Jiang Hansheng leaned against the windowsill, his gaze shadowed and unreadable, resting on the sleeping Zhou Jin.
“Director Tan isn’t worried about the plan being unworkable,” he said. “You’re having trouble choosing the right person to carry it out.”
The chief of the Major Crimes Unit hardly needed Jiang Hansheng to help vet an action plan.
Tan Shiming, his thoughts seen through, said, “Nothing escapes Professor Jiang.”
Among the people Tan Shiming currently had available to deploy, Zhou Jin was the only one he could trust without reservation.
And he had cultivated Zhou Jin — not so she could spend her career trailing behind others, or sitting in an office pouring tea and filing reports…
Jiang Hansheng had already guessed the purpose of Tan Shiming’s call. “Zhou Jin will do an excellent job,” he said.
Tan Shiming let out a soundless sigh. “With those words from Professor Jiang, I can set my mind at ease.”
The two fell into a brief silence. Then Jiang Hansheng spoke again: “Watch over Jiang Cheng’s safety. Be on guard against anyone trying to silence him.”
“Understood,” Tan Shiming said.
Tan Shiming hung up the phone, took a sip of tea, and shook his head with a quiet click of his tongue. “Remarkably gracious.”
---
Haizhou’s Hongtian Mall was situated in a bustling district. Even on a Monday, foot traffic through the shopping center was considerable.
At the briefing, Tan Shiming had announced that Jiang Cheng had stored the evidence of Hengyun Logistics’ illegal trade activities in a locker at the Feifan Golf Club.
Upon hearing this, he felt uncertain — half-believing, half-doubting — unsure whether the intelligence was genuine or a trap. His habit of suspicion immediately kicked in.
There were times when he would carry out his duties as a police officer diligently, even willing to see someone on his own side get arrested if it meant keeping his own cover intact. Above all else, he had to protect the secret of who he really was.
As it turned out, his instincts proved correct. His suspicions were confirmed.
Tan Shiming quietly summoned him along with several other Major Crimes Unit members to his office.
Tan Shiming revealed that Jiang Cheng had informed them there was a mole in the department — and what he had announced at the briefing about the golf club was nothing but a smokescreen.
The USB drive’s true location was Hongtian Mall.
Tan Shiming had placed absolute trust in him. It was almost laughable — Tan Shiming would never imagine that he was the very mole they were hunting.
Still, it was fortunate — fortunate that Tan Shiming trusted him.
Tan Shiming had forbidden all personnel involved in the operation from contacting the outside world. Unable to make a phone call, he placed the Major Crimes Unit’s potted orchid on the windowsill as a signal — a warning that something was wrong.
A man known as Seventh Uncle sent a delivery worker in to relay a message, ordering him to destroy the USB drive before the police could get their hands on it.
Once the task was done, Seventh Uncle would wire five million to his overseas account. The instruction was clear: success was the only option. Failure was not permitted.
What would happen if he failed?
He had worked alongside these people for years. He knew exactly what they were capable of. If he failed, there would be no good end waiting for him.
He had to succeed.
Tan Shiming had assigned him to patrol in pairs on the street opposite the mall — positioned outside to provide backup and respond to any sudden developments.
The one tasked with going in to retrieve the USB drive was Zhou Jin.
After receiving word that Zhou Jin had entered the mall, he waited a moment, then made an excuse — said he needed to use the restroom inside.
His partner laughed at him, asking how he could fall apart at such a critical moment, telling him to hurry back.
His movements were swift and agile — no one knew he was capable of moving like this. In under a minute, he was inside the restroom on the second floor.
There, he changed into clothes prepared in advance, pulled on a mask, and headed toward the seventh floor.
He made a quiet vow to himself: this would be the last time.
Once he retrieved the USB drive for Qi Yan, he would cut all ties with them for good — then take the money and disappear far away.
Where would he go?
Europe. America. Mexico. Anywhere — anywhere would be better than spending a lifetime rotting in a place like Haizhou.
The seventh floor of the mall housed a small indoor children’s play area, equipped with storage lockers.
The play area had recently been closed for renovation — a fresh coat of paint had been applied to all the equipment, so it wasn’t open for business. As a result, almost no one came up here, and the lighting was poor.
That was fine. He preferred the dark.
Tan Shiming had said that Jiang Cheng stored the USB drive in the locker at the third column from the left, fifth row down.
Opening the locker required a key. Jiang Cheng had originally had one, but it had been left behind at Kuangshan West Lane. Zhou Jin had gone to the front desk to obtain a spare.
He felt a flicker of contempt, and couldn’t help smirking. Zhou Jin was capable enough in every other respect — but a woman was still a woman. Always fussing over every little thing, always doing things by the book.
He flicked open a folding knife, wedged it into the gap of the locker door, and pried it open.
The locker was empty.
He was briefly confused, wondering if he had the wrong locker. Just as he was about to double-check, something seemed to dawn on him — and his heart lurched violently.
“Don’t move.”
Without warning, a beam of light swept in from behind him, and the pitch-black muzzle of a gun locked onto him — its sharp, cold aim cutting into his back like the edge of a blade.
“Drop the knife to the side. Then raise your hands, and turn around. Slowly.”
He had no choice but to comply.
Zhou Jin stood with the light at her back, her silhouette appearing particularly slender and tall. Her face was pale as snow, her gaze sharp and dark and vigilant, fixed unwaveringly on him.
Her hair had grown out quite a bit — enough to look slightly disheveled.
They knew each other well. Even with the mask on, the moment Zhou Jin saw his eyes, she recognized him almost immediately.
“Why would it be you?”
For about three or four seconds, she was lost in shock. Zhou Jin tightened her grip on the gun, steadying it.
“Zhao Ping,” she said.
He let out a short laugh, pulled down the mask, and smiled — the kind of smile that showed a full set of white teeth. “Senior Sister,” he said. “You played me.”