Chen Zhaoci stared at her, tears streaming down his face. His complexion turned pale, his lips tightly pressed together.

Fan Jia kept her eyes fixed on him, wiping away her tears, and said: “Now you have a chance to break free from everything in your past, to end that kind of life—turn yourself into me. Yes, I want you to go to jail. You’re only an accomplice, and with voluntary surrender, you’ll get a lighter sentence.

Just a few years. Even if it’s ten years, what does it matter? You’ll only be in your thirties when you get out, still young. Have you heard the term ‘redemption’? You’ve done some wrong things, so go ahead and redeem yourself.

What’s important is that from then on, you’ll never have to hide in the darkness again. You’ll be clean, starting fresh. Get a new job, maybe as a librarian, or open a bookstore—you love reading, you can put your knowledge to use. You can meet new girls, build a family, and have children. That’s what you’ve always wanted, and you can have it.

But if you continue down this path, and keep living this life of hiding, the police will catch you soon. I’m the worst on our team, they’re all much better than me. By then, you might not be able to turn back. Because if this continues, one day, you won’t even recognize yourself anymore!

The choice is in your hands. My life, your life, both are in your hands. But Chen Zhaoci, I believe in you. After you take me out of here, I’ll help you climb out of the gutter too. I swear, Zhaoci, I’m a people’s police officer, we serve the people, I swear to you!”

Chen Zhaoci’s body, which had been tense like a drawn bow, slowly collapsed. He lowered his head, covered his face with his hands, and broke into sobs.

—

A rope dropped down from the tunnel entrance.

Then a dagger clattered to the ground.

When Fan Jia climbed out, she was panting. Chen Zhaoci beside her wasn’t much better, releasing the rope and supporting himself on the ground, head down. The man’s previously gloomy, gentle, and violent aura had all vanished. His whole being showed only the dejection that follows a complete breakdown.

Fan Jia’s heart was pounding. Looking around, this was a narrow, shabby room with nothing but a table, chairs, and a small bed. Outside the window was pitch black, impossible to tell where they were.

Fan Jia asked softly: “Do you have a phone?”

Chen Zhaoci kept his head down: “Lost it.”

Of course—if he still had his phone, You Mingxu and the others would have found their location long ago.

Fan Jia’s voice remained gentle: “Shall we… go then?”

He didn’t respond, standing up, his silhouette like a gloomy hill. Fan Jia remained silent. After a while, he opened the door, letting in a cool breeze. Outside was completely dark, with vague outlines of buildings visible. Only at this moment did Fan Jia’s heart feel like a long-shaken cola bottle finally opened, letting the bubbles burst out. She knew she had won.

They walked outside. They were surrounded by single-story buildings, with empty market stalls along the road. Tall buildings loomed in the distance. Fan Jia hadn’t expected Chen Zhaoci to keep her in such a densely populated area. But now, the sky was still pitch black, and the narrow street was empty.

Before climbing out of the tunnel, Fan Jia had put a piece of rope in her pocket. She took it out and asked: “Could I…”

Chen Zhaoci’s eyes had lost all their luster. He stared at her rope for a few seconds and said: “Will you keep your word? If I turn myself in now, I’ll get a lighter sentence. I’ll still have a chance to start over?”

Fan Jia nodded firmly. Liu Yisha’s death was accidental, and Chen Zhaoci hadn’t participated in the abuse—he’d only disposed of the body under pressure from his superiors.

“Then when I’m in prison, will you come visit me?” he asked.

Fan Jia answered: “I will, I promise.”

Only then did he lift his eyes to look at her: “I hope to see you again.”

Fan Jia smiled, just smiled, the night breeze gently ruffling her hair, saying nothing.

Chen Zhaoci extended both hands before her.

Fan Jia quickly tied a firm knot around his wrists, paused for a moment, and then pulled down his sleeves to cover the bindings. He remained silent, just watching her movements.

“Where are we?” Fan Jia asked.

Chen Zhaoci told her the location, surprising Fan Jia—they were still in that slum area, Chen Zhaoci had hidden her right under everyone’s noses. But Fan Jia wasn’t familiar with Huaicheng and struggled to orient herself. Then Chen Zhaoci spoke: “About a 20-minute walk to a police station.”

Fan Jia gave him a grateful look. Chen Zhaoci remained silent, leading the way.

The sky was still as dark as ink, and they walked one behind the other, about a meter apart. Fearing his mood might fluctuate again, Fan Jia occasionally made casual conversation about things like whether it was cold, what time it might be, and the layout of the slum area. Naturally cheerful, and now with Chen Zhaoci under her control, she felt relaxed and sometimes even smiled at him. Though Chen Zhaoci couldn’t smile back, his internal knot seemed to loosen somewhat, his expression no longer so heavy.

Fan Jia found it quite remarkable that she had managed to reach an understanding with a psychopathic criminal. It felt good, like taking a riddled stone and somehow smoothing it into something with gentler contours. She thought about how she would tell Yu, Mengshan, and the others about this experience when she got back. Although they hadn’t caught the real killer who murdered Zhao Feier, at least Liu Yisha’s death had been thoroughly investigated—that was some achievement.

Despite the cold midnight hour, the silence and darkness, walking only with a guilty man for company, her heart felt warm, full of hope after the dark clouds had cleared.

They turned into an even narrower street, the ground filthy with muddy water and the stench of rotting fish and vegetables. Empty market stalls lined both sides, with a farmers’ market entrance visible nearby. The end of the street was shrouded in darkness.

Chen Zhaoci stopped.

Fan Jia’s heart jumped: “What’s wrong?”

He answered: “I’m trying to remember which way to go.”

Fan Jia watched him, her tone gentle: “No rush, take your time. We must be close, right?”

He replied: “Yes, we’re almost there.” He glanced at her, finally showing a pale but gentle smile, and continued leading her.

Fan Jia’s nerves settled when she saw him turn onto a wider road with streetlights.

After walking for a while, he said: “The sky seems to be getting lighter.”

Fan Jia looked at the sky and smiled: “Yes.”

Chen Zhaoci said: “Do you want it to be dawn? When dawn comes, I’ll have to go to prison.”

Fan Jia understood then—fear, struggle, and uncertainty must be making Chen Zhaoci anxious. Instead of answering, she asked: “What about you? Do you want dawn to come?” Despite being imprisoned for days and in poor physical condition, if he tried to run now, Fan Jia was determined to catch him at any cost.

Chen Zhaoci answered: “I don’t know.”

Fan Jia said softly: “Dawn will come eventually. The sooner we get through the night, the sooner dawn will arrive.” She reached out and held his hand. Chen Zhaoci felt her hand was much colder than his, yet also much softer. He let her hold it, whether out of pity or encouragement. When a thought flashed through his mind—wondering if she was just manipulating him—he saw her clear, determined eyes. Those were truly the eyes of a criminal investigator.

“Let’s hurry,” he pulled his hand from hers, “We don’t have much time.”

Fan Jia thought she must have successfully steadied him, following as he quickened his pace down the long, empty street.

Then she heard footsteps suddenly approaching from behind, along with a rush of air. Even though her reactions were slower due to her weakened condition, police instinct made her push Chen Zhaoci away.

Fan Jia felt a heavy blow to her head as she fell to the ground with Chen Zhaoci. She tried to get up but couldn’t. Through the haze, she only saw an enormous dark shadow on the ground behind her.

Strangely, at that moment, she saw Chen Zhaoci’s eyes as he lay not far away. He was looking at her too, tears welling up. Then a blood-stained hammer swung from behind, crashing into his head.