The city didn't sleep that night. Neither did they.
In the Mo estate's war room—a converted study lined with glowing monitors and scattered files—Bai Xueyi and Mo Liuxian stood shoulder to shoulder, maps of Shanghai's docks projected across the wall. The rain outside had slowed to a whisper, as though the sky itself was holding its breath.
"Pier 17," Liuxian said quietly, tracing a finger along the map. "Han Ze's calling it a trade, but it's a trap. The old shipping hangars there were decommissioned last year—no power, no guards. Just one way in and one way out."
Xueyi's eyes flicked over the blueprint. "And he's holding Xiao Rou somewhere inside. He wants us cornered."
"He won't expect us to walk in with decoys."
She glanced at him. "You already have a plan."
"I always have a plan," he said. "You're the unpredictable one."
"Good," she said evenly. "Then let's give him chaos."
By midnight, the mansion was alive with silent motion. Men Liuxian trusted—the last few he hadn't fired or lost to fear—moved in and out of the courtyard carrying sealed cases.
The files Han Ze demanded were being replicated, but not perfectly. Xueyi had rewritten them herself—each document laced with a string of false leads and embedded trackers.
"He'll believe what he wants to believe," she murmured.
Liuxian stood beside her, watching the code scroll across the screen. "You sound like him."
"Sometimes you have to think like the devil to drag him back to hell."
He said nothing for a moment. Then: "If he's as thorough as I remember, he'll know we're coming."
"That's why you're not the one going in first."
He turned sharply. "No."
"It's my war, Liuxian. He burned me. He used your name to do it. I'm the one he's after."
"And you think I'll just—what? Let you walk into another fire?"
"You can't protect me from what already killed me once," she said, eyes hard. "This time, I choose how the story ends."
Their voices clashed like blades. Rain hit the windows again, punctuating every breath.
He finally looked away, jaw set. "Fine. But you don't go in alone."
"Then who—"
"Me," he said. "We go together, or not at all."
Her lips parted, then closed. "Together, then."
An hour later, the black car cut through the city's sleeping veins. The dashboard clock glowed 2:03 a.m. Shanghai's port district loomed ahead—cranes like skeletons, containers stacked like coffins.
Liuxian's driver stayed three blocks away. Beyond that point, it was just the two of them.
The sea wind bit cold. Xueyi pulled her coat tighter as they moved between silent hangars. Her earpiece crackled with the faint hum of Liuxian's voice.
"North entrance's been welded shut. We take the south access ramp."
"Copy," she whispered.
They advanced in silence. Somewhere ahead, a single light burned inside the vast emptiness of Pier 17.
Inside, the air smelled of rust and oil. The light came from a single floodlamp angled toward the center of the hangar—where a woman knelt, hands bound, head bowed.
Xiao Rou.
Xueyi took a step forward—but Liuxian's hand shot out, stopping her. "Tripwire," he muttered. "Infrared."
She exhaled slowly. "You really did rebuild the whole empire around paranoia."
"Paranoia keeps people alive."
"Not always."
They exchanged a look—part warning, part memory—and then she dropped to one knee, scanning the floor. A thin red beam sliced through the dust. She disabled it with a mirror shard from her sleeve.
They crept closer.
A voice echoed through the hangar speakers, smooth and mocking.
"You came," said Han Ze. "I told the lady you'd never resist a proper invitation."
Xueyi froze. The sound came from everywhere.
"Where's Xiao Rou?" she demanded.
"Safe. For now. But I'll need something in return. You know how I love my trades."
"You'll get nothing," Liuxian said.
"Oh, I'll get everything," Han Ze said, laughter bleeding through static. "Because you've already brought it."
He meant the decoy files.
A soft beep sounded.
Xueyi's eyes widened. "He's tracking our signal!"
"Cut the uplink!" Liuxian barked.
She yanked the comm patch from her wrist. The floodlamp sputtered, then flared brighter.
Across the room, a figure stepped out of the shadows—Han Ze, tall, unhurried, dressed in the same charcoal uniform as the night she'd died. A pistol glinted at his side.
"How poetic," he said. "The hidden bride and the cold husband, together again. Shame you won't leave this pier alive."
Xueyi's hand slipped to the dagger she kept holstered at her thigh. "You should have killed me properly the first time."
"You were never meant to die," he said. "You were meant to obey."
"Then you made the wrong woman."
The words cracked through the hangar like thunder.
He smiled. "We'll see."
The next moment erupted in motion—gunfire, sparks, shattering glass. Liuxian grabbed her arm, pulling her behind a container. Bullets tore through the metal, ricocheting into the dark.
"He's not shooting to kill," Liuxian said. "He's herding us."
"Then let's give him something to chase."
She rolled a smoke grenade from her coat pocket and flicked the pin. White fog swallowed the room.
In the haze, Xueyi moved like a ghost. She slipped behind Han Ze's flank, slammed her knee into his arm, and knocked the gun spinning across the floor. He caught her wrist mid-swing, twisting hard—but she drove her elbow into his jaw.
He staggered back, blood on his lip. "Still full of fire."
"You taught me that."
"No," he said darkly. "He did."
His eyes flicked toward Liuxian. "He's the reason you burned."
Liuxian raised his gun. "Keep talking."
"You think she died because of me? She died because you signed her death warrant. Check the archive logs, President. You approved Project Bride months before you met her."
The world stilled.
Xueyi's breath froze. "He's lying," Liuxian said immediately—but there was a tremor, small and real.
Han Ze laughed softly. "Ask her what she saw in that file."
Her silence was answer enough.
Liuxian looked at her. "Xueyi…?"
Before she could speak, Han Ze slammed a detonator to the ground. The explosion ripped the east wall apart. Smoke and fire swallowed everything.
She felt Liuxian shove her toward the exit just before the blast wave threw them both into the sea.
Cold. Darkness. Salt. The sound of a thousand memories breaking.
She surfaced, gasping. Somewhere near the pier's wreckage, sirens wailed.
"Liuxian!" she shouted.
No answer. Just the hiss of the rain and the crackle of burning steel.
Then, faintly—
"Xueyi!"
She turned toward the voice and saw him clinging to a half-submerged beam, bleeding but alive. Relief broke through her chest like sunlight through smoke.
"You're insane," she called, swimming toward him.
"You're welcome," he rasped.
They dragged themselves onto the rocks, coughing seawater. The pier behind them burned, reflected in their eyes like the night of her first death reborn.
He reached for her hand without thinking. She didn't pull away.
"This isn't over," she said.
"It never was," he replied.
Somewhere in the distance, a black car pulled away from the chaos. Han Ze sat inside, a faint smile on his bruised mouth.
"Round two," he murmured. "Let's see which fire they light next."