She had no idea how she had managed it. The strength she unleashed in that instant was nothing short of staggering—she hauled Jiang Cheng upward with everything she had.
Jiang Cheng grabbed her wrist in return with his free hand, while his other hand seized the edge of the landing. Bearing through the searing pain, he pushed and leapt, and Zhou Jin pulled him back as she fell away beneath him.
The two of them collapsed onto the ground together.
Jiang Cheng’s throat tasted of iron and blood. He gasped in ragged, heavy breaths, then propped himself partway up and looked at Zhou Jin lying on the ground beside him.
Zhou Jin was panting even harder, her chest heaving violently. The extreme burst of exertion had sent her muscles and nerves into chaos—her fingers were trembling.
The air was thick with rolling heat, steaming around them like the inside of a bamboo basket, yet cold sweat broke out all down Jiang Cheng’s back.
The sheer relief of having survived left him unable to hold back a burst of laughter.
That canine tooth of his flashed as he laughed—and for a brief moment, something of his younger, more spirited self showed through.
He laughed through his coughing and said: “You ridiculously strong woman—how are you this fierce…”
That he still had the nerve to laugh—Zhou Jin gathered what little strength remained and kicked him in the leg several times, cursing loudly: “Still laughing, you bastard… You’ve let me down, you’ve let Mom and Dad down—then at least have the decency to keep living! What was that?! Meng Junfeng bought your life with his own—and you go and throw it away like it means nothing!”
“Bastard, bastard——!”
Jiang Cheng’s ankle had just been injured, and her kick connected squarely with it. By sheer reflex, he clutched his knee—the pain was exquisitely, undeniably real. He had no room to mind the pain itself; instead, he laughed all the more and begged for mercy in rapid succession.
Zhou Jin’s heart had not yet fully settled, and she was so furious that tears streamed steadily down her face. But now that she could see Jiang Cheng alive and apparently well enough to joke around, the tight wire that had been strung inside her slowly began to loosen.
She finally let out a small laugh herself, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from her face.
Below, a series of explosive booms rang out—bang bang bang—and the entire workshop shuddered as if it might give way at any moment.
Jiang Cheng was the first to get to his feet. He pulled Zhou Jin up and said: “We need to go. Now.”
They climbed up onto the cargo crates and smashed through the second-floor window. Glass shattered apart. With no rope left, they had no choice but to jump. Zhou Jin spotted a pile of timber stacked up against the wall below and said: “I’ll go first.”
She didn’t hesitate for a moment—she went through the window and leapt. The timber was stacked high enough that she landed on top of it, and the momentum sent her rolling down the slope of the pile. Zhou Jin controlled her descent, twisted into a roll, and landed cleanly on the ground.
Jiang Cheng jumped next, landing on the same pile of timber—but his ankle, which Ghost Six had nearly crushed entirely, buckled the instant his weight came down. The impact exploded through the injury like a bone cracking apart.
His knee gave out. He pitched forward off the pile, crashing hard to the ground before Zhou Jin could catch him.
For a moment, his ears rang with a high, hollow whine, and his mind went completely blank.
Zhou Jin rushed to help him up, hoisted Jiang Cheng onto her shoulder, and asked: “Can you walk?”
Jiang Cheng swallowed against the dry, burning ache in his throat, riding out the brief wave of dizziness, and answered: “Yes. I’m fine.”
At that moment, three figures appeared ahead of them.
The night had deepened into full darkness. The faint flickering light spilling from the workshop wasn’t enough to illuminate this stretch, and for a moment Zhou Jin couldn’t make out who was approaching. At first she assumed it was reinforcements from the special police unit.
A flashlight beam from the other side cut directly toward them, sweeping briefly across her face.
Something felt wrong. Jiang Cheng registered it faster than she did. He pulled her behind the timber pile in one swift motion.
“Bang bang bang——!”
Three shots split the wood apart, sending splinters flying.
“It’s police.” A man’s voice came, sharp and cautious. “Seventh Uncle, you go first!”
Zhou Jin’s heart lurched. But Jiang Cheng had already identified them. “Old Scorpion’s men.”
The moment she heard the name Old Scorpion, blood flooded through Zhou Jin’s entire body in a single surge. Her pupils contracted. She set her jaw—and without a moment’s thought, she charged forward.
Of the three who had arrived, two were already fleeing. Only one bodyguard—dressed in a sharp suit—remained behind to cover their retreat.
He had barely turned around when a lean, tall figure hurtled into his field of vision. She pivoted and delivered a spinning kick that sent his gun flying clean out of his hand.
A punch came swinging at her. Zhou Jin’s eyes were faster—she caught his arm, hooked herself along the line of the punch’s momentum, and executed a shoulder throw that slammed the bodyguard hard into the ground.
The entire sequence had taken only a few seconds. The man’s head struck the ground with such force that his consciousness scattered, leaving him dazed and barely aware.
Jiang Cheng was at his side in an instant, pressing the bodyguard down.
Zhou Jin tossed him the handcuffs. She pressed her lips together—her usually fine-featured face had taken on a cold, fierce edge. She said: “I’m going after them.”
Jiang Cheng held her gaze for a moment. He should have stopped her. The words never came.
He gave a single nod. “I’ve got this.”
Zhou Jin turned and broke into a full sprint.
She ran at full speed—and still arrived one step too late. She watched helplessly as Seventh Uncle and his remaining bodyguard reached the side of the workshop, yanked the dust cover off a red sedan, scrambled inside, and started the engine immediately.
She ran toward them. She had actually grabbed the door handle—but the car surged forward with such violent force that she was thrown aside.
She hit the ground and rolled twice, and came within a hair’s breadth—just a fraction of a moment—of having the tire crush her leg.
Zhou Jin’s hands and face were streaked with the fine red lines of fresh scrapes. She struggled to her feet, intending to get to her own off-road vehicle and give chase.
At that exact moment, a blinding white light swept toward her.
Zhou Jin instinctively raised a hand to shield her eyes. She heard the screech of tires tearing across asphalt—and then a black car swung into a graceful, controlled drift, its rear end sweeping around in a clean arc, coming to a stop directly in front of her.
The window came down. Through the wind, through the dark, Zhou Jin saw a face she knew with absolute certainty.
She stared for a fraction of a second.
A black sweater made the man’s face look even paler—a cold, sharp pale. In the darkness of the night, Jiang Hansheng was like an emissary of the dark itself, arriving at this precise time and place.
His eyes were long at the corners, his gaze carrying a faint, understated sharpness. He looked at Zhou Jin and said: “Get in.”
Zhou Jin didn’t pause to think. She pulled the door open and dove into the passenger seat.
Jiang Hansheng’s gaze had already locked onto the tail of the red sedan. He began to accelerate.
The passenger window was still down, and every sound around them came through with startling clarity.
Zhou Jin heard the scattered gunfire—the factory was apparently still locked in a fierce exchange; she heard police sirens, the pursuing police cars close behind them; she heard the roaring of the wind through the open window…
All of these sounds wove together in a surging, chaotic tangle, layered to such an extreme that they gradually blurred and receded in her ears, until all she could hear was her own heartbeat pounding against the walls of her chest—
Thud. Thud.
“Why did you…”
She wanted to ask why he had come here—but she had asked that question many times before, in many forms.
Zhou Jin’s lips trembled slightly, and the words caught in her throat.
Something brought to mind a promise Jiang Hansheng had once made to her.
“Investigating cases is your duty. Protecting you to the best of my ability is my responsibility as your husband.”
She had thought of it as sweet talk before—it had made her blush, made her heart stir. But now, in this moment of genuine danger, watching him actually live up to every word he had ever said, Zhou Jin felt only an overwhelming, aching sadness and fear.
Jiang Hansheng’s expression was cold and focused. He drove out of the factory grounds and gave chase to the red sedan, speeding along the winding mountain road with its uneven, treacherous surface.
Up ahead, red and blue lights pulsed and flickered, cutting sharply through the dark night sky over Kuang Mountain—the police checkpoint set up along the mountain road.
The red sedan didn’t slow for a moment. Its speed only climbed, the engine screaming through the mountain forest like a caged beast let loose.
The officers manning the checkpoint were blinded by the oncoming headlights. Panic seized them, and they dove to the sides of the road, scattering just in time to avoid the car hurtling toward them.
It had been that close. Any later, and they would have been struck.
The sedan didn’t hit anyone—but it drove straight through the two police cars blocking the road, smashing them aside and continuing its flight down the mountain.
Jiang Hansheng’s expression darkened. He floored the accelerator. The vehicle’s exceptional performance revealed itself fully in that moment as he locked onto the red sedan’s tail with absolute precision, not surrendering a single inch.
Just as he prepared to swing out and cut in front of them, the red sedan swerved, throwing itself sideways and sealing off Jiang Hansheng’s overtaking line.
He was forced to brake in short pulses, widening the gap slightly.
One red, one black. One ahead, one behind. Like a pursuit from an extreme racing circuit, they tore across the winding mountain road.
The wind screaming through the window whipped Zhou Jin’s hair and stung her eyes to a burning ache. She kept her gaze fixed on the taillights of the red sedan ahead—but she couldn’t concentrate at all.
Seventh Uncle could see the police cars had been left far behind. The black car, however, was still glued to his tail—and the frustration boiled up into a sudden burst of reckless fury. He grabbed his gun and fired three shots out the window in rapid succession.
The moment Jiang Hansheng saw the muzzle, he steadied himself within the threat closing around them, gripped the wheel, and adjusted his line. The car swayed—one shot went wide; one struck the hood, and the impact of metal on metal sparked briefly in the dark.
The third shot punched through the center of the windshield. With the bullet hole as its epicenter, the glass collapsed inward in an instant, fracturing in all directions.
The thunderous crack of shattering glass exploded through the cabin. Zhou Jin threw her arms over her head and ducked.
Moments before, she had nearly been dragged under a car—and she hadn’t flinched. But now her heart lurched up into her throat. The fear she felt was for Jiang Hansheng’s arrival here, and for something formless and terrible that seemed to lie ahead on the road.
And in that moment, she finally understood—truly understood—what emotion Jiang Hansheng carried every single time he watched her leave for a dangerous assignment. Finally understood why he had said those words to her, in that near-agonized tone—
“Think of me, will you?”
Zhou Jin felt a furious urge to cry. Her eyes were reddening. She said angrily: “You shouldn’t have come!”
Jiang Hansheng’s voice didn’t rise or fall. He simply asked: “Shall I stop the car, then?”
Zhou Jin bit down hard.
Jiang Hansheng spared a fraction of his attention and glanced sideways at her. Her hands and face were covered in a scattering of small, fresh wounds—disheveled, and vivid. Her eyes were blazing with an intensity that seemed to burn.
He already knew her answer. His gaze returned to the road ahead.
The biting night wind poured in through the shattered windshield and lifted his hair gently. The dim light traced the clean, sharp lines of his profile.
Zhou Jin looked at his composed, unyielding face, and beneath that cool exterior she saw something that could not be shaken—an absolute stillness.
Jiang Hansheng said: “Trust me.”