Act One: Decisions in the Aftershock
The light click of the door lock echoed a third time across the room, yet Jiang Mian still stood where she was.
She didn’t turn around. Instead, she lifted her left hand and lightly pressed her fingertips against her left shoulder—the old pain throbbed again, like a fine needle slowly drilling deep into the scar tissue. When Gu Xingye was around, she had suppressed the sensation completely. Now, alone in the room, the pain dared surface, thumping at her, reminding her of the body’s limits.
But she ignored it.
She stood quietly for ten seconds, letting her breath settle, letting her heartbeat return to its proper rhythm.
Then she turned and walked back to the living room.
The curtains were slightly ajar. A narrow beam of light sliced across the carpet, falling onto the transparent evidence bag on the coffee table. The pale, yellowed paper inside curled like a dead butterfly wing.
This was Gu Xingye’s “gesture of sincerity”—the coordinates of the Shen Second Branch’s three bases in Binhai City, and the secret communication frequencies between Chen Manli and Shen Huaishan.
Jiang Mian didn’t look at it immediately.
She first went to the window and gently lifted a corner of the curtain with two fingers—just enough to peek outside.
The black Buick had already driven away.
But across the street, a silver sedan sat parked. The tinted windows were completely opaque, reflecting dim light under the streetlamps. Someone was inside; a flash of red glimmered in the darkness—it was a cigarette.
The tailing had switched personnel, but it hadn’t stopped.
[Golden Live Comments Begin Floating]
Is the Pro Here?: “Gu Xingye just left, new tailing team in position. Chen Manli’s surveillance network is denser than expected.”
Tiny Recorder: “5:47 a.m.—less than two hours before dawn.”
Empath: “The way the streamer stands at the window—spine straight but shoulders slightly slumped. She’s in pain, but she’s enduring.”
[Observer-01]: “Silver sedan, plate Binhai A·8J332, registered under a shell company controlled by the Shen Second Branch.”
Jiang Mian released the curtain; it slid silently back into place.
She returned to the sofa and sat, left hand lightly open on the coffee table—palm up, fingers slightly curled.
A habitual gesture from her Jiang Huaying days: before making a major decision, relax the body first to give the mind room to think.
Flashes ran through her mind:
Gu Xingye’s pale face, the broken look in his eyes as he said, “That fire… was set by my mother.”
Observer-01’s golden message revealing the truth: “What Chen Manli truly wanted to destroy was the evidence proving Shen Huaishan’s involvement in smuggling restricted research materials.”
And now, the silent silver sedan outside.
All the clues were scattered puzzle pieces, and she had to fit them together correctly before the fog lifted.
[System Alert Sounds in the Depths of Consciousness]
[New Mission Released: Obtain Liu Dayong’s Testimony]
[Mission Description: Go to Hello Bar to obtain key testimony from Liu Dayong regarding the 2006 Song Yun car accident and the 2011 Jiang Mingyuan lab fire.]
[Time Limit: 3 Hours]
[Failure Penalty: Permanent loss of “Profiler’s Eye” skill]
Jiang Mian’s eyelashes trembled.
A system mission had arrived.
And it pointed directly—to Hello Bar.
She remembered the map: the No. 9 warehouse marked by Gu Xingye sat at the red dot’s center, but 300 meters diagonally across, the blue-marked “Hello Bar” was like a quiet lure.
So the system—or rather, the person behind the system—was telling her: go to the bar.
Jiang Mian stood and walked to the wardrobe to change.
Dark gray sportswear, black baseball cap, thick-soled anti-slip sneakers. Finally, she retrieved the dagger from the hidden compartment in the bedside table—hand-length blade, sharp enough, matte sheath to avoid reflection.
When secured at her waist, the cool leather pressed against her stomach.
She picked up her phone and texted Fu Chenyu:
“I’m heading to the old port district. If no news by dawn, follow the backup plan.”
Instant reply:
“Three Shen personnel near Guanhai Pavilion, mobile patrols at the dock. My people are in Warehouse 3, marked with white paint on the red container. If you’re in danger, head there; they’ll assist.”
A brief reminder, restrained concern—typical of him.
Jiang Mian replied: “Got it. Thanks.”
“No need. Come back safely.”
She locked the phone, silenced it, and slipped it into her inner pocket.
At the door, hand on the knob, she paused for a second.
Then she whispered, as if to someone who might be listening:
“I’m going to the bar now.”
No reply was expected.
But as she opened the door, a faint golden glow flickered at the edge of her vision.
Like a silent gaze.
Like an unspoken: “I’m here.”
[Live Comments Flooding In]
[行動派 / Action Squad]: “Her outfit change speed! Professional!”
[動感小妞 / Dynamic Girl]: “The check-in before leaving… she’s talking to Observer-01, right? Right?”
[分析我最行 / Expert Analyst]: “Fu Chenyu’s protective net is well laid. Red container marking—simple, direct, perfect for emergencies.”
[享受生活 / Life Enjoyer]: “Three-hour limit, it’s 5:52 a.m. Must get the testimony before 8:52!”
Act Two: Truth and Blood in the Bar
Pushing open Hello Bar’s door, the bronze bell above rasped hoarsely.
Jiang Mian kept her head low, brim of her cap shadowing her face.
Inside, the light was dim, the air thick with smoke, cheap perfume, and a faint moldy smell. Behind the bar, the bartender glanced at her briefly, then resumed wiping a glass—mechanical, though she noticed he kept wiping the same glass for far too long.
She slid into the corner booth, back against the solid brick wall. To her left, a narrow corridor led to the restroom; to her right, she could see the entire hall.
9:25 a.m.
Five minutes left.
She ordered a beer but didn’t drink it, just gripping the cold bottle. Left hand hidden under the table, fingertips lightly brushing the dagger’s hilt.
[Live Comments Enter Observation Mode]
[享受生活 / Life Enjoyer]: “Something’s off about this bar. Too quiet. No background music. Guests all fixed in place.”
[嘖嘖嘖 / Tsk Tsk Tsk]: “Bartender’s glass-wiping frequency is abnormal—he’s using it to mask his nerves.”
[Observer-01]: “Watch the third customer from the bar’s left side. Right hand shows calluses from weapons training. Checks the door every 30 seconds.”
Jiang Mian’s peripheral vision caught him.
Indeed.
A man around thirty, black jacket, sitting upright. The thick callus on his palm was obvious when he held the glass.
What was he waiting for?
9:30 a.m.
The door opened.
Liu Dayong entered, wearing a cheap polo shirt, face haggard. He went straight to the farthest bar stool, where a woman in a red dress, curled hair, red lips—A-Ling—was seated.
Jiang Mian observed via the reflection on her phone screen.
A-Ling pulled a thick envelope from her bag and pushed it to him. Liu Dayong felt its thickness, grinned, shoved it into his chest, and downed his drink.
Alcohol quickly flushed his face.
He started speaking, voice growing louder:
“…If it weren’t for that incident back then, I would’ve damn well gone back to my hometown and built a building…”
A-Ling leaned forward: “What incident?”
Liu Dayong’s gaze wavered, waved his hand: “N-nothing…”
But A-Ling poured him another drink.
He stared at the amber liquid, throat moving. Three seconds later, he drained it.
Then, lowering his voice, he leaned toward A-Ling:
“I’ll tell you, but don’t say a word… Many years ago, Second Master Shen told me to burn a lab…”
Jiang Mian’s grip on the beer bottle tightened.
[Live Comments Hold Their Breath]
[真相獵手 / Truth Hunter]: “She’s gonna reveal it! She’s gonna reveal it!”
[道德綁架走開 / Moral Police, Step Away]: “Getting info through drinking… justice or not, the method…”
[Observer-01]: “Two men entering through the back door, black clothing, trained gait. Prepare.”
Jiang Mian’s breath caught.
Her right hand slowly released the bottle, sliding toward the dagger at her waist.
Liu Dayong continued, voice fragmented:
“…poured gasoline… set fire… when I ran out, I think someone was still inside…”
“Who?” A-Ling asked.
“Don’t know… wearing a white coat… by the data cabinets… probably got out…”
A cold nausea churned in Jiang Mian’s stomach.
This was the truth.
Extracted piece by piece from a drunk man’s mouth, fueled by cheap whiskey.
She set down the bottle, ready to move.
Then—
The bar’s back door suddenly burst open!
Two men in black jackets stormed in, heading straight for Liu Dayong’s table!
A-Ling’s face went pale; she rose to block them: “Sirs—”
“Move.” The leader’s voice was cold, hand at his waist.
Jiang Mian saw the motion—expandable baton.
A-Ling refused: “This is Second Master Shen’s place—”
Before she could finish, the other man shoved her aside, grabbed Liu Dayong by the collar, and dragged him toward the exit!
“Help! Someone help!” Liu Dayong sobered partially, screaming like a butchered pig.
The bar’s patrons stood, but none dared intervene.
Jiang Mian stayed seated in the corner, unmoving.
She was waiting for the right moment.
Liu Dayong struggled at the back door, grabbing the frame. The man dragging him grew impatient and raised the baton—
Now!
Jiang Mian leapt up, the beer bottle flying from her hand!
[Slow-Motion · Live Comments Frenzy]
[物理系學霸 / Physics Genius]: “Perfect parabolic arc! She’s practiced throwing!”
[暴力美學 / Aesthetic of Violence]: “The bottle spinning midair… exquisite!”
[腎上腺素飆升 / Adrenaline Rush]: “Best fight scene opener this month!”
[Observer-01]: “Impact prediction: mid-radius of right wrist. Force: 8.3 N. Sufficient to dislocate.”
Bang!
The glass bottle struck the man’s wrist precisely!
Shattering sound exploded.
Crystal shards flew through the air, beer foam scattering with glass.
The man groaned, dropping the baton with a clatter.
Dead silence.
Everyone froze.
The man who had been dragging Liu Dayong turned his head toward Jiang Mian.
In the dim light, she stood in the corner, brim of her cap pulled low, face obscured, only a taut jawline visible.
“Let him go,” she said, voice like shards of ice.
The man laughed, releasing Liu Dayong, and stepped toward her. “Little girl, trying to stand out?”
He walked slowly, each step heavy with pressure.
Jiang Mian didn’t flinch.
Calculating distance: five steps, four steps, three—
The man reached for her shoulder!
Jiang Mian sidestepped, and in that instant, raised her knee!
“Ugh!” The man doubled over as his abdomen was struck.
She didn’t stop—her elbow smashed downward, hitting the back of his neck!
Bang!
The man collapsed, motionless.
The bar fell into dead silence.
The remaining man released Liu Dayong, drew his baton, eyes murderous. “You’re asking for it.”
He lunged.
The baton whistled through the air!
Jiang Mian advanced instead of retreating, ducked under the swing, and stepped into his chest, fingers pressed together like a blade, striking a precise point under his ribs.
The man groaned, momentarily frozen.
In that split second, Jiang Mian snatched his baton, swung it sideways!
Smack!
The baton slammed into his cheek; the muted thud of flesh against hard metal sounded loud in the silence. He flew sideways, toppling two tables, glasses and plates shattering.
Chaos erupted in the bar.
Customers screamed and ran for the exits.
A-Ling hid behind the bar, face pale as death.
Liu Dayong slumped at the doorway, wetting his pants from fright.
[Live Comments Exploded]
[Violent Aesthetics]: “Her skills! Clearly professionally trained!”
[Medical Experimenter]: “Elbow strike to the back of the neck… hit the carotid sinus. Professional technique.”
[Moral Police Step Back]: “Excessive self-defense?”
[Observer-01]: “Complies with Low-Dimensional World Self-Defense Clause 3: against multiple attackers with weapons, necessary force may be used.”
Jiang Mian tossed the baton aside, crouched in front of Liu Dayong.
He shrank back in terror. “D-don’t kill me…”
“I’m not going to kill you.” Jiang Mian met his eyes. “I only want to ask one thing.”
“What was the posture of the person in the lab back then?”
Liu Dayong tried desperately to recall: “Posture… he… he was lying on the ground… arms stretched forward… reaching for something…”
“Something?”
“I-I don’t know… seemed like… a small silver… box…”
Her heart sank.
A silver box.
The γ-7 sample.
She closed her eyes briefly. “Get up. Follow me.”
“G-go… where?”
“To a place that will keep you alive.”
“No! Second Master Shen will kill me—”
“Stay here,” Jiang Mian’s gaze turned icy, like polar ice, “and I’ll make your life worse than death.”
Liu Dayong froze.
He didn’t dare move.
Jiang Mian dragged him toward the back door.
Passing the bar, A-Ling’s voice trembled: “You can’t escape… outside is full of Second Master Shen’s men…”
Jiang Mian didn’t slow down.
“I know.”
She pushed the door open.
Sea fog surged in, instantly swallowing all light and sound.
The street was pitch black.
Only the distant dock lights glowed faintly through the thick mist.
Jiang Mian pulled Liu Dayong along, moving quickly into the fog.
Behind them, the bar door slowly closed.
Act Three: Guidance in the Fog
The fog was thick as ink.
Visibility less than five meters.
Footsteps echoed across the wet cobblestone, fast and uneven.
Liu Dayong stumbled along, muttering: “We’re doomed, doomed…”
Jiang Mian ignored him.
She was looking for Zhou Jian’s car—by agreement, it should be in the alley after turning right at the second intersection.
First intersection reached.
Turn right.
The alley was empty, littered with trash bins and rusted bicycle racks.
No car.
Jiang Mian stopped.
Liu Dayong panted: “The c-car… where is it?”
Jiang Mian said nothing.
She released him, hand reaching for the dagger at her waist.
The fog flowed like a living creature.
From deep in the alley came light footsteps.
Not just one person.
Jiang Mian shoved Liu Dayong to the wall, placing herself in front, dagger drawn.
The blade reflected no light in the dense fog.
Footsteps approached.
Three, no, four.
Encircling from front and back.
Jiang Mian tightened her grip, knuckles whitening.
Then—
That familiar tremor rippled through her consciousness.
Next second, faint golden words appeared at the edge of her vision:
“Three steps left. Secret door on the wall, leads to the next warehouse’s backyard.”
“Door unlocked.”
The words lingered for three seconds, then vanished.
Jiang Mian didn’t hesitate.
She pulled Liu Dayong, retreating three steps to the left!
Fingertips scoured the damp brick wall—found it! A wooden panel almost flush with the wall!
She pushed hard.
Creak—
The panel swung inward, revealing a black void.
She shoved Liu Dayong inside, slipped in herself, and pulled the door shut behind them.
The moment it closed, the footsteps outside were less than three meters away.
[Live Comments Tense]
[Observer-01]: “Safe.”
[Violent Aesthetics]: “Reaction speed! From golden prompt to action, only 1.2 seconds!”
[Mysterious Man]: “How did Observer-01 know there was a secret door?”
Inside, it was pitch black.
Only a faint light leaked from far away.
Liu Dayong collapsed, gasping.
Jiang Mian pressed her back against the door, holding her breath.
Outside, footsteps stopped.
“Where are they?”
“Just here a moment ago…”
“Split up and search!”
Footsteps scattered.
Jiang Mian listened quietly until all sound faded.
Then she exhaled, shoulders relaxing.
The wound throbbed again. She glanced down—her dark gray sportswear at the left shoulder was darker in a small patch.
Bleeding.
She ignored it, turning to Liu Dayong: “Can you walk?”
He nodded, trembling.
“Follow me.”
She pushed open the small door on the other side of the backyard, revealing another alley, narrower and darker.
One after the other, they navigated the labyrinthine alleys.
After about ten minutes, Jiang Mian stopped in front of an old three-story building.
On the third floor, the rightmost window had curtains drawn, but a faint light seeped through a crack.
She took out her phone, sending Zhou Jian her location: “Here.”
Then she dragged Liu Dayong upstairs.
The stairs were steep; the wooden planks groaned under their feet.
Third floor, rightmost door.
Jiang Mian knocked three times—two long, one short.
The door opened.
Zhou Jian stood there, saw her, glanced at Liu Dayong, and stepped aside: “Come in.”
Act Four: Under Currents in the Safe House
The room was small but clean.
Zhou Jian closed the door and double-locked it. “Fu Chenyu is on his way—ten minutes.”
Jiang Mian dropped Liu Dayong in a corner and walked to the sofa. Stabbing pain shot through her left shoulder. She reached for gauze from the medical kit.
Zhou Jian came over, taking the gauze: “I’ll handle it.”
Jiang Mian glanced at him, saying nothing.
Zhou Jian moved with practiced ease, cutting open the fabric on her shoulder, disinfecting, applying medicine, and bandaging the wound. Throughout, neither of them spoke.
When he finished, Zhou Jian tidied up the medical kit and sat across from her.
He looked at the freshly changed gauze on her shoulder, then at her pale face, and tugged at the corner of his mouth with a half-smile:
“You look… a little better injured than when you’re normally cold as ice,” he said, voice low, teasing yet probing.
His words were sharp, yet hinted at something else—a dangerous, almost flirtatious concern.
Jiang Mian lifted her eyes to him but didn’t respond, simply watching him silently.
Zhou Jian smiled slightly, said nothing more, and turned to put away the medical kit.
[Live Comments Analysis]
[Violent Aesthetics]: “Zhou Jian’s kind of ‘spiked concern’! Tension maxed out!”
[Heartthrob Alert]: “No! The streamer belongs to Observer-01!”
[Rational Spectator]: “Who exactly is Zhou Jian working for? This plotline is deep.”
[Observer-01]: “Wound care is professional, medication choice correct. No malicious intent detected.”
Ten minutes later, a knock came at the door—three taps: two light, one heavy.
Zhou Jian opened it.
Fu Chenyu stepped in, night air trailing him. His eyes immediately landed on Jiang Mian, noticing her bandaged left shoulder. “Is it bad?”
“Surface wound,” Jiang Mian replied.
Fu Chenyu crouched to inspect the bandage carefully, confirming all was fine, then stood and turned his gaze to Liu Dayong.
Liu Dayong shrank back in fear.
Fu Chenyu ignored him, walking back to the sofa. “Zhou Jian briefed me. I’ve also found new leads about the silver box.”
“What leads?”
“The second branch of the Shen family is contacting Southeast Asian antiquities dealers,” Fu Chenyu said, voice low. “They’re looking for ‘something that looks like an eye,’ offering eight-figure USD. I suspect it’s the silver container your father left behind.”
Jiang Mian’s fingers tapped lightly on her knee.
Something that looks like an eye. γ-7 sample.
Silver box.
All the pieces were pointing toward the same mystery.
“Also,” Fu Chenyu paused, “Gu Xingye just sent me encrypted info. Chen Manli knows your location in Binhai City. She’s mobilizing the Gu family network, coordinating with Shen’s second branch to trap you.”
The room’s air grew heavy.
Zhou Jian smirked coldly. “Quick movers.”
Fu Chenyu looked at Jiang Mian. “What’s your next move?”
She paused for a few seconds, then said, “I’m going to the Guan Hai Pavilion.”
“Guan Hai Pavilion?” Zhou Jian raised an eyebrow. “That guesthouse?”
“The crystal left by my family mentioned it,” Jiang Mian took out the transparent crystal, “it says to find Boss Wu and retrieve the ‘July stored painting.’ The password is the first line of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star in numbered notation.”
Fu Chenyu and Zhou Jian exchanged glances.
“When are you going?” Fu Chenyu asked.
“Now,” Jiang Mian stood. “Time is precious.”
“I’ll go with you.” Zhou Jian rose as well.
“No,” Jiang Mian shook her head. “You stay here and watch Liu Dayong. Fu Chenyu, you can’t come either—you’re too high-profile.”
“So you’ll go alone—”
“I’m safer alone,” Jiang Mian interrupted, “and I have help.”
Her gaze swept the empty air as she spoke.
Fu Chenyu and Zhou Jian froze briefly, but Jiang Mian offered no explanation.
She adjusted her clothes, checked her dagger, and said to both: “If I don’t return by dawn, execute the backup plan.”
“Backup plan?” Zhou Jian asked.
Jiang Mian looked at him: “You know it.”
With that, she opened the door and stepped out.
Footsteps receded up the stairs.
The room fell silent.
Fu Chenyu and Zhou Jian stood by the window, watching the figure disappear into the fog below.
“She said she has help,” Zhou Jian finally spoke. “What does that mean?”
Fu Chenyu was silent for a long moment, then murmured: “Maybe… she’s not alone.”
[Live Comment Speculation]
[Mystery Enthusiast]: “Helper is Observer-01? Can he manifest physically now?”
[Violent Aesthetics]: “Going solo is the right choice. More people, bigger target.”
[Sweet Romance Fan]: “Fu Chenyu’s words are so gentle…”
[Observer-01]: “Route planning complete. Energy ready.”
Act Six: The Box at Guan Hai Pavilion
The Guan Hai Pavilion finally came into view.
An old three-story guesthouse, pale blue walls, looking like a stranded ship in the dense fog. Half the neon sign was broken—“Guan Hai” glowed, “Pavilion” dark.
Jiang Mian stood across the street, observing for three minutes.
The street was eerily quiet.
She crossed over and pushed open the door.
The wind chime rang clearly.
Behind the counter, an old man looked up. “Staying?”
“I’m looking for Boss Wu. To retrieve the ‘July stored painting.’”
The old man paused.
He studied her face, then glanced below the counter. A few seconds later, he nodded. “That’s me. Credentials?”
Jiang Mian handed over the crystal.
Boss Wu took it, retrieved a card reader, and inserted it. The screen lit up, verification code rolling. He entered the password—Jiang Mian saw it clearly: Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star numbered notation: 1155665.
Verification successful.
Boss Wu reached behind the counter and brought out a wooden box.
Deep brown, fine wood grain, corners smoothed by age. The lid had only a simple brass clasp.
“This is the ‘July Stored Painting,’” Boss Wu pushed the wooden box toward her. “The depositor said that whoever retrieves it must recite the next line of the melody to open it.”
Jiang Mian stared at the box and softly hummed the second line: “4433221.”
Boss Wu smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening. “Correct.”
He reached out, pressed lightly on a certain spot on the lid—
Click.
The brass clasp popped open.
The lid slowly lifted.
[Live Comments Hold Their Breath]
[Unboxing Moment]: “Here it comes! Finally, we get to see what’s inside!”
[Historical Mystery]: “‘July Stored Painting’… why a painting?”
[Sense of Danger]: “Something feels off…”
Just as Jiang Mian reached to touch the contents—
BOOM!!!
The roar of car engines outside the guesthouse pierced the night!
Blinding headlights cut through the glass doors, flooding the lobby with white light.
Screeching brakes, car doors slamming, chaotic footsteps!
Boss Wu’s face went pale. “They’re here! Go!”
He yanked open a storage compartment beside the counter, revealing a hidden passage. “Through the tea house basement next door—you can reach the back alley from there!”
Jiang Mian hugged the wooden box. “Let’s go!”
“No!” Boss Wu shoved her into the passage. “I’ll hold them off! You—”
Before he could finish, the glass door was violently kicked in!
Shards flew everywhere!
Three men in black tactical gear rushed in, the leader raising a gun—
Boss Wu slammed a button beneath the counter!
Wuuuuuh—
A piercing high-frequency alarm blared! All lights went out, emergency lights flickering red in the eerie darkness!
Amid the chaos, Jiang Mian gritted her teeth and slipped into the hidden passage.
The door closed just as she heard Boss Wu’s calm, resolute voice:
“Deposit fee’s not settled, yet you’re in such a hurry?”
Then a muffled thud.
The sound of a heavy body hitting the ground.
Jiang Mian gritted her teeth, clutching the wooden box as she bolted down the narrow staircase.
The basement was pitch black.
She groped her way to another door, pushing it open—
Cold wind and the scent of the sea hit her.
The back alley.
She took a step forward—and a low voice shouted from the entrance: “Stop!”
Two men blocked the alley, holding telescopic batons.
Jiang Mian stepped back, her back pressed against the cold brick wall.
Trapped from front and rear.
She hugged the wooden box tighter, her other hand reaching for the dagger at her waist.
From the depths of her consciousness, that voice sounded again, urgent:
“Three meters to your right-front, there’s a drainage pipe. Climb up—reach the rooftop.”
Jiang Mian looked up.
A rusted pipe ran diagonally along the wall, disappearing into the night and fog above.
No hesitation.
She dashed toward the pipe, gripping the cold metal and climbing.
The wound on her shoulder flared, sharp pain shooting through her, but she gritted her teeth and continued.
Shouts and footsteps of her pursuers echoed below.
She reached the rooftop, rolled over, keeping low.
The roof was flat. She quickly scanned the surroundings—adjacent rooftops were at similar heights, with gaps she could jump across.
She crouched, took a running start, and leaped!
Her body arced through the air, landing on the next rooftop and rolling to absorb the impact.
Her left shoulder hit the ground, pain tearing through her vision, but she bit back a scream, pushing herself to continue.
Second gap, third…
The shouts behind her grew distant.
By the time she reached the fourth rooftop, she finally shook off her pursuers.
Leaning against a low wall, she gasped for breath.
Cold sweat mixed with blood soaked her back.
The wooden box was still clutched tightly.
The lid had loosened during her sprint, and part of its contents peeked out.
Not a painting.
A stack of yellowed documents, and a black-and-white photo.
Her hands trembled.
Not from fear.
Something deeper.
She carefully lifted the photo.
Moonlight struggled through the dense fog, landing on the image.
Two young men, standing outside a lab in white coats, smiling brightly.
The one on the left—she recognized him. Her grandfather, Song Wenbo, father of Song Yun.
The one on the right…
Her pupils constricted sharply.
On the back of the photo, familiar handwriting:
“1967.03.21, Commemoration of the first successful experiment of ‘Eye-Opening Project.’ Left: Song Wenbo, Right: Shen Xinchong.”
Shen Xinchong.
Shen Huaishan’s father.
The patriarch rarely mentioned in business circles, rumored dead early.
So, as early as 1967…
He had stood there with her grandfather.
Smiling like comrades.
[Live Comments Collective Shock]
[Shocking Twist]: “Shen Xinchong! Shen Huaishan’s father!”
[Timeline Check]: “1967… Shen Xinchong would have been in his twenties? Makes sense!”
[Family Ties]: “So the Shen family’s obsession with γ-7 is because Shen Xinchong participated in the Eye-Opening Project?”
[Observer-01]: “Shen Xinchong, born 1940, participated in Eye-Opening Project 1965–1975, ‘accidentally’ died 1978. Shen Huaishan born 1970, Shen Xinchong 30 at that time.”
[Chilling Realization]: “Shen Xinchong’s ‘accidental death’… related to the experiment?”
Jiang Mian’s fingers gripped the edges of the photo.
Knuckles whitening.
She flipped through the documents—handwritten experiment logs dated 1967 to 1974. Records alternated between Song Wenbo, Shen Xinchong, and code name “R.Y.”
The last page, October 1974, Song Wenbo wrote:
“Experiment terminated. Sample γ-7 showed uncontrollable mutation. Xinchong insisted on continuation, but I had to destroy all data. This is the bottom line.”
Below, a faint line:
“Feng Shuang is pregnant. She must not know. I’ve hidden the real data… (words blacked out).”
Jiang Mian stared at the blacked-out words.
Then she lifted her gaze to the night sky.
The fog remained thick.
But in one small patch, it thinned.
A few stars peeked through.
She whispered toward that patch of sky:
“You knew all along, didn’t you?”
“Shen Xinchong and my grandfather… were colleagues.”
“The 1967 Eye-Opening Project…”
“What… really happened?”
No immediate answer.
Then, after a few seconds, that voice sounded in her mind, heavier than ever:
“Yes, I knew.”
“But I couldn’t tell you earlier.”
“Some truths must be discovered by yourself.”
“Otherwise, you wouldn’t believe.”
Jiang Mian smiled.
Bitter.
“And now?” she asked. “Now you can tell me?”
The voice was silent for a long time.
Long enough that she thought it wouldn’t respond.
Then it said:
“Yes, now.”
“But you must survive first.”
“The fog is lifting.”
“They’re mobilizing more people.”
“Go.”
“To the Cool Cyber Cafe—I’ve prepared a safe house for you.”
Jiang Mian hugged the wooden box and stood.
She gave one last glance at her grandfather’s smiling face in the photo, carefully returned it to the box, and closed the lid.
Then she turned toward the other end of the rooftop.
Wind from the sea carried the scent of salt and rust.
The smell of blood.
Shen family’s net was tightening.
But she was no longer afraid.
Because in the fog, there was a voice.
And under the stars, eyes watching.
She knew.