Chapter 89

It was a rare chance to coax her out, so of course there were more interesting things to do.

Last time, they’d at least had afternoon tea at Sha Jiali’s house. But this time, they hadn’t even finished half a cup of water before heading home.

By that metric, their progress had actually backslid.

Sha Jiali hadn’t said it outright, but his attitude today had shut the door completely. He hadn’t even asked about terms or payoffs—just dismissed it entirely.

Wen Du had handled it right: clean, decisive, an early exit. Ji Tingxi had wanted to push a few more rounds, but with the answer set in stone, there was no point wasting time on him.

Ji Tingxi drove all the way to the Wutong Street villa to drop Wen Du off. As Wen Du turned to open the door, the car lock didn’t budge. She glanced back and met Ji Tingxi’s gaze.

That look wasn’t entirely professional. It held a thread of personal concern woven in.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m used to it,” Wen Du replied lightly, her conditioned response almost bringing a smile to her lips.

Truth be told, she wasn’t fine. At Sha Jiali’s house, everything had looked pristine on the surface. But one glance was enough for Wen Du to picture what went on behind closed doors.

Why did Sha Jiali hire only women? Only young women? Only young, attractive women?

Those identical maid outfits weren’t uniforms—they were the standard prison garb for young Sern women, a symbol of the shared suffering endured by countless Sern people.

Wen Du had spotted Yuan Miu, Luo Zi, and Duo Er there before, which had sparked her relocation plan and added them to her rescue list.

But trading one Luo Zi’s freedom for the plight of ten more “Luo Zis”? Today’s glimpse made that small victory feel paltry—even like a net loss.

She and Ji Tingxi weren’t enemies anymore. Their interests were tightly aligned now.

In front of her, Wen Du didn’t need to hide her gloom. But after years of pretense, the mask was second nature. Even her facial muscles moved with practiced softness, showing no suspicious stiffness.

“I get it. Seeing all that… it has to leave a bad taste. It got to me too.” Ji Tingxi’s fingers tapped the steering wheel in time with her words, as if venting her frustration.

Her initial concern had surprised Wen Du, but this line hit her like a jolt.

Wen Du empathized with every fallen Sern person—their ordeals, their circumstances, their needs. But she never voiced it. For her cover, that empathy was strictly off-limits.

At the same time, she never expected it from others, whether for the Sern race’s plight or her own.

She sought allies where she could, but only for mutual gain—never emotional support.

So Ji Tingxi’s words, for all their lack of practical impact, showed a clear bias. Delivered so bluntly and boldly—was this the legendary favoritism in plain sight?

Caught off guard, Wen Du’s facade nearly cracked. She had to smother her frustration and the surging surprise, lest they crease her face.

“Thanks for your dismay, Miss Ji. It makes me feel a lot better.”

“If you’re feeling better, then I’m not so bummed out anymore.” Ji Tingxi’s lips curved up, offering even warmer goodwill. “Tomorrow’s National Day, and with no big cases on deck, we should get the day off. Does Miss Wen have time to go shopping?”

“Sure. It’s been ages since I’ve just wandered around.”

—Every outing had been for a mission. This one was too, but it carried the thrill of aimless novelty.

“Great. Let’s meet at nine tomorrow morning, east gate of Moon Coral Park.”

…

Wen Du was punctual, always arriving early. But Ji Tingxi had beaten her to it, quietly checking her phone messages. She’d clearly been there a while—no frantic scanning for her arrival.

As Wen Du approached, she couldn’t help thinking: If Ji Tingxi weren’t worried about her sleeping in on a day off, she’d have set it for seven a.m., up before the park birds with that ironclad routine of hers.

Before Wen Du could speak, Ji Tingxi looked up, spotted her, and pocketed her phone, shifting into a welcoming stance.

“I looked up too quick and didn’t see clearly at first. I thought the park fairy had come on duty.”

Wen Du smiled brightly and slung her handbag over her shoulder. “If I’m a fairy, why bother with a job? Better to be a grasshopper in the bushes—free as can be, hopping wherever.”

“Then let’s be a couple of grasshoppers today, roaming the park carefree.”

The park had gates but no ticket booths or fees—anyone could wander in and out.

Today being National Day, crowds flocked to malls and amusement parks, leaving the paths sparse. Wen Du and Ji Tingxi walked a stretch toward the central symmetrical flower beds without seeing another soul.

Bailunting loved flowers, so parks abounded, with blooms dotting the lawns and castle grounds in grand swaths or scattered clusters. Every spot was a scenic vignette, blending utility and beauty.

It was still rose season. The south was in full bloom, but North County’s milder climate lagged; the roses only burst forth in early summer.

They skirted the snow-white statue of the Virgin Mary, ringed by rosebushes that looked freshly rain-washed, their colors vivid—a natural tribute to the saint.

The flowers mesmerized Wen Du, slowing her steps unconsciously.

She wore a light beige ensemble: a knit cardigan over a pleated maxi skirt. In the sunlight, the fabric’s texture faded, giving the illusion of a flowing white gown amid the roses’ vibrant shifts.

Wen Du often had field tasks alongside her institute work, liaising with other departments. She didn’t mind the social side, but this secluded spot was a balm, recharging her as they strolled and sweeping away the mental fatigue of late.

“Miss Ji, you really know how to pick spots. On such a bustling holiday, this place is the quietest—perfect for us.”

Most folks thought National Day meant North County Terrace Square for the ceremony or Chun Xi Department Store for festivities, soaking in the festive vibe.

But Ji Tingxi had chosen a park—quiet Moon Coral Park, no less. Tailor-made for Wen Du, thoughtful to a fault.

“True. If I could stroll with Miss Wen every day, I’d add years to my life.”

Rounding the statue and fountain opened up a grassy square facing a lawn, edged by a row of benches. Sunlight filtered through, casting neat striped shadows that stretched long across the ground.

Wen Du and Ji Tingxi picked a bench on the end. Their shadows joined the pattern at once, the outlines of their shoulders and loose hair etched sharply on the pavement.

Ahead loomed a castle of brick and stone: white walls, green roof, the attic windows like half-lidded eyes watching distant passersby.

Towering pillars crowned the walls, and atop one fluttered a Rui’er flag—blue and white, matching the castle perfectly. It blended so well that without the wind stirring it, you’d miss it entirely.

Three hundred years ago, the Bailunting people had toppled the Baiwei Dynasty, ending monarchy for democracy, hierarchies for equality. But three years back, they’d risen again—this time restoring hierarchies without ditching equality.

Equality endured; some were just more equal than others.

History’s wheel turned onward in spirals of “progress,” hymned as advancement. Especially on this national celebration, when everyone sang praises—even this forgotten park flew festive banners, waving in the breeze.

Yet Wen Du and Ji Tingxi faced the sunlit flag, deep in hushed plots of darker schemes.

“I got word yesterday: the Sern Affairs Management Bureau shipped another batch of culled Sern people northwest.”

“Snake Mouth Bay?”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell. The breeze stilled for a beat, the flag drooping into the castle’s shadow.

“What do you think, Miss Ji?” Wen Du had her suspicions; she wanted to check if they synced.

“There’s probably a secret base behind Snake Mouth Mountain. More than just a labor training camp.”

“Right. Gailie Country must suspect it too—otherwise, why send probes last time?”

It was nearing ten, the sun climbing higher, but its light felt gentle, sharpening the world’s colors and clarity like her thoughts.

Ji Tingxi lounged in her cotton-linen shirt and baggy jeans, her words casual as chit-chat.

“If foreign nationals are caught filming labor training camps, the Guard Institute’s reaction makes sense. But Director He’s response clinches it: the sensitivity runs deeper than the camps.”

“Is he hypersensitive to Gailie tourists? Did he oversee it personally?”

“That’s part. Also, I usually handle departmental contacts in cases like this, but for Snake Mouth Bay, every key decision went through him.

“He’s likely conferring with the base head on Snake Mouth Mountain or reporting up the chain—bypassing me and Bai Zhuo entirely. So I’d bet whatever’s back there is top-tier classified. Even in the Guard Institute, only the director knows.”

The Giel Organization had long eyed Snake Mouth Bay after spotting scholars and experts nearby, setting up a dedicated surveillance post.

But it seemed Libo Faction had clocked it early too—hence Ji Tingxi’s mid-case intervention in the Kuper incident, pulling every scrap of intel.

Wen Du wanted to ask if Libo had leads on Snake Mouth’s rear slopes or solid guesses. But she bit it back.

Snake Mouth’s back lands were a hot spot for Giel, Libo Faction, and Gailie Country. Any intel there would fetch top dollar on the black market—or stay locked in-house.

They had their three ground rules: withhold sensitive info if needed, but no lies.

To sidestep awkwardness, Wen Du circled to the Zi Qin sisters, tied to Snake Mouth Bay.

“Zi Qin and Zi Cen are still in holding cells, right?”

“Yeah, no transfer orders yet.”

For the first time that day, Wen Du found the sun glaring. She squinted, light dancing on her cheek and glinting in her eyes.

“As I recall, labor training camp inmates never leave. Security’s ironclad. For you to spring them, there must’ve been strings attached?”

“There were.” Ji Tingxi’s eyes stayed open, reflecting Wen Du fully as she met her gaze. “Loan term ends, we return them intact. But then Meisi and Merle got hit by Jili Organization attacks, so repatriation stalled.”

“That’s another oddity. Labor camps are all the same—no regional flavors required. Why ship those two back to Meisi Labor Camp specifically?”

Wasn’t North County’s own camp good enough? Worried the mountain-and-water views were too cushy for the Zi Qin sisters?

“I haven’t cracked that either. But it spotlights the Snake Mouth back-mountain mystery all the more.”

No need to spell it out; Wen Du got it.

“Per Rui’er Terrace regs, the Zi Qin sisters should’ve gone straight back to Meisi Labor Camp. But lately, they’ve been cleared for North County Labor Camp ‘reform’—headed Snake Mouth Bay way.

“That suggests North County Labor Camp was nixed from the start. Their transport might not be bound for a camp at all, but a secret site—classified even from the Guard Institute rank-and-file, known only to Director He and above.”

Wen Du nodded. “Makes sense. And Zi Qin and Zi Cen might not have been in Meisi’s camp either—could be another Snake Mouth-style hideout.”

Ji Tingxi finally squinted, seeking out the distant flag. A gust revived it, flapping on—boasting fruits of victory from three centuries past, or seeds from three years ago?

Images of Zi Qin and Zi Cen flickered in Ji Tingxi’s mind.

Three months on, their reunion in Meisi showed stark changes.

Their faces had a gritty texture, red patches flaking like mild inflammation. Their hands matched: skin shrunken, knuckles prominent, like a field hand’s from endless toil.

—Just from heavy labor?

Or something else?

Ji Tingxi gazed afar, eyes distant in thought.

Libo Faction compiled endless “guilty inferences” against Rui’er Terrace. Her mind spun dozens of possibilities—but none provable.

Just then, Wen Du turned. “Could we verify through the Zi Qin sisters?”

“I can try, but it’s tricky. No guarantees.”

“No guarantees how?”

“First off, interrogations require full audio-video recording, no breaks. Meisi oversees; we can’t touch camp topics—even indirectly, or flags go up.

“Plus, to them, you and I are just Guard Institute foes. Wary as hell—no leaks.”

Wen Du mulled it over. No easy win there.

She lowered her gaze, pondering.

By now, the Zi Qin sisters were a puzzle box.

Initially, they held key Giel Organization intel. The Wei Investigation Institute had pried, but the sisters stayed mum.

Now, they carried potential Rui’er Terrace secrets they’d gladly spill to Giel—if they could.

Undeniably sensitive, they wouldn’t be offed lightly. But with Meisi and North County snarled, next move: silence them?

Sunlight dazzled her eyes. In a haze, an idea stirred in Wen Du: Get word to them somehow. Rescue them!

Her lips twitched, but she held back from Ji Tingxi. That plan treaded into Special Action Department turf. Successful inmate break? Censure, penalties for sure.

Wen Du wasn’t sure Ji Tingxi would risk it. If push came to shove and interests clashed, they might clash blades again.

“Sure, let’s try the interrogation. Sorry to trouble you with pushing it forward, Miss Ji.”

“No sweat. I’ll plan tonight.”

Intel shared, outing winding down. They looped back to the north gate. Wen Du raised a hand for goodbye.

But Ji Tingxi cut in first, nipping “see you” in the bud.

“You didn’t think I dragged you out just to stroll the park, did you, Miss Wen?”

“Wasn’t that… it?” Wen Du halted.

Ji Tingxi flashed a brilliant grin. “It was a rare chance to coax you out, so of course there were more interesting things to do.”