Watching the figure with the sniper rifle slung across his back vanish from sight, Zhou Jin took a step forward.
The man who had come for the extraction barely hesitated — he fired one shot at her feet as a warning. “I’d advise you not to move.”
The light in here was far too dim. He clearly hadn’t made out exactly who it was that had been tangled up with Qi Yan, and asked quietly, “Police?”
Zhou Jin said, “I’m a police officer. So then — who are you?”
“…”
She watched the backlit figure go completely still in that instant. Zhou Jin’s legs felt as though they had been filled with cement — heavy, leaden — and she moved forward, one step at a time.
The other party did not fire again.
She walked into a spot where faint light filtered down, and a pale, fine-featured face gradually came into clarity.
She didn’t dare take another step forward.
“Jiang Cheng.”
Zhou Jin pressed her hand against her shoulder. An overwhelming, all-consuming despair drained the last of her strength away. “Why didn’t you just shoot me?”
The pain stole the breath from her lungs. She leaned against the concrete pillar and slowly sank to the ground.
The door was pulled firmly shut.
Jiang Cheng came rushing toward her — almost at a run. Only when he was close did she notice that his eyes were completely red.
“Zhou Jin.” His voice was trembling. “Why are you here?”
Zhou Jin closed her eyes briefly and looked away from him.
Five years ago, she had seen Jiang Cheng with eyes like that. He had been shirtless, pressed down on his knees before her — those eyes of his, always so full of brilliance, completely bloodshot. He had been in utter disarray, every bit of him a mess.
Zhou Jin could no longer tell which part of her was hurting — the pain was bad enough to make her want to retch. She pressed her hand against her churning stomach.
Jiang Cheng ran his hand across her body armor and came away with a palmful of blood. He asked, “Tell me — where else does it hurt?”
Zhou Jin shoved his hand away with force, her voice low and taut: “Don’t touch me!”
“Keep your voice down!”
Jiang Cheng was clearly somewhat frantic, but the more frantic he became, the harder he pushed — both hands pressing firmly down on Zhou Jin, trying to see where she was injured.
He began to undo her body armor. At her chest, something caught the faint light and glinted.
Smack!
A sharp slap landed squarely across Jiang Cheng’s face.
Zhou Jin was biting down so hard she nearly drew blood. She looked at him with eyes full of loathing, and said, word by word: “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
“…”
Their gazes locked. In the dead silence of the air, even her labored, painful breathing was audible.
What stopped Jiang Cheng cold was not the slap — it was the diamond ring hanging on the chain around her neck.
As if something inside him finally gave way, Jiang Cheng suddenly let out a laugh. It caught in his throat and turned into several strangled coughs. He pressed the back of his hand against his brow, concealing how thoroughly undone he was.
“God damn it.”
Jiang Cheng cursed with barely any energy left behind it. The absurdity of everything that had happened was nearly enough to drive him mad.
He reached out and pulled Zhou Jin into his arms — a grip so fierce it was as though he meant to press her into his very bones.
He had to hold her. He had to.
Jiang Cheng’s arms trembled faintly with how tightly they were locked around her. His voice dropped low as he asked, “How — how is this fair? How is any of this fair?”