What a rare good partner.
Wen Du, of course, knew that Ji Tingxi was in no position to meet anyone right now.
If He De and Ji Tingxi were currently at the Meisi Labor Camp, she absolutely would not have requested a meeting.
Her ability to scrape by undetected in the heart of enemy territory until now relied on one key virtue: keeping a low profile and steering clear of anything remotely suspicious.
But in this case, anyone could guess that Chief Ji was surely at the Merle Guard Investigation Institute. And as the “near-victim” of the assassination attempt, Wen Du’s request to visit the interrogation site was entirely reasonable.
The guard hesitated for a moment, but seeing her resolve, he had no choice but to contact the Guard Institute’s leadership. Once permission came through, he swung the car around and drove her straight to the Wei Investigation Institute.
Unlike the stern, austere atmosphere of the North County Guard Institute, this headquarters in Merle carried a hint of whimsy.
Influenced by its historical neighbor, the kingdom of Ludis, Merle City’s wooden-framed houses were sturdy yet charming, their walls often painted in brick red and barley hues, with neatly aligned windows.
The Merle Guard Institute itself was rather squat and unassuming. To maintain a low profile, its walls were a muted gray-brown, blending seamlessly into the surroundings without drawing any attention.
A full day had passed by now. Even a mute would have pried some answers out of the suspects. As Wen Du crossed the threshold into the Guard Institute, her heart drummed in time with her footsteps—her heart dreading that the next step might falter, her footsteps fearing the next beat might skip.
She felt deeply uneasy, terrified that the Jili assassin in the Interrogation Room might let something slip, exposing the Giel Organization’s trail.
That was why, upon seeing Ji Tingxi, Wen Du proceeded with extreme caution. She didn’t rush into questions but first offered some concern.
“Miss Ji, is everything going smoothly?”
“Not bad. The interrogation’s progressing well. Did your meeting wrap up that quickly?”
“Yes, they streamlined things this time—key points covered, then adjourned. Actually, the guards were escorting me back afterward, but I insisted on coming to see you.”
Ji Tingxi’s gaze sharpened, focusing to a single point. “What’s wrong?”
“I missed you a little. Wanted to check on how things are going here.”
With that, Wen Du’s eyes flicked upward, scrutinizing the other’s reaction.
The Guard Institute had cleared out a dedicated office for their meeting. Being on the shady side, the room’s light was dim, propped up only by ceiling lamps that cast an outdated glow, their shades lending a vintage haze. Yet their eyes gleamed with clarity amid the unfamiliar setting, each searching the other for a sense of the familiar.
Ji Tingxi paused visibly for a moment, but warmth soon crept into her eyes.
“Truth be told, I was worried about you too—afraid the water might have chilled you through.”
“I’m fine, no real harm done.”
“That’s a relief. The guard mentioned you had information to share. I should be rolling out the red carpet.”
Ji Tingxi’s expression was a mix at that moment: warm enthusiasm at seeing Wen Du, curiosity about the intel, and at its core, professional caution. Overall, it all read as positive, welcoming feedback.
Wen Du took it in and felt a subtle easing in her chest.
—At least on the surface, Ji Tingxi’s attitude toward her remained unchanged, solid as ever.
And if it was unchanged, then handling things would be straightforward.
“Actually, it’s important intel—inspired by today’s seminar. You must have found communication devices on the assassin or in the car, right? The Jili Organization pulled off this hit without the Guard Institute catching wind, which means their comms slipped past our surveillance.
“By rights, we’ve cracked most of their encryption methods, heading off plenty of sabotage. But this time, they blindsided us completely. I’m wondering: is it the communication method itself, or something in the content?”
“You suspect they’ve developed a new encryption?”
“That’s part of it. We’ve been working on decoding the Sern mystery organization’s ciphers lately, so I’m also considering if there’s a link between the two.”
Wen Du paused, tossing out her idea as casually as small talk. “So, if the Intelligence Division needs it, I could lend a hand. Who knows—maybe a spark of insight cracks their codes on the spot.”
Wen Du’s “wide network” was no exaggeration. She’d not only coded language ciphers for the Giel Organization but had also devised encryption for the Jili Organization to earn their trust.
The Jili Organization was clear-cut in its loves and hates: mortal enemies to the Homer People, boundless affection for their Sern brethren. That made it easy for the Giel Organization to win their confidence and extract their secrets.
Wen Du wanted to pinpoint exactly where things had gone wrong. But more pressingly, she needed a solid, plausible excuse to stick around—one that let her stay in constant contact with Ji Tingxi and track her movements.
“I get where you’re coming from. I’ll pass it along to Director Ji and see if they want outside help.”
As she spoke, Ji Tingxi’s gaze lingered on Wen Du, warm and with just the right spark of light.
“What’s this? Staring at me so intently, Miss Ji?” Ji Tingxi’s enthusiasm was a good sign, but this intensity made Wen Du uneasy, worried it might tip into suspicion.
“I’m just thinking—folks from the North County Guard Institute are something else. Not only beautiful, but so eager to help. We both just survived an assassination. I pulled an all-nighter on interrogations, you on that meeting, and now you’re back to offer assistance. What an unbeatable partner.”
Wen Du found herself surprisingly flattered by the praise. It did feel that way—they both had wills of steel, minds that twisted like labyrinths, always curving toward each other in a contest of whose resolve was straighter.
What a rare good partner.
…
The final arrangements came together quickly. Wen Du would stay at the Merle Intelligence Division to assist with the captured intel and documents. Ji Tingxi and He De, meanwhile, would head to the Meisi Labor Camp.
Before leaving, though, He De couldn’t resist confirming. “We can wrap up the interrogation of Zi Wan for now. But that underground market middleman—we have to track him down somehow. We can’t just let it slide because he won’t talk.”
Ji Tingxi nodded. “You’re right. The Intelligence Division’s working overtime on their comms records right now, including hunting for traces of the middleman. And Zi Wan’s staying put here in case we need him later.”
He De said no more upon hearing that.
This was Dean He’s turf; he didn’t want to overstep. But that shadowy middleman demanded his attention.
Though suspicion currently pointed to the Libo Faction, the middleman’s ability to earn trust from both sides—and keep the Jili Faction tight-lipped about him—spoke volumes. His network was vast, linking multiple factions, and his own methods formidable enough to intimidate even the Jili Faction.
He seemed very much like a puppet master behind the scenes.
Failing to snag someone like that would keep the Merle Guard Investigation Institute on edge day and night. He De felt for Dean He—maybe he should send over some stimulants to keep the man going through the overtime.
But urgency aside, duty first. He De and Ji Tingxi didn’t linger. Early next morning, they set off for the neighboring city of Meisi.
Meisi shared Merle’s general character, only more pronounced near the borderlands, where the styles of Bailu and its neighbors mingled vividly.
And with the Labor Training Camp in its midst, long a target for the Jili Organization, Meisi’s patrol and inspection system was airtight. Every stretch of road brought a checkpoint—even official Guard Institute vehicles had to pull over at the sight of a patrol armband.
Ji Tingxi was used to being the one asking the questions, so this barrage of inquiries drew a wry quip from her. “Your local checks are thorough. Any wild animals from the hills trying to sneak into town would get turned back at the first fork.”
The driver chuckled and gunned the throttle a bit. “Ha, the city proper’s not so bad—life goes on normally. But this road to the camp’s been harassed before, so they ramp up checks to weed out drifters and troublemakers.”
Sure enough, the closer they got to the Labor Training Camp, the more rigorous the inspections: first vehicles, then luggage, escalating to body scans.
Ji Tingxi and He De passed through layers of scanners. In the end, even their ear piercings were inspected for bugs before they were cleared inside.
The Labor Training Camp sounded grueling from the name alone. But step inside, and vast fields stretched out under open skies, sparsely populated, with the earth as bedding.
The trainees’ barracks resembled tofu blocks topped with carrot slices, scattered picturesquely along the fields. Breezes sweeping from the wheat brought a sense of spacious calm, like stumbling into some obscure resort.
That idyllic vibe was reserved for idle brass like them, though. The real workers had no time to admire the scenery.
Ji Tingxi sensed as much the moment she saw the Zi Qin sisters.
Just two months apart, and the girls had changed markedly. They’d always been slender, but their features were once neat, skin smooth. Now, their skin was roughened and reddened by the sun, inflamed-looking. Their fingers bore the same damage, knuckles protruding from overwork.
The transformation was so stark that Ji Tingxi stared for a moment, puzzled, wondering what labor could thicken their joints like that. But the Camp Leader had warned against probing camp activities—it was classified.
To preserve secrecy, the Camp Leader assigned a dedicated trainee to accompany Ji Tingxi for the questioning. This time, Ji Tingxi handed off the lead to the trainee and sat listening quietly.
“Hello, Commander,” Zi Qin greeted Ji Tingxi proactively.
Unlike two months ago, the panicked girl had been replaced by one weathered by hardship, her mindset hardened too. Months of toil had toughened her frame and sharpened her spirit, letting her breathe steadily even before her captor.
Ji Tingxi inclined her head coolly without a word. With a glance, she signaled the interrogator beside her to begin.
“Zi Qin, we’ve met your brother,” the interrogator said, sliding a photo across. Emotional appeals always worked like a charm, sowing doubt and disorder.
Zi Qin glanced down. Three years apart, and she still recognized him instantly—but the reunion stung all the more for it. Ripples crossed her face, as if only now grasping the depth of her labors’ toll.
“He came to us on his own. He knows how rough the camp is and wanted to get you out. But he also knew you’re serving time here—escape’s no simple matter. So he offered to cooperate, creating a fresh start for you both.”
Zi Qin fell silent after that. “Fresh start” rang in her ears, but her mind echoed with “pawn of sin.” Had Zi Wan really sought them out? Cooperated willingly? Was there truly a new beginning?
The interrogator grew impatient with her quiet. In this camp, he never needed gentle coaxing. But he felt the eyes on him and forced some patience.
“You look doubtful. Ask whatever’s on your mind.”
“How is he helping you?”
“He brought key intel. You know the Jili Faction and us are sworn enemies, but we don’t turn away useful informants, no matter their side or status.
“Your brother’s a solid source, so we took him in as a covert advisor. His tips can offset his crimes. But what he wants—your release from the camp—in exchange? That’s off the table. So he settled for the next best: joining you here.”
Zi Qin shook her head at once. “No. Don’t let him in. This is punishment, not a trade!”
Something stirred in Ji Tingxi. The camp was clearly brutal; Zi Qin seemed resigned, yet recoiled at the thought. Deep down, she must crave escape, a normal life.
“That’s what I told him. I said I’d talk to you first, see if there’s another way for you to meet.”
“Meet how?” Zi Qin leaned in, hooked despite herself.
“Maybe you could clear your names, leave the camp, and reunite with him. But like him, you’d need to provide key intel in return.”
“What… kind of intel?”
The interrogator rattled off the planted hook. “Information about the escape.”
Zi Qin’s face twitched, tiny muscles betraying her under the harsh light. Her eyes darted to the silent Ji Tingxi beside them.
“Commander, didn’t I already tell you everything about the escape?”
Ji Tingxi studied her wordlessly for a beat, then finally spoke.
“Think carefully. Are you sure you told us everything?”
