Chapter 71

“Don’t go—it’s dangerous!”

The meeting had been postponed by three days. When Wen Du finally met Du Lengding again, it felt like an eternity had passed, as if Du Lengding had served a prison sentence and Wen Du was there to welcome her out with a celebratory meal.

In truth, Du Lengding’s imprisonment was now within “arm’s reach.” The psychological trials they had endured in the meantime were profound and intricate, stretching their days into years.

“Kuper has indeed returned to Gailie, just as you predicted,” Du Lengding said.

“I suspect they didn’t actually photograph Snake Mouth Mountain this time. They were just testing the waters, probing the Guard Institute’s reaction.” Wen Du’s gaze dropped to the floor. “They succeeded in their probe this round. Next time, they’ll likely go straight for the kill.”

“The Guard Institute took such a massive international risk just to detain Kuper. There must be something behind Snake Mouth Mountain—something they absolutely cannot let the outside world know about.”

“So far, we’ve captured images of at least two scholars entering Snake Mouth Mountain. Their fields cover chemistry, biology, and computing. Putting those traits together, it points to an experimental base hidden behind Snake Mountain, conducting secret research.”

Du Lengding looked at her. “Can’t anyone inside the Guard Institute uncover any leads?”

Wen Du shook her head. “I asked around discreetly with friends in the labs, but their reactions suggest they have no idea about what’s behind Snake Mountain. That makes the issue even more serious. Our organization is already a highly classified unit, and if even our own people are in the dark, then whatever’s happening behind there must be at an even higher level of secrecy—and far more critical.”

“No wonder Gailie Country went to such lengths with this probe. They’ve caught the scent of something sensitive. There will surely be follow-up actions. I’ll have our Snake Port station members stay vigilant for any anomalies.”

As Du Lengding spoke, she noticed a thin sheen of sweat on Wen Du’s temple. She rose and turned on the air conditioner. The central and southern regions of Bailunting were already deep into the scorching summer, but North County’s geography lent its clear summer days a refreshing touch of late spring, blending into a warmth that stopped short of true heat.

“It’s nothing. I just rushed over and worked up a sweat,” Wen Du said. Just then, a cool breeze washed over her face, bringing welcome relief and soothing her dry skin.

Wen Du glanced toward the vent, her eyes drifting to Du Lengding’s cuff. As Du Lengding adjusted the air flow, a section of her wrist came into view—her skin was strikingly fair, marked by clear imprints from two days of restraints. They looked like an inescapable shadow, ready at any moment to morph into real shackles.

Wen Du stared, lost in thought, but quickly averted her gaze, worried it might seem rude.

“That boy surnamed Jia—has he been moved to a safe location?”

“He was relocated a month ago. I actually discovered him while investigating the black market. Once I learned he was Sern, I reported it to the organization. It turned out his brother was one of our planned evacuation targets. The brother wanted to give his spot to his younger sibling. He chose to stay in North County and join Giel to help pass along intelligence. We owe much of our success in taking down Luo Le to the payment card he provided; otherwise, forging links to black market accounts would have been much harder in such a short time.”

Wen Du pieced it together instantly.

She hadn’t been involved in planning that operation—it had all been Du Lengding and her contacts. During the investigation, Wen Du had harbored some anxiety about it. But now, it seemed every step had been meticulously planned, and things were unfolding more smoothly than ever.

“That’s great, then. The brothers both got what they wanted.” Wen Du smiled faintly, though the curve of her lips soon faded. “As for the narcotics case, my focused assistance ends today. We probably won’t have an excuse to meet on official business for a while.”

“No problem. The new relay station is already set up—it’s a dessert shop. I’ll give you the exact address and code phrase later.”

“Sounds good. As long as everything goes smoothly.”

Du Lengding unlocked a drawer, pulled out a sealed bag, and placed it on the coffee table. “Here’s what you asked for—information on Ji Tingxi, sent over from Ganteming.”

Wen Du took the bag, chuckling suddenly. “Ji Tingxi was enemies with the Libo Faction before, and now she’s our enemy. Pulling intel from her former foes—does that count as a background check?”

“It does. And this kind of check often reveals the most crucial details, like her strengths and weaknesses. After all, no one knows their enemies better than they do.”

Wen Du started to tuck the sealed bag into her shoulder pack, but Du Lengding pressed a hand down on it and gave her a gentle smile.

“Read it here. The key info is limited. I’ll destroy it right after you’re done.”

…

By the time Wen Du left the Police Bureau, it was already quitting time—she could head straight home. She asked the driver to pull over midway; she wanted to walk the rest of the way.

Her favorite part of the daily commute was always the walking. Free from worrying about traffic, she could let her mind wander, reviewing and replaying events in her head. Plans were usually set the night before, and on the way to work, she’d go over them again to commit them to memory.

Today, leaving the bureau, Wen Du felt comparatively relaxed. They’d executed their plan flawlessly, gaining the upper hand in their game of wits and securing a substantial advantage for the organization. The Gailie Forces had overplayed their hand, Ji Tingxi’s authority was curtailed, Bai Zhuo was still chasing the Libo Faction, and while the Guard Institute wouldn’t drop its pursuit of Giel, the threat had diminished greatly.

They’d weathered the toughest days. Now, a turning point had come. She only hoped the path ahead would bloom at every step.

The nearby streets were familiar. Wen Du followed her instincts along the sidewalk and soon found herself on Lilac Street without realizing it.

Summer Lotus Flower Shop stood empty, its flowers cleared out, leaving only the colorful wooden doorframe. The bright exterior made the dim, outdated interior look all the more abandoned, like a forgotten hole shunned by the whole district.

Wen Du had made it a habit: whenever something good happened, she’d buy a bouquet to brighten her mood and her home.

Subconsciously, she drifted to the shop’s entrance.

Standing on the sidewalk, Wen Du stared at the storefront. This time, she finally mustered the courage to recall the last flowers she’d bought there.

Daisies, weren’t they? White-petaled with blue hearts, light as air in her arms, wrapped in soft paper like petals themselves. Tucked in the bouquet was a card wishing her peace and prosperity, with many years ahead.

Time had proven the shopkeeper’s blessing true. She should have added a touch of sentiment back then—written a celebratory note for herself, too.

…

At home, Yue Mu had finally received Wen Du’s good news. She’d prepared not just dinner but also some fruit wine—negligible in alcohol content, but enough to add a festive touch.

After the meal, she could finally turn on the TV and practice her solo waltz.

Yue Mu had once envisioned a fulfilling, vibrant middle age, full of energy. Instead, her career had bloomed anew in later years, thrusting her into the world of undercover work. To cover her underground activities, she posed as a household helper, doing laundry and cooking every day.

Her old friends praised her boundless professional range: she could wield a brush for calligraphy or a mop with equal skill.

“Once the new station is up, message relay will be much easier,” Yue Mu said, flexing her toes.

“Yes. Having Officer Du help with the interim handoff actually got her into some trouble—drew suspicion her way.”

The music started, but as a dedicated underground operative, Yue Mu kept her focus on the conversation, chattering away.

“Exactly. So, Ah Du, sometimes I really worry if you’re truly safe. Officer Du got flagged just from her slight connection to you, and that Ji woman is definitely still watching you. I’m concerned she has more tricks up her sleeve—nasty ones!”

Wen Du sat on the fabric sofa by the window, head tilted back. The aromatherapy fan on the sill blew a gentle breeze, caressing the fine hairs on her neck and her right temple. She closed her eyes in thought, her mouth just parting to speak, when a noise from the entryway interrupted her.

“Hey!” Yue Mu shut off the music and frowned toward the door.

Lately, their front door had been anything but peaceful.

This visitor was Ruo Xing, polite as ever. He nodded a greeting to Wen Du inside.

“Good afternoon, Miss Wen.”

“Afternoon. Looks like everyone got off work early today.”

“Indeed. Miss Ji is already off duty. She’s booked a private room at Vulcan Restaurant and invites you to join her for a meal.” Ruo Xing handed over the invitation card, edged with fig leaf motifs in muted Morandi tones. It clearly listed the restaurant’s name, location, and dining time. At the center was a personal note from Ji Tingxi herself.

Dearest Miss Wen:

The dawn is clear today; the sunset must be splendid too. Such a rare evening deserves sharing with a friend. I specially invite you to Vulcan Restaurant for a casual gathering and chat.

—Your devoted Ji Tingxi.

Wen Du took the card, a tingling shock running through her fingertips, making them swell with numbness. “Miss Ji certainly has refined tastes. But I’ve already eaten—I’m afraid I’ll have to decline her kind offer.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve eaten. Miss Ji said the important thing is to meet, chat, and enjoy the view of Great Tree Avenue.”

“We eagerly await your presence.” Ruo Xing bowed and promptly turned to leave.

Yue Mu had heard every word from the side. Her dance shoes were still on, but her body was rigid, all trace of dancing gone.

“Ah Du, don’t go—I sense danger!”

Wen Du still held the invitation, rereading the words again and again. Finally, she lifted her eyes and closed the card.

“No, I have to go.”

…

Vulcan Restaurant sat across from Great Tree Avenue—prime real estate, worth its weight in gold, with service charges to match.

For the best view, Ji Tingxi had reserved a street-facing private room, its window angled at forty-five degrees to overlook the avenue.

Wen Du had long heard of the restaurant’s fame, but this was her first visit.

As she entered, she was greeted by knotted hemp ropes coiled high around thick wooden pillars. Walls and windows bore colorful masks with varied expressions. Mist swirled around her, emanating from square pots on tables, veiling faces in a hazy glow.

Guided by the server, Wen Du ascended to the second floor and entered the private room. Platters already graced the table, especially on her side: frozen tofu and sweet potato leaves in complementary shades of white and green.

A ring of cushioned chairs had originally surrounded the table, but all but two had been removed. Ji Tingxi sat on the left, nearer the door; the spot opposite was carefully set for her guest.

“It’s a shame you’re so far away. Miss Wen, it’s rare for you to come over.”

Wen Du didn’t reply at first, instead studying her intently—radiant skin, striking features. Even after a full day of work, she glowed without a hint of strain or setback.

Though Wen Du held the momentary edge in their contest, Ji Tingxi’s poise and vitality demanded admiration. Such a vessel and spirit couldn’t be bested—only torn apart.

“To receive such a gracious invitation from Miss Ji, handwritten no less, is truly rare.”

Ji Tingxi’s smile dazzled, her lips more lustrous than if glossed. She raised her glass in toast. “It’s just steamed—give it a moment before we start. Have some barley tea first; you’d surely love it.”

Wen Du noted the yellowish hue in Ji Tingxi’s cup—clearly lemon liqueur. So why was hers barley tea?

“Why would Miss Ji think I like barley tea? It’s not common these days, is it?”

Wen Du was certain she hadn’t brewed or drunk it in the past three years, nor even mentioned it.

“Of course you like it. Isn’t barley tea one of the grain infusions most cherished in Sern culture?”