Zhou Jin thought for a moment, then said to Jiang Hansheng, “If Qi Yan truly wanted to kill Professor Wang, there was no need to do it in the office building like this — so openly… it looks more like a show of force.”

Attacking someone in broad daylight inside the Criminal Research Center was an act of extreme audacity, and naturally it had sent shockwaves through everything. Multiple media outlets were now scrambling to cover the story.

That was precisely why Zhou Jin said Qi Yan’s aim had never been murder — it had been intimidation.

A show of force against the police. A show of force against Jiang Hansheng.

He wasn’t only pushing against Jiang Hansheng’s limits — he was also declaring war on the police in retaliation for what had been taken from him at Kuang Mountain.

Wang Pengzhe had been this attack’s target. Who would be next?

Zhou Jin couldn’t help but think — Qi Yan was so fixated on Jiang Hansheng that the moment an opportunity arose, he would certainly go after someone close to him again. Would that person be her? His family? His students? Even his colleagues? Any of them were possible.

But whoever it was, it would be enough to plunge Jiang Hansheng back into the depths of despair and agony.

No one else could be allowed to get hurt.

Zhou Jin steadied herself, reached out, and wrapped her arms around Jiang Hansheng’s waist. “Call Uncle Jiang and Auntie Fang. Remind them to stay safe.”

Back at the hospital, Zhou Jin had noticed that Jiang Hansheng and his father were at odds over something. She didn’t know what the disagreement was about, but in the face of a threat to their lives, no rift was worth holding onto. She didn’t want Jiang Hansheng to one day have regrets.

Jiang Hansheng went rigid and didn’t move for a long moment.

Zhou Jin rubbed his back, a little coaxing in her touch. “Be good. Make the call.”

Jiang Hansheng softened into a small smile, gave a nod, and said, “Wait here for me.”

He stepped outside into the lobby. Zhou Jin followed his silhouette with her eyes and faintly caught his low, quiet voice: “Dad, it’s Hansheng…”

Zhou Jin smiled to herself, then sat back down to wait. She pulled the overcoat tighter around herself and opened her phone.

The lock screen wallpaper was still a photo of her and Zhou Chuan.

She traced her fingertip across Zhou Chuan’s face on the screen. The memory drew her back to the rooftop of the Hongtian Commercial Building.

That day, she had demanded of Zhao Ping: “On the night of August 17th five years ago, when the special police unit was ambushed — was it you who betrayed them? Did you leak the weapons transport route to Qi Yan?”

Zhao Ping had laughed mockingly. “You give me too much credit. I was just a lowly auxiliary officer back then.”

“And why do you still think your brother was killed by those criminals? He wasn’t, senior sister. That was just what it looked like on the surface.”

Zhao Ping had not denied that someone within the special police unit had leaked the transport route. He had only denied being the traitor himself.

If it wasn’t Zhao Ping, then who was most likely to have worked from the inside, orchestrating the gun heist? And the person who had colluded with Qi Yan — Zhao Ping had known him.

Only one name remained in her mind now. Zhan Wei.

If it truly was him, then through Zhan Wei, they might be able to find Qi Yan’s whereabouts.

But she had no direct evidence of any private collusion between the two. Zhan Wei was currently the head of the Information Division at the Provincial Bureau. Without evidence, she couldn’t simply walk up and arrest him — and moving too soon would only alert him.

Zhou Jin felt a dull wave of frustration. She switched off her phone and leaned back in the chair with her eyes closed for a moment. In that brief stillness, a dangerous thought leapt suddenly into her mind —

To draw a fish to the hook, you needed bait.

And was there anyone better suited for that role than her?

But no one would agree to let her do it. Tan Shiming wouldn’t. Jiang Hansheng definitely wouldn’t.

And yet there were things that simply had to be done, and someone had to do them.

Because of a responsibility that could not be handed off — and because there were people she wanted to protect.

Zhou Jin opened her eyes. Her gaze drifted through the glass doors to where Jiang Hansheng stood outside, and she watched him in quiet stillness.

The night had grown deep. A sharp northern wind cut through the air. The faint glow of a streetlight traced the clean, upright line of his silhouette.

She had never looked this carefully at Jiang Hansheng’s back before. Only now did she realize that just watching a person — just like this — could feel like something very, very good.

Before long, Jiang Hansheng ended the call and came back inside.

The conversation with Jiang Bozhi must have gone smoothly — there was a trace of lightness on his face now.

“I’ve booked a hotel,” he told her. “The car will be here soon.”

Zhou Jin nodded.

After saying his goodbyes to the officers at the station, Jiang Hansheng walked with Zhou Jin to the street to wait for the taxi.

It was late into the night now. The street was nearly empty, the cold wind raging without restraint. Above them, a single streetlamp cast a thin, murky light.

Even the light felt cold.

Zhou Jin reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist, turning her face to rest against his chest.

Jiang Hansheng pulled her into him. “Are you cold?”

“A little. Hold me for a while.”

Jiang Hansheng gave a soft laugh and let her stay there, drawing warmth from him.

Under the streetlamp, their shadows merged into one, warmth passing quietly between them.

Zhou Jin tilted her head up and studied his face — sharp, striking features she found herself looking at with care.

Jiang Hansheng was lost in his own silence. His thoughts were not on her.

He was thinking about how to destroy Shi Qiang — completely, in ways that would make survival feel worse than death.

In this, Jiang Hansheng and Qi Yan were disturbingly alike. They both knew how to dismantle a person’s psychological defenses, how to drive someone into the most desperate and agonizing corners of their own mind.

Zhou Jin watched him, and the longer she looked, the more certain she became that something was off. It was as though, since seeing Wang Pengzhe, a chill had settled into him that refused to leave. His eyes were dark in a way that unsettled her — darkened to something frightening.

Because Jiang Hansheng buried his thoughts so deeply, she still couldn’t put her finger on exactly what was wrong.

Zhou Jin let her hand wander aimlessly across his back a couple of times. When he didn’t react, she said, “Hm — how come I never noticed before how beautiful your eyes are?”

Jiang Hansheng surfaced from the dark depths of his thoughts with a start. He looked down and met Zhou Jin’s bright, clear gaze — there was a moment of blankness, and then, after quite a pause, he registered what she had just said.

Almost immediately, a deep warmth flooded into his eyes.

Watching him smile, Zhou Jin added, “Even more beautiful now.”

Jiang Hansheng wasn’t used to being described as “beautiful.” A hint of embarrassment crept in. “What are you talking about?”

“Really, truly.” She watched him refuse to admit it and gave a couple of indignant little bounces.

Jiang Hansheng quickly steadied her, shaking his head with fond resignation. “If you like it, that’s all that matters.”

Zhou Jin grinned. “Who wouldn’t?”

Her smile was radiant — especially her eyes. Jiang Hansheng’s scattered, drifting thoughts came back to her at last, and he held her close with his full attention.

After a moment, Zhou Jin asked, “What’s the plan from here?”

Jiang Hansheng turned calm, thinking through the strategy.

Getting anything more out of Shi Qiang was unlikely now.

But from Chen Li’s former wife’s testimony, they knew that after committing the serial murders, Qi Yan had somehow managed to evade capture and live undisturbed right up to the present — and that was largely because his older brother had appeared at exactly the right moment to intervene.

Yet when those crimes had taken place, that brother had been little more than a teenager himself.

Finding Chen Li to take the fall for Qi Yan, and arranging everything so cleanly afterward — that couldn’t have been done without the resources of Old Scorpion’s criminal network to lean on.

And now, the fact that Qi Yan had managed to infiltrate police ranks, and had so easily bought Shi Qiang into carrying out the attack — none of that was unrelated to the criminal organization Old Scorpion controlled.

Among all the witnesses they currently held, only one person knew Old Scorpion’s true identity: Qi Zhen.

So Jiang Hansheng intended to fly to Huaiguang to meet with Qi Zhen and her husband, Jian Liang.

But both he and Zhou Jin knew this path would be difficult to walk.

Qi Zhen had been willing to take her own life rather than reveal the truth of what had happened back then — because deep down, she did not believe the police had the strength to stand against Old Scorpion. She lived in terror that if she gave up Old Scorpion’s identity, those people would turn around and destroy her. Destroy Jian Liang.

Qi Yan remained hidden in the dark; the police stood exposed in the light. The situation was still deeply reactive.

Jiang Hansheng’s brow creased slightly. It was rare for him to feel this completely without a viable move.

“Don’t worry,” Zhou Jin said. “We’ll catch him this time. I believe in you.”

Jiang Hansheng smiled at her. “Mm.”

She held his gaze, watching the softness in his expression, and without quite realizing it, tightened her grip on his coat. After a long moment, she said it again: “I believe in you.”

Just then, the taxi arrived. The driver honked to confirm they were the ones who had called.

Jiang Hansheng pulled open the door and guided Zhou Jin into the back seat.

The drive to the hotel would take roughly twenty minutes. Jiang Hansheng had gone without sleep for so long that his mind had reached its absolute limit. Partway through the ride, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

Zhou Jin fired off a quick message, then looked up to find Jiang Hansheng asleep with his characteristic tidiness — even unconscious, composed. She couldn’t help but smile. She put her arm around his shoulder and let him lean against her.

Her fingers moved gently through the soft hair at the back of his head. Her voice dropped to something barely above a whisper.

“Hansheng, I love you.”

Almost immediately, the screen of the phone in her hand lit up. A notification banner appeared.

Zhan Wei: You’re here in town and didn’t even tell me? I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.

The following morning, Zhou Jin woke before Jiang Hansheng. As she got up and faced the wardrobe, she looked at the clothes that needed changing, and stood there in quiet thought for a moment before quickly and decisively getting dressed.

When she left, Jiang Hansheng still hadn’t stirred. Perhaps it was the injuries, or perhaps the unrelenting tension he’d been carrying for so long — but for once, he was sleeping deeply.

Zhou Jin eased the door shut behind her, as softly as she could.

Downstairs, she greeted the driver who was already waiting. “I just arrived in Huaisha,” she said. “Do you know if there’s a shopping center around here?”

“That’s easy — go ahead and get in.”

The driver took Zhou Jin to a large shopping center nearby. It was the weekend, and there were more shoppers than usual, people moving back and forth in lively streams.

Zhou Jin chose a clothing store and stepped inside. A shop assistant came forward warmly to greet her.

“Welcome! Is there something I can help you with today?”

“I’d like to buy a dress.”

Zhou Jin smiled — a smile whose meaning was hard to read.

“A red one.”