Ning Zhuo, without saying a word, grabbed Shan Feibai by the front of his clothes, lifting him and slamming him against the wall.
When he hit the wall, Shan Feibai, still recovering from his injuries, let out a short gasp.
Ning Zhuo didn’t care whether he was uncomfortable or not. Using his mechanical right arm, he seized Shan Feibai’s wrists, lifting both hands high above his head, pinning them firmly against the wall.
Ning Zhuo reached into Shan Feibai’s pocket, easily pulling out the problematic ID card.
He had no way of knowing its secrets, but he had vaguely guessed at some clues.
In his rage, he threw the card aside and began searching Shan Feibai to see what other incriminating things he might have hidden on him.
Ning Zhuo searched thoroughly, roughly rolling up Shan Feibai’s relatively thin shirt, pushing it up to reveal his lean stomach.
Ning Zhuo’s hand was always cold, like ice.
As his hand skimmed along the hem of Shan Feibai’s shirt, searching inch by inch, it caused Shan Feibai’s muscles to tremble slightly in response.
The skin under Ning Zhuo’s fingers grew hot, breaking out in tiny goosebumps along the way.
It seemed as if it was from the cold, or maybe from too much excitement.
Shan Feibai allowed Ning Zhuo to search him, lowering his eyelashes as he looked down at Ning Zhuo from a slightly higher vantage point. His gaze held the same intensity and focus as a prey silently observing its hunter from the shadows.
Ning Zhuo didn’t notice how Shan Feibai was looking at him.
After searching Shan Feibai thoroughly and finding nothing more, Ning Zhuo finally felt a bit at ease. He shifted his grip to hold Shan Feibai down by his collarbone, then curled his mechanical right thumb and pressed a button on the side of his index finger.
The wrist compartment opened, and a steel restraint strap was ejected.
Ning Zhuo held the restraint like a whip and gave a sharp order: “Stand on your tiptoes.”
Shan Feibai shrugged and obediently complied.
Ning Zhuo deftly pressed the restraint strap against his throat.
With the cold sound of gears and mechanics clicking into place, Shan Feibai’s neck was immediately locked against the wall.
To get a bit of fresh oxygen, he could only maintain his tiptoeing posture.
Ning Zhuo pulled up a chair and sat down.
Shan Feibai, still locked in place, kindly reminded him, “You should sit on the bed.”
Ning Zhuo replied, “Shut up.”
Shan Feibai didn’t listen: “The bed is softer.”
Ning Zhuo refused to engage in trivial arguments with Shan Feibai.
He immediately began an interrogation that involved only the two of them: “You went out?”
“Mm,” Shan Feibai admitted honestly, “Ning-ge knows, I hate being cooped up. I hadn’t been to the ‘Haina’ in a while, so I wanted to revisit the old place. I accidentally saw some things I shouldn’t have seen… and overheard some things I shouldn’t have heard.”
His tone was filled with admiration and praise: “Jin Charlemagne killed another Jin Charlemagne. Ge, how did you come up with such a brilliant idea?”
Ning Zhuo’s fist, resting on the back of the chair, clenched tightly in anger: “Do you have a death wish?”
Shan Feibai responded: “No, Ning-ge, we’re in this together, both daring fate equally.”
He smilingly unraveled the truth in just a few words: “The man on the ninth floor isn’t the real Jin Charlemagne. He just switched the medicine. The real Jin Charlemagne is already dead—the one who got shot in the head by his own father yesterday.”
Ning Zhuo lowered his head, rubbing his pale knuckles.
Earlier, he had been thinking about how to deal with Shan Feibai.
Now, he was seriously considering “dealing with” Shan Feibai for good.
Calmly, he asked, “You know Jin Charlemagne?”
“Yeah.”
Shan Feibai nodded lightly, casually saying, “Elementary school classmates. We weren’t close. He’s been a scumbag since he was a kid.”
Ning Zhuo let out a simple “Oh,” as if something made sense.
That single sound ushered in a long stretch of silence.
Shan Feibai’s tone grew slightly displeased: “Ning-ge, I don’t like what you’re thinking right now.”
Ning Zhuo: “Which part?”
Shan Feibai: “Two things: You want to kill me. And you think I’m just like Jin Charlemagne. I don’t like either.”
“What difference is there between you and him?”
Ning Zhuo ignored the first part of Shan Feibai’s statement, sneering with a mocking tone: “…A spoiled rich kid from a big company?”
“Jin Charlemagne is nothing,” Shan Feibai retorted without hesitation, boldly declaring, “He can’t even touch the hem of your clothes. I can leave more of myself on you than he ever could.”
Before Shan Feibai could finish speaking, an enraged Ning Zhuo pressed his hand against Shan Feibai’s side.
A stream of electric current shot out, forming a beautiful arc of electricity that traveled up Shan Feibai’s chest, branding his skin with a rose-like pattern of electric burns.
The moment Shan Feibai was shocked, his body convulsed violently, collapsing weakly. The neck restraint tightened around his throat, causing him to cough uncontrollably.
Struggling with a desperate will to survive, he forced himself to stand back up.
It took him a long time to catch his breath, almost long enough to make someone think he had passed out.
Finally, he closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath as tiny beads of sweat dripped down.
His hair was dark, and his face pale, a combination that made him look pitifully vulnerable.
Soon, Shan Feibai half-closed his eyes and said something that once again made Ning Zhuo furious: “Ge, are you angry?”
Of course Ning Zhuo was angry.
His original plan had been that since Shan Feibai had already offended some people, offending a few more wouldn’t make a difference. The goal was to ruin Shan Feibai’s standing in the mercenary world so that he’d cause fewer problems for Ning Zhuo.
He had wanted Shan Feibai to lay low after surviving this storm and obediently return to his family, never to appear in front of him again.
But now, Shan Feibai had sneaked out and, by sheer luck, had gotten hold of Ning Zhuo’s fatal weakness!
The thought that this troublesome person was someone he had personally dragged out of the fire made Ning Zhuo bristle with irritation.
But since this unpredictable variable now existed, there was no way Ning Zhuo would ever let Shan Feibai leave the “Haina” again.
“Ning-ge, don’t be mad anymore.”
Due to the electric shock, Shan Feibai’s body was still involuntarily twitching, but it didn’t stop him from boldly provoking Ning Zhuo: “Anger is bad for your health, leads to an early death. Have you forgotten what we agreed on back then…”
Ning Zhuo: “Agreed on what?”
Shan Feibai blinked, abruptly cutting off his words. He gave Ning Zhuo a serious once-over from head to toe.
After some scrutiny, not being able to tell if Ning Zhuo had truly forgotten what they had “agreed on,” Shan Feibai had no choice but to purse his lips in disappointment: “…Nothing.”
As he spoke, he somehow fished out a mint candy, tore open the wrapper, and placed it in his mouth, to soothe the metallic taste of blood lingering in his throat.
Ning Zhuo frowned.
Just now, he had thoroughly searched Shan Feibai’s entire body.
Where could the candy have come from?
And the wrapper looked vaguely familiar…
Before he could figure out where the candy came from, the thief confessed on his own.
“When Ning-ge searched me earlier, I swiped it from your pants pocket.”
Shan Feibai, shameless as ever, threw the candy into his mouth, impatient to let it dissolve. He bit down with a crunch and started fiddling with the candy wrapper in his hand. “Ge, are you looking for the ‘Tuner’ for something?”
Ning Zhuo: “…”
He had low blood sugar, so whenever he saw candy, he had a habit of grabbing a couple to keep close by, just in case.
At Minggang Road No. 76, he had indeed pocketed two mint candies meant for guests.
…The candy wrapper naturally bore the logo of the “Tuner.”
“Yes, I have business with them. I was just about to tell you.”
Taking this opportunity, Ning Zhuo spoke clearly and candidly: “I came up with a plan to make ‘White Shield’ believe that it was your ‘Pangqiao’ who stole and broadcasted their surveillance.”
This time, it was Shan Feibai’s turn to be stunned.
The mint candy slowly dissolved in his warm mouth, and that penetrating coolness must have seeped right into his brain.
Shan Feibai wasn’t stupid; he absolutely understood what this implied.
When Ning Zhuo took action, he didn’t just help him, he had offended “White Shield,” a law enforcement agency.
From now on, life wouldn’t be easy for “Pangqiao.”
Shan Feibai, with his dark, clear eyes, stared unblinkingly at Ning Zhuo for a long time, before a bitter smile slowly surfaced, revealing a faint, unhappy dimple. “Ning-ge, that’s pretty harsh.”
“Pangqiao” was his life’s work, and Ning Zhuo knew all too well where to stab him to make it hurt.
Ning Zhuo, with a soft voice, handed over the invisible daggers, one by one: “If you want to protect your subordinates and don’t want ‘Pangqiao’ to be labeled as human traffickers or electronic drug dealers, you should disband it.”
Ning Zhuo’s hatred for “Pangqiao” was unmistakable, without any hint of concealment.
He remembered all too well how “Pangqiao” had initially made its name.
Feigning nonchalance, Ning Zhuo reached out and rubbed his shoulder, as if there was an old pain lingering there.
It was like rheumatism, usually dormant and unnoticed, but when it flared up, it was unbearable.
On the other hand, Shan Feibai didn’t stay down for long.
In the time Ning Zhuo was distracted, he had already gathered his thoughts.
“‘Pangqiao’ can’t be disbanded.” His thoughts were clear, and he had already made up his mind. “If it scatters, it’ll be even harder to protect lives.”
Listening between the lines, Ning Zhuo wasn’t a fool.
He eyed Shan Feibai. “Not only do you want to stay, but you want ‘Pangqiao’ to stay at ‘Haina’ too?”
Shan Feibai boldly stated, “We’re already here, aren’t we? As long as I’m here, they won’t leave.”
Ning Zhuo suddenly felt a headache coming on.
It was already a huge pain to temporarily keep Shan Feibai here, and now he had to deal with accommodating the entirety of “Pangqiao,” along with its leader who was hellbent on protecting them. Who knows how many more troubles would arise?
Damn it, might as well kill him.
As Ning Zhuo’s thoughts reached a boiling point, Shan Feibai started acting up again.
“Yeah, Ning-ge could just kill me.” He confidently tilted his head, “Half of ‘Pangqiao’ is still out there. If I die, the two sides will go to war, and ‘White Shield’ will sit back and watch. Is that part of Ning-ge’s plan too?”
Ning Zhuo didn’t respond and felt a slight sway in his body.
He knew his physical and mental state had reached its breaking point after continuous exhaustion. He could no longer hold on.
Everything that had happened over the past 24 hours was the result of years of planning.
And in the more distant future, he had even more things to do.
He needed to start conserving his energy.
However, whether it was due to spending too much effort dealing with Shan Feibai, Ning Zhuo realized he hadn’t seen any of the painful hallucinations of his family for many hours.
Ning Zhuo stepped forward, deactivated the “restraint” mode on the collar but didn’t remove it.
He switched it to “control” mode.
The steel collar tightly encircled Shan Feibai’s neck.
A small red light flickered faintly on the side of Shan Feibai’s neck.
Drawing on the last bit of his energy, Ning Zhuo said, “I’ve turned off the location restriction. If you leave me by more than ten steps, the collar will tighten completely. Go ahead, try it.”
Shan Feibai was free again, but not by much.
He blinked, realizing that Ning Zhuo wouldn’t kill him to avoid further complications.
His life was safe.
In other words, he could act up again.
Shan Feibai touched the ring of bruises forming on his neck, obediently saying, “I’m not leaving. But will sleeping on the bed kill me?”
Ning Zhuo was utterly exhausted. His ears buzzed, and he couldn’t quite hear clearly, but he refused to show any hint of weakness and forced himself to respond, “Yes.”
It was a lie.
But Ning Zhuo wasn’t worried about the other killing him while he slept.
At this moment, the two of them were holding onto each other’s secrets—one wanting to pull the other into danger as a shield. This created a delicate balance between them.
Besides, Shan Feibai had no intention of killing him.
Over the years, Ning Zhuo was convinced that Feibai would never give him a swift end. In fact, he probably wished to drive him mad and frustrate him to death instead.
With this thought, Ning Zhuo lay down on the not-so-soft bed without even bothering to pull up the blanket, as if he didn’t plan on sleeping for long.
“Ge, tell me, who is the person on the 9th floor?” Shan Feibai, still curious and oblivious to danger, pressed on. “He replaced one of his faces with King Charlemagne’s. He must hate him so much.”
Even in his drowsiness, Ning Zhuo didn’t let anything slip. “Plenty of people hate Jin Charlemagne. You don’t like him either.”
Shan Feibai continued, “Since we’re on the same boat now, Ning-ge, you should tell me more. Maybe I can help you.”
Ning Zhuo let out a vague laugh.
That laugh meant, “I don’t want to talk—get lost.”
Shan Feibai persisted, “It takes a hundred years of cultivation to cross a river in the same boat.”
Too tired to entertain his nonsense, Ning Zhuo firmly spat out two words, “Go to sleep.”
His voice was weak.
He hadn’t slept in over forty hours, and the moment his head touched the pillow, sleep overwhelmed him.
Noticing that Ning Zhuo had fallen quiet, it took only a few blinks before the room was filled with the sound of even, steady breathing. Shan Feibai, emboldened, tiptoed closer to him.
One step, then another.
He took the risk of standing right by the bed, a faint smile forming on his lips.
He didn’t die.
Shan Feibai’s thick skin was truly something else.
Although Ning Zhuo had clearly forbidden him from getting on the bed, Shan Feibai thought to himself, “I’ve already been electrocuted—if I don’t get on the bed, wouldn’t that shock have been in vain?”
Shan Feibai skipped over the part about “crossing the river in the same boat” and directly moved on to “sharing a bed.”
With practiced ease, he slipped into what should have been Ning Zhuo’s side of the blanket, curling up for a while to warm it up. Then, with extremely light movements, he gently nudged the blanket over Ning Zhuo, who hadn’t covered himself.
In this moment, Shan Feibai couldn’t help but feel that Ning Zhuo was somewhat pitiable—so cold, as if he could never be warmed up.
He was even prepared for Ning Zhuo to wake up and kick him out of bed.
To Shan Feibai’s surprise, Ning Zhuo didn’t wake up.
Ning Zhuo had always been busy, never stopping until he was utterly exhausted. He would just find a place to rest, or perhaps pass out for a while.
It had happened many times before—the members of “Haina” would often find a sleeping Ning Zhuo in various corners of the base.
Ning Zhuo had extremely low standards for his quality of life and had long grown accustomed to random blankets being placed on him after he’d fallen asleep.
He was used to it. When he woke up, he’d casually toss the blanket aside and leave, as if it had grown out of the ground.
So, Ning Zhuo lay there under the warm, dry blanket, completely unaware and utterly at ease.
Perhaps because a long-standing burden had been lifted from his mind, or perhaps because Shan Feibai’s youthful warmth was nearby, Ning Zhuo slept far longer and deeper than he had intended.
In his dreams, he returned to the early winter of his eighteenth year.
