“How’d it go?”

Nana Toki stepped out of the stall, and Yu Lu with Zixia Chen closed in like twin shadows pooling under a lamp.

“Got it all out,” she said, handing Yu Lu an IV bag heavy with blood plasma, the plastic gleaming like wet bark.

“This guy’s mind is brittle glass—wave a few phantom blades and he spills everything.”

Kill someone? The thought hit her like cold rain on hot stone before her hands remembered the trick.

The System had drawn its boundary in iron: no killing; she would scare, not butcher.

She tied the plasma bag behind the chair so the drip looked like wrist blood, red threads crawling like vines.

The ice was only winter’s fingertip, numbing touch and blurring lines.

When she “cut” Er Mazi’s wrist, she used a dull blade, blunt as a river pebble; she never scratched him a hair.

He shattered himself at unseen ghosts, collapsing like a sandcastle under a black tide.

Nana slipped past Yu Lu and Zixia, two door-stones in her path, and went straight to the Si Family’s young lady, presence calm as a pond.

She lined up her words like chess pieces, then spoke slow.

“Kunwu Si’s gunrunning is smoke in the trees,” she said. “He wants overseas muscle to wipe the Si Family’s headquarters clean and seat himself as patriarch.”

“As for Er Mazi—his crew’s just black-trade partners in Kunwu’s ledger.”

“Er Mazi’s handoff with Kunwu’s people got bumped into by Zixia Chen, pure misstep, and the whole play fell apart.”

“So Er Mazi’s group stole state ordnance?” Yu Lu asked, fingers stroking his chin like sifting gravel.

“Of course,” Nana said, raising one finger like a cold spike. “One more crucial point.”

“Besides the batch Zixia first seized, Kunwu’s still got a cache that’s hard to move—things heavy as iron mountains.”

“Er Mazi didn’t know the specifics, but you can smell heavy weapons in that fog.”

“Management said this loss was massive—guns and ammunition like a flock the size of a storm,” Yu Lu muttered, face set like stone as he pulled out his phone.

“I’ll confirm,” he said, and walked off to a shadowed corner, his voice dropping like a pebble into a well.

“What do we do now?” Zixia asked, turning with wide eyes, her report clutched like a paper shield.

She knew this brushed the Si Family’s branch; a precinct captain shouldn’t point at a dragon’s scales.

“We wait,” Nana sighed, hands open like empty boats on a river.

“Kunwu’s trail is fog, but his rebellion is steel,” she said.

“If he wants a comeback, he’ll grab his stash and run for sea wind.”

“But right now, in X City, the Si Family holds up the sky with one hand; slipping out is like climbing the heavens.”

“Guess who can still lend him oars?”

“Who?” Zixia asked, cute and blank as a kitten staring at rain.

Nana stared. Was she truly that empty, or just playing mist?

“The Qin Family,” Qingyu Si said, willow brows tightening like drawn bows, her voice clear as a spring.

“Who gains or bleeds if Kunwu escapes overseas? Qin knows the scales; he’ll go knocking.”

“But with their patriarch’s temperament, they may not help him cross the water for real,” she added, the words cool as shade.

“Kunwu’s holding a fortune in state weapons,” she said. “Qin’s wealth grew by trade; they won’t let a golden river pass without dipping a net.”

“That won’t fly!” Zixia burst out, innocence flashing like white silk. “Those are state arms—how dare the Qin swallow them!”

“Aren’t they merchants? This risk’s a cliff!”

“Because it’s a cliff, merchants climb,” Nana said, palm to her brow like warding sun.

“You don’t really think Qin stands this steady in X City without dipping fingers in light and shadow.”

“And can you guarantee Qin won’t kill Kunwu, keep the stock, and ship profit overseas?” she added, voice flat as a blade laid on a table.

“I…” Zixia’s words snagged like a dress on thorns.

It was true.

In a city veined with black markets, the Qin Family’s roots weren’t fed by clear rain alone.

“Priority is to keep Kunwu inside X City,” Nana said, each word a stake. “Otherwise finding him is like fishing a needle from the sea.”

“I’ll brief my superiors,” Yu Lu said as he came back, the call ended, the air around him smelling of ink.

“The missing ordnance is still being confirmed. Give it a few days; there’ll be reports.”

“I have to return to X Capital to file,” he added. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Miss Si, Miss An—stay sharp for the next stretch,” he warned, eyes flicking over Nana and Qingyu like a hawk’s sweep.

“Word from Personnel: Qin’s hidden strength in X Capital has started to move. It ties to this storm.”

“What do I have to worry about?” Nana said, shrug rolling off her shoulders like a loosened cloak. “They’re not marching into my house to carve me, right?”

“Don’t waste care on me; just get me Kunwu’s trail.”

Yu Lu stared, a silent ellipsis heavy as dusk. This woman was truly brazen.

“Want me to call people to guard you?” Zixia asked, watching him hurry out of the station, concern fluttering like a small flag.

They were Si Family folk in black water, but right now she couldn’t scold; the case moved because of this master and maid.

“No need,” Nana said, waving it off like smoke. “Keep our usual rhythms.”

It wasn’t pride. Crowds mean too many eyes; trouble breeds in cornfields.

System: “Can you act human and finish the task? Quit chasing chaos.”

Nana Toki: “Stirring the pot is part of the task!”

…

After parting from Zixia at the station, Nana and Qingyu returned to the Si estate, the car gliding like a dark carp through streets.

They called Kongxiao Si at headquarters at once, their report crisp as winter air.

On the other end, Kongxiao’s brows jumped like startled grass; he ordered Qingyu to stay in for days, stick to Yiwei Yang’s side, and keep out of this storm.

Then he hung up and rushed off to report, footsteps a drumbeat down stone corridors.

He never expected the youth he hoped to win over wasn’t at the Si villa at all.

On the other side.

Yiwei Yang, after accepting a hidden quest, drifted through days of idleness like a leaf on slow water.

With the System’s golden cheat, he healed in mere days; discharge felt like cracking ice letting a river run.

He meant to ride the glow from that gala and get closer to Huaiyue Qin, but she had urgent business and returned to Qin headquarters.

Yiwei didn’t tag along; the timing felt wrong, like knocking on a locked door at midnight.

He didn’t go back to the Si Family to play bodyguard; he returned to his own home, a burrow of quiet.

He holed up and scrolled, phone light washing his face like moonshine, flirting online with strangers like tossing pebbles into different ponds.

By afternoon, the thought hit him late but sharp: he had a campus belle girlfriend he’d left on a shelf.

With Huaiyue gone, he figured idle hands should stack favor elsewhere; farm some System points like harvesting ripe fruit.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Mengmeng Feng, impatience thrumming like a live wire.

Beep… beep… beep… click.

“Hey, Mengmeng,” he said as soon as the line opened, voice honeyed like warm tea. “Got time today? Let’s go on a date.”

If Nana stood beside him, she’d whistle; that face was thick as city walls.

“Uh… I… I’m not feeling well today,” Mengmeng said, words shy as a small bird. “I don’t really want to go out.”

“You’re sick?” Yiwei’s brow folded like storm clouds. “How bad? I’ll come see you.”

“I’m off today.”

“No… don’t,” Mengmeng whispered, her voice small, a wilting petal. “Yiwei, you should spend more time with your employer.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No way,” he said, firm as a locked gate. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“What guy doesn’t care?”

“Stay home and rest. I’m coming over. Be good.”

He didn’t let her explain; he ended the call like snapping a twig, then dressed in a rush and headed out, steps quick as arrows.

…

What do I do?

Mengmeng sat on her bed, phone clutched like a lifeline, panic fluttering in her chest like trapped wings.

She’d waited for his call like waiting for spring, but now fear cooled her bones the way fog chills dawn.

If she hadn’t seen that scene that day, she would’ve said yes with a smile.

But now, since that day passed, her heart pulled two ways—wanting to see him, afraid of his face, a rope tug-of-war.

She knew Yiwei liked more than one woman—maybe he only liked her body, a hollow sweetness.

Yet in her deep water, she couldn’t let go; the thread of feeling held like silk around a finger.

What’s wrong with me?

Her heart thudded—bang, bang, bang—like drums before a battle.

Her parents weren’t home; when Yiwei arrived, what was she supposed to do?

She sat there, small and lost, phone in hand like a useless map, mind blank as mist.

And then—ding-dong!

The doorbell rang from downstairs, a bellflower shaking in the quiet.

Someone had come.