Chapter 139

She had endured four years—what were a few more days?

January 2, 324—the second day of the new year.

The north wind blew relentlessly, and the heavy snow had yet to fully melt. Roads required regular clearing and sweeping, so pedestrians all wore leather boots with thick rubber soles to keep from slipping on the ice.

Ji Tingxi was no stranger to boots; she simply threw on her overcoat and strode freely down the street.

Even so, she moved slowly, her gaze scanning the roadside scenes as she traversed the snow-blanketed avenue. Ancient buildings took on a layer of snow, lending them a faint, washed-out hue, as if they had faded from old photographs and only their silhouettes remained.

Through years of undercover work, Ji Tingxi had honed a remarkable skill: no matter how cataclysmic the events, she could strip away the influence of her emotions, maintaining flawless functionality like a machine that executed her duties without reproach.

But over these past couple of days, her emotions had nearly drowned her. Her iron will seemed to have rusted, unable to suppress the feelings that climbed unchecked.

She had mistreated herself for so long in the past, never once soothing her inner turmoil. Now, the floodgates had burst, and a torrent of waves from a pent-up lake engulfed her from head to toe. If she could, she would dive in headfirst and sink with the waters.

Yet the weight of her mission still bore down heavily on her shoulders. She could not afford to slacken, nor dare to descend into those depths.

And so Ji Tingxi walked the streets, gripped by a profound pain of spirit-flesh separation—her body pressed onward under its burden, but her soul seemed forever trapped in that room on the West Building’s floor at the Security Investigation Station.

Even so, her body was enough. It housed years of accumulated experience, sufficient to keep her operating smoothly without mishap.

The Joyful Intent store on Xia Li Street was somewhat larger, rising three stories high. Once inside, Ji Tingxi ordered a cup of coffee and settled into a corner seat to peruse the menu.

She had seen Yin Chen just three days prior, yet now came another summons for a discreet meeting. In such cases, the intelligence was either monumental or gravely urgent—likely both.

Yin Chen was dressed with exquisite care, as polished as the shop’s own facade. Complex emotions swirled in her eyes, though amid the turmoil shone a clear spark of brightness.

“It seems our handiwork passed muster. Miss Ji graces us with her presence once more.”

“Indeed, those sandwich cookies were a hit—my colleagues raved about them.” Ji Tingxi herself couldn’t stomach them and had passed them along to her subordinates as a New Year’s gift from their superior.

“Shall we prepare more, then?” Yin Chen unlocked her tablet, ready for Ji Tingxi to key in flavors and place an order.

“I’d like to try a different variety this time. Not for the colleagues—I’ll keep these for myself.” With that, Ji Tingxi lowered her gaze and continued flipping through the menu. It was beautifully crafted, a bold source of inspiration for patrons.

The smile on Yin Chen’s face gradually faded, transforming into a steady, joyful gravity. “He De has responded. He agrees to the hostage exchange, though the timeline must be postponed.”

Ji Tingxi’s eyelashes fluttered in a single, fleeting blink. In that instant, her gray eyes completed their shift in emotion.

“He agrees to the exchange? Which means…”

The emotions that had raged unchecked for days finally began to subside, flowing back into her heart at reason’s command, obedient once more.

But soon, a fresh wave of reaction stirred within her.

“Why the delay? Did they provide a reason?”

“No explicit one.”

Ji Tingxi’s eyes darkened as she caught the hesitation in Yin Chen’s gaze. For other matters, she might pretend not to notice and mull them over privately. But not this one.

“They did give a reason, didn’t they?”

Yin Chen’s gaze steadied, locking deeply onto hers.

“Because Miss Wen attempted suicide and was only just revived. Her condition remains unstable—not suitable for long-distance transport.”

Ji Tingxi drew a deep breath. Her grip tightened too fiercely on the menu, crumpling the page. Why had she been ordering sweets by the crate lately, only to find her mouth filled with such bitterness that her tongue went numb?

From departing the station to abducting He Lilin, she had taken three days—precisely to extract Wen Du before disaster struck.

Unfortunately, her speed had fallen short; she hadn’t outrun the station’s brutal interrogations and psychological torment.

Yet it wasn’t disastrously slow. At least now, she held a bargaining chip to win Wen Du back.

“Can we verify her condition?”

“We’re working on communication channels—hoping for a call or video with Miss Wen. But they’re adamant, fearing we’ll slip them a message.”

“Very well. A delay is fine, so long as they agree to the exchange. It gives us an opening. But Miss Wen’s status is unique; she knows too many Defense Adjustment System secrets. I’m concerned the station won’t release her easily.”

Yin Chen nodded. “Exactly. The authorities’ vigilance toward the Sern People has reached its zenith. Bogota Enterprise has been shut down, preventing trucks from crossing borders freely. Even tourist vehicles are under scrutiny. They’re willing to risk external partnerships rather than let a single Sern Person walk out of the border alive.”

Ji Tingxi’s expression grew somber. The initial joy upon hearing the news now clouded over with ominous shadows.

“So even if they agree, they might sabotage the exchange itself. That extended delay provides ample time for preparations!”

…

In truth, He Lilin had awakened even before they entered Kangman Industrial City. The deafening clamor outside the truck had shattered the iron gates—and the sedative’s hold.

Yecheng lay farther north than North County, yet she felt no chill on the road. The room was heated, and her bedding was plush: wool mattress topped with quilts and blankets thick enough to burrow into for the winter.

New surroundings prompted slight restraint in He Lilin, but the temperament of an Eldest Miss never bent to circumstance. Even in this foreign land, she remained as sharp as ever.

“Your prison setup leaves much to be desired—floral fabrics and a fresh fruit platter? No poison in these apples? What a waste of all the effort to kidnap me!”

Duo Lin, who had been reading with her back turned, shot her a glare. Now He Lilin could drop all pretense and be her unfiltered self.

“If you can’t speak civilly, keep your mouth shut.”

“Or what? Will Miss Duo make me kneel on the floor? Scrub toilets? Or hand me a rope to strangle myself with for fun?”

Duo Lin set her book aside and exhaled deeply.

She knew this mouth of He Lilin’s better than anyone, yet after nearly four years, she still couldn’t get used to it. How could such a beautiful face house a tongue so venomous?

Fortunately, though adaptation eluded her, Duo Lin had learned the countermeasure: ignore it. Otherwise, she could grow ten tongues and still lose any argument.

Seeing Duo Lin lapse into silence again, He Lilin pursed her lips. Situations like this had arisen before, and she would force a correction—yanking Duo Lin’s collar, cupping her face, compelling her to look up and speak.

But she couldn’t do that now. This was their territory; she might not get within arm’s reach before a guard burst in.

Swallowing her pride alive went against her nature, however. Miss He took a sip of water and resumed spewing venom.

“I never imagined your acting skills were so superb. Those months at my side, fussing over my every need with such feigned care—must have been suffocating for you.”

The page turned. Nothing more.

“You never wanted to stay by my side, never wanted to see me at all. But orders from the organization forced you to grit your teeth and endure it, right?”

Duo Lin’s brows furrowed.

He Lilin fixed her with a stare, pressing the attack relentlessly. Over four years, Duo Lin had come to know her intimately, and she had gained an even deeper understanding of Duo Lin. She knew that under pressure, with her stubborn streak unleashed, Duo Lin would crack.

“So what now? What’s the organization’s mission? To kill the daughter of the Guard Institute’s director and avenge the Sern People?”

With a sharp snap, Duo Lin slammed her book shut and sat bolt upright. “Keep talking, and I’ll report the plan right now—fulfill your wish!”

She stormed out of the room, summoning a replacement guard.

Upon her return, dedicated guards had been assigned, but Duo Lin had volunteered for the duty of watching He Lilin. She had figured it a minor task; she had endured four years already, so what were a few more days?

Yet she had overestimated her tolerance. At this point, she would sooner scrub toilets than linger in that room.

After pacing outside for a while, Duo Lin relocated to the Rui Xing Company building and made her way to the general manager’s office.

Rui Xing Company served as their public face; insiders generally referred to it as the Giel Organization.

Their operations split into two facades: outwardly an electronics firm, inwardly they mined “human resources” from Bailunting—ferrying Sern People across the border, absorbing them, and putting them to good use.

Thus, Boss Bao often appeared harried, and in truth, he was exceedingly busy—just not with typical general manager affairs.

“Lin, what brings you out?”

“I needed some air. Any other tasks for me?”

Boss Bao’s gaze upon her always carried an undercurrent of heartache. “No need. Go rest—you’ve truly earned it these past days.”

Every soul who returned safely from Bailunting received a welcome ceremony. It might be a simple meet-and-greet, a shared meal, one person or several—more than mere greetings, it celebrated rebirth.

Duo Lin had received hers, courtesy of her brother Duo Yu—the only family she had left in this world.

Afterward, Duo Yu had given her a tour of the organization’s apartment complex and urged her to recuperate fully before familiarizing herself with the area. This place differed vastly from Bailunting; it would suit her, he promised.

Yet Duo Lin had risen at six the next morning, called him, demanded a mission, and volunteered specifically to guard He Lilin.

Duo Yu had itched with hatred for this Homer “noble” and planned to toss her straight into the basement amid rats and roaches, letting her taste true misery.

Before he could act, however, Duo Lin had taken charge—sparing the basement and installing her instead in Duo Lin’s own apartment.

Now Duo Lin wondered if she had made a colossal mistake. She couldn’t endure the room any longer and had fled here to Boss Bao’s sanctuary.

A massive painting dominated one wall of Boss Bao’s office: a long bridge spanning from abyss to level ground. It appeared suspended and precarious, yet conveyed unshakeable solidity, as if it could bear infinite weight.

She had come to see Boss Bao—to behold the “Giel Bridge” behind him—and feel that profound steadiness, the kind that let her wake from nightmares of North County City with strength enough to weep.

Boss Bao read her unspoken thoughts and joined her in a moment of silence. So this was it: she hadn’t raged or sobbed upon her return not from lacking a transition period, but from compressing it into her chest, where it manifested in these subtle fissures.

“Lin, you can wander the building too—no worries. This place is your home now.” Boss Bao rose and led her out. “I think you’ll like one department in particular: Employment Guidance. Volunteers there help our returning kin choose jobs they enjoy or suit them, settling in properly.”

As they spoke, they descended to the second floor. Sticker-plastered partitions divided a large hall into cozy nooks, each with sofas where employees in blue work uniforms chatted with “job seekers.” Half the effort oriented them to Yecheng life; the other half clarified their career paths.

Boss Bao stood before the glass window, hands clasped behind his back—not with the air of a visiting executive, but brimming with hope for the future.

“Our compatriots arrive as refugees, but they won’t rely on charity forever. They strive to survive and repay in kind—that’s the bedrock of our organization’s growth.”

Four years prior, Kangman Sern People had founded it with funding, rallying fellow Sern in the region. Then escapees from Bailunting flowed in steadily, bolstering it into a formidable force that pulled more from the abyss.

Duo Lin watched the earnest figures in deep conversation. Though it was work, their eyes gleamed with fervor and anticipation, as if not starting jobs but moving into dream homes, bags in hand.

She felt a touch dazed, as if she stood among them. In a low voice, she murmured, “Boss Bao, what might suit me going forward?”

“You?” Boss Bao turned, his gaze appraising her kindly. He knew she lacked a university degree, having served a North County “noble” for four years—honing enviable skills, though reverting to servitude would be a shame.

“I heard from Assistant Deng: you were an excellent student in high school, real bookworm material. Teachers spotted your potential before you even entered university. Such talent shouldn’t go to waste. Why not sit for Yecheng’s entrance exams…”

“Boss Bao!” Qiao Shanna hurried over. Spotting Duo Lin at his side, her attention shifted to her.

Duo Lin recognized her as one of He Lilin’s guards; her heart clenched.

“That Homer Person has gone on a hunger strike—won’t listen to reason. Got any ideas?”