Chapter 12: Miss Wen’s Personal Driver

Wen Du multitasked through her meal that day. She ate while listening to Dai Enrui’s report on the situation and keeping tabs on the Special Action Department’s movements.

Ji Tingxi had indeed returned to the institute at noon, showing up right on time in the cafeteria. It perfectly matched the Special Action Department’s training motto: no matter how busy you get, never miss mealtime; no matter how tough things are, never go hungry.

The newly returned Director Ji carried a plate of meat sauce noodles, paired with corn soup and a cold tomato salad. She chatted with several section chiefs, her face lighting up with occasional smiles—no one could tell if she was praising the food or beaming with pride over the chiefs’ accomplishments.

She looked like someone who had just wrapped up a mission—one that was progressing smoothly, leaving no loose ends behind.

This only deepened Wen Du’s fanciful speculations about her morning outing. Where exactly had she gone? To relocate the Zi Qin sisters? And why had she come back so spirited and triumphant?

Wen Du sat off in a corner, near the wall where a mural hung high. She stole glances now and then, scrutinizing Ji Tingxi’s expression and trying to read her true intentions.

Ever since Ji Tingxi had taken office, every encounter with her had left Wen Du ill at ease. Ji Tingxi had never mistreated her. Quite the opposite—she always greeted Wen Du with a warm smile, addressing her as “Director Wen” every time. Their first meeting came with a pot of nourishing soup as a gift; the second brought fresh flowers. It all looked like special favoritism. She was coolly distant with everyone else but treated Wen Du differently.

But Wen Du wanted none of that “good fortune.” There was more to Ji Tingxi’s friendliness than met the eye—it was definitely a probe.

No matter how well she hid it, Wen Du was an undercover agent, a Sern plant. And as a “Sern hunter,” Ji Tingxi had senses sharp enough to pick up the scent. That was why she kept drawing close, angling for the truth.

Take right now: Wen Du was only stealing discreet looks, her gaze so light it left no trace. Yet Ji Tingxi, seated at the center of the bustling hall, seemed to sense the scrutiny. She paused for a split second, and the next moment, her eyes cut straight through the tables, the crowd, and every obstacle in between—zeroing right in on Wen Du.

An instant before their gazes locked, Wen Du turned her face aside, averted her eyes, and flashed a smile at Dai Enrui beside her. The whole motion flowed seamlessly.

From across the room, Ji Tingxi spotted Wen Du. She was still dressed in her white blouse, chatting with a colleague. Her profile hovered in the shadows—expression hidden, but contours sharp and clear. Cheekbone flowing into nose bridge, nose tip meeting lips: it was like a sketch artist’s study, a few simple strokes capturing the essence and allure of the beauty across the canvas.

Ji Tingxi smiled faintly and looked away.

…

Wen Du had no desire for eye contact with Ji Tingxi, let alone any deeper interactions. After work, she hurried home to get an update on Xia Lie’s progress.

If Ji Tingxi’s morning errand had truly been escorting the Zi Qin sisters, then they were surely in another city by now. The Giel Organization needed to pinpoint their exact location fast to plan the next steps.

Wen Du hadn’t sought out any contact, but as the saying went, the one who makes the first move is the fool. Today, she had gone looking for Ji Tingxi and even asked when she would return—her interest on full display. So this “chance encounter” on the street with Director Ji was nothing more than what she had coming to her.

Wen Du always walked to and from work. She could have driven, of course, but cars couldn’t navigate Lilac Street very well. That meant she couldn’t use the excuse of buying flowers to meet up with Xia Lie.

The walk home was no short stroll—at least half an hour. As Ji Tingxi’s car passed by, the window rolled down, bringing that face Wen Du had been dodging into view. “Miss Wen, heading home alone?”

Wen Du offered a polite smile. “Yes, Miss Ji. Drive safely.”

Ji Tingxi was safety personified—crawling along slower than a snail on a leisurely stroll. “Hop in, Miss Wen. Let me give you a ride home.”

Wen Du’s stomach twisted at the mere idea. She already felt carsick, and she hadn’t even gotten in yet. She came to a stop, and Ji Tingxi’s car pulled up right beside her. A quick reach would open the door; one step, and she could slide into the seat.

“Miss Ji, you live over on Chestnut Wood Street. We’re not going the same way—no need to trouble yourself.”

Ji Tingxi raised her hand, propping her arm on the window frame as she leaned halfway out of the car.

At the institute, she cut a figure in her dark gray uniform, collar tied high. Unsmiling, she was icy; smiling, she was coldly affable—a picture of refined roguery. But out of uniform, in a round-neck shirt topped with a sleek PU leather jacket, her hair freed from its day’s ponytail and falling soft and full, she gained real warmth. Even her smile looked genuine.

“It’s only a few kilometers—barely any trouble. You’ve done the heavy lifting around the institute, Director Wen. How could this be a bother?”

Wen Du’s mind raced. Heavy lifting? Did she mean a few days ago, when Wen Du had delivered confidential drafts to An Erdong’s office for review—and, with him out, snuck a peek through his file box?

Hard to tell if this was empty courtesy or pointed sarcasm.

On the surface, though, it was flawless. Refusing now would be downright rude. Gritting her teeth against the nausea, Wen Du climbed into the passenger seat.

From high up in the Wei Investigation Building, through a gap in the window screen, anyone looking could see Director Wen—the one who religiously walked to rack up her daily steps—sliding into Director Ji’s car. And she even seemed to be smiling about it, reluctant though it was.

First day on the job: gifts to pay respects. Second meeting: flowers in hand. Third time: a direct ride home, escorting her all the way. By the Taina River, whispers of budding romance would spread like wildfire after such lavish attention.

Twilight deepened as the sun clung to the horizon, unwilling to set. Its glow lingered on the cloud tails, scraping colorful edges across an ink-black canvas—dark yet dazzling, still yet pulsing with life. The black car glided along the Taina River like a feather borne on the wind, floating down the road and drinking in the riverside vistas before merging into the stream of street traffic and easing its pace.

Wen Du stared straight ahead, more focused than she ever was at her desk. She sat just an arm’s length from Ji Tingxi, terrified that a heavy breath or stray brainwave might give her away and invite suspicion.

But from Ji Tingxi’s vantage point, her passenger looked perfectly at ease. Gentle brows, soft gaze, shed of her work attire—she seemed to be savoring the cool evening breeze and, even more, the simple pleasure of having a personal driver.

“What do you usually have for dinner, Miss Wen?”

“It depends on Sister Mu’s mood. Whatever she cooks.”

“And what does Sister Mu usually cook?” Ji Tingxi glanced at the rearview mirror and rephrased.

“Homey stuff: pan-fried beef, stewed vegetables, duck breast, horse mackerel soup. Sometimes just boiled greens for us to season ourselves with salt and pepper.”

“Do you cook yourself?”

“I do,” Wen Du said. She turned her head and smiled without needing the mirror. “But only when I have time to kill. I make a whole table at once and occasionally have Sister Mu try some.”

Ji Tingxi’s interest piqued. “I wonder if I’ll ever get the chance to sample something from Miss Wen’s own hands?”

A red light flashed, and the car braked sharply. The seatbelt snapped Wen Du back in her seat, though it did nothing for the churning in her gut. Churning or not, her face lit up with enthusiasm, every bit as bright as Ji Tingxi’s—one bold enough to ask, the other bold enough to answer.

“Of course. Next chance I get, I’ll invite you over. It won’t be gourmet fare, but it’ll fill you up.”

The road ahead was clear; school rush hour had passed. The wide gates of Sern Second Elementary stood empty, leaving ample room for traffic. Ji Tingxi’s hands barely stirred on the wheel as she steered straight toward Wutong Street.

As they neared Wen Du’s home, her heartbeat slowed with the car, bracing for the moment it stopped and calm could return. But Ji Tingxi had no intention of pulling over. If anything, she thought the car was going too slow and gave it more gas.

“You’ve been pulling overtime for days prepping the reception. Sister Mu’s probably been waiting at home for you.”

“It’s fine. I told her to go ahead and eat. I’ll sort myself out when I get back—no conflict.”

The sun slipped behind the horizon, vanishing behind the clouds and gathering its final rays. They danced strangely in Ji Tingxi’s eyes, like flickering lights inside the car.

“Hold on a second. I’m heading to Century Spring Hope to pick out some work clothes for the reception. Want to come along, Miss Wen? We could grab dinner first—there’s an excellent claypot shop in the middle of Chunxi Road.”

The reception on March 22nd required them to dress the part, complete with disguises. Wen Du would pose as a North County Foreign Affairs Translator; Ji Tingxi would transform into the deputy director of the North County Tourism Bureau. The institute uniform wouldn’t cut it—they’d need fresh outfits.

Wen Du did need to think about her wardrobe, but she wasn’t shopping tonight. And certainly not with Ji Tingxi. It felt like a sheep strolling into a den with the wolf to pick out the perfect wolf pelt—one whose cut would hug a lamb’s body just right.

“Thanks for the invite, Miss Ji. But I’ve got a ton of terminology to memorize—gotta cram. Hope you find what you need at Chun Xi Department Store.”

With that, she stepped out at an unhurried pace, gave a wave toward the car, and headed off. She vanished into the garden in front of her house after just a few steps. Her stride was light, the hem of her thin wool skirt dancing around her ankles. That silhouette didn’t scream late-night study grind; it looked more like someone out to savor the brevity of a spring evening.

Ji Tingxi watched her go home but made no move to leave. She held her gaze, lost in thought for several seconds. Night seeped into the car, thick and chill, crawling up her shoulders and back, draping shadows across the tips of her dark hair.

Director Wen’s retreating figure was truly a puzzle worth pondering.

Ji Tingxi couldn’t quite figure her out. Once home, would she pull out files for extra work, or replay the day’s conversation word for word, hunting for any slips?

Wen Du herself was like that—an enigma viewed through frosted glass, forever just out of focus. When Ji Tingxi first arrived at the North County Guard Investigation Institute, she had mapped every department and person with ruthless efficiency. A few days of interactions let her sort them into categories, peg their true colors, and decide how to handle future dealings.

But not Wen Du. Ji Tingxi could never pin her down.

At first glance, she was gentle and approachable, with a serene face and a smile always playing at her lips. Every question got a warm reply; she seemed eager to make friends.

Yet whenever Ji Tingxi tried to draw closer, Wen Du slipped back just enough to keep a cordial distance between them. And crucially, her retreat was so warm and gentle that it was hard to notice.

Gentle yet stubborn, affable yet aloof, sincere yet secretive, enthusiastic yet detached. Riddled with suspicions, yet perfectly normal. Irresistibly intriguing, yet without a single flaw to grasp.

Ji Tingxi had always thrived on exploring the unknown—knowledge as a child, leads on the job, human nature now.

Transparent hearts made her work smooth and efficient. But a tantalizing riddle like Wen Du? It ignited her passion and stoked her thirst to uncover truths.

She loved a challenge. And she would crack this mystery.

Night fell in earnest. Courtyard lamps bloomed into pools of light, washing over the surrounding stones and shrubs. In Wen Du’s study, another glow flickered to life—as if she had brought her dinner in there, eating while cramming, unwilling to waste a moment.

Or perhaps the lady of the house had simply sat promptly at her desk, switched on the lamp, and made sure the diligent scene was visible to anyone watching from the car below. Why would someone like her fritter away the evening shopping at Chun Xi Department Store?

Ji Tingxi’s lips curved in a smile. She brushed her long hair behind her ear, settled her hands back on the wheel, and drove away from the villa thick with its air of studious fervor.