In the rearview mirror, Zhou Hui cast a worried glance at Yu Bai lying in the back seat. Without a second thought, she floored the accelerator and charged through the curtain of rain toward the nearest hospital.
Two streets later, they hit another red light at the intersection. A long line of cars snaked ahead like a dragon, forcing Zhou Hui to grit her teeth and stop.
She twisted around to feel Yu Bai’s forehead. The fever hadn’t broken.
Yu Bai’s lips were pallid from the blaze, her slender frame still quivering faintly even in her delirium.
Zhou Hui stared at the traffic that hadn’t budged an inch, a thin film of sweat beading on her own brow.
She laid on the horn a few times. Nothing.
When the third green light finally pierced the rainy haze, Zhou Hui hugged the tail of the car ahead and barreled through the intersection just before the light flipped.
This street housed a private clinic. As a criminal investigator, Zhou Hui knew Pingling City’s roads like the back of her hand—she could navigate the whole place blindfolded.
She gunned it toward the clinic and pulled into a spot right by the entrance. Zhou Hui fumbled off her seatbelt and bolted into the downpour.
She flung open the back door, draped a raincoat over Yu Bai, then scooped her up in a bridal carry and dashed inside the clinic doors in three strides.
Only after Yu Bai was hooked up to an IV drip—clear fluid trickling slowly into her pale blue veins—did Zhou Hui’s heart, which had been in her throat, finally settle back into place.
Zhou Hui took the lab report to the payment counter, settled the bill, and returned to the ward. The nurse swapping out the IV bag glanced over her shoulder. “You family?”
“I’m not—”
The nurse didn’t let her finish. “Way too irresponsible. A 39.5-degree fever and you bring her in soaked? Fevers this bad can scramble the nervous system. Any worse, and you’d have permanent brain damage. Half an hour later, and it’d have been critical!”
Zhou Hui’s blood ran cold in hindsight. She sank onto the edge of the bed and clasped Yu Bai’s slender, porcelain wrist. The panic churning inside her didn’t let up one bit.
Zhou Hui fetched warm water from the sink and wiped down Yu Bai’s body every half hour. Each time she lifted Yu Bai’s gaunt, near-weightless frame with effortless ease, a surreal feeling bloomed deep in her chest.
As if the person cradled in her arms might dissipate like smoke on the wind, leaving no trace.
All at once, Zhou Hui’s mind replayed the mere dozens of days since she’d met Yu Bai—her daily life, her family and career, and all those rumors swirling around the Police Bureau, the ones everyone parroted without question. Up close, none of it felt real.
Zhou Hui lost herself in thought until a soft, delicate hand brushed her arm, jolting her back to reality.
Yu Bai was awake now, propping herself up with effort. A faint flush colored her cheeks, softening that usual beguiling air. Her pale pink lips parted slightly.
Zhou Hui’s throat tightened. She leaned in. “What do you want?”
Yu Bai shook her head weakly, an apologetic smile ghosting her lips as they moved faintly. “Sorry. I couldn’t stay for your birthday. I’ll make it up to you another day.”
Zhou Hui’s heart stuttered. Guilt crashed over her again, a storm ravaging her on the brink of collapse.
“What kind of cake do you like? Fruit? Vanilla? Chocolate?”
Yu Bai ventured guesses at her tastes, her low voice laced with extra warmth and softness.
Zhou Hui’s lips pressed into a thin line. A thousand emotions surged to her tongue, but not a single word came out.
Yu Bai’s silence stretched, and she suddenly smiled—tenderness misting her fine brows and eyes, her fragile lashes fluttering. She gave Zhou Hui’s arm a gentle shake. “Come on, tell me! What’s with the silence? Don’t like any of those? How about I make you a bowl of longevity noodles?”
Zhou Hui gazed at those slender fingers draped lightly over her arm. All her roiling emotions drowned in a pool of tenderness.
“I… sorry.” Zhou Hui dropped her gaze.
“Don’t say sorry, Zhou Hui.”
Yu Bai leaned back against the headboard, her eyes drifting wistfully to the window, her voice trembling at the edges.
Thunder cracked across the sky outside, the rain sheeting down without mercy, a veil of mist cloaking the heavens.
Zhou Hui’s heart twanged like a plucked string. She swallowed down a strange pang.
Yu Bai’s gaze pulled back from the window, her half-lidded eyes brimming with softness. She looked at Zhou Hui and murmured, “Everything we’ve done was worth it. The River Channel Murder Case can finally be put to rest, right?”
Zhou Hui’s throat closed up, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. She frowned at Yu Bai. “You knew who the real killer was all along. And that Xu Zhixin was just a patsy, didn’t you?”
“Yes! Xu Zhixin wasn’t the killer.” Yu Bai let out a soft sigh. “How could he be?”
“Shao Yuan was just one of the many lines he cast back then.”
Yu Bai’s gaze suddenly turned chillingly cold. “How much value do you think a single piece of bait holds in Captain Xu’s eyes? Probably not even as much as two pounds of pork he picks up from the market on his way home from work! One dies, and another steps right up to replace them. Lives hanging by a thread, fighting desperately for survival—what does any of that matter? The Special Operations Department has never been short on fresh young faces eager to sacrifice themselves.
“Leaders like Xu Zhixin, perched high in their positions and barking orders from afar—when they’re climbing the ranks and collecting their medals and promotions, do they ever spare a thought for the undercover agent out there risking everything for them? All to pad their shiny résumés with one award after another.”
Yu Bai spoke in a single breathless rush, her shoulders heaving with the intensity of her emotions.
Zhou Hui frowned deeply as she listened, then countered, “…Captain Xu isn’t that kind of person.”
He wasn’t that kind of person.
Otherwise, why would he take the fall for the killer?
Otherwise, why had he shown such strong hostility toward her from the very first day she joined the Police Bureau?
Two years now, and no one in the entire bureau clung to the Shao Yuan case as tightly as he did.
But Yu Bai didn’t give her a chance to elaborate. Her stunned gaze fixed on Zhou Hui. “He isn’t… that kind of person?”
Yu Bai let out a faint, derisive snort, her expression cooling once more. “What was he doing when Shao Yuan and his entire family of five were slaughtered? What was he doing when one undercover agent after another got exposed? All they knew how to do was chase after what they thought was their internal traitor with relentless fury. Do they really believe that stepping forward to take the blame now will wipe away all their guilt? As if the world works that conveniently.
“Two years, and they’ve been able to rest easy in their positions because…”
Yu Bai’s throat suddenly tightened, and grief she could no longer conceal flickered across her brows and eyes.
“Because why?” Zhou Hui pressed urgently.
What dark secret lay hidden behind the 725 Case, the very mention of which made everyone’s blood run cold?
Where exactly was Ji Shen, the supposedly traitorous cop rumored to have fled abroad?
And Yu Bai, just how deeply were you entangled in all this? Zhou Hui lowered her gaze, her brows furrowing slightly as if she could read something in the other woman’s eyes.
Yu Bai met Zhou Hui’s stare. The corners of her eyes trembled as she forced a bleak smile. Her gaze drifted vacantly toward the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass in thin streams. A bitter ache filled her heart. Then, abruptly, her eyes snapped back to Zhou Hui, her lips quivering as she said:
“Because someone had already built a protective barrier for them among the drug traffickers—one that kept every single undercover agent in that den of devils from being exposed. It allowed these high-ranking officials to keep lording over their posts without a care. And that person… was Ji Shen. My husband. The same man the police are still offering a bounty to capture.”
What?!
Zhou Hui was so stunned she couldn’t speak for a long moment. At last, she whispered, “Then… where is he now?”
Even as the words left her mouth, an ominous premonition surged in Zhou Hui’s heart.
If the truth of the 725 Case was really this, and Ji Shen wasn’t the traitor… then two years ago, when the traffickers dragged him away from the docks, his fate had been sealed.
How would the drug ring deal with a cop who’d infiltrated their ranks?
They’d gone to such lengths to snatch him right under the police’s noses. His end must have been far more horrific than Shao Yuan’s.
“He’s dead. Died two years ago in America.” Yu Bai closed her eyes, but in her mind flashed the all-too-familiar scenes from countless nightmares.
~~~
“Traitor! Lapdog of the cops!”
“Fuck, you wear that uniform for a few years and really start thinking you’re one of them? Ji Shen, take a good look in the mirror. With that sorry state you’re in, do you look like a cop? Huh? Do you?”
“…No, I don’t… Kill me… I’m the mole! Kill me!” She heard the gut-wrenching despair in his voice, saw those pleading eyes: “Kill me! I can’t take it anymore! Please, Jennifer…”
~~~
Yu Bai’s lashes fluttered. When her eyes opened again, chaos swirled in their clear depths. She turned her gaze toward Zhou Hui, her expression subtly shifting.
“Do you want to know how he died?”
Zhou Hui’s eyelids twitched. She didn’t answer.
Yu Bai drew a long breath, trying to swallow down her emotions, but her voice still trembled uncontrollably. “Drug overdose.”
Just those few short words.
Zhou Hui could feel how agonizing it had been for Yu Bai to say them.
And for the past two years, how much torment had she endured in the dead of night, night after night?
“Drugs can turn the gentlest soul into a devil and the strongest man into a coward. They say humans and ghosts walk different paths, but drugs… they blur that line between man and ghost until it’s barely there.”
Yu Bai’s eyes were vacant, unfocused. She tilted her head back and let out a wretched laugh. “How ironic. We spent our lives hating drugs more than anything… and in the end, that’s exactly how he had to go.”
The last trace of strength drained from her body at last, and Yu Bai covered her face as she wept.
She sobbed uncontrollably.
“Now you can go and arrest the real killer,” Yu Bai said, lifting her head from between her fingers.
Zhou Hui’s heart jolted, emotions flickering darkly in her eyes. She let out a soft sigh and gently drew Yu Bai into her arms. Yu Bai’s chin rested against her shoulder, trembling faintly, and Zhou Hui’s heart sank. “It’s all over now. Everything is in the past.”
She lightly patted Yu Bai’s back and stroked her hair, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing against her chest. In that moment, she found herself unable to utter another word.
Yu Bai’s body continued to shudder softly, and all Zhou Hui could do was hold her close, soothing her endlessly.
Outside the window, the rain sprinkled lazily, slanting down to soak the world. Yet in that instant, a patch of warmth bloomed in their hearts, spreading through the ward.
