Pitch-black night —

Three in the morning. For most people, this was the deepest stretch of sleep — and the favorite window of every thief.

A thin wire worked its way slowly into the lock. No real force needed. Pure technique was enough to open it with ease.

Du Lai eased the door open. Something felt off under his hands immediately.

He looked up. Hanging from the top of the door was a bloated garbage bag, teetering on the verge of falling. If he’d pushed the door open just a little harder, the whole thing would have dropped and hit him square on the head.

He reached out and lightly touched it. Liquid inside — greasy, like leftover soup and scraps from a meal.

The corners of Du Lai’s eyes twitched.

Still, a little obstacle like this wouldn’t stop him.

With nimble hands, he lifted the garbage bag away and set it quietly on the floor — a movement of extraordinary lightness and precision.

Yet just as he was about to step forward, the plastic bag deflated at astonishing speed. The soup seeped out, filling the air with the briny smell of seaweed and dried shrimp, and soaked the bottom of his shoes.

He frowned and looked more closely. The floor was covered in thumbtacks!

Not just the entryway — the entire living room floor ahead was blanketed in thumbtacks.

Du Lai: “……”

Damn, this woman was ruthless.

Clearly she had been guarding against anyone stealing her things.

That made sense. The items she carried were too tempting to too many eyes.

But if she thought a handful of thumbtacks was enough to stop him, she was being far too naive.

Du Lai crept forward, sweeping aside the thumbtacks in his path as he went, and thought back to the first time he’d met Bai Youwei and the mockery she’d aimed at him then.

She had been right. He was, in fact, a thief.

But at the same time, he was also a magician.

Those two identities sometimes traded places, sometimes coexisted — to the point where even he himself couldn’t entirely say which one he really was.

……Whatever. It didn’t matter.

He pressed on into the room, moving swiftly and silently, not making a sound.

He opened the bedroom door. On the bed, the blanket lay over the faint lumps of two figures. The canvas bag hung from a floor-standing clothes rack just over a foot away.

Du Lai’s chest tightened. He held his breath. His movements became even slower and more deliberate, weightless…

He gently lifted the canvas bag by its two handles, drew it back, and began retreating along the same path he had come —

Trading puzzle pieces for the item had been foolish-looking, sure, but it had felt worth it to him.

If he could get the item without using any puzzle pieces at all, though — now that would be even more worth it.

……

Du Lai retreated all the way to the outside of the door and stood in the corridor. He silently hefted the canvas bag. Plump and full, and not light.

Had he been too arrogant?

To leave something this important so carelessly by the bedside — was she just being reckless? Or was she absolutely certain that her traps would work?

Du Lai smiled faintly, picked up the bag, and walked away with a light step.

He didn’t head toward his own lodgings — instead he moved in the direction of the city exit.

Not wanting to draw attention, he had parked his car out of sight. The night sky was sparse and dim, stars scattered and faint as he made his way through the darkness.

Reaching an intersection, a figure suddenly appeared ahead.

— Three in the morning. A person standing in the middle of an intersection.

It was genuinely unsettling.

Du Lai’s steps slowed with caution.

Tonight was cloudy. Heavy clouds had swallowed the moonlight, making the night densely dark. He couldn’t make out the person’s face.

All he could see was that it was a tall, lean man, standing quietly not far ahead of him, his intentions unknown.

Nine times out of ten, a visitor at this hour meant trouble.

Du Lai stopped without a visible reaction, his mind already rapidly mapping out escape routes and contingency plans.

Then the man spoke.

His voice was like a quiet, flowing river — calm, even, and cold.

“The puzzle pieces — are they on you?”