No closer to her.
Wen Du had spent the past two days in remarkable peace at the Guard Institute.
With the mission completed ahead of schedule, the Special Action Department personnel who usually came to check on her had vanished. No one disturbed her; she was practically ignored.
But Wen Du did not feel at peace.
Before calling Yue Mu, she had already prepared her responses. She was waiting for the Summer Lotus Flower Shop to withdraw so she could enter the Interrogation Room and face Ji Tingxi in an open confrontation.
By this point in the investigation, the suspicion on her was hard to shake off. She figured she might as well meet it head-on and see whether Ji Tingxi’s interrogation skills or her own “excuses” proved superior.
She had made all the necessary preparations, but instead of facing scrutiny, she found herself shelved. No one asked her anything; it was as if nothing had happened.
All her preparations went to waste, like a faulty bullet lodged in the chamber, causing her constant discomfort.
“Director, it looks like they’ve brought someone in for questioning,” Dai Enrui said as they passed the first-floor lobby. She nodded toward the Interrogation Room and slowed her pace.
Wen Du finally had an excuse to stop. She gazed deeply into the dark corridor at the end of the hall, hoping to catch any sound from that direction.
No one had come to question her yet. That meant Xia Lie had not revealed anything about her—or anything at all.
She wondered how Xia Lie was doing now.
“Probably. I hope they wrap it up quickly. Let’s go—we have a review meeting back at the office.”
…
He De had not appeared outside the Interrogation Room since the afternoon, but he was only temporarily tied up with other matters. When Ji Tingxi came to report, the atmosphere grew heavy again. Even the air seemed to hold its breath, awaiting her final account.
“We found burning papers and powerful chemical solvents in the shop. We can confirm suspicious items were present and have been destroyed.”
He De did not lift his eyelids. “Did the shop owner admit to it?”
“No, she claims she knew nothing about the chemicals or the weapons.”
“Section Chief Bai’s interrogation had no effect?”
“None,” Ji Tingxi admitted with evident frustration. “The suspect passed out from the pain and said nothing.”
He De fell silent for a moment. Drawing on years of experience as Institute Director, he restrained his temper.
“You’re reporting to me just to say that?”
If that was all, she should have brought a three-thousand-word self-criticism and knelt upon entering.
“What I want is solid evidence!”
“Dean He is wise,” Ji Tingxi praised. “There may be no substantial progress yet, but we’ve pushed the suspect to the limit of her disguise. Through observation, I’ve found her psychological resilience isn’t strong. Under pressure, she shows significant emotional fluctuations—a clear breakthrough.”
“And?”
“So we can exploit that weakness for the next test.”
He De stared at her without speaking, waiting to see how she would persuade this old man this time.
Ji Tingxi’s frustration vanished, replaced by unwavering confidence on her face.
“Our ultimate goal is to identify the traitor in the building. It doesn’t matter if this suspect denies her own guilt. As long as we use her to confirm the traitor’s identity, that will be our greatest achievement.”
…
Wen Du’s instincts told her the building lockdown would not last much longer. The atmosphere inside and the backlog of work had reached a breaking point—if the restrictions were not lifted soon, it would disrupt the Guard Institute’s normal operations and fail to contain everyone’s growing frustration.
No matter how much power Ji Tingxi wielded, she could not keep the gates closed indefinitely.
Tomorrow was likely the final deadline.
If Wen Du could get out smoothly, she could coordinate with her organization to rescue Xia Lie.
Time was her greatest hope now. She waited for the moment the gates would open.
But her speculation proved wrong. She did not have to wait until the next day. That very evening, the Institute Director announced the gates would open—after a meeting to soothe the confused staff.
The meeting took place in Conference Room No. 1, the largest on the first floor.
It was in this very room that Ji Tingxi had announced traces of the mysterious Sern organization to all departments.
Wen Du had unpleasant memories of this room. Entering it brought them rushing back, like being locked in a sniper’s scope. Her vigilance spiked.
This time, however, He De chaired the meeting himself. He wore no uniform jacket, just a light gray shirt. His hair was unstyled, with strands falling over his forehead, giving him a more approachable air—as if he were having a casual heart-to-heart, without formality, just human warmth.
“Everyone’s really been through it these past two days—turning this place into both office and hotel. Sore backs from sleeping here at night, then right back to work in the morning, without dropping efficiency. I saw Chief Kemi from the Intelligence Division handle over forty documents today. That’s model worker speed!”
Kemi from the Intelligence Division seized the opening to praise the leadership in return. “You’re the ones putting in the real work—for everyone’s safety, handling external investigations while coordinating institute operations. With the Director leading so strongly, of course we follow suit!”
Applause rose politely from around the conference table, flattering Chief Kemi while flattering the Director. It signaled the lockdown was nearly over, warming the atmosphere to pave the way for good news.
Wen Du joined in the applause, her gaze shifting between Kemi and He De. A perfectly measured smile played on her lips—one even a human-skin expert could not detect as insincere.
As she scanned the room—from the back of the table to the front leadership seat—she quickly categorized everyone present: either mid-level or higher cadres, or residents from Lilac Street to Wutong Street, customers of the Summer Lotus Flower Shop.
This meeting was more than mere reassurance. It hid deeper intentions.
As the applause died down, Wen Du’s smile faded into a calm neutrality matching her demeanor.
“Yes, it hasn’t been easy for any of us. In this special period, you’ve shown remarkable psychological stability and adaptability. Thanks to your full cooperation, our external investigation has gone smoothly, and the lockdown here is ending.
“Once the meeting concludes, the gates will open. Nearby streets have been confirmed safe. You can all go home. If you need a ride, just tell Director Te from General Affairs—we’ll arrange it.”
Applause erupted again, this time genuine celebration.
Though the sudden lockdown and sudden release raised questions, the joy of going home outweighed them. Even without guilty consciences, prolonged confinement under surveillance left everyone stifled, eager for fresh air.
Wen Du clapped along, but her inner doubts persisted despite the relief.
From He De’s words, had Xia Lie confessed?
Had she confessed but withheld Wen Du’s involvement, breaking that investigative thread and allowing everyone to leave?
Before Wen Du could puzzle it out, the side door opened silently. Ji Tingxi entered, her gaze sweeping the room and meeting Wen Du’s.
The two had not spoken or even met since their brief encounter the previous day. Yet neither had forgotten the other for a moment.
They constantly wondered what the other was doing, thinking, saying to whom.
The thoughts gnawed like ants on the heart, leaving trails everywhere.
Now their eyes finally locked. They saw each other clearly, observed every movement.
Ji Tingxi remained impassive at first, as if maintaining the coldness from yesterday. But the next second, she smiled, her eyes lighting up with vibrant emotion, just as always.
Wen Du returned the smile with her usual gentleness, reciprocating Director Ji’s “goodwill.”
Both were masters of masking emotions, switching expressions at will. But both were also sharp-minded, knowing this smile could not erase their enmity or the developments to come.
The side door opened again behind Ji Tingxi. An operative from General Affairs entered, followed by another person in institute-issued women’s business attire—a skirted suit, hair pinned up. At first glance, she looked like regular staff.
Xia Lie pushed a cart into the Conference Room. Vibrant flowers bloomed atop it, casting fresh glows in the night, adding brilliance—eerie brilliance—to the already festive mood.
Many around the table were Summer Lotus Flower Shop customers. Seeing Xia Lie, they reacted with shock. Only operatives could enter the building; civilians appeared only if arrested, headed for the Interrogation Room—not this grand conference hall.
Wen Du was not surprised. After spotting Ji Tingxi, she had anticipated a follow-up and prepared mentally.
She sat poised, silently assessing Xia Lie’s condition. The clothes were new, hiding any bodily injuries. Makeup concealed her face’s state. But when her gaze reached the hands, it lingered.
The right fingertips were wrapped in several layers of gauze, secured with tape, bulging noticeably.
A mere scrape would need only a Band-Aid. This suggested heavy bleeding, wrapped thickly to hide traces and preserve the scene’s pristine atmosphere.
They had definitely used torture—Bai Zhuo’s signature Bone-Extracting Needle, designed to extract truth.
Wen Du’s gaze returned to Xia Lie’s cheek. It was still full, framing delicate features with the Homer people’s distinctive depth and prominence. But her eyes held an unnatural blankness, as if recovering from intense shock, her thoughts sluggish, reactions purely instinctive.
As she entered, heads turned at the sound. Wen Du watched her intently, hoping for eye contact.
Xia Lie’s gaze swept the room discreetly, pausing on Wen Du for an instant before moving on. But in that instant, it sharpened with resolve.
Wen Du gleaned little, but one thing was clear: Xia Lie wanted her to stay calm and do nothing.
He De gave the room a dozen seconds to react, then cleared his throat and spoke again.
“To commend your efficiency and celebrate our success, General Affairs ordered flowers—originally for your desks tomorrow. But wouldn’t it be more memorable to distribute them before you leave? So please stay seated. The flowers will be handed out. Each bouquet is carefully selected and arranged—take good care of them at home!”
The distribution team sprang into action. The operative pushed the cart while Xia Lie handed out bouquets, starting from the Blue Training Department operative near the door and proceeding to the key figures present.
Many knew Xia Lie and found the scene unnervingly odd. They accepted flowers awkwardly, unsure what to say.
The room’s mood shifted from buoyant celebration to subdued restraint.
It grew so quiet that the slow footsteps echoed clearly. If heartbeats grew any louder, they might bounce onto the table and dance.
During this, Wen Du noted further anomalies beyond the fingers. Xia Lie wore a basic jacket over her skirted suit, with normal collar and cuffs. But on her left wrist, upward from the cuff, was an incongruous bulge—glaring once noticed.
Her arm was injured too.
…
Five hours earlier, in the Institute Director’s office.
After hearing Ji Tingxi’s plan, He De raised a technical concern.
“I understand your thinking, but know this: the Pulse Monitor is like a simplified lie detector, tracking blood pressure, breathing, heart rate in real time. Even lie detector data is just reference—not definitive proof, varying by physiology and context.”
“You’re right, but the key is the suspect’s own psychological state. We’ll tell her explicitly that her vitals will be monitored and used as evidence of guilt.
“After a day and night of interrogation, her nerves are at their limit. With weak emotional control, she’ll show cracks. The wrist monitor will catch those, amplify them, and reveal the traitor.”
He De had seen Ji Tingxi’s varied tactics grow familiar, no matter how unexpected. His tolerance was now broad as the sea—with one demand.
“Fine, implement it. But I’m warning you: in front of most mid- and high-level staff, nothing can go wrong. Not a single punctuation mark!”
…
The long table was not vast; from head to tail, plus handing flowers, should take five minutes. But Xia Lie moved slowly, her actions gentle, as if cradling the blooms for commanders.
The process dragged. The room filled with sequential “thank yous,” interspersed with footsteps and breaths.
From head to middle, Xia Lie’s arm trembled faintly. Pain from her fingertips eroded her control.
That afternoon, after blacking out from electric needles, cold water revived her in an unfamiliar room to prepare flowers.
The flowers did nothing for her pain. She knew their purpose.
She lifted a bouquet of clustered balloon flowers, orange-red blooms and tender green buds—brighter than before, nearly blood-like, piercing her eyes.
She handed it to Kemi, reaching the table’s far end, the rightmost seat.
“Thank you. The flowers are fresh.”
Fresh enough to tell they were newly delivered, just packaged—gifts for them.
“You’re welcome.” Xia Lie spoke, her voice laced with uncontrollable tremor.
From entering, she had restrained herself: light movements, slow breaths, trying to steady her heart rate, suppress sweat.
Every action matched a consistent pace, fooling her into thinking she controlled it perfectly, reactions uniform, monitors showing no anomalies.
But the tremor in her voice shattered the illusion.
Panic surged. Rounding the table’s end to the left side, as distance to Wen Du shrank, her heartbeat chaoticized, pounding wildly in her chest.
Breathing and movements faltered. To hide guilt, she sped up her hands, then slowed fearing haste, creating unnatural rhythms—as if the flowers themselves were suspect.
Ji Tingxi watched, lips pressing. Via earpiece, she relayed to the third-floor section: “Watch closely. Amplify comparisons, record every fluctuation.”
In the Internal Investigation Section office, An Erdong and his team stared unblinking at screen graphs. Vitals split into four quadrants.
Each had thresholds; exceedances or big deviations from baseline flashed warnings.
“Director Ji, suspect’s heart rate is overfast at 120 bpm, nearing critical.”
“Good. Log with surveillance. Keep monitoring.”
Ji Tingxi muted her mic, eyes fixing as Shi Linda from the Intelligence Communications Section accepted her bouquet. A regular at the shop, Shi Linda appreciated the beauty but not the moment, her smile perfunctory. “Thank you.”
Xia Lie nodded silently, fearing her voice would betray her further.
120 bpm might be the device’s limit, but not hers. With each shift in position, her chest thundered.
Half the table from Wen Du, and her heart raced dangerously, like thunderclaps, breaching limits in escalating frenzy.
In panic, Xia Lie bit her inner lip, forcing blank thoughts. Her will clawed through her mind, capturing disruptive emotions, seeking mental clarity.
During a turn for flowers, her peripheral vision caught Wen Du: unmoving, unturning, simply waiting seated.
But she should not be here, labeled a “suspect.”
Xia Lie thought it was all her fault.
From the start.
She had acted rashly, hurrying to get Zi Qin and Zi Cen out, drawing Ji Tingxi’s attention. Impatient, she ordered withdrawal from the Elm Street Site, exposing the organization. Misjudging Special Action’s intent, assuming broad netting and low threat, she fed Wen Du false confidence.
Impatient, impulsive, shortsighted—she erred repeatedly; Wen Du covered each time. But now Wen Du sat in this vast “interrogation room,” awaiting identification by her uncontrollable heartbeat.
No closer to her. No closer…
Her heart pounded—from excitement at seeing Wen Du, terror at approaching. The mix broadcast abnormalities.
Handing flowers to the officer before her, Xia Lie knew: any monitor would pinpoint the left-table traitor, suspicion rising sequentially, peaking at a certain point.
No closer. It would expose her…
Xia Lie gripped stems harder, thorns or no—pain imperceptible.
Years as “fake boss” had bonded her to flowers. After today, no more touch; regret made her cling.
She knew escape impossible. Lu Binbin undiscoverable; they would not release her. She endured three Bone-Extracting Needles from Bai Zhuo—her limit. Without fainting, who knew what she might say, all potential hazards.
Eight bouquets left on the cart, uniformly wrapped but uniquely arranged, like the prior twenty-four.
Among them, one for Wen Du. She could ensure it was the plainest, but could she steady her heart?
Side-stepping for flowers, her gaze inevitably hit Wen Du, too close to avoid.
No… truly no closer! She had to stop herself!
Xia Lie held her breath, grabbed a bouquet—and felt a hard object.
A Thin Ruler, bladeless metal but razor-sharp at one end—Lu Binbin’s tool for cutting wrap paper. That afternoon, preparing bouquets, she had requested one from her guard operative and hidden it in the sunflower bunch.
Only she knew. So when she drew it suddenly, all startled. Before identifying the weapon, she dashed at frontmost He De, shouting—
“You extremist heretic! I’ll kill you!”
Too fast. Eyes turned in shock; reactions lagged, necks prickling.
The General Affairs operative pushing the cart drew his pistol at her shout, aiming left chest.
Ji Tingxi lunged to intercept but diverted to the gun, raising a hand.
“Don’t shoot—”
Actions lagged words; words lagged bullets. Her command echoed as the shot pierced the charging body, halting her.
Blood sprayed in an arc from her chest, splattering indiscriminately. Nearest officers’ arms bloodied; they leaped up dodging.
Blood also poured down her chest, darkening the suit in spreading stain, ruining the tidy outfit.
The room held trained personnel, yet gasps rose—shock at the assailant’s boldness or her gore, indistinguishable.
Her body softened; consciousness wavered. The Thin Ruler clattered down, like a string yanking her to join it on the floor.
She staggered steps without collapsing, head raised, seeking her killer.
But she cared not who ended her—only to see Wen Du one last time.
Wanting to look but not boldly, with final awareness she propped herself, eyes forward, searching peripherally for the white-clad figure.
White shirt, hair pinned, face unchanged, sitting quietly—watching her.
Good. She’s safe now. I won’t approach her anymore.
No one could identify her now—not even my heart.
Her spine extracted like threads, Xia Lie knelt toward Wen Du, back slumping like a discarded puppet.
Her heart, heeding its master’s plea, dutifully stilled, sinking into quiet sleep with her.
