Throughout the entire meeting, Huo Jingsi’s mind kept involuntarily flashing back to the hidden implications behind Meng Jinze’s words just moments ago.
Because the matter concerned Li Mo, and came at such a critical juncture, Huo Jingsi couldn’t help but overthink things, leaving him with a splitting headache.
Yet he still chose to trust Li Mo.
After all, they had been together for nearly three years; if he couldn’t even trust his own spouse, who else could he possibly believe?
What’s more, since childhood, his father had always told him that men who loved their wives would thrive and prosper, while men who didn’t love their wives would be struck by lightning. Ever since confirming his own feelings, he had held an unshakeable belief in this adage.
On the other hand, he didn’t believe Meng Jinze possessed such kind intentions as to specifically come over and warn him that the person by his side might harbor ill intentions toward him.
Besides, who across the entire empire didn’t know that Li Mo had initially married him purely for money in an attempt to climb high?
However, that was then and this was now. At present, who didn’t know that he and Li Mo shared a deep, unbreakable bond of affection that couldn’t possibly be compared to the past?
Therefore, the truth behind those words remained questionable, but Meng Jinze’s deliberate sow of discord was as real as it could get.
Right up until the meeting concluded, Meng Jinze intercepted him once more, shoving a file folder straight into his hands.
“Everyone says the Director and the Director’s spouse are deeply devoted and inextricably attached to one another. At first, I didn’t believe it either,” Meng Jinze said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But after seeing that you refused to believe what I told you, I finally believed it. I never figured you could really love him this much.”
“Take this.” Meng Jinze raised his chin, gesturing toward the item he had just handed to Huo Jingsi. “Open it up and take a look, and you’ll know what kind of person the one you love truly is.”
Huo Jingsi’s expression shifted, and he immediately pushed the item back toward Meng Jinze’s hands. However, with the other man’s hands buried in his pockets, he failed to catch it.
With a sharp clack, the file folder dropped to the floor, drawing both men’s gazes toward it.
The atmosphere in the air froze visibly for a fraction of a second. Meng Jinze didn’t show the slightest annoyance, instead proactively crouching down to pick up the dropped file folder and brushing the dust off its surface with his hand.
As he did so, he remarked: “Huo Jingsi, I just don’t want to see you being played for a fool so bitterly.”
He handed the file folder back over once more. Meeting Huo Jingsi’s gloomy, unfathomable stare with unwavering fearlessness, he stated: “Wouldn’t it be too late if you only found out how you died after it actually happened?”
Back when Li Mo and Huo Jingsi first married, the Huo family had conducted a background check on him. After all, a prominent, wealthy household like theirs couldn’t possibly welcome someone of unknown origins into their home.
It was just that the Boss had long since managed and polished everything for Li Mo—
He hailed from a lower-upper-class civilian background within the empire, having grown up in District Twenty-Eight. Born to intellectual parents, under their influence he had received the finest education available to commoners, mastering diverse talents such as zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Later, he graduated at the very top of his class from the finest civilian academy, stood out from among numerous aristocratic scions to claim the crown in an empire-wide mathematics competition, and caught the eye of the Huo family, ultimately bringing him into their household.
Although an uncrossable chasm still existed in status between commoners and aristocrats—making Li Mo, in the eyes of others, still the one marrying upward into an unequal union by wedding Huo Jingsi.
This could not negate the fact that Li Mo was genuinely exceptional, even surpassing certain aristocratic offspring.
Therefore, everything had been so flawless, and everything had appeared so logical.
Yet within the file folder Meng Jinze had handed him, the reality stood in stark contradiction to these perfections.
That evening, Huo Jingsi sat before his study desk, the unsealed file folder resting beside him while he held a stack of photographs in his hand. The person depicted in the photographs was Li Mo.
Only, the Li Mo inside wasn’t the Li Mo he knew, but rather a thoroughly unfamiliar Li Mo.
In the first photograph, Li Mo was dressed in a white hoodie, his clothes soaked through with blood from an unknown source, with a few splatters of blood sprayed across his face as well. Wielding a firearm in both hands, his expression was completely devoid of emotion.
In the second, Li Mo wore a black uniform, his weapon swapped for dual blades against the backdrop of a training ground.
Yet despite it being merely training, Huo Jingsi had never once witnessed Li Mo display such a fierce, piercing gaze. He had encountered countless variations of these eyes—filled with tenderness, carrying smiles, brimming with worry…
Yet solely in this photograph, Li Mo’s expression was terrifyingly vicious. Though his eyes appeared completely devoid of emotion beneath the surface, it was precisely this that made one’s blood run cold so ferocious that it made him struggle to recognize the person before him.
It looked precisely like the descriptions in novels: a flash of the blade, killing without blinking an eye.
Then came the third photograph, the fourth…
As if driven by a compulsive disorder, Meng Jinze had ensured that Li Mo held a different weapon in every single photograph. Yet the movements of the person in the pictures were crisp and dashing, instantly evoking an image of flowing, unbroken execution across an entire sequence of maneuvers, making it unmistakably clear to any observer that these weren’t staged poses, but rather genuine, formidable martial skills.
He remembered that following the Mount Xiaoyun accident, when he taught Li Mo how to use a gun, Li Mo’s technique had been clumsy, bearing no resemblance whatsoever to someone proficient in firearms. In the days that followed, Li Mo had even complained of soreness in his waist and back for three or four days, rendering his frail demeanor entirely impossible to associate with the person in the photographs.
Yet in order to ensure he possessed a method of self-protection should a similar accident occur again, Huo Jingsi had insisted that Li Mo must learn, personally teaching him step by step, though it had still taken ten days to half a month for him to master it.
Recalling this and looking back at the photographs, Huo Jingsi drew a deep breath, flipping further back through the stack of pictures in his hand.
Photograph by photograph, page by page every single one portrayed aspects of him he had never laid eyes on before.
Furthermore, the angles from which the photographs were taken were rather peculiar either; they didn’t look like candid spy shots, nor were they captured openly. Instead, they resembled someone standing right in front of Li Mo and watching him.
Right up until Huo Jingsi flipped through the stack until only the very final photograph remained—
The shooting angle of this particular photograph clearly differed from the preceding ones. It seemed to have been captured from a perspective as though lying in his arms, depicting a person clad in the most ordinary black uniform, wearing a mask and a tactical hood that exposed only a pair of eyes.
Yet Huo Jingsi recognized those as Li Mo’s eyes.
Because this was a pair of eyes he had laid eyes upon before.
Back on Mount Xiaoyun that year, when Li Mo had risked his life to drag him from the vehicle and shielded him within his embrace right before the bomb detonated, what he had beheld was precisely this pair of eyes.
Finally, his gaze drifted downward, landing on the left sleeve of Li Mo in the photograph, where a badge was pinned.
Although it was merely a profile shot, the pattern upon that badge remained clearly discernible. Huo Jingsi had never laid eyes on that insignia before, leading him to surmise that it likely marked the emblem of some underground organization.
The empire housed numerous underground organizations operating independently from various imperial factions. These entities conducted transactions on the black market, executing operations for cash. Operatives within these organizations moved with untraceable, mysterious tracks, never showing their true faces and remaining loyal solely to their respective Bosses.
What Meng Jinze meant by saying he didn’t want to see him played for a fool so bitterly likely referred to this: an individual who had once served such an organization had fabricated a background to infiltrate his side. Whatever motives lay behind it might sound exceedingly complex, but they certainly wouldn’t be for his money.
Yet within the biographical records of Li Mo’s life that he was familiar with, there existed no elements connecting to these things. In his impression, Li Mo had always been gentle, quiet, mild-mannered, and courteous utterly disconnected from matters involving brandishing blades and firearms.
Moreover, if Li Mo truly harbored issues, given Huo Chengbi’s temperament back then, had a single shred of anomaly been detected, he never would have permitted such an individual to cross the threshold of the Huo household.
Huo Jingsi stared fixedly at this final photograph for a long, lingering moment before finally flicking the entire stack of pictures onto his desk, uttering not a single word.
Regarding all of the above, Li Mo who remained far away in District Sixty-Nine—was entirely oblivious.
Once funds were secured, post-disaster reconstruction proceeded with much greater speed and efficiency. He no longer needed to spend every day holed up in the suffocatingly foul-smelling shelters helping distribute meals and porridge. The sole aspect that left him feeling vexed was that these past few days, far too many people kept coming to his doorstep to express their gratitude.
Moreover, because District Sixty-Nine was inherently impoverished and had just endured such a catastrophe, arriving empty-handed made them feel ashamed, prompting them to repeatedly drop to their knees to kowtow in thanks, hailing him as the Civilian Light in their hearts and their savior. Over the past few days, his routine consisted almost entirely of doing squats to help people back up to their feet.
The most crucial point was that, in truth, the money hadn’t come out of his pocket, nor had he been the one executing the disaster relief; he had merely traveled to the disaster zone and performed the most negligible of trivial tasks, yet these individuals pinned every single expression of gratitude onto him.
He knew public opinion was acting as the driving force here, with newspapers brimming with articles dedicated to him, while across the internet, leveraging the events in District Sixty-Nine, the digital sphere echoed entirely with commoners voicing their support for Huo Jingsi. Huo Jingsi’s subordinates had accurately seized the momentum of public sentiment, turning him into the benefactor of countless people purely by default.
Therefore, to speak candidly, deep down he couldn’t help feeling somewhat guilty.
Regardless, as long as it helped the commoners here, that was enough.
Besides, none of this fell under his purview.
What he needed to do right now was manage himself well, await instructions from his Boss regarding when to assassinate Huo Jingsi, execute his mission, seize an opportunity to slip away, and sever all connections to everything that transpired here.
Much less the fact that everything here ought to have had zero connection to him from the very beginning.
Yet Meng Jinze’s remarks from that day invariably left his mind feeling restless and ill at ease.
He couldn’t help recalling the numerous lies he had spun to Huo Jingsi throughout the three years they had spent together, among which was the falsehood claiming he didn’t know how to use a gun.
He retained a vivid impression of this particular lie because it was the sole deception he had spun that was constructed entirely out of fabricated fabrications, telling Huo Jingsi that he had never even touched a firearm prior to this.
In reality, before coming to Huo Jingsi’s side, he had expended tremendous effort to smooth away the long-accumulated calluses from firearms on his hands.
Those days had been exceptionally agonizing for him because he was acting out the role of someone ignorant of firearms a premise that ran entirely counter to his habits. The slightest flaw risked exposing him easily, forcing him to maintain absolute focus every single day out of terror that a single slip-up might occur.
Yet Huo Jingsi had displayed extraordinary patience, personally tutoring him, adjusting his shooting posture bit by bit, and accompanying him through slow, gradual practice.
He had mastered handling firearms the moment he learned them years ago, leaving him clueless as to how long it took someone genuinely ignorant and lacking talent to pick it up. He had dragged out the act for half a month, sensing that the moment he finally “mastered” it, both he and Huo Jingsi had heaved an internal sigh of relief.
Furthermore, before setting off for District Sixty-Nine, Huo Jingsi had gifted him a firearm intended for self-defense, expressing his hope that Li Mo would never encounter a situation requiring its use.
After all, amidst such critical, life-saving emergencies, he couldn’t guarantee whether he would retain the mental bandwidth to sustain his persona.
“Sir, in two more hours, the charter plane coming to pick us back to District One is scheduled to land at the temporary landing pad.” Adjutant Liu approached, maintaining his usual dead-serious demeanor. “Matters in District Sixty-Nine have all been properly arranged. If you don’t have anything else requiring attention, we can set off to leave right now.”
Pulling his thoughts back from his reverie, Li Mo ignored the question and instead inquired: “Where is Magistrate Nian?”
Adjutant Liu replied: “Magistrate Nian is tied up with reconstruction matters and couldn’t break away.”
“That works too.” Li Mo stood up. “Then let’s set off right now. No need to notify him; we’ve been exhausted these past few days anyway, so we’ll spare him the trouble of coming to send us off personally.”
“Understood.” Adjutant Liu inclined his head.
Stepping out the door, Li Mo watched as District Sixty-Nine regained traces of its former vitality over the short span of two days. The funds donated by those aristocrats, aside from sufficing for District Sixty-Nine’s post-disaster reconstruction, would also cover reinforcing the river embankments anew to prevent a recurrence of such accidents at least bringing some substantive results to fruition.
Standing at the doorway to observe for a brief moment, he sought out a concealed exit and boarded the vehicle heading back.
The car sped steadily along the highway. Li Mo retrieved his phone; Huo Jingsi still hadn’t replied to the message he had sent that morning. Turning his gaze to Liu Shun in the front passenger seat, he asked: “Adjutant Liu, did your Director happen to mention whether he’d come pick me up today?”
Adjutant Liu turned sideways: “The Director’s schedule is packed with official business, so he might not have been able to spare a thought for you, Mr. Li, but rest assured we will ensure your safety.”
“Oh…” Li Mo uttered a flat acknowledgment, shrinking back into the rear seat with a deflated feeling.
Although Adjutant Liu’s remark sounded as though it amounted to nothing, his loyalty toward Huo Jingsi remained absolute, framing every utterance with Huo Jingsi’s perspective in mind.
Yet he still found it peculiar; previously, Huo Jingsi would reply to his messages at the very earliest opportunity, never exceeding an hour even when extremely busy. Yet this time, despite hours passing since he sent it, Huo Jingsi hadn’t uttered a single word.
Staring at the chat bubble between himself and Huo Jingsi featuring his sent text: Are you coming to pick me up today?
A nameless, indescribable sensation churned in his chest.
“Adjutant, there’s a car tailing us from behind.”
Just as they were nearing the temporary spaceport, the driver glanced into the rear-view mirror and spoke up abruptly.
Liu Shun’s gaze instantly sharpened with vigilance: “How long have they been trailing us?”
“They just caught up about five or six minutes ago.”
Glancing toward the temporary spaceport not far ahead, the driver turned back to address Li Mo: “Sir, once we pull over later, please stay inside the vehicle while I step out to inspect the situation before coming back to escort you down. If anything seems amiss, immediately instruct the driver to drive you away.”
Li Mo nodded in assent while slipping his hand into his pocket to grip the firearm Huo Jingsi had given him.
With tensions running high these days and him constantly exposing himself in public, exercising a bit of caution was always the wiser course.
The vehicle came to a steady halt at the spaceport, and Adjutant Liu immediately disembarked, leading several men to encircle the vehicle trailing behind them. Seated in the rear, Li Mo kept his eyes glued to the rear-view mirror to monitor developments over there.
“Who goes there!” Adjutant Liu barked in a commanding roar, raising his weapon with both hands, only to watch Nian Airen hurriedly scramble out from the opposing vehicle.
Catching sight of him, Li Mo instantly exhaled a breath of relief. Tucking his weapon back into his waistband, he stepped out of the car, hurried over to steady the older man, and watched as the surrounding guards lowered their weapons one after another in response.
Catching his breath, Nian Airen blurted out immediately: “Sir, I heard from my subordinates that you were leaving, so I rushed right over, figuring I simply had to come see you off.”
With that, he glanced toward the surrounding bodyguards and added: “Apologies for causing you trouble, Sir.”
“Not at all, not at all.” Li Mo patted the old man’s hand. He held profound respect for magistrates like Nian Airen who remained uncorrupted by greed and genuinely devoted themselves to the people, gently reassuring him: “I knew that if you found out I was leaving, you’d insist on coming to send me off. That’s why I purposely instructed people not to tell you, figuring you’re busy with work and didn’t want to waste your time.”
“How could it be a waste?” Tears brimmed within Nian Airen’s eyes. “If not for you, Sir, bringing the empire’s rescue forces over, District Sixty-Nine surely would have vanished in this disaster. I must represent all the people of District Sixty-Nine in thanking you for your great kindness!”
“Alright, alright, like I said, this is merely what we ought to have done. Your coming out here to send me off is more than enough; I’ll still come back to visit you all often in the future.” Li Mo bent forward slightly to accommodate Nian Airen’s height. “You should head back now; reconstruction matters are still waiting for you to organize.”
“Right, right…” Nian Airen gazed at him. Realizing the older man still had more to say, Li Mo leaned in closer, signaling that he was listening attentively.
Nian Airen stated: “Lastly, I must also ask you, Sir, to convey my gratitude to Director Huo. Regarding the gubernatorial re-election, we will lend our utmost support”
“Bang”
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. Nian Airen took a direct hit, the sentence choking off midway in his throat.
Before anyone else could react, Li Mo instantly spotted the figure camouflaged in the bushes behind a distant tree. In what felt like a mere fraction of a second, he whipped the firearm from his waistband to mount a counter-response, firing three consecutive rounds straight toward that direction without even blinking.
With the landing of three gunshots, the smoke trailing from the barrel of Li Mo’s gun slowly dissipated. The figure hidden in the brush fell silent, followed immediately by a heavy clatter as Nian Airen collapsed lifelessly to the ground right before Li Mo’s eyes.
“Clatter”
Gazing at the man fallen upon the earth, Li Mo seemed to recall something abruptly. Hastily tossing the firearm in his hand aside, an unmasked panic flashed through his eyes.
“Protect Mr. Li!”
By then, the surrounding personnel finally snapped back to their senses, forming a tight, protective perimeter around Li Mo and escorting him aboard the aircraft.
Meanwhile, Huo Jingsi received word of the latest attack against Li Mo at the earliest possible moment, accompanied by photographs transmitted by the reporter he had dispatched along with them.
Having undergone professional training, the operative had managed to capture a crystal-clear image of Li Mo executing his fatal shots at the exact microsecond of the encounter, despite the extreme urgency of the crisis.
Staring at the incoming notification, Huo Jingsi had initially prayed in his heart for Li Mo’s safety. Upon learning he remained unharmed, an involuntary prayer for something he himself couldn’t quite articulate welled up within him yet the very instant he tapped to open the attached image, his heart plummeted straight to the bottom of the abyss:
Within the photograph, Li Mo’s posture and the fierce, lethal gaze in his eyes as he wielded his firearm to kill were an exact, flawless match to the pictures Meng Jinze had handed him!