Tan Shiming said, “After the Jingang operation failed last time, I suspected there was a mole inside the police force, but I couldn’t figure out who it was right away. This recording was received by Bai Yang — he reported it to me immediately, and I felt the matter wasn’t simple, so I held it back and kept it quiet.”

Zhou Jin was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Can Bai Yang be trusted?”

“This kid is someone I personally requested when I was serving as the head of the major crimes unit. He can be trusted.” Tan Shiming said, “And you, Zhou Jin — your mentor still trusts you.”

He rapped the table surface and asked her, “You heard the recording too. What do you think?”

Zhou Jin said, “I don’t know.”

Tan Shiming’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t know?”

Zhou Jin said, “Mentor, I don’t dare trust my own judgment on this. The recording sounds like a very ordinary conversation, but the dialogue involves precise information — things like timing, weather conditions, the number of people involved, and the status of firearms… He may be passing some kind of intelligence to the police.”

Tan Shiming said, “Then what is it you’re uncertain about?”

Zhou Jin: “What if it’s a trap? The Jingang operation is exactly the precedent for that — those criminals used Cangfeng to feed false information to the police, luring them right into their net. Commissioner Yao and Meng Junfeng were killed, and there were brothers who were wounded during the operation too… So I don’t dare make a hasty judgment, even though I very much want to believe him.”

Tan Shiming: “…”

Listening to Zhou Jin speak with such composed seriousness, he couldn’t help but sigh inwardly — she had grown up.

Zhou Jin seemed to suddenly think of something. She straightened her back and said, “There’s one more person we can trust. We can let him help with this.”

Tan Shiming said, “Who?”

“Jiang Hansheng.”

Tan Shiming’s eyelid twitched.

He knew, of course, that Jiang Hansheng could be trusted. But Jiang Hansheng had already started working from a series of homicide cases to investigate Qi Yan’s identity.

And beyond that, the relationship between Jiang Hansheng and Jiang Cheng was, by any measure, somewhat awkward…

Tan Shiming asked, “Wouldn’t that be a little… inappropriate?”

Zhou Jin: “What’s inappropriate about it?”

“…”

Well asked.

Since the person directly involved saw nothing wrong with inviting her current husband to take on her former fiancé’s case, Tan Shiming supposed there was no need for him to worry either.

Jiang Hansheng possessed exceptional talent and sharp observational skills. Bringing him in for assistance might allow them to detect certain leads that they themselves had missed.

Taking advantage of the midday break, Zhou Jin proactively called Jiang Hansheng.

Jiang Hansheng was in his office at the time, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, resting. When the ringtone sounded and he saw the two characters “wife” displayed on his phone screen, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself.

Once the call connected, Zhou Jin said, “Professor Jiang, there’s something I’d like your help coming to look at. What time does your class end? I can come pick you up.”

Jiang Hansheng removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. The heavy, oppressive fatigue he’d been carrying seemed to lighten considerably the moment he heard Zhou Jin’s voice.

He gave a quiet laugh and said, “Three o’clock this afternoon. You don’t need to come — I’ll just take a taxi.”

Jiang Hansheng sorted through his plans for the day in his mind. Once his classes were finished, he’d finally be able to rest properly. He then invited her: “Would you like to have dinner together tonight?”

Zhou Jin hesitated for a moment, weighing whether she should explain things to him in advance. Her attention drifted and she missed what he’d said, instead continuing on to explain, “It’s about Jiang Cheng’s case.”

Jiang Hansheng went slightly stiff. “Oh. Alright.”

He fell silent for a moment. Zhou Jin wasn’t sure how to carry on either, and asked him, “Is there anything you want to ask?”

Jiang Hansheng said, “Understood. I’ll head over once class is done.”

Zhou Jin had originally wanted to explain to him that this was purely a matter of the case, so he wouldn’t misunderstand — but seeing that Jiang Hansheng hadn’t asked anything at all, her heart quietly eased.

The two of them were silent for a moment. Zhou Jin could tell Jiang Hansheng hadn’t hung up yet and was just about to say something more when the line went dead.

Jiang Hansheng set down his phone. An unusual flush rose across his fair-complexioned face. He pressed his hand against his temple, his headache growing more and more severe.

He had always felt, in the past, that he could handle anything well. He liked a life that was orderly and structured — liked having everything remain within the boundaries of what he could control…

Except for one thing.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never get it right.

…He was already very exhausted.

Jiang Cheng lay on a narrow bed. The warehouse was dimly lit, filled with drifting motes of dust. He slept, his consciousness seemingly sunken to the depths of the ocean — difficult to rouse.

This was deeply wrong.

He was a man of extraordinarily high vigilance. Over the past five years, he had hardly ever slept a peaceful night through.

At the very beginning, during his time in prison, he would be dragged out of bed in the middle of the night and beaten. He had just been separated from Zhou Jin under those circumstances, and was desperate to have Yao Weihai pull him out — so he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, and could only endure the beatings.

This situation had continued for half a month before Yao Weihai finally came to see him.

Jiang Cheng stared at him with red-rimmed eyes and demanded, “Why did you only come now?! I want out — do you hear me?! I want to see Zhou Jin!”

Yao Weihai was dressed in a black suit, his expression grave. He told him that not long ago, an undercover officer had had his identity exposed, bringing retaliation from the drug traffickers — his mother, who had been at home, was also killed. The reason he hadn’t come to see Jiang Cheng sooner was that he had been attending their funeral.

Yao Weihai said, “A’Cheng, until the mission is complete, you should keep your distance from Zhou Jin. That is the best protection you can offer her.”

From the day he’d entered prison, everything had veered off course.

He was walking further and further down a road that was gradually losing all control — constantly striving to twist it back toward the right direction.

He was perhaps simply too tired, which was why, at this moment, his vigilance was gradually slipping away and he was sleeping so peacefully.

Peaceful sleep always brought good dreams. He dreamed of Zhou Jin again — on the sofa in their home, Zhou Jin had her knees drawn up, resting against his abdomen, looking down at him from above.

Her hair was very long, very long, and as it hung down, the ends faintly grazed his cheek, tickling him.

She asked, “Why are you only just getting home now?”

Jiang Cheng lifted his hand and let her hair slip through his fingers. It was very soft.

He said, “I’m so tired, Xiao Wu. Don’t go. Just stay like this and sleep with me for a while.”

Zhou Jin blinked, and sure enough she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. She lay down against him, wrapped her arms around him. “Sleep then. I’m right here with you.”

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes. He breathed in the faint, delicate scent that clung to her, knowing that Zhou Jin was right there by his side.

Suddenly — a gush of ice-cold water, laced with chunks of ice, was flung across his body!

Jiang Cheng jolted violently awake. But before he could even react, his ankle was seized and he was wrenched brutally off the bed.

He crashed hard onto the floor, a sharp pain flaring through his head.

His handsome features twisted slightly as he looked up into a face contorted with even greater fury and rage.

The other man spoke through clenched teeth: “Jiang Cheng — you’ve got some real nerve, you son of a bitch!”