The man gripping his hair had a knife scar across his face and a lean, wiry build. Jiang Cheng didn’t know his name — the others called him Fourth Brother.

Standing behind Fourth Brother was a slightly younger man called A’Fa, his gaze venomous and smiling, a black walkie-talkie in his hand. He raised it and gave it a little wave in Jiang Cheng’s direction.

His lips moved deliberately as he said softly, “Caught you. Brother Cheng.”

This man and he had a score to settle.

When Lai San had been brought down, A’Fa had assumed Jiang Cheng was about to lose his footing and had grown reckless — he’d beaten him with a baseball bat. Jiang Cheng had managed to turn the situation around at the time, taking Lai San’s seat, and then beat A’Fa badly enough to put him in the hospital for half a month.

That was when the enmity between the two of them had taken root.

After the Jingang operation, Jiang Cheng had earned the trust of Qi Yan and Seventh Uncle — but A’Fa had never believed in him.

He felt that there was something sinister lurking behind Jiang Cheng’s eyes, that the man loved scheming against people while putting on a pretense of loyalty and honor. It made him sick.

After leaving Jingang, their group had driven to the place called Kuangshan and taken shelter in a warehouse in Xili Village, temporarily regrouping there while they awaited their next orders.

A’Fa had kept his eyes on Jiang Cheng day and night, never relaxing his vigilance for a single moment. His persistence finally paid off — he discovered Jiang Cheng’s flaw.

He had found the walkie-talkie Jiang Cheng had discarded.

He immediately reported the matter to Qi Yan.

Qi Yan was not at the location. Upon receiving A’Fa’s call, he dispatched Fourth Brother to come and reconstruct the content of that exchange.

When A’Fa first listened to it, he hadn’t detected anything amiss, and his heart sank — he thought this time he’d failed to catch Jiang Cheng in the act, and had even disturbed Young Master Qi in the process. He likely wouldn’t come out of this unscathed.

What he hadn’t expected was that after listening to the recording twice, Qi Yan said to Fourth Brother, “He Wu was blind. He misjudged Jiang Cheng. He’s an undercover officer.”

Fourth Brother was somewhat hesitant. “Young Master Qi, are you sure you haven’t made a mistake?”

In truth, he still trusted Jiang Cheng. Ever since Jiang Cheng had come to work under He Wu, he had helped the organization pull off a number of major dealings, and had used his background as a police officer to help them resolve many complications along the way — all things that everyone present had witnessed firsthand.

The man was also exceptionally skilled with accounts — He Wu’s company books had all been handled and smoothed over by him. If he hadn’t possessed genuine ability, He Wu would never have recommended him so strongly.

And what was more, just not long ago, Jiang Cheng had killed Yao Weihai and Meng Junfeng right in front of all of them — he hadn’t even blinked when he pulled the trigger…

A police officer, killing police officers?

Fourth Brother knew that A’Fa was jealous of Jiang Cheng, and it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he was trying to frame him with petty tricks.

But Qi Yan just smiled lightly and walked him through the location information concealed within the casual conversation in the recording. The moment Fourth Brother heard it, a cold sweat broke out across his back.

In an instant, Fourth Brother said through clenched teeth, “Jiang Cheng can’t be kept alive.”

“What a pity. His marksmanship — I’ve always had great admiration for it.” Qi Yan paused, and it seemed as though someone nearby was cursing up a storm. A moment later, Qi Yan said with a grin, “Your Seventh Uncle is a little angry right now. Two undercover officers in a row from his ranks, and on top of that he used to treat that Meng Junfeng like his own son. A’Feng died too easily. Help your Seventh Uncle vent some of that anger on Jiang Cheng.”

Fourth Brother vowed, “Please tell Seventh Uncle not to worry. Before I finish off Jiang Cheng, I’ll make that worthless dog regret ever crossing us!”

He was as good as his word.

Suffering is often an extraordinarily prolonged process.

When the other party stopped giving him any chance to defend himself, Jiang Cheng closed his eyes in despair, knowing that he had finally reached the end of this road.

Fists and leather shoes rained down on him like a storm, each blow sending a deep, suffocating pain crashing through every inch of his body.

On instinct, Jiang Cheng curled inward, arms drawn up to shield his head as he tucked his body into itself.

His consciousness began to fragment and dissolve. He started to lose feeling for the pain.

Fourth Brother grabbed him by the hair and hurled him into the corner. Jiang Cheng’s back slammed hard into the wall with a dull thud, and a mouthful of fresh blood coughed up from his throat.

His temple had taken an injury as well — blood streamed down along the sharp ridge of his brow, thick and rank with iron, blurring his vision.

Jiang Cheng stripped away one last thread of clarity from the near-total numbness of his pain and forced himself to think.

Had he successfully gotten the message out?

He didn’t know. Without Yao Weihai, he was like a kite with a severed string — no one knew he was there, no one responded to him any longer.

Zhou Jin… was Zhou Jin still waiting for him?

He didn’t know.

Could he still make it back alive?

He didn’t know.

He was deeply unwilling — unwilling to die like this, at the hands of these people, with so many unanswered questions still left.

And yet, strangely, Jiang Cheng felt no fear either. The profound exhaustion from the dream stretched itself into reality, and Jiang Cheng slowly exhaled a long breath from his battered and aching chest, thinking — at last, he could be free.

He was so tired. So very tired.

Had this kind of life gone on for five years? Or six? He couldn’t quite remember anymore.

Every time he thought the mission was nearly over, Yao Weihai would say, “Wait a little longer, just a little longer — we’ve come this far, let’s keep playing the long game.”

Waiting, waiting, waiting — day after day after day…

In this moment, Jiang Cheng finally didn’t have to wait anymore. All he wanted was to return to the dream he’d just had, to see the person he so desperately wanted to see.

Fourth Brother gave him no opportunity for pleasant dreams.

He drew an elegantly crafted dagger from the holster on his leg. The blade caught a cold, glinting light in the dimness as it gradually closed in on Jiang Cheng.

The tip of the blade traced downward across his chest, blood flowing freely like water as it went, the flesh splitting open beneath his black short sleeves. The sharp, searing pain snapped Jiang Cheng back to consciousness at once.

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.