His eyes went bloodshot. He endured the pain and refused to cry out.
With every inch the blade traveled, Fourth Brother demanded an answer: “What were you after, Jiang Cheng? Who have you ever been worthy of?”
“Were you worthy of the trust Boss He placed in you? Of the brothers here who treated you like family?”
“Or maybe — you were worthy of your identity as a police officer? Ha ha ha! A police officer!” Fourth Brother burst into laughter. “When you killed Yao Weihai — did you remember then that you were a police officer? You killed your own superior, your own colleague, just to save your own skin? What makes you any different from people like us?”
He paused, then said, “There is a difference — we, at least, would never kill our brothers. We only kill traitors.”
Tears spilled from Jiang Cheng’s eyes.
He thought of what Yao Weihai had asked of him: First, hold firm to your convictions. Second, stay alive.
He had failed him.
He thought of the brother he had killed with his own hands — red-eyed and cursing at him: Jiang Cheng! I treated you like a brother, and you’ve been working for the cops?
He had failed him too.
He thought of Zhou Jin, in the control tower — her eyes full of tears as she demanded of him: How can you do it? You hurt me, you hurt my family, and then you turn around and carry on as though nothing happened, without a shred of guilt?
He had failed her as well.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…
The blade sliced a second horizontal cut across his chest. The agony was so extreme that Jiang Cheng’s composure finally shattered — he let out a low, wrenching cry of pain: “Aah—!”
At that very moment, Fourth Brother’s phone suddenly rang. He answered with impatience. A cold, flat voice came through: “Kill Jiang Cheng. Pull out fast.”
The moment he hung up, Fourth Brother heard two thunderous gunshots ring out from outside — bang, bang!
His brow furrowed. Those shots were very close. Inside the warehouse were A’Fa and Fourth Brother himself. Fourth Brother turned his head slightly and signaled for A’Fa to go outside and assess the situation.
A’Fa’s face had gone somewhat pale. His hand trembled as he drew his gun from his waist, and he wet his dry lips before slipping cautiously toward the door.
He had barely reached the doorway when the door was kicked violently open, slamming him flat to the ground. On instinct he raised his gun, pointing it at the entrance.
A dark figure bore down — bang — and caught him squarely between the eyes. A’Fa’s eyes went wide; his body convulsed twice, and he was killed on the spot.
“Police! Don’t move! Slowly — hands up!”
Fourth Brother had his back to them. The loose flesh around his eyes twitched. His gaze went cold as he glanced down at Jiang Cheng on the floor.
He said, “Don’t shoot.”
His hands rose — slowly, slowly.
Then suddenly, he wrenched the gun from his waist and aimed it directly at Jiang Cheng!
Bang, bang — two shots!
A clatter — the gun dropped to the floor. Jiang Cheng struggled to lift his head. The man in front of him swayed on his feet, then crashed thunderously to the ground.
A pool of blood spread from the back of his skull.
With the man’s body no longer blocking it, the last slanting rays of the evening sun poured in from outside — a wash of warm tangerine light flooding through the entrance.
Jiang Cheng watched that light as it lay across the ground, stretching toward him from not far away.
He needed to walk toward it, to reach the place where the light touched.
Facing him were two gun muzzles, dark and black, wreathed in curling smoke.
One of the gun muzzles lowered, and behind it appeared a delicate, fair face — sharp and composed in expression, her hair cut in a clean short style, her silhouette carved slender and fine by the last of the evening glow.
Zhou Jin lowered her gun and looked quietly at the man slumped against the wall below, where the light was too dim to make out his features clearly.
Someone behind her called out: “Who’s there!”
Jiang Cheng exhaled a long, heavy breath. First, he raised both hands to show he was unarmed, then pressed himself against the wall and, inch by painstaking inch, forced himself to stand.
Jiang Cheng’s voice was hoarse beyond measure — and yet in the surrounding silence, it rang out with startling clarity.
Step by step, he moved toward the place where the light spread, and then he spoke:
“Former Deputy Captain of the Second Criminal Investigation Unit, Fengzhou District, Haizhou City. Undercover officer of the ‘8·17’ special task force. Jiang Cheng.”
He had not yet reached the place where the light was clear enough to see by, and Zhou Jin had already walked toward him first. Jiang Cheng’s steps were slow — but Zhou Jin’s were urgent.
Zhao Ping raised his gun and called out to her in concern: “Senior Sister, careful!”
At last, Jiang Cheng stepped into the light. The pain from his wounds, the harshness of the sunlight — both made it difficult to keep his eyes open.
At this moment, Zhou Jin had already reached him. Jiang Cheng could see her face with perfect clarity.
He found himself wondering whether he had already died — and this was simply a very beautiful dream.
“Jiang Cheng.”
Her face was expressionless. She looked up at him.
Jiang Cheng was exhausted to his very limits. His eyelids dipped in one slow, heavy blink, and he said in a ragged voice, “Xiao Wu, aren’t you going to reward me with a warm kiss? I want—”
Smack. Zhou Jin raised her hand and slapped Jiang Cheng hard across the face.