Zhou Jin didn’t know what to do. All she could do was be calmer and more composed than at any other moment.

Jiang Hansheng held Zhou Jin tightly. She buried herself in his embrace and wept without stopping, her tears soaking through his shirt.

Over these five years, she had believed time and again that she had found a lead, only to be disappointed time and again. Zhou Jin had been ground down body and soul by this endless cycle of hope and despair, and all those years of accumulated exhaustion seemed to surge up to her brow at once.

Zhou Jin cried until she was spent, and leaned drowsily against Jiang Hansheng’s shoulder.

Jiang Hansheng listened as her breathing gradually steadied, then carefully and gently laid her down on the bed.

He retrieved the first-aid kit and cleaned the blood from her wounds, then carefully applied bandages.

Zhou Jin moved her fingers, which felt constrained, and closed her hand around Jiang Hansheng’s.

Jiang Hansheng thought she was about to say something and leaned down toward her. “What is it?” he asked.

She suddenly reached up and embraced him — loosely, softly — her hand moving instinctively across his broad back.

She murmured like someone talking in her sleep: “Hansheng, don’t leave me alone.”

Jiang Hansheng pressed his lips to her forehead, as if in comfort. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay with you.”

From the school to Gardenia Lane, there was a tree-lined path he had walked countless times.

He would follow behind Zhou Jin, watching the little braid that swayed whenever she walked, listening to her gesticulate animatedly as she recounted all the interesting things that had happened at school…

Sometimes he would resent it — resent that the person he liked was Zhou Jin, that Zhou Jin whose gaze was always fixed on someone else.

But there was nothing to be done. Even the rhythm of his footsteps fell in time with her laughter.

He wanted to be by her side. Always by her side.

Always. Always.

As long as Zhou Jin still needed him.

Late at night, the light in the Major Crimes Unit chief’s office was still on.

Tan Shiming cradled his cup of tea, leaning back in his chair, turning over his earlier conversation with Zhou Jin in his mind.

Zhou Jin had relayed Jiang Cheng’s testimony to him word for word, the account interwoven with the findings from her and Jiang Hansheng’s investigation into Qi Yan during that period.

“After the ‘8·17’ gun heist five years ago, the city established a special task force, and Chief Yao voluntarily stepped forward to serve as its leader. With assistance from the provincial department’s criminal research division, he quickly located the criminal gang hiding in the suburbs and recovered some of the stolen weapons.

At the time, Chief Yao believed there were four of them in total. However, after Jiang Hansheng and I traveled to Huaisha to investigate, we have reason to suspect that the person shot and killed by the police back then was not Qi Yan himself, but Qi Yan’s twin brother.

When the police investigated the identities of the four individuals killed, they identified one named Feng He, and through screening Feng He’s social connections, learned that he had close ties with He Wen.

Combined with Jiang Cheng’s testimony, I believe it was after tracing this lead that Chief Yao secretly launched the undercover operation codenamed ‘Concealed Blade’ — sending Jiang Cheng into Guhua Prison to get close to He Wen and earn his trust. That is why, after his release, Jiang Cheng gained He Wu’s favor and successfully infiltrated the enemy’s ranks.”

This was Zhou Jin’s deduction, built upon all the leads currently available.

Tan Shiming knew her deduction was not wrong. This was precisely the intelligence Yao Weihai had shared with him when requesting that he serve as overall commander of Operation Jingang — and it aligned perfectly with Jiang Cheng’s testimony.

Yet Tan Shiming still had reservations. “According to the classified files,” he said, “Meng Junfeng is ‘Concealed Blade.’ Jiang Cheng’s name does not appear in the undercover records.”

Zhou Jin planted both hands on the desk, her voice rising several notches. “Who ‘Concealed Blade’ is doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that Jiang Cheng holds evidence capable of sending He Wu and his people straight to hell — and only he can lead us to the location of the drug manufacturing facility.”

Tan Shiming had worked with her as mentor and protégé for no short time, yet this was the first time he had ever seen her so fierce — with an unshakeable resolve burning in her eyes.

“Zhou Jin,” Tan Shiming said, “you may trust what Jiang Cheng says. But the chief of the Major Crimes Unit cannot. Operation Jingang has already proven that these criminals will strike back against the police without a moment’s hesitation. What if Jiang Cheng is just another trap?”

“If the USB drive in Jiang Cheng’s possession genuinely contains evidence of He Wu and the others’ involvement in illegal trade — would that not prove he can be trusted?”

He Wu was already a core figure within this criminal organization. If they wanted to retaliate against the police, there would be no need to sacrifice He Wu and all of Hengyun Logistics.

Either way, they would first need to retrieve the USB drive from the safety deposit box at Guangqi Bank.

Tan Shiming thought it was worth attempting. “Getting the USB drive won’t be difficult,” he said.

Zhou Jin nodded. “Certainly not, as long as there’s no mole on the inside.”

Tan Shiming’s expression darkened. The mole within the police force had always been a festering threat at the heart of everything.

After a moment, the furrow between his brows smoothed. “This may be an opportunity,” he said.

Zhou Jin smiled, lifting her chin slightly. “Exactly — a perfect opportunity to catch the mole.”

The two of them, mentor and protégé, had arrived at exactly the same thought.

Tan Shiming deliberated briefly. “Even so, I’ll need some time to think this through carefully,” he said.

Tan Shiming had drafted a preliminary action plan, though he couldn’t guarantee the mole would take the bait — nor had he settled on who should carry it out.

After careful consideration, he decided to call Jiang Hansheng.

He laid out the plan to use the USB drive as bait for the mole, and asked Jiang Hansheng to assess its feasibility.

Jiang Hansheng thought it over. “Once word of the USB drive is let out among the police,” he said, “the mole will pass the information along quickly. To protect He Wu, they’ll stop at nothing to destroy the evidence before the police can reach it.”

Tan Shiming could keep the officers who knew about the USB drive under covert surveillance the entire time — the moment anyone made a move, he could order an immediate arrest.

“So you also think it’s workable?” Tan Shiming asked.

Jiang Hansheng leaned against the windowsill, his gaze shadowed and unreadable, resting on the sleeping Zhou Jin.

“Director Tan isn’t worried about the plan being unworkable,” he said. “You’re having trouble choosing the right person to carry it out.”

The chief of the Major Crimes Unit hardly needed Jiang Hansheng to help vet an action plan.

Tan Shiming, his thoughts seen through, said, “Nothing escapes Professor Jiang.”

Among the people Tan Shiming currently had available to deploy, Zhou Jin was the only one he could trust without reservation.

And he had cultivated Zhou Jin — not so she could spend her career trailing behind others, or sitting in an office pouring tea and filing reports…

Jiang Hansheng had already guessed the purpose of Tan Shiming’s call. “Zhou Jin will do an excellent job,” he said.

Tan Shiming let out a soundless sigh. “With those words from Professor Jiang, I can set my mind at ease.”

The two fell into a brief silence. Then Jiang Hansheng spoke again: “Watch over Jiang Cheng’s safety. Be on guard against anyone trying to silence him.”

“Understood,” Tan Shiming said.

Tan Shiming hung up the phone, took a sip of tea, and shook his head with a quiet click of his tongue. “Remarkably gracious.”

Haizhou’s Hongtian Mall was situated in a bustling district. Even on a Monday, foot traffic through the shopping center was considerable.

At the briefing, Tan Shiming had announced that Jiang Cheng had stored the evidence of Hengyun Logistics’ illegal trade activities in a locker at the Feifan Golf Club.

Upon hearing this, he felt uncertain — half-believing, half-doubting — unsure whether the intelligence was genuine or a trap. His habit of suspicion immediately kicked in.

There were times when he would carry out his duties as a police officer diligently, even willing to see someone on his own side get arrested if it meant keeping his own cover intact. Above all else, he had to protect the secret of who he really was.

As it turned out, his instincts proved correct. His suspicions were confirmed.

Tan Shiming quietly summoned him along with several other Major Crimes Unit members to his office.

Tan Shiming revealed that Jiang Cheng had informed them there was a mole in the department — and what he had announced at the briefing about the golf club was nothing but a smokescreen.

The USB drive’s true location was Hongtian Mall.

Tan Shiming had placed absolute trust in him. It was almost laughable — Tan Shiming would never imagine that he was the very mole they were hunting.

Still, it was fortunate — fortunate that Tan Shiming trusted him.

Tan Shiming had forbidden all personnel involved in the operation from contacting the outside world. Unable to make a phone call, he placed the Major Crimes Unit’s potted orchid on the windowsill as a signal — a warning that something was wrong.

A man known as Seventh Uncle sent a delivery worker in to relay a message, ordering him to destroy the USB drive before the police could get their hands on it.

Once the task was done, Seventh Uncle would wire five million to his overseas account. The instruction was clear: success was the only option. Failure was not permitted.

What would happen if he failed?

He had worked alongside these people for years. He knew exactly what they were capable of. If he failed, there would be no good end waiting for him.

He had to succeed.

Tan Shiming had assigned him to patrol in pairs on the street opposite the mall — positioned outside to provide backup and respond to any sudden developments.

The one tasked with going in to retrieve the USB drive was Zhou Jin.

After receiving word that Zhou Jin had entered the mall, he waited a moment, then made an excuse — said he needed to use the restroom inside.

His partner laughed at him, asking how he could fall apart at such a critical moment, telling him to hurry back.

His movements were swift and agile — no one knew he was capable of moving like this. In under a minute, he was inside the restroom on the second floor.

There, he changed into clothes prepared in advance, pulled on a mask, and headed toward the seventh floor.

He made a quiet vow to himself: this would be the last time.

Once he retrieved the USB drive for Qi Yan, he would cut all ties with them for good — then take the money and disappear far away.

Where would he go?

Europe. America. Mexico. Anywhere — anywhere would be better than spending a lifetime rotting in a place like Haizhou.

The seventh floor of the mall housed a small indoor children’s play area, equipped with storage lockers.

The play area had recently been closed for renovation — a fresh coat of paint had been applied to all the equipment, so it wasn’t open for business. As a result, almost no one came up here, and the lighting was poor.

That was fine. He preferred the dark.

Tan Shiming had said that Jiang Cheng stored the USB drive in the locker at the third column from the left, fifth row down.

Opening the locker required a key. Jiang Cheng had originally had one, but it had been left behind at Kuangshan West Lane. Zhou Jin had gone to the front desk to obtain a spare.

He felt a flicker of contempt, and couldn’t help smirking. Zhou Jin was capable enough in every other respect — but a woman was still a woman. Always fussing over every little thing, always doing things by the book.

He flicked open a folding knife, wedged it into the gap of the locker door, and pried it open.

The locker was empty.

He was briefly confused, wondering if he had the wrong locker. Just as he was about to double-check, something seemed to dawn on him — and his heart lurched violently.

“Don’t move.”

Without warning, a beam of light swept in from behind him, and the pitch-black muzzle of a gun locked onto him — its sharp, cold aim cutting into his back like the edge of a blade.

“Drop the knife to the side. Then raise your hands, and turn around. Slowly.”

He had no choice but to comply.

Zhou Jin stood with the light at her back, her silhouette appearing particularly slender and tall. Her face was pale as snow, her gaze sharp and dark and vigilant, fixed unwaveringly on him.

Her hair had grown out quite a bit — enough to look slightly disheveled.

They knew each other well. Even with the mask on, the moment Zhou Jin saw his eyes, she recognized him almost immediately.

“Why would it be you?”

For about three or four seconds, she was lost in shock. Zhou Jin tightened her grip on the gun, steadying it.

“Zhao Ping,” she said.

He let out a short laugh, pulled down the mask, and smiled — the kind of smile that showed a full set of white teeth. “Senior Sister,” he said. “You played me.”