Chapter 37: If Pain Has Levels

If pain had levels, then for Wen Du, level eight pain was hearing Ji Tingxi announce the existence of a mysterious organization during the meeting, vowing to pursue it relentlessly.

She had thought that today’s pain quota was already filled and that it was time for her to take a break and recover.

But just before the end of the workday, Ji Tingxi burst out again, delivering another knife in the midst of her agony, one that brought unprecedented shock.

How had she forgotten that Chief Ji was a walking knife-thrower, never one to leave her opponents a moment to breathe?

“Chief Ji has always been so thoughtful, remembering my meals like this. I’ll remember this dinner, but right now is a busy time—our tasks are all quite heavy. Let’s do it another day, when we can sit down and enjoy the food properly.”

—You should just go work overtime. Facing you right now, I really can’t eat.

“After this, our work will require a lot of coordination. This dinner tonight is the perfect chance to communicate properly and improve our efficiency going forward.”

The exit was bright, the corridor dim. Light and shadow met at the stairwell, forming a sharp angle of light and dark. Wen Du stood at the shadowed end, using the flowing glow to scrutinize the face before her—the bridge of her nose half-submerged in brightness, her left eye brimming with eager interest, the pouch beneath it curving upward as if to cradle a handful of radiance.

It was clear that she was sincerely inviting her to share the evening meal. Her sincerity made it feel as if this weren’t mere work business, but a gathering of close friends, full of genuine warmth.

Fortunately, Wen Du was already familiar with this routine. Ji Tingxi always treated her this way: radiating lethal danger from afar, where even brushing past could land a hidden arrow, yet up close, she offered warm hospitality that enveloped her, soothing the wounds from those arrows—even inducing an illusory pleasure, like a shot of oxytocin.

Even better, Wen Du had grown adept at handling this routine. She accepted the other’s “blade-sharp hospitality” with grace, lifting the corners of her eyes and curving her lips into a smile of equal measure, deftly deflecting the incoming blow with minimal effort.

She had countless reasons to decline the invitation, but when the words reached her lips, she hesitated.

—Tonight’s dinner would discuss work matters, including the upcoming investigation. This was the most crucial information she needed right now!

“If Chief Ji puts it that way, what reason do I have to refuse? I’ll have to borrow your car tonight.”

Ji Tingxi had only recently taken office, and her car was equally new, but in just two short months, the passenger seat had nearly become Wen Du’s dedicated spot, its height adjusted precisely to her comfort.

Colleagues passing by greeted them: the first words were always “Hello, Chief Ji,” followed by “Hello, Director Wen.” Together, the two of them made for a striking sight.

They had said the dinner was a chance to work overtime, but en route, Ji Tingxi spoke with her heart on her sleeve—or rather, the opposite—launching into an enthusiastic rundown of the restaurant, its dishes, even the origins of the signature items. Her words flowed like pearls on a string, her laughter light and easy, transforming what should have been a work attitude into the buoyant air of a date.

Wen Du shifted from the comfortable passenger seat to the restaurant chair with just a glance, realizing this was a place with an impeccably structured dinner service: pre-meal pastries, soup, appetizers, main courses, green salad, cheese, dessert.

—The process was so thorough that she might not finish before the buses stopped running.

With her daily work so demanding, it had been ages since she’d had a proper dinner. Now, seated at the table, she actually felt a bit out of practice.

“What would Miss Wen like to drink?”

“I’ll go with whatever the menu recommends. I’m sure the restaurant has the perfect pairing for tonight’s mains.”

“Alright, same for me then. I trust their ‘best pairings.'”

Soon, the nutty butter crisps arrived, accompanied by green sauce avocado salad. The soup came in a large porcelain bowl. The server had positioned herself to serve it perfectly when Ji Tingxi took the ladle from her hand with a nod. “I’ll handle it.”

If it were just her alone, or with anyone else, she would have lounged back more comfortably than anyone, letting herself be served. But in front of Wen Du, she unleashed her spirit of meticulous care once more—when she said she was treating, she meant it, even ladling the soup and placing it steadily before her guest.

Wen Du took a bite of the crisp, catching the aroma of mushroom cream before her, and smiled. “Soup ladled by Miss Ji herself must taste extraordinary. I have to savor it properly.”

“And not just that,” Ji Tingxi said as she sat down. “The meal that Miss Ji is treating you to is special too. It deserves to be savored carefully.”

“That it does. Everything you say, everything you do—I keep it all in mind, savoring it a thousand times over.”

It was the truth. She replayed Ji Tingxi’s every turn of phrase a dozen times in her head. Didn’t that count as savoring?

It felt a little too flirtatious, didn’t it?

“Miss Wen studied linguistics, so she’s fluent in several languages, I imagine?”

“I’m proficient in about seven.” Wen Du didn’t look up.

I know several languages. Shouldn’t you know that best of all? It’s all right there in my file—surely you’ve pored over it a thousand times yourself?

“‘About seven.’ Impressive! As expected of a linguist—such precise wording. And among them, your strongest is Sern, right?”

As they chatted, Ji Tingxi sliced into the salmon. Years of wielding knives and guns had honed a fierce steadiness in her hands; even with a dinner knife, her cuts were clean and precise. One stroke, and the fish separated neatly, the edges uniform as if machine-cut.

Wen Du’s gaze happened to brush her knife tip just as the tail end of that sentence grazed her heart. The two sensations overlapped, like a chill blade across her neck—alright, here came the main topic. Dinner was finally underway.

“Of course my strongest is our native Balun. Sern came later.”

“My mistake—I wasn’t clear. But Teacher Wen’s Sern is surely a strong suit, or North County University and our institute wouldn’t be fighting over you.”

—Fighting over me? Isn’t it because you’ve massacred all the other Sern experts, leaving me as the last sapling?

“You’re too kind, Miss Ji. I wouldn’t call it a strong suit, but for any work that requires it, I’ll give it my all.”

“Of course. Miss Wen’s work always comes with quality assurance. We’ve already sent the key terms needing your attention to the internal platform. I’ll trouble you to keep an eye out, and if anything needs discussion or confirmation, feel free to pull me into the group chat.”

In the Wei Investigation Institute, the Information Room’s translations or reviews typically didn’t involve other departments until the final draft was set.

This was partly because of specialization—the Special Action Department and General Affairs Office couldn’t make heads or tails of decryption work—and partly because Wen Du had her own motives. The more independent and secretive her work, the more leeway she had to tweak or swap content seamlessly.

Now, Ji Tingxi was volunteering to join at the review stage. Was it sheer diligence, or something more?

“Sure. I’ve been thinking I’d need to consult you all anyway. We’ll have to communicate more.”

“The thought of close collaboration with you in the days ahead has me truly excited.”

Wen Du let out a light laugh. “What virtue do I have to earn such favor from Miss Ji?”

“Speaking of which, I really ought to settle accounts with you properly.” Ji Tingxi set down her knife and fork, lifting the stem of her red wine glass as she tallied it up carefully.

“You see, the first time at Swan Palace, having you by my side for language liaison let us grasp key information from them. The second time, visiting the professor’s home, you accompanied me, making introductions and paving the way to key figures. Even at the police station incident, you were there, calming emotions and buying us critical time.”

“So you see, with all the help you’ve given me, of course I’d favor you.”

With that, Ji Tingxi’s eyes lit up, her gaze beaming toward the other woman.

Wen Du heard it as praise.

But was it really praise? Hard to say—let her mull it over.

She had indeed been present at all three incidents, but how had each ended?

—Swan Palace car search: leaked and exposed. Sha family persuasion mission: failed, and Luo Zi vanished soon after. Police station aftermath: Luo Zi never found, and a patrol officer ended up dead.

She had participated in every one, and every one had ended in “regret.”

Was Ji Tingxi praising her invaluable aid, or subtly mocking her as a jinx with suspicious tracks?

Grasping this undertone, Wen Du mirrored her by setting down her utensils. She savored a bit of steak between sips of the Pinot Noir, letting its crisp freshness cut the richness, then spoke slowly once the aftertaste lingered.

“Then, Miss Ji, do you still want me by your side in the future?”

“Of course. I hope Mr. He can create even more opportunities ahead.”

“Wonderful. Then let’s hope for more collaboration going forward?”

“Absolutely.”

Leaving the glasses untouched at this point would be a crime against the mood. Ji Tingxi knew how to seize the moment; she raised her glass right then, her smile radiant at the meal’s lively peak, lips red and teeth white.

“Here’s to a pleasant collaboration, and to Miss Wen playing an even greater role!”

Wen Du wasn’t one to be outdone. Their glasses clinked, wine sloshing in dark red ripples around the rims at the touch.

“To a pleasant collaboration. I won’t let Miss Ji down!”