They stood in the street; shopfront TVs kept chattering on autopilot, tin voices echoing across an empty road like birds calling over a dried riverbed. Sunlight poured from a pale sky—bright, yet it couldn’t warm this city’s husk.
“Young Master, what’s the plan now?” After sliding her black Desert Eagle back into the waist holster, Lin Yumo brushed her fringe like smoothing reeds. Her crimson eyes—embers under glass—lifted to the black‑haired youth a few paces ahead.
“Keep moving that way.” Lin Fan raised his tactical pad and pointed, a blade of intent aimed forward. “They’re hunting us now. We don’t chase; the prey comes to the net.”
“Understood, Young Master.” The emerald‑haired girl woke her special‑ops suit with a soft hum, like a hive opening. A two‑hundred‑meter mesh for warm bodies unfurled, catching human heat like fish in shallow water.
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“Blackfly, I swear, I never dreamed we’d live like this today.” The man who’d left Hu Fei’s office strutted out with fresh thugs in tow, a parade of street smoke.
“That’s ’cause your Blackfly’s got sharp eyes,” he crowed, riding the wind like a paper kite. “I read the weather, you ride my wave, and we all eat sweet.”
Blackfly floated, drunk on new power. The day he saw Hu Fei’s terrifying gift, his back trembled like a startled tiger; he dropped to his knees and called Hu Fei boss. Hu Fei, newly empowered and starving for submission, took him in without blinking. Blackfly already had a local name in the sludge; Hu Fei handed the remaining blocks to him and his boys, like tossing keys to a hungry dog.
“Move. Restaurant, now.” They rolled out of the building like a muddy tide.
“What’ll you big brothers eat today?” Wreckage was wreckage, but a body runs on grain; on the road they’d snagged a few chefs fleeing a shattered kitchen, and Blackfly kept them like netted carp.
“Just the usual fried rice. Hurry. We’re starving.” The wok sang; the rice came out with breath of fire, smoke curling like dragon whiskers. Even stolen hands cooked it so good the crew kept praising, mouths lit with grease.
“You got it.”
Blackfly soaked in this life like sun on a damp wall. It’d been only days; who knew how many were left? For his kind of story, this was already profit. When Hu Fei fell, he’d burrow somewhere and play a ruined citizen, a rat under fallen brick.
“Blackfly, our west‑side crew’s been out of touch for a while.” His goon leaned in, voice tight like a wire.
“They’re probably door‑to‑door raising hell.” Blackfly waved it off, fiddling with a luxury watch heavy as a brick, taken from a store bright as a reef. “We’ll swing by after we eat, see if we can scrape some sugar too.”
“Why d’you think rich folks love this thing? It’s heavy and bites the wrist, but yeah, it gleams like starlight.”
“Boss, check this.” A young punk tapped the huge diamond necklace hanging on his chest, a chunk of ice catching every lamp. “Gotta be worth hundreds of thousands. I wanna take it back to my mom. She’s never seen a stone this big—let alone bought one.”
“You got ideas, kid.” Blackfly didn’t cage his men’s wishes; his mind circled only the rice, a hawk over a field.
“Fried rice’s here!” The chefs carried plate after plate, steam rising like morning mist. The heat grabbed every eye, and the scent hooked every belly.
Cries of “So good!” and “Another bowl!” rolled like a tide without end. “Hey—you with the big gem—pack a portion for Boss Hu Fei. He loves it too.” Blackfly wiped his mouth and barked, “Everyone else, with me. We’re heading west!”
Lin Fan and Lin Yumo strolled one behind the other down the street, shadows paired like river reeds. The emerald‑haired girl moved quiet, a little cautious, keeping to his wake like a small boat trailing a larger hull. A shopfront made him slow, like a sudden eddy in the flow.
“Hm?” Lin Fan took a few steps and felt the familiar presence behind him thin like smoke. He turned. Lin Yumo stood with her head tilted, eyes caught like moths at a lamp, gazing at a storefront—cute as a kitten under rain.
He curved a small smile and backed up, the current reverses to glimpse the snag. What hooked her?
“Dingdang plush?” The pink shop was soot‑stained by blasts, a cherry petal smudged by ash. Inside, the toys sat untouched—who raids a doll store? Wrecking it wastes time and earns nothing.
Lin Yumo’s childhood had holes like moth‑bitten silk. To her, a toy shop had been a distant festival lantern. After entering the Lin Clan, forget seeing one—she barely saw the outside world at all.
The black‑haired youth shook his head, amusement and helplessness braided. “Feels like none of the girls around me are exactly normal.” He reached out and stroked her hair, gentle as a spring breeze on willow. “Go on. I know you love these. We’ve got a moment.”
Gratitude bloomed before action; she turned and smiled at Lin Fan, soft as dawn light. “Thank you, Young Master.” Then she dashed into the shop, a sparrow into blossom.
Lin Fan’s gaze caught on a giant plush in the window, and a quiet ache tugged him backward to the days he searched for Xiaoxue. He remembered a big plush on her family’s bed, a soft guardian cloud. “Does Xiaoxue love these too?” The thought drifted like pollen.
Inside, Lin Yumo’s eyes sparkled, sweeping the shelves like stars combing a night pond. “A super‑sized black‑and‑white bear pillow plush!” She went deeper, and a half‑height black‑and‑white bear sat on the floor like a patient friend. As a child, she’d barely seen cartoons; that black‑and‑white bear was the only one. The lone bear at home had been carried in by the butler, a secret treasure from beyond the walls. She had never dreamed she’d meet one this big, a mountain made of cotton.
“So soft—” She dove onto the bear, cheek rubbing fabric like fox fur, bliss bubbling like spring water. Her heart pulled, then steadied. If she tried to take it now, the Young Master wouldn’t allow it; better to wait till the mission ended. She hugged it hard a few more times, then rose reluctantly and slipped out, a tethered kite released.
“Nothing you liked?” Lin Fan asked, curious, watching her empty hands like empty moons.
“I did, but I can’t carry it now. We’ll get it when we’re back.” She smiled, sweet and simple, and stood behind him again, quiet as a leaf in shade.
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“Blackfly, something’s off. No matter how wild they go, they wouldn’t stay silent this long.” The words came tight, worry beating like a drum under skin.
Blackfly’s brows knotted like storm clouds. “Yeah, not right. Pull the surveillance. Everyone else, grab weapons. Feels like trouble’s crawling in.”
