Shan Feibai took Ning Zhuo to a restaurant that wasn’t particularly luxurious, which somewhat surprised him.
He had expected the little wolf cub to fleece him for a fortune.
Shan Feibai was clearly familiar with the place.
He didn’t even glance at the menu, just sat there until a manager dressed in a traditional Tang suit approached him with a warm smile.
Shan Feibai was skilled at charming others, his voice soft and coaxing as he greeted, “Auntie Su, hello!”
Ning Zhuo raised an eyebrow.
The manager was evidently well-acquainted with Shan Feibai. “Feibai, it’s been a while! What do you want to eat today?”
“I brought a friend today!” He quickly ordered a few dishes. “We’re heading out to handle some business after this, so please keep an eye on things.”
With that, he leaned closer to Auntie Su, whispering a couple of instructions.
Auntie Su looked at Shan Feibai with warmth, and her gaze softened even toward Ning Zhuo. “Alright.”
According to Shan Feibai, this restaurant was an investment by his grandmother, Shan Yunhua. “Auntie Su” had been a struggling young woman years ago, hardworking and capable, handpicked by his grandmother to manage the place.
Over the years, whenever Shan Feibai craved some home-cooked comfort food, he’d come to Auntie Su.
As they spoke, the food arrived.
The main dish was a thick yam and millet porridge, laced with a touch of coconut milk.
Shan Feibai served Ning Zhuo a full bowl without asking. “You’re treating, I’m paying. Drink up—this is good for your stomach.”
Ning Zhuo was never picky about food, capable of swallowing anything without batting an eye.
He gave a soft “mm,” and only when the warm, soothing porridge slid down his throat did he realize—this meal was for him.
…Shan Feibai was worried about his stomach.
The belated realization of this kindness made Ning Zhuo feel a bit awkward, though the sweet coconut flavor lingering in his mouth was unmistakable.
Ning Zhuo lowered his eyes, trying to treat the meal as just another ordinary one.
But his stomach betrayed him, warming his heart and leaving his limbs soft and tingly.
A delicious home-cooked meal left him with a light sweat, thoroughly satisfying.
Shan Feibai stole glances at Ning Zhuo, noticing his expression remained impassive, though he ate more than he had in prison. Feeling a bit smug, Shan Feibai’s eyes curved into secret smiles multiple times.
Ning Zhuo, used to hardship, wasn’t sure if it was right to feel so genuinely relaxed and content over a meal. He paid no mind to Shan Feibai’s cheeky expressions or subtle flirtations.
When the meal ended, Auntie Su returned, her smile warm. “How was it?”
Shan Feibai dutifully pulled out his wallet to pay, his tone as charming as ever. “Even better than before! Thank you, Auntie Su!”
He nudged Ning Zhuo’s foot under the table.
Ning Zhuo: ?
Catching on, Ning Zhuo looked up and, in a cool but polite tone, echoed, “Thank you, Auntie Su.”
Auntie Su let out a soft “ai,” her gaze toward him even gentler.
Ning Zhuo nodded, stood, and said to Shan Feibai, “I’ll go get the car.”
As soon as Ning Zhuo left, Shan Feibai reached out to her. “Auntie Su, is it ready?”
Auntie Su placed a stomach-soothing recipe list on the table but didn’t hand it over immediately.
She tapped the edge of the menu with her slender fingers, her warm smile tinged with slyness. “He’s ‘that person,’ isn’t he?”
Shan Feibai, excited, asked eagerly, “He’s great, right?”
Auntie Su chuckled.
From what she knew of Shan Feibai, he was narcissistic and loved to show off, like a little peacock. Yet when it came to Ning Zhuo, he didn’t say, “Look at my great taste,” but rather, “He’s great, right?”
It showed just how much Ning Zhuo meant to him.
Auntie Su: “You said before you wanted to learn cooking from me. Was that also to make food for him?”
“Yeah. Back then, I always regretted not knowing how to cook. Maybe if I had, he would’ve stayed with me.” Shan Feibai’s eyes sparkled. “Now, I don’t think about that as much. I just want him to be well and comfortable.”
Five minutes later, after chatting with Auntie Su, Shan Feibai hopped into the car with light steps.
Ning Zhuo glanced at him through the rearview mirror, their eyes meeting briefly.
Shan Feibai flashed a mischievous grin, softening Ning Zhuo’s usually cool expression for a moment.
He asked, “Full?”
Getting a nod, Ning Zhuo started the car. “Then let’s go meet that important person.”
The android, tucked away in the trunk, lay dormant, unaffected by hunger or cold.
But its controller, Motobu Ryo, who had been listless for days, perked up sharply at those words.
They were rushing to meet an “important” person after dinner?
Was it Takeshi?
Or someone working with them from the inside?
Motobu Ryo took two deep breaths, waiting with bated anticipation.
An hour and a half later, the road under the car transitioned from smooth asphalt to uneven old pavement, then to rough gravel.
The wind outside grew loud and sharp, suggesting they’d reached a wide, desolate suburban area.
As time passed, Motobu Ryo’s suspicions grew clearer.
He sat rigid in his leather chair, fingers rubbing his stubbled chin, eyes glued to a red dot on his computer screen moving steadily toward a remote mountainous area.
When his eyes began to sting from staring, the red dot suddenly stopped.
Motobu Ryo’s hands, slick with cold sweat, clenched tightly. He focused intently on the screen, turning the receiver’s volume to maximum—
The next second, he nearly fell off his chair.
A deafening boom erupted from the receiver, nearly shattering his heart!
—What happened?!
Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai, after securing their seatbelts tightly, positioned the car’s rear against a natural rock wall and stopped.
After exchanging a glance, Ning Zhuo slammed the car into reverse, crashing the rear into the rock wall!
A thunderous crash shook the android’s frame, as if it were trapped in a giant sealed can, tossed and slammed around in the confined space!
The trunk crumpled and jammed shut instantly.
Ning Zhuo eased the car forward twenty meters, then reversed at high speed, smashing into the rock wall again!
With another booming crash, the android spun like it was in a high-speed centrifuge, its head snapping off and folding into its chest.
The trunk loosened slightly from the impact.
As the battered car moved forward again, one of the android’s arms dangled limply out.
Ning Zhuo, merciless, went for a third hit.
As Motobu Ryo, heart pounding, fumbled for his heart medication and shakily poured it into his mouth, Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai leapt out of the car. They strode to the rear, yanking out the android’s broken, headless, twisted-jointed body.
Before it could resist, Ning Zhuo swiftly snapped its neck, tossing the sparking head aside.
The driverless taxi began blaring its alarm.
This vehicle was property of Ruiteng Company.
Driverless cars often faced various issues.
Some drivers lacked skill, wrecking the car into scrap; others, greedy, tried to modify the vehicle for their own use.
When damage occurred, the car would immediately sound an alarm and report the approximate damage to Ruiteng’s headquarters.
Ruiteng’s accident response team, scattered across Silver Hammer City, had more eyes and ears than even the “White Shield” security force.
Within five minutes, professional staff arrived.
Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai didn’t flee. They waited, then tossed the broken android in front of the responders.
Before the staff could speak, Ning Zhuo, face cold, demanded, “How does your company’s taxi end up with something this dangerous? If I hadn’t noticed this thing in the trunk halfway through the trip, what would’ve happened if it followed us home and robbed us?”
Shan Feibai chimed in, “It scared me to death.”
The response team had handled countless incidents, but a customer pulling an android from the trunk was a first.
Still, Ning Zhuo’s concern was undeniably serious.
If a robber had indeed slipped into a driverless taxi, Ruiteng’s slogan of “Safe Home, Happy Home” for their flagship driverless taxi service would take a major hit.
But logically, this shouldn’t have happened.
The safety system of the driverless taxi was developed by Ruiteng’s subsidiary, Titan Company. When abnormal items were detected inside the vehicle, it couldn’t enter normal operation and would repeatedly sound an alarm.
The staff quickly pulled up the car’s driving records and found it had indeed been tampered with.
…He soon discovered the safety system had been temporarily modified.
Whenever Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai ordered a car after leaving prison, this specific vehicle would always be the one sent to them.
As for who held the car’s safety permissions?
The answer was obvious.
The staff frowned, realizing he’d stumbled into a significant problem.
With a flick of his fingers, he compiled photos of the scene, driving records, and preliminary findings, uploading them to the headquarters system. He apologized on behalf of Ruiteng, arranged a new driverless taxi for the two, waived both the ride and repair fees for Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai, and took Ning Zhuo’s contact information, promising to follow up with the resolution.
In handling the android, Ning Zhuo opted for an open strategy.
Once tangible damage was caused and logged in the accident response department’s records, the matter became public and impossible to suppress.
If he recalled correctly, Mr. Motobu Ryo was the CTO of Titan, a subsidiary of Ruiteng—a key technical figure.
But what if this technical figure exploited a security loophole in the parent company’s operations, causing trouble for Ruiteng?
Especially when he was already a major liability.
If Motobu Ryo fell, the “White Shield” would have fewer reservations, allowing them to “conclude” Laskin’s case sooner.
Ning Zhuo calculated calmly, driving the new sedan toward the “Haina” base.
After navigating the winding mountain road, Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai got out, sent the driverless taxi away, and walked toward the “Haina” entrance.
From a distance, they spotted the massive volcanic rock marking “Haina” and… Kuang Hexuan, pacing anxiously at the gate.
Kuang Hexuan, frantic as if the house were on fire, locked eyes with Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai. His face lit up, and he sprinted toward them.
“Boss, you’re finally back! Our people and…” Kuang Hexuan glanced at Ning Zhuo, “…Haina’s people got into a fight!”
Shan Feibai raised an eyebrow, hands in his pockets. “Who won?”
Kuang Hexuan’s face turned green. “You’re still asking that?!”
Seeing Kuang Hexuan’s distress, Ning Zhuo roughly guessed the outcome. “Who from our side?”
Kuang Hexuan pointed at Ning Zhuo. “That woman of yours! She’s like a damn lunatic!”
Shan Feibai was stunned. “…Min Min-Jie?”
He remembered Minmin as a steady yet lively woman, a big-sister type.
He couldn’t imagine what she’d look like “crazed.”
Shan Feibai asked, “Who started it?”
“It was us… No, wait! Not us!” Kuang Hexuan tried to explain. “Yu-ge got two tickets to the Columbus Concert Hall and asked who wanted to go. Who cares about that stuff? So he asked Haina’s people. Who’d have thought she’d pass by, see it, and just… snap without a word!”
Seeing Ning Zhuo fall into thought, Kuang Hexuan scratched the wall in frustration. “She’s too fierce—we can’t even get close! She’s wielding a knife, hacking at anyone who approaches! Your Boss Fu isn’t here, Yu-ge doesn’t know how to handle her, and Haina’s people haven’t seen her lose it like this either. It’s still a standoff!”
—
Author’s Note:
[Silver Hammer Daily]
Today’s Performance Information—
Columbus Concert Hall, located in Longwan District, is Silver Hammer City’s first auditorium designed and built specifically for musical performances.
Shaped like a sailing ship, the hall commemorates a group of adventurous young people.
Twelve years ago, they crowdfunded and built the “Columbus” to explore the world.
Later, the “Columbus” sank.
To honor them, we built the Columbus Concert Hall, grander and more magnificent than the original ship.
With splendid decor and an elegant atmosphere, it’s the perfect venue for high society to socialize, enjoy music, relax, and savor life’s finer moments~
Today’s Performance: Musical Shipwreck, tickets starting at 5,200 points.
Let’s revisit that poignant and thrilling tale of the shipwreck journey.
