushan might be about to hang up!” Zhong Xiaojin warned sharply.
Even without the warning, Huo Ranyin felt the exact same tightening in his chest.
The prize was right under their noses. If Meng Fushan cut the line now, everything would fall apart, and they would likely never get a second chance.
Huo Ranyin spun around and strode back into the room.
The moment he crossed the threshold, Ji Xun’s gaze shot toward him like a lightning bolt. Huo Ranyin didn’t even have the spare focus to look at his expression; he spoke rapidly, directing his words at Ji Xun but intending them entirely for the ears of the man on the phone:
“The Fujian police just received a tip. A citizen spotted Cao Zhengbin’s whereabouts.”
Meng Fushan was heavily entangled in the Chen Jiashu case. Regardless of whether he was the killer, any news related to it would pull his strings—be it Zheng Xuewang, who was currently cooling his heels in a holding cell, or Cao Zhengbin, who was still at large.
However, bringing up Zheng Xuewang might arouse Ji Xun’s suspicion, so naming Cao Zhengbin was the safer play.
“The call is still active!” Zhong Xiaojin notified him at lightning speed. “We’re seconds away from locking down the signal!”
A fraction of the weight lifted from Huo Ranyin’s shoulders. Finally having the breathing room to observe Ji Xun, he noticed the man’s elbow was dropped low, the phone held away from his ear and slightly behind his hip. His thumb was pressed firmly over the phone’s microphone.
Was this posture to ensure Meng Fushan couldn’t hear what was happening in the room, or to ensure Huo Ranyin couldn’t hear Meng Fushan?
Likely both.
“Did they find him?” Ji Xun asked after a beat.
“A citizen tip,” Huo Ranyin replied. His eyes subtly drifted past Ji Xun’s face toward the hotel window. Outside, the night was thick, and the glass reflected a muddy, brown silhouette of the room’s occupants. Yet, they were still standing in the light, their shapes sharply outlined by the lamps within.
“I need to head over there right now,” Huo Ranyin said, keeping his pace deliberate and unhurried. “Cao Zhengbin’s location…”
“Captain Huo, we’ve successfully locked the signal!” Zhong Xiaojin’s voice crackled through the line.
“…isn’t far from here. I’ll handle this myself and coordinate with the local authorities,” Huo Ranyin finished.
“Alright.”
Huo Ranyin turned to leave. In his earpiece, Zhong Xiaojin debriefed him: “The trace places Meng Fushan right here in Fujian, in a coastal city. From where you are, it’s only an hour’s ride on the high-speed rail. We’ve already mobilized the local precinct, and they’re deploying personnel for the bust right now.”
“I’m en route,” Huo Ranyin said.
“Huo Ranyin—” Ji Xun called out behind him.
He looked back.
Ji Xun gave him a long, unreadable look. “Be careful out there.”
He offered a tight smile in return. “I will.”
The man left.
Ji Xun stood in the silence for a moment before bringing the phone back to his ear. “Meng Fushan…”
Outside, the car hurtled down the highway.
The city streets blurred into a neon smear against the dark night, strobing across the windows in long, jagged streaks of light.
The driver was flooring it, but Huo Ranyin’s mind was moving faster than the engine. It felt as though his thoughts had grown wings, flying over the pitch-black sky to land directly in the coastal city, moving step-by-step alongside the local tactical teams.
This unspeakable urgency forced him to check his watch again and again.
The hours just before the dawn are always the most excruciating.
Fortunately, the faint murmur of Ji Xun and Meng Fushan’s voices remaining in his earpiece offered a small anchor to his fraying patience.
Meng Fushan still hadn’t hung up.
However, as the minutes bled away, Meng Fushan grew quieter, leaving Ji Xun to carry the entirety of the conversation. Meng Fushan was wavering, calculating, trying to determine if meeting Ji Xun posed an existential threat.
Huo Ranyin checked his watch once more.
Ten minutes had passed since he walked out of the hotel.
The local tactical units had arrived on-site and should be moving on the coordinates at any second. The signal they were tracking had remained stationary during this window.
Suddenly, a voice cut into his operations line, relaying live updates from the field.
“Local units have arrived at the coordinates.”
“It’s a non-residential area.”
“Perimeter is secure. Moving to box them in.”
Huo Ranyin could faintly hear the tactical commander shouting orders through the feed, demanding Meng Fushan step out with his hands up.
There was no response from the target.
Simultaneously, the audio from his surveillance earpiece went dead. Ji Xun had gone completely silent.
Through Meng Fushan’s phone, Ji Xun had undoubtedly heard the police megaphones as well.
Huo Ranyin’s relentless drive to hunt down Meng Fushan faltered for a fraction of a second as his mind flashed back to the hotel. Once Meng Fushan was captured, what would happen to Ji Xun…?
“Breaching the perimeter now,” the tactical feed crackled.
“Where is he?” Huo Ranyin demanded instinctively.
“The target is…”
High above in the ink-black sky, the crescent moon hung thin and sharp, resembling a silver scimitar. Its cold, frosted light sliced through the darkness, casting long shadows across the distant sea and bleeding onto the peeling vermilion pillars of an old temple.
The pale light illuminated the face of a statue of Mazu.
The goddess’s painted robes were faded, her features chipped by time, yet her benevolent, tranquil smile remained fixed.
Beneath her stone slippers, atop the dust-covered altar, sat an array of neglected offering plates. In one of them lay a mobile phone. Directly beside it was a digital recorder, looping a pre-recorded track of Meng Fushan’s voice.
A decoy. Meng Fushan had slipped the noose hours ago.
Ji Xun hung up the phone.
He began to pack his things, though there was very little to gather. A phone, an ID card—that was all he needed to step out into the world.
He opened the mini-fridge, pulled out a bottle of vodka, and twisted off the cap. He poured the clear spirit into two glasses filled with ice—one for himself, one for Huo Ranyin. Then, lifting his glass, he tapped it lightly against the other.
Clink.
The amber-tinted liquid sloshed against the frozen cubes like waves hitting a snow-capped peak.
He threw his head back and downed it in one smooth swallow. Shrugging into his coat, he walked out the door.
The tactical update hit Huo Ranyin like a physical blow.
In a flash of realization, Huo Ranyin barked into his phone: “How did Meng Fushan know he was bugged? Can the local team trace his escape route?”
“They’re working on it,” Zhong Xiaojin replied, his voice tense. “They’re scrubbing nearby surveillance, but Meng Fushan picked his spot perfectly. Coverage is dead there. With his background in counter-reconnaissance, he’s likely long gone.”
There was no point in continuing to the raid site now. Huo Ranyin snapped at the driver: “Turn around. Back to the hotel. Now.”
Ji Xun was still at the hotel. He had heard the police raid through the phone. Did he know? Had he realized what Huo Ranyin had done? No, there was no doubt about it—he already knew.
The car tore through the night. By the time Huo Ranyin sprinted back into the hotel lobby, exactly thirty minutes had passed since his departure.
He reached Ji Xun’s door and knocked hard.
Silence greeted him.
“Ji Xun?” he called out, his voice sharp. Still no answer.
Is he furious?
Huo Ranyin hesitated for two seconds before pulling out his phone to call him directly. The line didn’t even ring—it went straight to voicemail. Ji Xun had turned off his phone.
A cold dread pooled in Huo Ranyin’s stomach. Without another thought, he raised his leg and kicked the door open.
The door swung back, revealing a room that looked almost identical to how he had left it.
The blackboard covered in clues still stood in the corner; the laptop sat on the desk; a coat hung over the back of the chair; the sheets were tossed aside.
But the room was missing its occupant.
Ji Xun was gone.
In his place sat something new. Right next to the laptop was a glass of vodka, condensation pooling around its base, radiating a faint, icy mist.
Huo Ranyin’s heart sank, heavy as a lead weight, tearing open a void that threatened to swallow him whole.
He walked over to the desk and stared down at the glass.
This sudden, deliberate offering left right beside the computer…
Huo Ranyin’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. They were trembling slightly.
Though no alcohol had crossed his lips, his thoughts were boiling, every cell in his brain screaming as if he had consumed a lethal dose of adrenaline.
He replayed every single detail of his interactions with Ji Xun today, backward and forward—
Ji Xun asking about the phone charger.
Ji Xun reaching out to touch his hair near his ear.
Ji Xun had known all along that he was here for Meng Fushan. When did he find out? The very first second he saw him?
He hit a key.
The screen flared to life.
The laptop unlocked, displaying an image that Huo Ranyin recognized instantly—the trash collection station behind Juanshan Village.
Huo Ranyin’s fist slammed onto the desk. With a violent sweep of his arm, he sent the glass of vodka flying. The liquid and ice arced through the air in a glittering curve before shattering violently against the floorboards.
A dark, bitter laugh escaped his throat. He finally understood exactly when Ji Xun had seen through him.
It wasn’t today. It wasn’t when they met. It was before he had even arrived, back when Huo Ranyin had first scouted that trash station!
Huo Ranyin had only started planting wiretaps after they reconnected. But Ji Xun? Before they had even laid eyes on each other, the moment he received Meng Fushan’s letter, he had already anticipated the trap and rigged the trash station with his own cameras, waiting patiently to catch the foolish fish swimming into his net.
Ji Xun had done this intentionally.
The exact moment he received Meng Fushan’s call, he was already orchestrating the man’s escape. He had mapped out every variable, positioning himself perfectly in the blind spot of the law so that no matter how many times the police reviewed the audio logs, they would never find a single legal lever to pull against him.
He had calculated everything.
Meng Fushan was gone.
And where was Ji Xun now?
Huo Ranyin stood frozen for a few agonizing seconds before turning on his heel and sprinting out of the room.
The figure that had rushed up the stairs just minutes ago was now flying down them.
In the hotel’s quiet tea room, Ji Xun watched Huo Ranyin’s frantic departure reflected in the mirrored wall.
He finished his tea without a hint of haste, waiting until the GPS tracker on his new phone—monitoring the tag he had slipped into Huo Ranyin’s jacket—showed the detective heading rapidly toward the local high-speed rail station. Only then did he stand up, walk out to the street, and hail a cab.
“The airport,” he told the driver.
Given the thirty-minute window, Huo Ranyin would calculate that Ji Xun wouldn’t have enough time to clear airport security and check-in, making the high-speed rail—where one could buy a ticket and board almost instantly—the logical destination to cut him off.
Ji Xun hadn’t broken a single civil law on paper, meaning the police had no legal grounds to issue a warrant for his arrest.
Evading the grid of the police force was an immense challenge; misleading Huo Ranyin, however, was simple.
He didn’t need to guess Huo Ranyin’s deductions. He only needed to monitor the tracking software he had quietly activated on Huo Ranyin’s phone to map his movements in real-time.
Surveillance, after all, goes both ways.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please: We are now ready for boarding…”
The announcement echoed through the terminal.
Ji Xun passed through the boarding gate, blending seamlessly into the queue of passengers making their way down the jet bridge.
The flight wasn’t crowded. Despite purchasing his ticket at the absolute last minute, he had still managed to secure a window seat.
During the day, this seat would offer a sprawling view of the patterned fields below and the brilliant blue sky above. At night, however, the landscape was entirely swallowed by a rising tide of darkness.
He sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the safety briefing as the plane began its slow taxi toward the runway. Suddenly, a low murmur of commotion rippled through the cabin.
Several passengers began turning their heads, peering out the cabin windows.
A sudden intuition struck him. He looked down at his phone; the GPS dot representing Huo Ranyin had indeed converged on his immediate location.
He turned his head toward the window.
Through the massive, brightly lit glass facade of the airport terminal, a silhouette was throwing itself against the glass. From this distance, the features were a blurred smear, but Ji Xun’s eyes instantly locked onto the black leather jacket—and the brilliant splash of crimson pinned to the chest.
The rose he had given him this morning.
The figure raised a hand, slamming a heavy fist against the reinforced glass. Nearby, airport security staff in uniform were already closing in, drawn by the disturbance.
Ji Xun pulled out his phone, switched to the camera, and zoomed in on the window.
Huo Ranyin’s face finally came into sharp focus on the screen.
The detective’s mouth was open, shouting his name into the void of the tarmac, a desperate soul who had broken through a closed boarding gate just to watch the plane roll away.
Ji Xun—Ji Xun—
“Huo Ranyin,” Ji Xun murmured silently, his lips shaping the name against the cold glass.
He saw the detective’s hand drop toward his hip, then pull back empty. He wasn’t carrying a weapon. An unsanctioned operation meant no service pistol.
Otherwise, the fury in those eyes would have manifested as a muzzle flash.
Bang—
An imaginary gunshot echoed loudly in Ji Xun’s mind.
A soft smile touched his lips. He pressed his palm flat against the small window, overlaying his hand over Huo Ranyin’s distant face, offering a silent, glass-walled caress.
The aircraft accelerated down the runway, gaining speed. His angle of view shifted from a direct gaze to a sharp tilt, until finally, the only thing visible through the blur of motion was a flash of crimson petals falling from a leather pocket, crushed beneath the heel of a rushing passerby.
The scattered red fragments looked like droplets of fresh blood on the concrete.
Then, even the red vanished, leaving only his own empty hand pressed against the dark pane.
The plane roared, lifting off into the night, leaving the world behind.
