I plaster on the fakest "Hi, welcome to my totally normal home" smile I've ever worn.
Then I yank the door open.
And boom—
Three black-suit people.
Tall. Silent. Sunglasses like they're auditioning for a Matrix reboot.
One of them is literally holding a metal briefcase.
Oh great, they brought props.
"Good morning, Miss Ling Yunhua," the lead one says.
Oh wow.
They know my name.
Perfect.
Love that.
Wonderful.
My organs are now soup.
"Uh—hi?" I squeak, because my voice clearly abandoned me.
Behind my back, I hear Jiang shift on the couch like a cat about to bolt.
The lead agent shows me an ID card so fast I barely see it.
Ugh, classic MIB tactic—show ID at light speed so you can't confirm if it's real.
"We're here for a routine check," he says.
Routine.
ROUTINE.
Yeah, because three agents in tactical suits always come for a routine check, right?
What next, the SWAT team is doing laundry rounds?
I swallow.
"Routine… of what exactly?"
The guy leans in a little.
