It was not until the early hours of the morning that Jiang Hansheng finally let Zhou Jin sleep.

Just before losing consciousness, Zhou Jin did not forget to hold Jiang Hansheng close, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of his neck, and saying once more: “I love you.”

Afterward, she fell into a chaotic, tangled dream. Everything in it was disordered, with little logic to it. She only knew she seemed to have returned to Gardenia Lane.

She was playing hide-and-seek with the neighborhood children, and had slipped into Number 23 next door. At the time, Jiang Hansheng had been doing homework under the willow tree. When she came in, he lifted his head and looked at her with complete attention.

Jiang Hansheng quickly took her hand and led her into his room, hiding her inside the wardrobe.

The wardrobe was safe. No one could find her there.

Just as Jiang Hansheng was turning to leave, Zhou Jin caught the hem of his shirt and warned him: “You can’t give me away — no matter who asks, don’t say a word.”

Jiang Hansheng was not one for many words. He simply nodded seriously: “I won’t say.”

She hid in the wardrobe for a very long time. The expected events of the past never seemed to arrive. The wardrobe was entirely still — as if everyone had gone, and only Zhou Jin remained.

She grew a little frightened. She wanted to climb out of the wardrobe, but discovered that her hands and feet were bound — she could not move.

Somehow, without knowing when, the dark surroundings had shifted to the music hall of the Nanshan villa.

Only she was here.

The video recording in front of her was still playing. On the screen, Jiang Hansheng hung his head in exhaustion — from her angle, she couldn’t make out his expression at all.

Beside him, Feng He said in a joking tone, “Mr. Jiang, why don’t you tell us where this girl is? We can invite her to come and see you.”

At that point, Jiang Hansheng had already been barely conscious — and yet he answered, in a very, very quiet voice: “Alright.”

Feng He hadn’t expected him to agree. Finding it all the more entertaining, he picked up the camera and walked over, grabbed Jiang Hansheng by the hair, and tilted his face up toward the lens.

Feng He: “What do you want to say?”

Jiang Hansheng’s pale face was drenched in sweat. At the corner of his lips, a faint smile appeared — wholly out of place. He answered: “I won’t say.”

Feng He assumed Jiang Hansheng was toying with him and immediately flew into a rage, throwing down the camera and driving his fist hard into Jiang Hansheng’s ribs.

The camera had toppled — there was no image. Only Feng He’s unbroken stream of curses, and the dull, muffled sound of fists hitting flesh.

Even at the time, Zhou Jin had assumed those words of Jiang Hansheng’s were meant to provoke Feng He.

They weren’t. It turned out they never were.

At the edge of death, what had come to him — what he had seen — was not anyone else at all. It was only the Zhou Jin who had once barged uninvited into his solitary, lightless world.

She lost her voice and wept. Her heart felt as though it were being pierced by fine, closely-clustered needles — a real, physical pain that made her draw in a sharp breath of cold air.

Zhou Jin reached out trying to embrace the Jiang Hansheng before her, calling his name — and then, in a sudden jolt, she sat upright in bed.

She was awake. Her chest heaved rapidly, her breathing in disarray.

A click sounded as the bedside lamp was turned on. Jiang Hansheng had woken too. His palm settled against the damp nape of her neck, his voice rough as he asked, “Zhou Jin?”

Zhou Jin turned — and saw Jiang Hansheng heavy-eyed with sleep, the blanket slipped down to his waist, his upper half bare. In the warm amber lamplight, Jiang Hansheng’s skin was fair and his frame well-formed — everything about him announcing that he was in possession of an entirely healthy body.

Jiang Hansheng came fully awake shortly after. Seeing the alarm on her face, he touched her cheek. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Zhou Jin turned and wrapped her arms around him in a single movement. Skin against skin, their warmth mingling together. Zhou Jin closed her eyes, her lashes trembling slightly.

She said, “You leave me absolutely no way out.”

What else could she do? How else could she love this person, for it to be enough?

Jiang Hansheng heard the reproach in her voice and asked quietly, “Did I do something wrong?” He reflected for a moment and then said, helplessly uncertain, “Last night — did I hurt you again?”

Zhou Jin broke into tearful laughter, her face going red. She held Jiang Hansheng tighter. “Be quiet and just let me hold you for a while.”

They held each other in the deep of the night.

Zhou Jin used every sense she had to feel Jiang Hansheng’s presence — his breathing, his warmth, every part of him vivid and real.

Thank goodness. Thank goodness. Jiang Hansheng had come to be by her side.

That day, Jiang Hansheng went to the university to teach, and Zhou Jin had to return to the serious crimes unit to report back. They agreed: once Jiang Hansheng finished his classes, he would come to the serious crimes unit to pick her up, and the two of them would take a walk together in the park before heading home.

When Zhou Jin arrived at the serious crimes unit, she went straight to the unit leader’s office — and was surprised to find a new face standing in front of Tan Shiming’s desk.

The young man was tall and well-built, with clean, upright features, radiating an energy that seemed to burst from the inside out.

Tan Shiming said to Zhou Jin, “Perfect timing. This is Gao Yaojie, our unit’s new intern — his first day today. From now on, he’s yours.”

Gao Yaojie immediately snapped to a salute. “Senior Sister, greetings!”

Hearing him call her “Senior Sister,” Zhou Jin was momentarily taken aback, thinking of the first time she had met Zhao Ping — a similar scene.

Gao Yaojie was a touch more enthusiastic than Zhao Ping, though. “I’m also a graduate of Jingzhou Police Academy. Please take good care of me!”

Zhou Jin waved her hands quickly. “I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare.”

She gave him a quick tour of the serious crimes unit. Gao Yaojie was a natural with people — quick-witted too. By the time Zhou Jin had introduced him to every member of the unit, he had already committed all their names to memory.

Yu Dan, seeing Zhou Jin, asked how her health was doing and made her promise repeatedly to fully recover before coming back to work.

Zhou Jin assured her there was nothing to worry about — she could perform a one-handed handstand right now to prove she was fine.

Yu Dan immediately declined. That would not be necessary.

In the course of their conversation, Zhou Jin heard from Yu Dan that the situation in Huaisha had already descended into complete upheaval.

The Ministry of Public Security had sent people to personally direct and oversee the investigation. The police, starting from Qi Yan and Zhan Wei, had begun pulling threads — and with each thread, more unraveled. The entire Dongsheng Group, along with every government official who had colluded with them — even including the former Party secretary — had to answer for their actions.

The political and law enforcement circles of Huaisha were being swept by a ferocious storm. It felt like a pressure cooker ready to burst, and everyone was falling over themselves to stay well clear.

Gao Yaojie, listening in from the side, quickly chimed in: “That’s right — my hometown is in Huaisha. These days, every relative and their neighbors are all talking about it.”

Yu Dan was curious. “Your hometown is in Huaisha, so why did you come to Haizhou for your internship?”

Gao Yaojie hooked a finger against his cheek and squinted with a smile. “Because of Uncle Yao.”

Zhou Jin and Yu Dan both paused — they realized the “Uncle Yao” he meant was Yao Weihai.

Gao Yaojie turned serious. “When I was at the police academy, I was supported the whole time by Uncle Yao — he was like a father to me. You might think this sounds a bit dramatic, but his death — the only way I could repay him was to carry on his will and work hard at being a good police officer.”

Yu Dan smiled warmly. “You will be.”

Zhou Jin smiled too.

On this path, there were always those who made sacrifices. But there were always new people, one after another, who walked onto this path in their place. A police officer who died in the line of duty was, at its core, simply a human death — and death was everywhere, nothing extraordinary on its own.

Only when each successive generation carried forward the beliefs of those who had fallen — maintaining justice always, maintaining passion always — could those sacrifices be made meaningful.

Gao Yaojie didn’t want the conversation to become too heavy, so he pivoted to mention that he had won a championship at a combat competition back at the police academy, and that Yao Weihai had come to the school to watch him receive his award.

Zhou Jin’s interest lit up immediately. “Oh? Then you must be pretty good.”

Yu Dan said, “You’ve met your match. Zhou Jin was runner-up.”

Zhou Jin said, “Want to try a few moves?”

Gao Yaojie grinned sheepishly. “Senior Sister Zhou, I don’t mean any disrespect, but there are physical differences between men and women — I’m afraid I might hurt you.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine — we’ll go easy on each other.”

When Jiang Hansheng finished his classes, he drove to the serious crimes unit to pick up Zhou Jin. He pushed open the office door — and saw Zhou Jin locking a man’s arm under her own, her shoulder driving into his ribs, the two of them nearly pressed together.

Jiang Hansheng raised an eyebrow. He stood silently in the doorway.

Yu Dan froze on the spot, immediately dreading the possibility of getting caught in the crossfire, and quietly took one step back.

Zhou Jin saw that Jiang Hansheng had come to pick her up. Without further ceremony, she gathered her strength in a single explosive burst — and in one clean, beautiful over-the-shoulder throw, sent Gao Yaojie crashing to the floor.

Jiang Hansheng: “…”

Gao Yaojie pressed his face to the ground in mortified regret at having underestimated her: “That one doesn’t count! It doesn’t count! Again!”

Zhou Jin laughed. “Next time — there’ll be plenty of chances.”

She jogged over and linked her arm through Jiang Hansheng’s without the slightest hesitation. “Come, let me introduce you. This is my husband, Jiang Hansheng — currently serving as the unit’s criminal investigation consultant in his capacity as the serious crimes unit’s son-in-law.”

Jiang Hansheng smiled despite himself, seemingly a little at a loss for such a lengthy introduction. “…Zhou Jin, what are you doing?”

Zhou Jin grinned at him. “Breaking in the new recruit.”

Gao Yaojie scratched the back of his head, slightly abashed, and extended his hand to Jiang Hansheng. “Professor Jiang, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Jiang Hansheng shook his hand politely, then quickly turned his gaze back to Zhou Jin at his side. “Ready?”

Zhou Jin nodded. “I’ve been waiting ages.”

Evening was drawing near.

With the dust all finally settled, everything seemed to have fallen back into its natural rhythm — returning to the way things had always been.

Yu Dan sat before her computer writing the case closure report, head tilted sideways with her phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, listening to her child and her husband cry together about why she still wasn’t home.

In the surveillance room, Bai Yang had both arms wrapped around his keyboard and was sound asleep tilted back in his chair, the monitor in front of him scrolling a marquee — “Sleep is humanity’s lifelong vocation.”

In the unit leader’s office, Tan Shiming sat with both hands cupped around his thermos, head bowed over stack after stack of case files.

When it came time to knock off, the other colleagues in the serious crimes unit were cheerfully exchanging goodbyes — when suddenly a new emergency call came in, and every face that had been bright with the anticipation of going home fell at once.

In that whole office, only Gao Yaojie leaped to his feet, practically vibrating with excitement. He hadn’t imagined he’d have a chance to go out in the field on his very first day. His young heart blazed.

One by one, police cars with sirens wailing pulled out of the Public Security Bureau, rolling on toward the next battle.

Zhou Jin and Jiang Hansheng walked to the park where they used to go on dates. The vendor who sold ice cream had switched in autumn and winter to selling hot milk tea.

Jiang Hansheng ordered a cup of hot milk tea. The vendor recognized him by now — looked up with familiarity and asked, “Sir, you’re here again waiting for your girlfriend?”

Zhou Jin had been behind Jiang Hansheng, stepping on his shadow as a game. Now she hooked her arm through his and turned a smile to the vendor: “I’m right here.”

She stepped alongside him, and the vendor squinted warmly as he handed the cup to her.

The two of them walked hand in hand from the park up to a high overpass, where they paused for a little while.

Zhou Jin held the hot milk tea in both hands, sipping it in small, slow sips. Jiang Hansheng leaned back against the railing, watching her with quiet attention.

Zhou Jin caught his deep gaze and smiled for a moment, then seemed to remember something. She asked him, “You once told me the evening glow was beautiful — where did you see it from? I want to see it too.”

Jiang Hansheng turned and looked toward the far edge of the sky. By now it was dusk, and across the horizon lay layer upon layer of evening clouds — roses blended with a deep, dusky violet.

He took Zhou Jin’s hand and guided her gaze toward the distant sky.

“Right here.”

Zhou Jin narrowed her eyes gently in the light of the glow. A wind carrying the chill of the season swept past — she breathed out a small cloud of white — and absently rubbed her cooling arms.

Jiang Hansheng saw that she was cold. He unwound his scarf and draped it around Zhou Jin. She pulled out one end and looped it around his shoulder, binding the two of them together.

Now Jiang Hansheng looked ahead, while Zhou Jin looked only at him beside her — watching the brilliant colors of the fading light trace his face and his silhouette in fine, careful lines.

Something seemed to come clear to her. She pressed close to his side, and said softly, with a smile:

“I see it.”

Towering buildings of steel and glass, cold surfaces reflecting a grey-blue chill, mechanical and indifferent — this forest built on bones of iron, rooted in a swamp of wrongs.

She had lived through the most painful, most suffocating chapter of her life here, and had never once found anything beautiful about it.

But now — Jiang Hansheng stood within ten thousand rays of evening light.

Zhou Jin thought: if someday she found herself at the edge of death, just as Jiang Hansheng had been, she would certainly find herself looking back on this very moment.

This steel forest — how fortunate, to have had you within it.

(End of Main Text)