Jiang Hansheng glanced at the clock hanging on the white wall. The hour hand pointed to the two. No one else in the room noticed what he did — the second hand was moving backward, tick by tick.

This room was saturated with Qi Yan’s twisted sense of humor, or rather, what he fancied to be his artistic sensibility.

The clock represented the time Qi Yan had allotted him. Two hours remained. When the hour hand completed its backward journey back to the starting point, if Jiang Hansheng had still not pinpointed Zhou Jin’s exact location, the game would be over.

He didn’t have much time.

Jiang Cheng asked: “What do you need me to do?”

Jiang Hansheng met his gaze with a brief flash of surprise but didn’t hesitate. “I’ll explain on the way.”

In the police vehicle, Bai Yang transmitted the materials he had gathered on Zhan Wei to Jiang Hansheng.

Because Zhan Wei’s background was in cybersecurity, and Bai Yang had contacts in the provincial department’s information division, he had managed to pick up quite a bit along the way.

Jiang Hansheng scrolled through quickly. His eyes came to rest on a group photograph taken during Zhan Wei’s time with the special police unit.

The longer he looked, the deeper the furrow between his brows became.

Then, as though something had just occurred to him, he closed his hand around the phone and shut his eyes for a moment.

Jiang Cheng was riding in the front passenger seat. Through the rearview mirror, he caught the change in Jiang Hansheng’s expression. “What is it?”

Jiang Hansheng opened his eyes again. His gaze at that moment was strikingly detached. He turned the question back: “Do you want to step out for a smoke?”

Jiang Cheng’s expression cooled. “Fine.”

Bai Yang had no idea what they were planning and simply followed Jiang Hansheng’s lead, pulling over to the side of the road.

Jiang Hansheng and Jiang Cheng both got out. Bai Yang stayed behind in the car, watching through the window as Jiang Cheng lit a cigarette, then offered one to Jiang Hansheng.

The latter declined. His lips moved — he was saying something quietly.

The distance was too great. Bai Yang couldn’t make it out.

After a short while, Jiang Cheng stubbed out the cigarette and asked: “How confident are you in your assessment?”

Jiang Hansheng didn’t answer directly. Instead he said: “There’s no time left to verify whether the assessment is entirely correct.”

Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow, thought for a moment, then gave a short, derisive breath. “I took you for a more refined sort of man.”

Jiang Hansheng said: “I’m hoping you’ll help me.”

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Zhou Jin.” Jiang Cheng exhaled the last drag of his cigarette.

Jiang Hansheng said: “Thank you.”

At the hospital, in the ward.

Zhan Wei had taken the fall hard across his lower back. Lying in the hospital bed was more uncomfortable than standing, so he had gotten up on his own and was standing by the window, letting the fresh air from outside wash over him.

He was in good spirits. The thought of Zhou Jin giving her life for the “8·17” case — the thought of how much more that would torment Zhou Chuan — filled him with satisfaction.

Who said revenge brought no pleasure?

Zhou Chuan had taken so much from him over the years, kept him underfoot for so long. He had never once had the chance to come out ahead of Zhou Chuan. Letting him die with his eyes wide open — unable to rest — wasn’t the worst outcome.

Zhan Wei’s complexion was pale, with several fresh scrapes across his face, giving him a rather pitiable appearance.

The security guard assigned to protect Zhan Wei knocked on the door and came in: “There’s a man outside called Jiang Hansheng. He claims to be Zhou Jin’s husband and wants to see you.”

Hearing the name, Zhan Wei felt a jolt run through him.

He knew enough about Jiang Hansheng. The man was exceptionally sharp, with an uncommon keenness of observation — even Qi Yan had been outmatched by him before.

Zhan Wei was confident he could deceive Zhou Jin. He could deceive ordinary police officers. But deceiving Jiang Hansheng was another matter entirely.

Still, one thing he could be certain of right now: Jiang Hansheng almost certainly knew nothing yet about the special police unit’s affairs. If he had already caught wind of something, Zhou Jin would not have come alone today to probe for information — and Jiang Hansheng would absolutely not be presenting himself at the hospital as a visitor making a polite request.

Zhan Wei understood that the most important thing he could do now was to avoid any direct contact. Stall for as long as possible.

After all, he had already helped Qi Yan secure Zhou Jin — which meant he had Jiang Hansheng by the throat. In the end, they would both die. Once they were gone, the secrets of the special police unit could be buried forever. Only then would he be able to rest easy.

He used his injuries as an excuse and refused the visit.

After the security guard relayed the message, the corridor outside fell briefly quiet — then without warning came a sharp cry of pain, the security guard’s voice, followed immediately by the door slamming open and snapping shut again!

Jiang Hansheng stepped inside, turned around, and locked the door behind him. He fixed his gaze on Zhan Wei with cold, unblinking intensity.

The sudden intrusion sent a look of genuine terror across Zhan Wei’s face. “What are you doing?”

Jiang Hansheng crossed the room and closed his hand around Zhan Wei’s throat.

The back of Zhan Wei’s skull cracked hard against the glass. Through the blur of pain and dizziness, he grabbed at Jiang Hansheng’s hand and tried to fight back — then a gleam of cold steel drove straight toward his eye!

Close enough to touch.

The chill of the blade’s tip seeped almost into his eye itself. Zhan Wei’s chest seized. He could not suppress the terror surging through him. His shoulders trembled uncontrollably.

The full force of Jiang Hansheng’s pressure in a direct confrontation made itself known without reservation in that moment.

“Zhan Wei. Tell me — where is Zhou Jin?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zhan Wei forced the words out through the grip at his throat. “About Zhou Jin — I’m sorry, I genuinely had no idea someone was planning to kidnap her. They tampered with my brakes. I nearly died too…”

The security guard was shouting outside, slamming against the door repeatedly. Zhan Wei’s wife’s voice came through as well, calling for doctors and nurses.

Against the chaos outside the ward, the room itself was as still as ice.

Jiang Hansheng said: “You know I have no direct evidence. So you’re planning to deny everything to the end. Is that right?”

Jiang Hansheng was a smart man. Zhan Wei was a smart man. Since he had already laid things out this plainly, there was no point in Zhan Wei continuing to play dumb.

Zhan Wei gave a half-smile. “You don’t have much time left. Don’t waste it on me.”

He kept his words deliberately ambiguous — impossible to catch hold of.

“I’m not here to talk evidence.” Jiang Hansheng’s attention dropped to Zhan Wei’s hand, as though what he saw there confirmed something he’d already suspected. “You’re still wearing your wedding ring.”

Zhan Wei’s brow creased. “What does that mean?”

Jiang Hansheng pressed the blade against his throat, drew out his phone, and rapidly dialed a number. He handed the phone to Zhan Wei.

The call connected. Almost immediately, the sound of an infant crying came through the line, along with a woman’s voice, pleading desperately.

“Section Chief Zhan!”

The woman was Zhan Wei’s housekeeper — a voice he would never mistake. Which meant the child could only be —

The color drained completely from Zhan Wei’s face. “What do you think you’re doing!”

Jiang Hansheng had gone through Zhan Wei’s background and personal history. A father enslaved by gambling. A mother bedridden with illness. With parents like that, Zhan Wei had not distanced himself after rising to success — instead, he had brought them to Huaisha to live with him and cared for them diligently.

He placed great importance on family. On his wife and his child. Perhaps it wasn’t rooted in pure affection — but at the very least, in Zhan Wei’s eyes, a successful man must have a complete and intact family to show for it.

He had his vulnerability.

To extract the information he needed quickly and effectively, he had to take hold of that vulnerability.

At this very moment, Jiang Cheng was sitting on the sofa in Zhan Wei’s home, holding Zhan Wei’s infant son.

The power to the apartment had been cut. The glass door leading to the balcony stood open, and a breeze drifted in from outside, sending the pale green gauze curtains swaying gently.

In the dim half-light, one side of him was submerged in shadow. The features beneath his cap were indistinct.

Jiang Cheng let Zhan Wei hear enough of the baby’s crying, then ended the call.

He rested his palm on the child’s back and patted him softly, twice.

The baby stopped crying almost immediately.

The infant was very small, its face still scrunched and a little homely from newness.

Jiang Cheng let out a quiet sound that was almost a laugh. “Good boy,” he said.

After the line went dead, Zhan Wei’s face had twisted into something savage. He forced bravado into his voice: “Jiang Hansheng — you’re threatening me? Do you actually dare go through with it!”

Jiang Hansheng said, with unhurried calm: “Zhan Wei, look carefully. It’s not me who acts.”

“Inciting another person to act — that’s just as criminal.”

“All I did was tell him that you were the one who sold out the unit — that you leaked the undercover identities from the ‘8·17’ task force to Qi Yan, and that due to insufficient evidence, there’s currently no way to bring you to justice.” Jiang Hansheng said. “His name is Jiang Cheng. I imagine you’re not unfamiliar with that name.”

Zhan Wei snapped: “I never did any such thing!”

“That statement, as it happens, is true.” Jiang Hansheng’s gaze was as precise and cutting as a surgeon’s blade, his expression entirely composed. “But some things — the more you deny them, the more certain he becomes that you did them. Yao Weihai and Meng Junfeng died so horribly. Do you think Jiang Cheng would spare the person who betrayed them? Do you think he’d hesitate to kill your son to satisfy his fury?”

“You—!”

Zhan Wei wanted to scream that Jiang Hansheng was shameless. He had not expected him to resort to tactics this low.

Using Jiang Cheng as leverage — to coerce him?

Zhan Wei scrambled to think through where he had slipped up — how could Jiang Hansheng have turned his suspicion toward him so quickly? He had tampered with his own vehicle precisely to cast himself thoroughly in the role of victim, to put himself beyond suspicion.

Everything had gone so smoothly…

“Zhan Wei. I came here to negotiate.” Jiang Hansheng cut through his thoughts. “I’ve already laid my cards on the table and proved my position. What about you?”

Zhan Wei was silent for a moment. His eyes went cold. “I don’t know.”

Jiang Hansheng’s face was pale and starkly composed. The hand gripping the blade gave a small tremor, then tightened again.

“I genuinely don’t know,” Zhan Wei was forced to repeat.

The look in Jiang Hansheng’s eyes sharpened in an instant — a flash of raw, barely restrained ferocity. He seized Zhan Wei by the collar and slammed him down onto the hospital bed with a crash.

Zhan Wei saw the gleam of the blade descending and let out a sharp cry. The expected pain never came. The knife threaded cleanly between his fingers, angled — and came to rest against his hand.

“You don’t get a second chance!”

“I only know a place name — Nanshan Estate!” Zhan Wei stared at the blade’s edge, his scalp crawling with dread. “Nanshan Estate!”