Chapter 30: Another Disappearance

Luo Zi froze on the spot when the unfamiliar man seized her. From his expression, she knew she had been exposed. He was no ordinary tourist or thug—he was law enforcement, here to haul her in.

Her mind remained sharp, but her body felt leaden and numb. Fear clawed its way up her spine. Beyond the instinctive urge to flee, she could think of no other recourse. Escape was impossible now, however; the man gripped her like iron shackles clamped around her limbs.

“You are Luo Zi! Who brought you here!?”

Luo Zi’s words came out thick and slurred. She leaned backward, retreating straight toward the lakeshore.

The alert Ou Yang had received stated that the Sern woman Luo Zi had been kidnapped, but he quickly realized the situation was far from straightforward. If it truly was a kidnapping, why was the girl wandering freely? And why had she panicked so fiercely at the sight of the search, spinning away to hide?

After a long moment with no answer, Ou Yang made a snap decision. He clamped onto the girl’s arm, ready to march her to his car and straight to the station.

But the instant he turned, a man and a woman stood blocking his path. They wore rough work aprons cinched at the waist, green caps pulled low, and carried woven grass baskets—farm laborers, clearly. Yet their heavy brows pressed low over faces thick with muscle and menace, more akin to road-blocking bandits.

Before Ou Yang could react, an iron rake hurtled toward him. He released the girl and leaped sideways to dodge, but a kick sliced in at an angle next. He couldn’t evade it and crashed face-first to the ground, eating a mouthful of dirt. In the next heartbeat, someone pinned his back. His upper body locked immobile. At the same moment, the voices of the two behind him rose in heated discussion.

“Knock him out and dump him here.”

“No—he saw Luo Zi’s face. He has to die!”

“Killing a cop is no small thing!”

“If he lives, we’re all dead!”

They spoke in the Sern language, their words tumbling out fast. Ou Yang couldn’t understand a syllable, but their tone alone felt like scythes sawing back and forth across his neck. Realizing the peril, raw survival instinct ignited within him. Seizing the distraction of their argument, he wrenched free with a surge of desperate strength and rolled forward several paces.

Once he regained his footing, he clawed for the pistol holstered at his waist. The two Sern people spotted the move and lunged as one. Iron rakes whistled up and crashed down from either side, flattening him again. As Ou Yang slammed into the earth, the liquor bottle tumbled from his pocket and rolled right to his enemies’ feet. The Sern man pounced, locking his hands around Ou Yang’s throat. Breathing strangled off, Ou Yang’s face swelled purple, veins bulging across his skin.

Drawing on his final gasp of air, Ou Yang bellowed for help. The cry emerged choked and ragged, but it carried far enough to draw eyes from nearby.

Meanwhile, the Sern woman snatched up the bottle, twisted off the cap, and jammed it toward his gaping mouth, pouring fiercely. The liquor scorched like liquid fire down his throat. Ou Yang hacked and coughed, spraying alcohol in all directions and splattering their faces.

“Mi Jia! Mi Jia, where are you? Time to board—”

The tour bus revved to depart but awaited one missing passenger. A guide approached from that direction, calling out. Luo Zi had watched the brawl in wide-eyed terror, one hand clamped over her mouth to muffle any scream that might summon onlookers. But at the sound of her alias, she jolted back to herself and whipped her gaze toward the bus.

Someone was coming. If they stumbled onto this scene, the trouble would multiply tenfold!

“Go! Act like nothing happened. They’ll meet you over there!” The Sern woman rasped the order at Luo Zi in a low hiss, her other hand vise-tight on Ou Yang’s jaw.

Ou Yang caught none of the words but grasped the gist: they were sending Luo Zi away. He bucked and thrashed to intercept her. Abruptly widening his jaws, he sank teeth into the woman’s hand. She yelped in shock and pain; the bottle tilted wildly, dumping liquor into his eyes. The burn seared his retinas like acid. Blinding agony slammed his eyelids shut. The man capitalized on it, flipping his grip to drag Ou Yang toward the lake and end him for good.

The woman suddenly hissed a warning, motioning him to halt.

She tore open Ou Yang’s leather jacket and rummaged ruthlessly through every pocket and fold, extracting his wallet, phone, and gun. Finally, she yanked the watch from his wrist and retreated a few steps.

“Do it!”

…

Five hours had elapsed since Ji Tingxi issued the joint search order, but Patrol Command Center and the Special Action Department team had sent no updates. The patrols pressed on.

Dinner time had long passed. Sha Jiali had started the evening with ironclad resolve—no satisfactory answers from the police, and he’d pitch camp right there in the station. But by eight o’clock, hunger gnawed relentlessly. Ji Tingxi struck while the iron was hot, announcing she had ordered a lavish feast to be delivered by chauffeured car straight to the Sha residence doorstep.

Willpower yielded to appetite in the end. Placing the greater good first, Professor Sha accepted the ride home, vowing to await news from there.

With Sha Jiali dispatched, Ji Tingxi turned to find Wen Du still perched on the guest sofa. One cup of tea, a half-cup of milk, a pot of boiling water—she had nursed them steadily through the day.

The one weak to hunger had departed; this one endured both starvation and the chill without complaint. Five straight hours seated, yet her posture remained impeccable: spine ramrod straight, knees angled precisely at forty-five degrees, even her teacup lifted with delicate poise at the handle.

“I’m terribly sorry for imposing on you like this without offering any real help, Miss Ji.” Wen Du’s brows pinched faintly, a gesture of regret.

“How could that be, Miss Wen? Your chats with Professor Sha seemed so casual, but you were steadying his nerves all along—that was the greatest assistance of all.”

“Is there somewhere else I might lend a hand now?”

Ji Tingxi glanced at the clock: half past eight. Officers had brought dinner earlier, but Sha Jiali’s high-minded fast had made it impossible for Wen Du to eat without awkwardness, forcing her to join in the deprivation. No matter her endurance, her stomach had to be rumbling fiercely by now, held together only by sheer stubbornness.

Reluctant as Ji Tingxi was to forfeit Wen Du’s company, she couldn’t ignore the woman’s well-being. The Division Chief embodied “cherish the fairer sex” in every thoughtful detail.

“Head home and rest for now. Nothing urgent requires you at the moment—you’ve done more than enough today.”

Wen Du rose with her bag in hand, standing level with her. “You too, Miss Ji. I hope you make it home soon and don’t work too late.”

…

The chauffeured car had ferried Sha Jiali away, and Ji Tingxi’s own vehicle remained occupied. Wen Du opted for the bus.

She exited the station just in time for the final run, the only passenger aboard. She claimed a window seat at the rear, watching the streetscape flow past. Orange-yellow lamps strung together, their glow pooling on the cobblestones in hazy reflections. Plenty of pedestrians still braved the night, faces indistinct but all hunkered deep into coats or parkas against the sharp evening breeze.

The lights lay serene; the walkers moved in quiet rhythm. Even the occasional passing car’s hum filtered softly through the glass, leaving the interior in tranquil hush. Yet Wen Du’s thoughts churned without cease. She tracked shop signs passing by, gauging distances, until she descended early at the Cypress Street East stop.

Mid-spring had arrived, but the night’s chill bite persisted. Wen Du fished a striped silk scarf from her bag. Her stride never faltered as her nimble fingers worked; by the time she reached Lilac Street, a perfect rose knot had bloomed at her throat, unfurling like a flower amid the darkness.

With the scarf secured, she slowed her pace—but the drumbeat in her chest quickened. Her destination lay just ahead. Puddles gleamed on the ground; she picked her steps with care, then lifted her gaze. The flower shop blazed with light within. Night Queen blooms filled vases like miniature goblets of red wine, petals drinking in the shadows only to exhale a soft phosphorescence, lending a spark of life to the gloom.

Tonight, the Night Queen’s language whispered: All goes smoothly. Depart in safety.

Perfect, Wen Du thought with a silent sigh. The hue was exquisite—dense to the point of brilliance, gleaming from within.

She slipped her hands into her pockets and set off for home. This time, her steps felt markedly lighter.

…

Ji Tingxi had crisscrossed North County Police Station and its branches all day, logging more miles on foot than the patrol cars themselves. She had only just seen off Sha Jiali and Wen Du, hoping for a brief respite in the lounge, when duty crammed even those scant moments.

“Chief Ji, we’ve got word from the Police Bureau—one patrol officer can’t be reached.”

Ji Tingxi set the teapot down with deliberate care. “Where?”

Ruo Xing replied, “Horseshoe District. Right where the tour bus made its stop.”

Ji Tingxi had half a mind to sample the tuo tea from that pot—what divine brew had held Wen Du in place for five or six hours? But fortune denied her even the scent. She climbed back into the car instead, exhaust fumes her sole companion.

At the station, Lai Yang sat pale as death, eyes locked on the wooden baseboard skirting the wall as if boring a hole through it—or as if unsure where to fix his stare at all. He hadn’t stirred in ages, his expression so vacant he might have come to file a report on his own missing soul.

“Walk us through the situation in more detail.”

Captain Ka Yin led the questioning; Ji Tingxi and Ruo Xing, representing the Guard Institute, listened in.

“We followed orders. I checked the passengers boarding the bus while Ou Yang inspected the luggage hold. When I finished and went to link up, he was gone. I messaged him later; he said he was done for the day, heading out for a drink, and to leave him be.”

Ka Yin’s mouth tugged downward in a sharp figure-eight grimace. Drinking on duty was humiliation enough—but airing it before Guard Institute brass took mortification to another level!

“Any chat logs?” Ji Tingxi prompted.

Ka Yin passed over his phone. The exchange unspooled in full, contentious glory:

[Call Rejected]

Ou Yang: Job’s done. Going for a drink. Don’t bug me.

Lai Yang: Done? We haven’t finished the patrol.

Ou Yang: You do it then. We’ll talk after I drink.

Lai Yang: We gotta report back later. You’ll reek of booze—you’re done for!

[Call Rejected]

[Call Temporarily Unavailable]

[Call Temporarily Unavailable]

[Call Temporarily Unavailable]

Ka Yin stole cautious glances at Ji Tingxi’s face throughout. Faced with such brazen insubordination, she betrayed not a flicker of reaction—no furrowed brow, no twitch. She scrolled to the end, then fell into thought.

“The phone shut off after that?”

“Right. We can normally track each other’s locations. I was about to head his way when I saw it had powered down—no position, no contact.”

Ka Yin’s lips leveled out, though his expression remained thunderous. “Unreachable since six-ten p.m. Why wait until eight to report?”

Lai Yang pressed his knees together, hands jammed between them, head ducked so low he seemed determined to vanish entirely. Proper posture forgotten entirely.

“I was scared he’d get punished for drinking. Wanted to buy him some time. I… I admit it was wrong—a huge mistake. Please, punish me!”

Lai Yang had indeed hoped to cover for Ou Yang, whose casual attitude and ever-present booze had marked him from the start.

But prolonged silence bred suspicion. Hoof Town saw scant traffic in or out at night; Ou Yang would need the shuttle to leave. Two hours vanished with no sign of him, phone dark and dead—it was too strange.

Lai Yang couldn’t just abandon the search. He scoured the area in widening loops to no avail and finally reported upward. The moment he did, the storm broke.

Ka Yin itched to flay the skin from both of them on the spot, but finding the man took precedence. Reprimands could wait.

“Division Chief Ji, we’ve dispatched officers from the local Horseshoe substation to comb the area. Any news, and we’ll loop you in immediately.”

Ji Tingxi inclined her head, then pressed Lai Yang once more. “You did search for him yourself, correct?”

Eager to claw back some credit—at least earn “no merit, but plenty of effort”—Lai Yang replied with fervor. “Yes! I covered it multiple times. Hoof Town’s not big—just one farm, a few dozen bungalows, no market even. I checked everywhere, but no trace of him. It’s bizarre!”