The mountain air was crisp the next morning, carrying the scent of pine and the quiet hum of insects. A veil of fog hung low, turning the world outside the safehouse into a watercolor of gray and green. Bai Xueyi tied her hair back and checked the holster under her jacket. She moved with the focus of someone who had forgotten what fear was.
At the table, Mo Liuxian spread a blueprint across the wood — a schematic of Velan Industries' private port, Aurora Consortium's next shipment site. His eyes were cold, precise.
"Shipment code-named Bride Returns. Tomorrow, 2200 hours. If we're right, this is where Han Ze and Wen Qingmei trade the data they stole from the Mo servers."
Xueyi smirked faintly. "Poetic. They name it after me now."
Liuxian didn't return the smile. "You're the symbol they can't erase."
"Then let's make sure they choke on it."
They worked in silence. Every move calculated. She prepared forged IDs; he secured vehicle routes, entry credentials, and signal jammers.
Hours passed like seconds. The fire in the stove burned low, their shadows dancing across the wall.
At one point, Liuxian looked up. "Why did you really come back, Xueyi?"
"You think I wanted revenge."
"Don't you?"
She paused. The silence said more than words could.
"I came back because death felt unfinished," she said finally. "The world still owed me a reason."
"And if you find it?"
"Then maybe I'll stop looking at you like a stranger."
Her tone was soft, but it cut through him.
That night, the storm returned. Wind howled against the windows, the mountains trembling under its breath.
Liuxian stood near the doorway, fastening a bulletproof vest under his coat. Xueyi handed him a comm earpiece. "Channel three. You'll take the west pier. I'll enter through the security checkpoint."
He frowned. "We stay together."
"No," she said firmly. "Han Ze expects you. He'll have eyes on you, not me. I can move faster alone."
"That's not the plan."
"Then change it. I've been his pawn before. This time, I'm his nightmare."
Before he could argue, she lifted her face to him—closer than either meant to be. For a second, the storm outside vanished.
"If something happens," he said quietly, "you run."
"If something happens," she whispered back, "you'd better be right behind me."
The words were almost a promise.
22:00. Shanghai's Eastern Port.
Rain slicked the docks, reflections of floodlights rippling across puddles of oil. Cranes stood like silent giants over stacks of containers. The sound of the sea was drowned by the low growl of trucks.
Xueyi adjusted her earpiece. "I'm in. Security is thin—three guards near Dock C, two patrolling the perimeter."
Liuxian's voice crackled through the comm. "Stay sharp. Han Ze won't risk another public explosion. He'll keep this quiet."
"Quiet makes murder easier," she replied.
She moved between containers, footsteps silent. Her eyes caught movement near the main office—a tall woman in a red coat, face half-hidden beneath an umbrella.
Wen Qingmei.
The same flawless poise, the same serpent's smile.
"You shouldn't have come back, Xueyi," she called. Her voice carried easily through the rain. "You were prettier when you were dead."
"And you were kinder when you were pretending," Xueyi said.
"Pretending is survival. You should know that by now."
"Funny," Xueyi replied. "I thought survival was my specialty."
Qingmei's smile sharpened. "Han Ze said you'd show. He also said you'd bring your shadow."
From behind her, the steel door slid open. Liuxian stepped out, pistol in hand.
"Let her go, Wen," he said coldly.
She tilted her head. "Still protecting her? Even after what she did?"
"What she did was trust me," he snapped. "And I failed her."
Qingmei's laughter was soft and cruel. "Oh, darling, you failed both of us."
She dropped her umbrella. The sound that followed wasn't thunder.
Gunfire exploded across the docks.
Liuxian dove behind a container, pulling Xueyi with him. Bullets shredded metal, sparks lighting the rain.
"She's got backup!" Xueyi shouted.
"Stay low!"
She rolled out, fired twice. Two silhouettes dropped before they could reload.
But more came—five, six, maybe ten. Aurora's private mercenaries, masked and armed.
"We can't win this head-on," Liuxian said, reloading.
"Then don't."
She grabbed his wrist, dragging him toward the catwalk above the dock. The narrow stairs rattled under their steps. Below them, Han Ze's voice echoed through the speakers.
"Welcome back, Subject Zero."
Xueyi froze mid-step.
"You always liked making entrances," Han Ze continued. "Too bad this one's also your exit."
The floodlights flared white. The deck under them groaned. She saw the trap a heartbeat before it detonated.
Liuxian shoved her sideways—the blast tore the railing apart, throwing them both into the rain-soaked air.
They hit the deck below hard. Pain sang through her body, but she was alive. She turned—Liuxian was bleeding, his shoulder grazed by shrapnel.
"You idiot," she gasped. "You could've died!"
"You're welcome," he muttered.
She pressed her scarf against the wound. His blood seeped through, warm and frightening.
Above them, Wen Qingmei's voice echoed again. "Kill them both."
The night became chaos—bullets, smoke, and the roar of the storm. But amidst the fire and fury, something shifted.
They moved together like they had once danced—wordless, perfect rhythm, each anticipating the other's next step. She drew enemies into her line of sight; he covered her back without hesitation.
When the last gun fell silent, the only sound left was the ocean's rage.
Liuxian leaned against a crate, breathing hard. Xueyi crouched beside him, soaked, trembling, adrenaline burning through her veins.
"You said we'd burn the right things," he said.
"We just started," she replied.
He smiled weakly. "You're bleeding."
"So are you."
For a moment, they just stared—exhausted, alive, and dangerously close.
The storm roared again, wind whipping her hair across his face. He caught her wrist, pulling her just close enough to whisper,
"Don't die before I can tell you the truth."
"Then talk fast, President Mo."
But before he could, a voice crackled through her earpiece.
"Miss Bai," said a trembling whisper—Xiao Rou. "Don't trust anyone. The traitor isn't Han Ze. It's someone in your bloodline."
Static swallowed the rest.
Xueyi's breath froze. "What did you say?"
But the line had gone dead.
She turned to Liuxian. "We have a bigger problem than we thought."
And somewhere deep in the burning maze of the docks, a woman in a red coat smiled at the flames.
"Let them chase ghosts," Wen Qingmei murmured. "The truth will kill them faster than bullets ever could."