A pair of black knee-high boots walked in, one step at a time, keeping pace with the whistled melody.

Jiang Hansheng could not see, but he knew the one who had returned was Qi Yan.

Immediately after, a young man began making muffled cries. His mouth had been stopped up, leaving him unable to produce any clear sound — he could only struggle desperately, trying to call for help.

At the same time, a young woman was weeping, paralyzed with fear.

The sudden commotion shattered the warehouse’s silence. The whistling stopped. Only the sound of footsteps echoed in Jiang Hansheng’s ears — unusually distinct, as though the pleas and sobs of those two people were being ground beneath each step.

“Shh——” Qi Yan raised a finger to his lips. “Stop making noise. It’s not safe to carry on like this.”

The couple knelt on the ground, their hands bound behind their backs, leaning against each other for support, trembling beneath the hollow eye of a gun barrel.

They were beside themselves with terror. Qi Yan was entirely unhurried. The stark contrast was deeply unsettling.

Qi Yan had taken new hostages?

The thought formed slowly. Jiang Hansheng tilted his head back in dawning realization, his throat moving in a dry, painful swallow beneath pale skin.

This was his third day in captivity — and the first time he had felt something close to despair.

Because he no longer had the capacity to save anyone.

Thud. Thud. Thud. — the sound of a head knocking against a hard floor, over and over again.

The young man was kowtowing before Qi Yan, biting each word out as clearly as he could, begging for his life again and again.

Watching such a pitiful display, Feng He burst into wild laughter and said to Qi Yan, “Young Master Qi, this kid is pleading for his girlfriend.”

Qi Yan was perched on a stack of freight boxes, turning a handgun over idly in his hands, paying no attention to him.

Feng He said, “We’ve been stuck in this godforsaken place for nearly a month. I’m going stir-crazy. Young Master Qi, what do you say…”

He pointed his gun at the young woman.

The other two accomplices caught Feng He’s implication and broke into suggestive grins. One of them swore, “Are you the sort of man who can’t stop thinking about that even when you’re half-dead?”

Feng He’s voice turned slick. “To die beneath a peony blossom — even as a ghost, one dies with style.”

Qi Yan neither agreed nor objected.

Feng He tucked his gun into the back of his waistband, grabbed the young woman by the hair, and began dragging her behind the stacked freight boxes.

The young woman screamed, fighting back and struggling with every last ounce of strength she had.

Jiang Hansheng’s ears rang. His mind reeled. He pressed his cracked, dry lips together and said, “Qi Yan.”

His voice was low, but it carried — cutting clean through the piercing screams that filled the warehouse and pressing them down.

Qi Yan’s expression remained blank. He raised a hand, signaling Feng He to stop.

He leaned forward, studying Jiang Hansheng with interest. “So you do know how to speak?”

“Don’t harm innocent people,” Jiang Hansheng said.

His throat was badly hoarse.

What right did a fish on a chopping block have to make demands? Feng He found Jiang Hansheng’s request so absurd it was laughable. He cackled. “If I take her, what are you going to do about it?”

Feng He paid him no mind and continued hauling the young woman away.

Bang!

A sudden gunshot — fired into the ground right at Feng He’s feet.

Including the young woman, everyone fell instantly silent.

Feng He’s face drained of color. When the shock finally caught up to him, his legs went weak with fright, and cold sweat broke out down his back.

“I — Qi — “

Qi Yan pressed the still-hot barrel against Feng He’s forehead, dragging it slowly across. The light passed over the metal and cast a small, cold shadow in the hollow of his eye socket.

He said in a low, steady voice, “I didn’t tell you to move.”

Feng He released his grip all at once and stood there frozen, not daring to budge. Whatever desire had driven him had been frightened clean away by that single shot.

Qi Yan asked, “You want to save her?”

“……”

“Makes sense. You police types always think you can save everyone. But in reality — none of you can save a single soul.” He walked over and pressed the barrel against the back of Jiang Hansheng’s head.

No reaction at all.

Three days in captivity. Drugs had been ravaging Jiang Hansheng’s body to the point where survival itself was agonizing — yet he had shown not a single sign of breaking down, not a flicker of fear.

This displeased Qi Yan greatly.

He tilted the gun to one side and looked the weapon over carefully, then smiled. “Mr. Jiang, how about I give you a chance? Let’s play a game.”

Qi Yan directed Feng He to come over, untie Jiang Hansheng’s bindings, and remove the black cloth covering his eyes.

Jiang Hansheng narrowed his eyes slightly, adjusting to the light inside the warehouse.

Not far away, a rectangular table had been assembled from freight boxes. Feng He picked up the food containers that had been sitting on it and cleared the surface quickly.

One of the criminals shoved Jiang Hansheng and barked, “Move it! Do you even know how to walk?!”

Jiang Hansheng had always been particular about cleanliness. He found everything about this place repulsive — the filth of it, and the people before him.

“Don’t touch me.”

There was no hostility in Jiang Hansheng’s eyes, no ferocity — only a faint, shallow edge. Yet the man felt an inexplicable sense of invisible pressure.

He paused, instinctively looking toward Qi Yan, waiting for his command.

Qi Yan waved a hand and signaled them to step back.

Though utterly spent, Jiang Hansheng’s expression remained resolute. He dragged his leaden legs and walked to the opposite side of the table from Qi Yan.

Qi Yan produced a regulation police handgun, and in full view of Jiang Hansheng, began disassembling it piece by piece — the components falling away like scattered fragments.

Once it was fully disassembled, he pushed a second, fully intact handgun directly across to Jiang Hansheng.

Jiang Hansheng’s reflexes were still reasonably sharp. He pressed his hand down on it firmly.

The hard, cold surface felt unfamiliar beneath his fingers.

Jiang Hansheng’s wrist was trembling — not from fear, but because the drugs were corroding his body’s functions.

Perhaps for that very reason, Qi Yan felt no apprehension at all about a firearm landing in Jiang Hansheng’s hands.

He spoke with the ease of someone who held all the cards. “I’ve heard you introduced on television, Mr. Jiang — a top graduate of the University of Public Security, no less. Are you familiar with firearms?”

Jiang Hansheng asked, “What are you trying to do?”

“We’ll play a round — using that as the target——”

Like a child on the verge of beginning a game, he rubbed his fingers together with anticipation, looking around, until his eyes landed on a long, rectangular iron plate mottled with rust. He had someone stand it upright.

Then he continued. “That’s the target. Assemble the components, then fire a shot at it — bang! If you can do it faster than me, you win.”

His eyes were dark and bright. He made his promise: “If you win, I won’t touch that woman.”

Jiang Hansheng said heavily, “I won’t stake someone’s life on a gamble.”

“Oh? What a shame.” Qi Yan pressed his index and middle fingers together slowly, forming the shape of a gun, and pointed it at the young woman. “She might have lived a while longer. Because of you, she dies right now.”

The young woman had been pushed to the absolute edge of terror. She grasped at this final lifeline, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Please save me, please save me — I’m begging you, save me! Please——”

Jiang Hansheng knew, with complete clarity, that he could not accept any terms from Qi Yan.

The only reason he had survived three days at the hands of this ruthless group of criminals was that Qi Yan had not yet obtained whatever psychological satisfaction he was seeking from him.

The moment Qi Yan lost interest in continuing the game, it would mean the end was not far off.

One of the men raised his gun toward the young woman and pulled back the hammer.

Jiang Hansheng clenched his jaw. “Wait!”

Qi Yan made a gesture to stop him, then broke into a soundless smile.

He tilted his chin, signaling Jiang Hansheng to disassemble the gun.

Jiang Hansheng pressed his lips together, pushed the gun back across to Qi Yan, then fixed his full attention on Qi Yan’s hands. “Do it again.”

“What?”

Qi Yan narrowed his eyes briefly, and quickly read Jiang Hansheng’s intention. He let out a scornful laugh. “You want to learn on the spot?”

Jiang Hansheng said nothing.

Qi Yan didn’t mind. He took his time disassembling it — deliberately, unhurried — making sure Jiang Hansheng could see every step with perfect clarity.

Then the components were pushed to Jiang Hansheng’s side of the table.

Jiang Hansheng gripped his trembling wrist to steady it, his gaze sweeping rapidly over each part.

“Begin.”

Recoil spring. Barrel. Firing mechanism. Locking pin. Slide — metal components clashing in rapid succession, the sound sharp and cold. A round was loaded into the magazine and seated into the frame. Clack — the slide was racked, chambering the round. The trigger was pulled——

Bang! Bang!

Two shots in a row — deafening!

The enormous force of the bullets punched clean through the iron plate and sent it flying across the floor!

The entire warehouse fell abruptly silent.

The dark barrel trailed wisps of smoke. Behind it was Jiang Hansheng’s face — cold, sharp, pale.

He lowered his arm. The rigid tension that had locked his spine eased, fractionally. He said quietly, “I won.”

Qi Yan had known full well what the outcome would be. His expression shifted, and something slow and glacial began to solidify in the depths of his eyes.

He snatched a gun and, without a word, fired three consecutive shots into the young man of the couple.

The sudden turn of events — the gunshots erupting out of nowhere — sent a faint tremor through Jiang Hansheng’s chest.

“Ah! Ah——!”

The young woman screamed. Her composure shattered completely. She crawled and stumbled to her lover’s side, threw herself over him, and sobbed out his name in a voice gone raw and hoarse.

Perhaps that final act drained the last of her strength. Before long, she lost consciousness where she lay.

Jiang Hansheng looked upon the scene of carnage before him. He closed his eyes, as though straining to hold back some deep and prolonged anguish.

“Qi Yan,” Jiang Hansheng said. “You broke your word.”

“I promised I wouldn’t touch that woman,” Qi Yan said. “I said nothing about not killing the man.”

Jiang Hansheng. “……”

“Mr. Jiang, if I were you, that bullet just now should have gone right here.” He smiled, tapping his own chest. “There’s no walking out of this alive anyway — might as well take one down with you. What a pity. Such a fine opportunity, and you didn’t seize it.”

A fury unlike anything he had ever felt slammed into Jiang Hansheng’s reason. He endured it until his eyes burned red. Then, with a clenched jaw, he erupted with the explosive force of a cornered beast — and lunged at Qi Yan.

Jiang Hansheng clenched the gun frame and brought it crashing down hard against Qi Yan’s forehead.

Seeing this, Feng He and the others moved instantly, wrenching Jiang Hansheng back and laying into him with punches and kicks, cursing as they did.

“Stop. Stop.”

Qi Yan was breathing heavily. He propped himself up on his elbows and told them to stand down.

For Qi Yan, breaking a person’s spirit was far more satisfying than any physical suffering. Looking now at Jiang Hansheng — disheveled and battered — his mood actually lifted.

Blood ran down from Qi Yan’s temple. He wiped it away with his hand. The more the wound hurt, the wider he smiled.

“This is exactly how it should be. Helpless, degrading resistance — that’s what makes it interesting.”

……

Back in the room, Jiang Hansheng’s breathing turned rapid and labored. His arms were shaking. His body convulsed briefly.

Seeing that he had reached the limits of what he could bear, the hypnotist gave a swift, measured instruction: “Jiang Hansheng, you have already been rescued. You are safe now. Relax — relax… Good. On my count, wake up now!”

Jiang Hansheng’s eyes opened quickly. His expression was dazed, his gaze wandering blankly across the empty ceiling.

“Let’s rest for a moment,” said the hypnotist.

With permission given, Zhou Jin pushed the door open and came in.

She walked quickly to Jiang Hansheng’s side, rested a hand on his arm, and asked softly, “How are you?”

Jiang Hansheng steadied his breathing. Images from deep within his memory had been stirred awake, coming gradually into focus.

It was as though he had been transported back — back to that time, that place, that decrepit, filthy warehouse.

Had there been anything unusual then — something he hadn’t noticed at the time?

“……”

After a pause of several seconds, Jiang Hansheng’s entire body went rigid with shock. He said, his voice full of doubt and disbelief, “There weren’t four of them?”

Zhou Jin frowned. “What are you saying?”

“Not four people.”

When Feng He had cleared the table, the food containers he carried away had not numbered four — they had numbered five.

In that dimly lit warehouse, there had been another pair of eyes — watching everything from the shadows.

……

From a high vantage point with a wide, open view, the faint sound of ocean waves could be heard.

A instrument case was opened. Every component of the gun had been arranged neatly inside. The man removed each piece in turn and assembled them with practiced efficiency.

He raised the sniper rifle, reached up and removed the dark sunglasses from the bridge of his nose. The lines of his face were cold and hard.

It was a face identical in every way to Qi Yan’s.

Through the scope, his field of vision swept across Jingang Wharf. A black vehicle came to a slow stop.

A young man stepped out.

Viewed from a distance, his shoulders carried a sharp, defined line — tall, striking, with the kind of commanding presence and confidence that came only to those who occupied positions of power.

Qi Yan gave a leisurely whistle, piqued with sudden interest. “…What was the name — Jiang Cheng?”

He confirmed the name a moment later. A cold smile crept to the corner of his mouth.

“The game is about to begin.”