Chapter 58

They would send it back to the laboratory together.

Even though she had steeled herself for this moment, Wen Du’s emotions still surged like a rollercoaster.

The terror Ji Tingxi had inflicted weighed down on her very marrow, nearly making her body tremble. Yet the joy of the flower shop staff’s smooth evacuation lifted her spirits with a fleeting sense of relief, akin to a dying man’s final burst of clarity.

Fear and relief intertwined in that instant, settling into a mask of utter stillness on her face—like a deep forest after a thousand birds had fled.

A knock sounded at the office door, and Ruo Xing entered. He looked as composed as ever, not a hair out of place, as if he had returned without any real trouble.

He hurried in with urgent news to report but held back because Wen Du was there.

“No worries,” Ji Tingxi said. “Director Wen is a key witness now with every right to know. Report directly.”

“Got it!” Ruo Xing stood at attention. “Report to Chief Ji: The owner of Summer Lotus Flower Shop has been successfully apprehended and is currently detained in holding, awaiting your further instructions.”

Ji Tingxi and Wen Du looked up simultaneously, their movements eerily synchronized, though their expressions differed. Wen Du kept her composure tightly reined in, while Ji Tingxi’s surprise was plainly written on her face.

The room fell into a momentary hush, the air thick with suffocation as if it had been sucked dry.

Ji Tingxi raised an eyebrow. “Was she caught mid-escape?”

“No,” Ruo Xing said, glancing at Wen Du again. “She didn’t run. She was inventorying the back storeroom. When we told her to come with us, she argued a bit but followed without resistance.”

The surprise on Ji Tingxi’s face gradually faded. Her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, and when she looked up again, her expression had turned icy, restored to its usual calm.

In response to this “good news,” Wen Du smiled on her behalf. She flipped her palm outward, gesturing toward the door. “Congratulations, Chief Ji. You’ve nabbed the suspect. Next up is the interrogation. Duties just keep piling on, don’t they?”

Ji Tingxi didn’t respond. Her eyes held a complex glint as she slowly rose and left the room with Ruo Xing—the space that had nearly become an interrogation room.

…

In the interrogation room, Xia Lie sat with restless energy, not quite fidgeting but itching with impatience.

She drummed the table one moment, craned her neck the next, on the verge of blurting out: Are you going to interrogate me or not?

When Ji Tingxi took her seat, Xia Lie brightened visibly. She splayed her hands wide, scratching at the tabletop like cat’s paws, as if she had spotted the light of freedom.

“Commander, just ask whatever you need. Get on with it.”

“In such a hurry?” Ji Tingxi leaned back in her chair, her demeanor the polar opposite.

“I’ve got to get back and reconcile the inventory and accounts. Otherwise, if money’s missing, it gnaws at me.”

“For accounts, get your employee to handle it.”

“He’s on vacation. Won’t be back for a few days.”

“Doesn’t look like vacation to me. No one picked up the phone, and there’s no signal on his mobile.”

“That’s normal. He doesn’t know you people—probably thought it was a scam call and blocked it.”

The exemplary shop manager Xia Lie staunchly defended her employee—he had his ways, and she had her explanations.

“Fine, then. Use your phone to call him now.”

Ruo Xing was ready. He dialed the number, set it to speaker, and placed it in front of the interrogation chair. The ringtone chimed several times before the automated message announced it was temporarily unreachable.

“That’s strange. Even on vacation, he usually picks up.”

Ji Tingxi glanced at the computer screen beside her. The interrogation dialogue was being automatically recorded, with an operative making occasional adjustments.

A quick scan revealed nothing but empty chatter, but Ji Tingxi didn’t press. She knew how to control the rhythm of an interrogation without resorting to force.

“Not strange at all. He pulled the SIM card—might have even trashed the phone so it can’t receive calls.” Ji Tingxi tilted her head. “Do you have any other way to reach him?”

“I could use ‘Zhi Xun’ messaging, but if he has no SIM, he won’t get it.”

“Then why did he suddenly take leave? Why go dark like that?”

Xia Lie thought for a moment and shook her head. “It wasn’t sudden. The vacation was planned ahead, which is why I hired extra temp staff. As for going dark, that’s for the police to investigate. He hasn’t run into trouble, has he?”

“No danger. Because whether he vanished or went dark, it was all planned, right?”

Outside the interrogation room, He De had arrived. He sat beside Jia Hua, donned a listening headset, and joined the observation team.

His face remained heavy even now. He knew who the suspect inside was connected to.

Hunting internal traitors was a purge of the organization—and a painful cleansing of his own heart. No matter who turned out to be the mole, it would hurt, but Wen Du would strike the deepest blow.

She wasn’t just the director of the Information Room; she was one of the few decryption experts in North County City. More crucially, she was his daughter’s family teacher.

The thought of a mole spending years by his daughter’s side, shaping her mind and imparting insidious ideas, made He De’s scalp crawl.

But inside the room, things weren’t clarifying.

“Planned, Commander?” Xia Lie mulled over the words, as if they stuck in her throat, then spat them out. “What do you mean? He went dark on purpose?”

Neither Ji Tingxi nor the recorder reacted.

“Oh! Damn!” Xia Lie jolted suddenly. If not for the restraints, she would have leaped half a foot high. “No wonder the accounts don’t match. Did he tamper with them?”

“Right, now that you mention it, check the surveillance! I was planning to after reconciling anyway—to see who touched the password safe!”

“Both cameras were powered down. Didn’t you know?”

Xia Lie: “No, I didn’t! I hadn’t gotten to pull the footage before you showed up!”

Now she was turning the tables, blaming them for getting in the way. Ji Tingxi let it slide and shifted topics. “When did you first notice the accounts didn’t match?”

“Last night. I did a rough check then—major discrepancy, but it was late, so I left the details for today. This morning’s recount confirmed it was way off, so I planned to redo the entire quarter’s books.”

“Who handles the money most in daily operations?”

“Lu Binbin, my vacationing employee. He got an A-minus in math on his college entrance exams—better with numbers than me.”

“Once you spotted the mismatch and he’s the main handler, why let him go on leave? Shouldn’t you have sorted it together first?”

Xia Lie stared blankly for a moment, at a loss for words. Then realization dawned, and she tugged at her restraints, itching to applaud.

“You’re right—I should have. Accounts are serious business! I was too soft-hearted. He’s a key staffer, worked hard all year for this break. Didn’t want to ruin it. Who knew he was hiding this trick?”

Seeing her so worked up, Ji Tingxi suddenly smiled, showing no sympathy for the “innocently duped” shop manager.

“Do you want him found?”

“Of course! No one wants him back more than me right now!”

“Good.” Ji Tingxi decided. “Cooperate with us to locate Lu Binbin. Find him, and you’re free to go.”

Xia Lie perked up at first, but her enthusiasm wilted by the end, replaced by deeper confusion.

“Wait, finding him makes sense. But why hold me until then? Keep me locked up forever? What did I do wrong?”

…

During a break in the interrogation, Ji Tingxi stepped out and took the water Ruo Xing offered.

“Dead set on this shop?” He De asked, staring at the suspect’s image on the screen overhead, his tone devoid of extra emotion.

“We can confirm it. Its online announcements sync perfectly with key events. And right at this critical juncture, it suddenly closes—every node matches. Not coincidence.”

He De stayed silent. From the start, he had voiced caution, but with suspects in custody, there was no point obstructing. Investigate thoroughly.

Jia Hua tapped the screen. “Could the owner be unaware? It’s happened before—Sern Organization members using job perks for crimes, bosses in the dark.”

“No.” Ji Tingxi remained standing, ready for the next move. “She handles all updates. She decides stock and sales. Regular staff can’t control that.”

He De chimed in. “Still digging into connections?”

“Yes. Every shop and person with significant ties to the flower shop is under review. But before arrest, it updated online and offline. I suspect the danger signal spread—other dens are prepped.”

He De tossed his headset down. As he rose, his low pressure nearly crushed those nearby.

“Find hard evidence. Make her confess. I want ironclad proof!”

…

The Guard Institute building remained in lockdown, but with targets locked and tasks focused, the Special Action Department and Intelligence Collection Division suddenly had ample manpower. They split into three teams.

Team One, led by Pu Ningxiu of the Investigation Section, continued with Xia Lie—but shifted to “conversation” mode on the surface, probing her past operations and Lu Binbin’s history. Everything recorded to spot lies and gaps.

Team Two, under Net Intelligence Section Chief Sui En, reviewed Summer Lotus Flower Shop’s records—notices, product details, customer chats—to identify accomplices. All exchanges with Wen Du and Yue Mu flagged for scrutiny.

Team Three, headed by External Investigation Section’s Ruo Xing, handled the shop search, neighborhood canvassing, and tracking Lu Binbin.

Ji Tingxi monitored progress from the third-floor command room.

Ruo Xing, getting nothing useful from Xia Lie, suggested to Ji Tingxi, “Director Wen’s linked to the shop. Should we…”

“No.” Ji Tingxi shut it down instantly. “Don’t touch her. Don’t disturb her.”

She looked up, as if peering through walls toward the Information Room.

She had avoided the fourth floor most of the day—home to the Intelligence Division and Information Room. She deliberately steered clear of Wen Du, even passing on prying words from her.

She instructed her team: Leave Information Room alone. Break through via Xia Lie.

Thus, Special Action prioritized field ops. Best case: Unearth evidence from the shop, nail the case, skip endless mind games.

Ruo Xing knew his chief’s hopes. He led three operatives in a bandit-style ransack of the shop.

Every cabinet, crate, box torn open. Even potted plants on shelves smashed for checks. Storeroom computers and phones boxed for Net Intelligence. Nothing spared.

Yet the results were dismal, same as before.

No suspicious items in the shop. No obvious intel on devices.

—After a full day, not a shred of concrete evidence to convict Xia Lie.

Ji Tingxi received these reports while cleaning her pistol on the sofa. The gun had been her companion for years, always bringing luck. It saved her life recently—who knew what fortune it held now?

“Looks like the mystery group’s members are well-trained. When people leave, not just the tea cools—the cups shatter too. No tea leaves left to snag.”

Ruo Xing’s face was clouded, but after marinating in flowers, even his words carried a fresh scent. “They prepped evidence destruction daily. Takes minutes.”

Ji Tingxi slotted the magazine home. “How long’s the shop been open?”

“Nearly three years.”

“Three years? Even Sern folk loving barley tea would permeate the walls—no way no traces.”

Ruo Xing scratched his head. “Sometimes I wonder: If it were me, how would I hide or destroy stuff? What traces…”

Ji Tingxi tapped the gun barrel, her gaze sweeping over.

Ruo Xing snapped silent, standing ramrod straight, eyes pleading for her idea.

“Searching isn’t your strength.” Her eyes dropped. “It’s Section Chief Bai’s.”

“Eh? Get him? But Chief Ji… he’s not ideal.”

Earlier, suspecting danger, He De “grounded” Ji Tingxi from fieldwork, elevating Bai Zhuo to hustle the Red Show Theater probe.

Later, full lockdown recalled everyone, including him. But Ji Tingxi’s secret task force excluded him amid his scattered duties.

Ruo Xing already harbored mild grudge; handing him the task felt like poaching Ji Tingxi’s turf.

“Not time for grudges.” Ji Tingxi holstered her gun. “Fetch Section Chief Bai.”

Ruo Xing hesitated. His disdain for Bai Zhuo was always overt in her presence, never hidden.

Ji Tingxi lounged against the cushion, eyeing him amusedly. “You openly snub your section chief. Tired of that, now snubbing your director too?”

“Never! I’d respect you even over cash!”

“Then do as I say.”

Ruo Xing’s face fell further, but he saluted and bolted for Bai Zhuo’s office.

…

Outside Summer Lotus Flower Shop, the world was serene. The sign at the door added to the peace, like a goodnight promise before sleep—ready to reunite come morning.

Inside, it was another story.

The search team’s visit had transformed the flower shop into a floral waste dump. A stray cigarette butt in the piles could spark an endless blaze.

Bai Zhuo surveyed on entry, clucking his tongue and shaking his head.

“This is shooting blind—trashed the place. If no evidence turns up, we’ll owe them a fortune in damages.”

Ruo Xing had resolved half an hour ago to swallow his bias, greet Bai Zhuo humbly as superior. But that first line nearly undid it.

“Section Chief Bai, it’s definitely this shop. We have to find proof.”

Don’t jinx it with “if no evidence” now—what were they calling him for?

Bai Zhuo glanced at him, then the wreckage.

Two days prior at Red Show Theater, spotting Ruo Xing tipped him off. Locked down, he’d mulled it over. Now tasked with probing a Sern nest for crime evidence, he saw Ji Tingxi’s scheme. She’d kept him in the dark initially, yanking him from the theater—suspecting him too?

Bai Zhuo paused amid the debris seconds, then strode past the front to the back courtyard.

The rear was flower beds and storage, with a storeroom on the right. Beds held pots and ground blooms. Along the three walls, despite the rummage, tidy original planting showed regular care.

“If they’re Sern criminals, time management must be tight—selling flowers, growing them, plus underground rebellion on the side.”

Ruo Xing bit his tongue; all talk, no action. Bai Zhuo showed no search intent—maybe just touring to fake it.

Bai Zhuo went experiential: gloved up, squatted to fiddle with pots. “These checked?”

“Checked. Real flowers, real dirt.” Ruo Xing eyed the back door, pondering. “One suspect fled. Maybe he took all suspicious stuff.”

Bai Zhuo yanked a plant, roots and soil exposed—hardly gentler than Ruo Xing.

“Possible. But they’d plan for mid-flight capture—no valuables on evacuees.”

He switched spots, to the west wall, digging soil under flowers—like excavating.

“Soil scanned too. Metal detectors clean.”

Bai Zhuo kept at it silently. Ruo Xing saw now: Not digging pits, loosening and flipping soil.

From yard head to tail, Ruo Xing fetched a trowel. Bai Zhuo quit yapping, focused intently. Nearing the corner, he paused, scooped soil into his palm, and inspected under the hanging lamp.

Amid dark earth, gray-black flecks—indiscernible up close. He pinched one; it crumbled like brittle shell.

Bai Zhuo looked up, scanning the room. “Backyard cams cover here?”

“There’s coverage, but mainly central plant area. Wall gardens not,” Kati explained.

Bai Zhuo bagged samples with the trowel, handed to her. “Preserve it. Lab on return.”

“What’s odd in the soil?”

“Can’t say yet. But if a nest, flower beds here are suspicious enough.” Bai Zhuo stood, hands on hips, one leg thrust out in a bold, wide stance.

Any leader catching mice is good—Ruo Xing finally grinned. “What else seems off?”

Bai Zhuo headed to the storeroom without answering.

More office than junk: cleared space, walls behind computer plastered with posters on color combos, leaf pairing. Center: “Outstanding Ikebana Trainee” certificate.

Bai Zhuo’s eyes, honed sharp, distilled key points at a glance.

“Owner’s diligent—keeps learning for her business.”

Then added, “Basics weak, though. I know this stuff.”

Ruo Xing: “Computers, phones checked. Nothing to convict directly.”

“Deletion logs?”

“Yes, but irrecoverable.”

“Careful online—no cracks.”

Ruo Xing smirked. “Cracks exist. Notices had patterns—we caught them.”

Bai Zhuo moved to the adjoining washroom—spotless, not orderly but atmospherically pristine.

He clocked why: Disinfectant reek, heavy sodium hypochlorite, lingering pungently—clean to the point of stinging.

Reflexively, he hunted bottles. Under the rack: lineup of detergent, toilet cleaner, bleach… Disinfectant in pale blue bottle, liquid tinted through plastic, visually potent.

Bai Zhuo scanned again.

Ruo Xing: “No cams here. Only owner and core staff enter. Rarely used.”

“If rare, why blast disinfectant?” Bai Zhuo wrinkled his nose. “Some public restrooms get less.”

He lifted the toilet lid, knelt by the bowl, head lowering to peer at the water trap. Side view: head half in the bowl.

Ruo Xing’s hand shot up to yank him—Section Chief Bai, no need for such zeal!

But midway, he halted—sewer hiding something? They skipped this!

Soon Bai Zhuo resurfaced, face dry. “Call Kati. Sample drain pipe walls. Send to the lab together!”