Chapter 111: If it was news of someone’s overdue death, she’d rather never know.

Wen Du found the days of waiting particularly draining. On one hand, she eagerly anticipated the latest updates; on the other, she dreaded the final outcome.

Schrödinger’s cat might exist in a state of uncertainty, but at least that uncertainty held a glimmer of hope.

During this time, Wen Du considered reaching out to Ruo Xing. She was certain he belonged to the Libo Faction, but Ji Tingxi had never openly acknowledged his affiliation or connected them. This meant Ji Tingxi was protecting Ruo Xing, keeping him out of the collaboration with Giel.

Her deal with Ji Tingxi had been a negotiated partnership, but approaching Ruo Xing would mean exposing herself voluntarily. It would heighten her own risks without guaranteeing any response.

So Wen Du settled for the next best thing: observation. She kept tabs on changes in Ruo Xing’s schedule and his emotional state.

But Ruo Xing was a competent operative. His mental sharpness and demeanor remained unchanged from before. To learn about his movements, Wen Du would need the organization’s resources, but tailing him offered no direct benefit to them.

She wouldn’t pursue anything that didn’t serve the organization’s interests.

With all channels—Guard Institute internals, Libo Faction, Giel, Jili Organization—yielding nothing, Wen Du could only wait. She tried diverting her attention to ease the torment of the endless wait.

Her focus shifted to the Zi Qin Sisters, who were also stuck in Meisi City. Their situation was far from promising.

After the airport explosion, Meisi Platform ramped up security once more. Borders were half-closed, with every city entrance and exit—whether for pedestrians or vehicles—requiring checks. Roadblocks dotted the streets, forming long queues.

Meisi, already a place of tense relations, was now gripped by paranoia. Facial recognition and travel tracking spread like a vast net. High-traffic areas and venues demanded code scans for registration, along with identity and itinerary reports.

Society grumbled on one side while complying under pressure on the other, lines snaking through streets and alleys.

Previously, Giel’s Meisi branch had confidence in shuttling people through, but the current clearance hurdles and scrutiny made it impossible. Not just for the Zi Qin Sisters—even organization members risked exposure crossing borders.

Wen Du wasn’t surprised when she heard. The sisters being stranded in Meisi had been one of her predictions.

“It’s fine. As long as they’re still here, we hold the initiative. But are they willing to cooperate and communicate now?”

Yue Mu sat by the floor lamp with a basket in her arms. “That’s exactly what I came to tell you. Our Meisi members went to great lengths. After days of reassurance and proof, the Zi Qin Sisters finally lowered their guards and believed we were their own Sern People’s organization.”

As Yue Mu spoke, Wen Du’s mind flashed back to a recent scene: in the Interrogation Room, the two girls pale as ghosts, their expressions eerily calm yet laced with numbness.

Their mental exhaustion made it hard to discern whether that numbness stemmed from physical fatigue or spiritual surrender.

This sense of “compromise” imbued everything with futility, as if no matter what they did, the sisters were beyond saving—their spirits sunk to the ocean floor.

“Have they said anything?”

“Yes,” Yue Mu’s eyes gleamed like the silver needles in her hand, catching the light. “Their description of the detention site revealed crucial information. We can confirm they weren’t held in a Labor Training Camp at all!”

…

Wen Du had always thought Yue Mu was jumping the gun by knitting sweaters already. The sun blazed high at noon, hot enough to shed outer layers, leaving just a shirt with sleeves rolled up for relief.

But on her walk home that afternoon, without a dedicated ride, a chill wind swept across the Taina Riverbank after she passed it. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she tugged her collar straight, tucking her chin inside for warmth.

Only then did she appreciate Yue Mu’s foresight.

October loomed, and with autumn’s gales, a cashmere scarf would indeed be essential.

That day, she didn’t head straight home anyway. She had to visit the nearest police station to renew her ID. The fickle weather—warm one moment, cold the next—drove the point home.

Without her usual escort, Wen Du defaulted to walking. But as she emerged from the station, someone called out.

“Miss Wen, long time no see.”

Wen Du turned to see a tall figure beside her, dressed casually. Hands in the pockets of a buttoned-up trench coat, belt neatly tied, accentuating a slim waist that matched the long shadow cast by the setting sun.

“Miss Du here on business too?”

Du Lengding replied, “Yes, just finished.”

Wen Du faced her squarely.

They had been in close contact before, but after establishing the Joyful Intent site, their paths diverged like separate branches. Meeting again now instantly revived their old rapport, bringing an unusual sense of security.

“How have you been?”

“Pretty good. Since we ran into each other today, let me give you a ride home?”

Du Lengding’s SUV sat much higher than Ji Tingxi’s sedan. Once Wen Du climbed in, her view opened up, though she didn’t adjust the seat and lounged back loosely, unwinding.

“How are things on your end?”

“I’m okay,” Wen Du said, leaning into the headrest, eyelids drooping slightly. “But there have been some changes at the Guard Institute. Need to tread carefully.”

“Any word on the Libo Faction from the Guard Institute?”

Wen Du’s eyelids twitched, her head nearly lifting off the rest. “No. Why?”

Du Lengding kept her eyes on the road, her presence as steady as ever. Any news filtered through her calm aura sounded mundane, as if even the sky falling were just a patch job.

“We got internal notice: strict checks on university student groups, heightened security at key sites to prevent mass gatherings or protests.

“The big protest at Meisi Guard Institute recently turned into a bloody clash. It started in Meisi, so North County is tightening precautions too. But a high-level closed meeting specifically emphasized vigilance against the Libo Faction.”

“Libo Faction?” Wen Du’s fatigue vanished. Her pupils fully alert, she stared ahead at the traffic flow alongside her companion. “News from Meisi?”

“Probably. I suspect Meisi Platform uncovered traces of Libo Faction meddling while probing the protesting students. They’re gearing up for a new round of crackdowns in both cities.”

Wen Du’s brows furrowed, stirring the light in her eyes.

The Meisi protests were indeed orchestrated by the Libo Faction to sow chaos, creating a window for Giel to rescue the Zi Qin Sisters. With bloodshed this time, the Guard Institute would scrutinize everyone at the scene.

Wen Du and Ji Tingxi had only outlined the “rescue operation” framework, not the details. She had no idea how well Libo Faction covered their tracks, but now Meisi Platform had found evidence. The depth of those traces was a critical concern.

If they pinned it on Libo Faction, they’d target pro-Libo members among the students. Meisi Platform’s hardline stance might lead to harsh interrogations, potentially exposing handlers and fueling suspicions of moles in the Guard Institute.

This realization deepened the creases on Wen Du’s brow. She’d finally gotten Meisi news, but it only amplified her anxieties without easing any.

—Did Libo Faction know about the joint alert across the two regions? North County? Ji Tingxi?

Or was that bomb near Ji Tingxi really planted by the Jili Organization?

Her thoughts still tangled when they reached her doorstep. Snapping back, Wen Du opened the door. “Thanks for the ride, Officer Du. Hope I get the pleasure again sometime.”

“Wen Du.” A soft call came from behind.

Surprised, Wen Du turned. In the evening glow, Du Lengding stood immersed in rich light and shadow, her already defined features sharpening further.

Her clear-cut features magnified emotions: everyday calm became profound poise, current complexity all the more intricate, every shift of light and dark hinting at layered depths.

Wen Du excelled at reading complex moods. Her intuition flared again. Though silent, that gaze conveyed volumes.

She and Du Lengding operated on separate single lines—hers to the dessert shop, Du Lengding’s to her own handler—with no overlap or shared intel.

Her partnership with Ji Tingxi was top secret; Du Lengding shouldn’t know. Yet Wen Du sensed that from their two collaborations, Du Lengding had deduced her Libo Faction ties—and pinpointed Ji Tingxi.

With Ji Tingxi’s fate unknown and Meisi in turmoil, the fuse burned hotter toward Libo Faction, inevitably scorching those linking it to Giel.

Thus, Wen Du understood Du Lengding’s complexity: profound worry for her sake.

“Keep a close eye on Guard Institute movements. If anything feels off, pull back. I’ll do everything to ensure your safety.”

“Thanks, Miss Du. With your meticulous protection, I’m at ease.”

…

After that, Wen Du no longer crossed paths with Du Lengding’s car. She resumed walking to and from work as usual, with more chances to pass the Joyful Intent shop on the way home.

But that day, breadstick in hand, as she reached her door, a car pulled up precisely beside her.

Wen Du eyed the vehicle—familiar. Sure enough, Ruo Xing stepped out.

She had watched him obsessively these days, dreaming of a chat. Yet now that he sought her out, joy evaded her.

Ruo Xing’s face finally shed its work-mask neutrality, revealing genuine emotion. But it wasn’t the kind Wen Du hoped for.

His brows knit low, gray eyes shadowed, staring ahead as he marshaled words—though surely rehearsed.

After a long pause, his lips parted. In that instant, Wen Du shifted her toes, tempted to turn and leave him standing alone.

—If it was news of someone’s overdue death, she’d rather never know.