Tang Coco gunned it, the red Ferrari flickering through city lanes like a flame licking the wind. Even in a big place like Ninghai, law and order held tight like iron rails; a luxury badge didn’t buy free passes, and here came the consequence.

Wee-oo, wee-oo, wee-oo—

A black BMW police cruiser knifed through traffic behind her, siren carving the night like a sawblade.

Ugh, what a pain. Why are there traffic cops here too?

Annoyance flared first, hot as a spark. She checked the mirror, saw the lights clawing closer, and pushed the pedal as if pressing a storm deeper down.

Nope. If they catch me, it’s a mountain of trouble.

She let the engine howl.

Oh? You dare run? In my little Ninghai, someone dares street-race in front of me? If I don’t catch you tonight, I’ll drop the Ouyang name!

In the cruiser, a woman in black uniform spoke through gritted teeth, anger bright like forge-fire on polished features. Dark-brown hair was tied back, the snug cut of her uniform tracing a blade-straight figure.

Her name was Ouyang Lingrain. Yes, the same surname that would make you think of Ouyang Lingxue, Tang Coco’s classmate. Lingrain was Lingxue’s elder sister.

When Ouyang Lingtian returned to their home in Yanjing, he transferred Ouyang Lingrain from the Yanjing SWAT headquarters to Ninghai. He wanted more of his people settled in Ninghai City, roots like a net under the earth. Lingrain wasn’t having it; a SWAT captain shoved into a traffic captain’s chair stung like sand in the eye. Smoldering with nowhere to vent, she cruised the city, hunting a target like a storm hunts a ridge—then fate fed her Tang Coco. Sparks met tinder, and the chase lit up the night.

Whoa, since when are Huaguo’s traffic cops this dedicated?

Coco’s surprise bubbled up like soda under a cap. Her driving was crisp as a knife edge, but the cruiser stayed glued to her bumper like a shadow at noon. No choice—she cut across, angling for the mountain road. Up there, the curves were like a serpent’s spine, perfect for opening the throttle.

Vroom! Vroom!

The two cars arrowed uphill, a red spark chased by a black spear, the distance a tight drumbeat that never broke.

Dream on if you think you can shake me.

Lingrain’s eyes widened, and a soft orange ripple glowed there like embers behind glass. She wasn’t ordinary—she was a lower-tier Abnormal; her Anomaly Power was Quick Reaction. Her nerves fired four times faster than most, rain on a drumskin, so racing felt like catching falling leaves.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The sound slipped through the siren’s roar like a fish under ice. Coco frowned, the unease a small cold pebble in the gut, then heard another chirp inside the cabin. She scanned the dash and found the culprit: on the familiar instrument panel, a little oil-can icon flashed like a dying firefly.

Out of gas.

Meng Xiaoxiao, you could’ve told me your car was running dry!

Her protest thudded useless as a fist into fog. A few minutes later, the red Ferrari coughed and coasted, giving up at a rest stop carved into the mountain’s ribs.

Screech!

The black BMW swung ahead and snapped into a perfect drift, stopping like a show-off blade tapped against a whetstone.

The door opened. Ouyang Lingrain stepped out, hand resting on the pistol at her waist, and walked toward the Ferrari with a hunter’s steady tread.

Uh… it’s a woman? Working this hard at night?

Resignation first, a shrug at fate. Coco sighed and lifted her hands from the wheel.

Open up! Out of the car! Don’t make this harder than it needs to be!

Silence settled for a beat, a held breath in the pines. Then the Ferrari’s door lifted, and Tang Coco slid out.

Huh?

Lingrain froze a fraction. She’d pictured a drunk brute; instead, out stepped a white-haired girl in an anime-style school uniform, features carved fine as porcelain warmed by lamplight.

Officer sis, why chase me all this way?

Coco sweetened her voice like sugar on the rim, hoping to slide past on charm.

What do you do, exactly? Why are you dressed like that in the middle of the night?

Suspicion rose like mist from a ditch. The outfit, the hour—her mind slanted dark.

Such a pretty girl, doing that kind of thing… what a waste.

I’m going home. You’re the one who kept chasing me, right?

Coco blinked big, glossy eyes, the picture of innocence hanging like a lantern.

Uh…

The cuteness hit like a soft pillow to the face. Lingrain shook it off, spine iron again.

Enough. You were speeding, endangering others, and you’re dressed way too revealing for this hour. You’re coming to the station for questioning.

That’s a bit much, isn’t it?

Coco’s speech went dry, annoyance a thorn in her throat.

Hmph. With a face that pretty and no sense to treasure it—doing dirty work like that!

Excuse me?!

The word snapped like a flag in wind. Understanding struck: this officer had pegged her as that kind of girl. Heat rose, pride bristling like a cat’s fur.

Hey! Being a cop doesn’t mean you get to talk nonsense. What did I do that was dirty? Watch your mouth.

Oh? Temper showed up—done playing cute? Move it. You’re coming with me.

No way. I didn’t commit a crime. That’s all in your head.

Fine. Maybe that part’s my guess. But you were speeding—fact, right?

…

Coco ran out of excuses, the pause heavy as a dropped stone.

Hands out.

Lingrain’s tone was flat as steel. She drew the handcuffs from her belt, metal glinting like a crescent moon.

Tch. These toys?

Coco’s disdain flashed, quick as a knife. She darted forward to snatch the cuffs and give this officer a little wake-up call. A super mercenary getting cuffed by a regular cop? The rumor alone would kill her.

Reality bit back.

Click!

Coco’s fingers were about to brush the cuffs when Lingrain moved. Her hands flowed, reflexes snapping like a whip; the cuffs slipped past Coco’s grab and locked clean around her wrist.

What—

Shock bloomed cold. She’d underestimated her—thought she was just an ordinary policewoman, easy to handle. She hadn’t expected reflexes this sharp, this fast.

Hmph.

Lingrain’s snort was a short, contemptuous puff. She spun Coco smoothly, pinned the other arm, and cuffed her hands behind her back.

H-hey! Wait—hold on!

Coco’s voice jumped, surprise rattling like pebbles on a drum.

Hmph. I’m the SWAT captain from Yanjing. And you thought you could spar with me, little girl?

…

Regret hit like rain. Coco cursed her own carelessness—and she couldn’t use her Anomaly Power over something this petty.

Good. Now you’re coming with me. At the station, you’ll explain all the filthy things you’ve been up to.

Watch it! Don’t just make stuff up!

Another sharp exhale, and Lingrain guided—dragged—Coco into the cruiser. The black BMW rolled away into the night, taillights like twin embers fading down the serpent road, leaving a red Ferrari stranded at the rest stop, as empty as a spent lantern.