Ji Tingxi had originally worn an expressionless mask, her eyes fixed forward like those of a scrutinizing machine. But after locking eyes with Wen Du, she stepped inside with natural ease, her gait leisurely as if she had simply wandered in while passing by—more normal than a breeze drifting through the door. At the same time, the corners of her straight lips curved into a smile, seamlessly transitioning from icy detachment to warm affability.
“Director Wen, what are you looking for?”
Wen Du slipped the reviewed document into a file box and snapped the lid shut. “Confirming where to put the items.”
Ji Tingxi leaned against the edge of the desk. Her sharp features grew even more pronounced under the light’s caress, the gray pupils unique to Homer people now brimming with emotional depth, verging on black.
“Oh? What items?”
“A confidential document the division needs within the next minute. I’ve reviewed it—no issues. I wanted to leave it on Section Chief An’s desk and go, but leaving it spread out on the table isn’t protocol. I need to find a proper place to store it.”
As she spoke, Wen Du’s knuckles bent, tapping the file box lid. Her eyelashes drooped naturally, her profile gleaming like porcelain under a layer of glaze—gentle yet cool, quietly serene.
Ji Tingxi’s gaze lingered on Wen Du’s face for a few moments, finding no cracks in her facade. Then it shifted to her fingers and the enigmatic box beneath them.
“Director Wen is so meticulous. No wonder she’s head of the Information Room. With you in charge, that intelligence is airtight.”
Wen Du gave a knowing smile, her brows and eyes curving downward. “Chief Ji always knows how to say the right thing. Come visit my office more often. Who knows—my intel might not just be encrypted; it could come with a touch of sweetness.”
After the pleasantries, she lifted her gaze, seizing the moment to withdraw. “You’re here for Section Chief An, right? I won’t keep you. He should be back any minute.”
With that, Wen Du sidestepped her, ready to make her exit. But the moment she moved behind Ji Tingxi, the other woman stepped across, blocking her path and sealing off the doorway.
The distance between them shrank even closer now, charged with subtle tension. From outside, it might have looked like an intimate conversation—or the prelude to something more.
“No, I’m here for you.”
Wen Du’s fingertips curled tightly in her palm, a faint tremor running through them. That familiar sensation washed over her again. She raised her eyes to meet Ji Tingxi’s stare. “Is that so? You came to Section Chief An’s office… to find me?”
How had Ji Tingxi known she was here in An Erdong’s office?
“I finished dinner and was passing by. I caught a glimpse of a figure inside that looked like you, so I checked at the door. Sure enough, it was you. Saved me a trip up to the fourth floor.”
Wen Du smiled and nodded, feigning delight at the chance encounter with Chief Ji—even as suspicion gnawed at her. Earlier, Ji Tingxi had hesitated at the door. Was she merely confirming Wen Du’s presence… or spying? What was she really after?
“Indeed. What brings Chief Ji to me?”
“This ‘job’ is a weighty one. It calls for some advance preparation.” Ji Tingxi’s smile was faint, ambiguous—like a jest, yet carrying the ring of truth. It matched her demeanor perfectly: always elusive, impossible to pin down.
Wen Du put on a solemn face, nodding gravely and furrowing her brow for effect. “By all means, instruct me. I’m all ears.”
“Here’s the situation. Next Wednesday, an industrial and commercial tourism delegation from Kangman Country will visit North County at our invitation. The Guard Bureau is worried about potential incidents and wants us to send personnel for protective investigations.”
Wen Du grasped the assignment’s importance—and its sensitivity—at once.
“Understood, Chief Ji. What preparations do I need to make?”
“If you could bring a few operatives from the Intelligence Division, Director Wen, and pose as translators from North County Station. You’ll accompany the Kangman representatives and facilitate communication with our side. The selection and training of those operatives? I’ll leave that in your capable hands over the next few days.”
…
Once Wen Du had gone, Ji Tingxi let her warm facade drop. She settled into the workstation chair, her eyes sharpening into search mode, needling across the desk and bookshelves. Moments later, An Erdong burst into the office, panting hard. His hair stuck out in wild tufts, as if he’d just staggered across the finish line of a hundred-meter dash—in dead last place.
He had charged in intending to flop straight into his seat, but the sight of Ji Tingxi already there made him slam on the brakes. Flustered, he fumbled to tidy his disheveled “ya”-shaped coif, determined to look presentable before his superior.
“Chief Ji, you’re done with dinner?”
Ji Tingxi remained firmly in the armchair, showing no sign of budging. “Yes. All finished.”
“Then… could I trouble you to sit over here? I’ve got something urgent to handle. Haha…” An Erdong’s fawning grin petered out as he struggled to catch his breath.
“You’re handling the confidential document from the Information Room?”
“Ah, right… Where’s Director Wen? Did you see her when you arrived?”
“She finished the review and left it in the file box for you.” Ji Tingxi tapped the lid. “Mind if I take a look at the confidential document?”
“Go right ahead!” An Erdong pulled out the pages, gave them a quick scan, and spotted the “no issues” mark. Relief flooded him as he handed them over.
With Wen Du’s approval, the online version needed no revisions. He could simply hit upload. The knot of tension in his throat finally eased, letting him breathe easy and steady his nerves.
Ji Tingxi skimmed the document. It covered a critical matter slated for discussion that very afternoon—hence the rush to print hard copies and save time.
“Why was Director Wen here?”
“Oh, right. I went to the Information Room to check on the review progress, but she got pulled into something with the General Affairs Office. Our task got pushed back. I was getting antsy waiting, so she printed it out, came here for an on-the-spot review. No problems, so I can upload it before the deadline.”
Ji Tingxi didn’t look up. The page was dense with text—Homer language cross-referenced against Sern language—slipping into her pupils like an added layer of encryption.
“But in the meantime, why did you leave the office?”
An Erdong’s mind stuttered. Everything had happened so fast; he hadn’t paused to consider it until now. When he spoke, his words came out haltingly. “I… well, Director Wen’s family servant delivered her medicine just now. She has to take it on time. She was going to fetch it herself, but that would’ve taken ages round trip, so I volunteered to go for her.”
Ji Tingxi looked up, zeroing in on the key point. “Did she ask you to go, or did you offer on your own?”
“I offered. Delivered it right to her office. She’s swamped as it is—already missed her dose helping me rush this deadline. Least I could do!”
Ji Tingxi set the document down on the desk and rose to her feet. Her face held no trace of a smile now; her broad brow bones arched sharply, that edge bleeding into every nuance of her gaze.
“Section Chief An, by all means help out in the future. But shut down the computer and secure the files first. Otherwise, it’s unauthorized absence—subject to penalty.”
An Erdong realized he’d broken protocol. The sweat he’d somehow held back during his sprint now beaded up, cooling his overheated brain.
“You’re absolutely right. I got carried away!”
…
Lilac Road, Summer Lotus Flower Shop.
The flowers at Wen Du’s home had finally started to wilt, giving her the perfect excuse to visit the shop—and linger in the flower-arranging area.
As before, Lu Binbin trimmed branches at the entrance while Wen Du met with Xia Lie inside.
True to form, Xia Lie couldn’t keep her hands still. The moment Wen Du arrived, she summoned her scant reserves of aesthetic sense to craft a bouquet worthy of her guest’s refined air.
Xia Lie’s hands were naturally clumsy. She’d once butchered Lu Binbin’s thick mop of hair into a ridiculous bowl-cut onion plant. But necessity sharpened her skills; with a sunflower here and baby’s breath there, she’d cobbled together something that at least looked the part.
“I’d already successfully lured An Erdong away and spotted the patrol schedule. I was this close to grabbing it when Ji Tingxi showed up. Fortunately, I noticed her right away. I pretended to be stashing the confidential document and slipped the schedule into the file box instead. She’ll be suspicious, sure—but nothing major enough to catch.”
One lily stalk jutted out too long, ruining the balance. Xia Lie snipped off two inches and compared it to the rest. Perfect fit.
“As long as no flaws showed, it’s fine. Missing the patrol plan is a minor setback by comparison.”
Wen Du nodded, idly flipping through a flower catalog—though her attention drifted like water across the pages. “That said, I did pick up some intel. Kangman Country’s industrial and commercial tourism representatives are visiting North County. Contact headquarters. See if we can slip someone into their delegation.”
Xia Lie’s cheeks lifted in a flush of excitement, her face blooming rosier than the champagne roses in her hands. “That’s fantastic news. And I’ve got important information that needs sending out too.”
The Giel Organization’s headquarters lay in Yecheng, Kangman Country. Sern people were scattered across multiple nations, with the largest populations in Bailunting, followed by Kangman. During the Great Purge, Sern families had been shattered and scattered, fleeing en masse to Yecheng in Kangman Country. Kin there had offered shelter for free, helped them settle, found them work, and eased them back into normal lives.
The Sern survivors who made it there had founded the Giel Organization and launched the Giel Bridge Plan to rescue more of their kin from Bailunting.
The more Xia Lie thought about it, the more thrilled she grew—her hands even starting to shake. “This is huge. A real positive sign. If tourism and trade pick up like old times, smuggling people out will be a breeze!”
She murmured to herself, lost in the moment. Wen Du watched her without a word for a beat. Xia Lie was still the same impulsive Station Chief Xia: bad news set her aflame, good news went straight to her head. Joy lit up her face at the first hint of progress, as if she were ready to dispatch a parade of flower baskets in celebration when things hadn’t even begun.
“You’re right. And this delegation’s visit is our chance. We can use it to get Duo Lin out.”
Xia Lie finished tying the ribbon and looked up, her eyes finally sharpening with the caution befitting a station chief. “Wait—you want to send someone out on this? Isn’t that too risky?”
The finished bouquet sat before them, vibrant and harmonious, its layers artfully tiered. But to Wen Du’s eyes, it gleamed only with resolute determination.
“Risky. But it’s a risk we have to take.”
