The Special Investigations office had become a separate pressure vessel—sealed off from the storm outside, yet filled with a different kind of suffocating weight.
Cold white lights spread evenly across metal desks and neatly arranged filing cabinets, reflecting a sterile sheen with no warmth. The air smelled of disinfectant, paper, and the tea Senior Qingyi had carefully brewed—tea that no one here was truly tasting.
That attempt at calm didn't disperse what hung between a few specific people: an awkwardness so dense it almost felt physical.
Ever since Zhu Yuan brought Qianye, Rin, and Zhe into the office, a bitter, restless stalemate had draped itself over the room like a web. Time seemed to lose its normal flow; it turned sticky and slow.
Zhu Yuan's fingertips trembled, barely noticeable. Again and again she stole glances at Qianye across from her—head lowered, gaze fixed on the disposable paper cup in his hands. Her chest churned with words—apologies rehearsed a thousand times, explanations, concern—each one clawing for a way out.
But whenever she tried to speak, Qianye's calm, unreadable, almost distant profile—along with the invisible wall in the air—blocked every sentence at the throat. In the end, all that escaped was a silent sigh and a deeper sense of helplessness.
She could only lift her lukewarm tea mechanically and drink, sip after sip, as if swallowing could conceal her loss of composure and the torment inside. Qingyi had refilled the kettle more than once. None of it warmed the room.
Zhe stood against the wall, arms folded, face tight. His gaze sharpened whenever it swept past Zhu Yuan, then returned to Qianye—open worry and scrutiny in every glance.
Rin sat beside Qianye, restless. She looked from one to the other, wanting to lighten the mood, not knowing where to start—so she copied her brother and guzzled tea… then yelped and stuck out her tongue when it burned.
In the end, it was Qianye who broke the silence.
He set down the paper cup—slightly deformed from his unconscious grip—and raised his eyes. His gaze went first to Zhe and Rin, his voice gentle, but deliberately clear, guiding them.
"Zhe. Rin. Aren't you here to update the video store's business-asset certification?"
He paused, then turned his attention toward Zhu Yuan—who instantly straightened as if struck by a current. His tone stayed polite, distant.
"Officer Zhu Yuan… the Bureau should have spare hands for routine administrative work like that, right? We can't keep sitting here… interrupting your job."
"Huh? O-of course!" Zhu Yuan answered immediately. The sudden chance in his words made her voice jump—too fast, too eager, like a drowning person clutching at a final rope.
She looked up at Qianye with gratitude… and a longing so layered it could carve his outline into her heart.
She wasn't stupid. She knew Qianye didn't care about certification paperwork. He was deliberately—almost intentionally—creating space for a private conversation between the two of them.
That realization sent warmth through her—
and then cut deeper, because the distance in his wording and the restraint in his posture hurt more sharply than any rejection.
So she turned—almost rudely, with the urgency of someone terrified the chance might vanish—to the person who had been quietly "in the background" while seeing everything: Qingyi.
"Senior Qingyi," Zhu Yuan's voice took on a command tone that didn't fit the tremble underneath it. "Please take Mr. Zhe and Miss Rin to the first-floor public affairs hall to handle the business-asset update. Make sure it's… handled properly."
Qingyi lifted eyes that looked like they'd already seen the end of this scene. She let them pass—very subtly—between Zhu Yuan and Qianye. The corner of her mouth rose by a fraction, almost invisible.
No questions. Just action.
"Understood. Leave it to me. You two, this way."
Zhe's brows slammed together. He looked at Qianye—clear disapproval, deep worry. His lips moved, resisting.
He didn't trust Zhu Yuan alone with Qianye—not with emotions this unstable.
But Rin, determined to push the two toward reconciliation, didn't give him room to protest.
She practically sprang up, grabbed Zhe's arm with surprising force, and while throwing Qianye and Zhu Yuan a don't worry, I've got this look, she dragged her brother toward the door.
"Come on, come on, big bro! The sooner we finish, the sooner we stop stressing! Don't stall! Qingyi—wait for us!"
"Rin—wait, I—" Zhe tried, but her rare resolve turned his resistance into something pale and useless. In the end, he could only let out a heavy sigh—full of concern—and be hauled out.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Rain whispered steadily outside the window.
Inside, the office became vast in its emptiness. Apart from Seth—still out in the storm managing traffic—this room now held only two people.
Zhu Yuan could hear her own heartbeat, like a drum.
She drew a breath, as if it took every bit of strength to stop hiding and truly look at him. The words she'd held down for too long finally broke through the dam, shaking at the edges:
"Qianye… I'm sorry… truly… I'm so sorry…"
All the things she'd wanted to say collapsed into three plain, powerless words.
Qianye watched her. His face didn't change much. He only shook his head slightly, tone flat, as if describing something unrelated to himself:
"Why apologize, Officer Zhu Yuan? I told you clearly in the hospital back then… I don't blame you. You had your position and your duty."
"But you do blame me!" Zhu Yuan's voice spiked. Cornered emotion surged into it—hurt, panic, and the rawness of someone pushed to the cliff's edge. Her eyes reddened instantly, mist rising as tears rushed in.
She lifted her chin stubbornly, trying not to let the tears fall—yet the crack in her voice betrayed her.
"If you truly forgave me… you wouldn't…"
"You wouldn't treat every invitation, every careful apology, every sign of goodwill I forced myself to send… with that—"
"That polite, distant, perfunctory attitude!"
"Qianye, I'm not stupid! I can feel it!"
"That 'I don't blame you' is just you being kind. You don't want to make me look pathetic."
"It isn't real forgiveness!"
Tears broke free—beads sliding down her pale cheeks.
For the first time, the calm mask on Qianye's face seemed to crack.
He was silent for a moment. His lashes lowered, shadows pooling under his eyes. Then he sighed—so soft it nearly drowned in the rain.
"…The one who should apologize is me."
His voice dropped.
"I'm sorry, Officer Zhu. You're right."
"I… wasn't as magnanimous as I wanted to believe."
He looked up. His jade-green eyes reflected her tear-streaked face with brutal clarity, and something buried beneath his restraint finally surfaced.
"I kept telling myself it wasn't all your fault. I understood your position…"
"But here…"
He lifted a hand and pressed lightly against his left chest, brow pinching as though a real thorn lived there.
"…I can't help thinking—if it weren't for what happened then… maybe I wouldn't have been taken."
"Maybe I wouldn't have…"
"…met Sarah."
At the name, Qianye's body tightened—just a fraction, but unmistakable. Fear and disgust flashed across his eyes, as though even speaking her name called something foul back to life.
"That woman…" His voice quivered. Then, as he continued, the tremor hardened into restrained anger.
"She never stopped… trying to leave her mark on me. Like labeling property."
"She even—she even arrogantly tried to replace…"
"Replace my teacher… in my heart."
His fist clenched unconsciously, knuckles whitening. His voice went hoarse under the weight of memory.
"Whenever I think about that time… I feel afraid."
"And after the fear…"
"Comes anger."
He looked at Zhu Yuan again—honest in a way that felt almost cruel.
"So when I face you, Officer Zhu Yuan, I have to admit…"
"I need time."
"A long time."
"Time for the thorn that was indirectly driven into me because of you… to be pushed out, slowly, little by little."
"For the wound to truly heal—rather than pretending it isn't there."
His words were precise. Controlled. Like the mindset of a surgeon holding a scalpel.
"Also," he paused, gaze deepening as if trying to look past her expressions into her core, "I think you need time too."
"Time to truly—deeply—reflect on yourself."
His voice cut like an anatomical blade, cleanly into the center of the mess:
"You need to figure out what this violent emotion inside you actually is."
"Do you genuinely, clearly… like me? Like Qianye—the person?"
"Or…"
"Is it only guilt, responsibility, and a storm of intense feelings you haven't sorted out—so you label it 'love' by force…"
"And then mistake the 'hatred' and helplessness that grows out of that twisted 'love'—hatred you may not even recognize—as something you can repay with apology?"
Each question struck harder than the last, hammering directly into the parts of Zhu Yuan she least wanted to face.
"Officer Zhu Yuan," Qianye said quietly, yet the force of it rang through her, "ask yourself seriously—honestly—"
"Is what you feel toward me 'love'?"
"Or hidden 'hate'?"
"Or… are you someone who hasn't even recognized her own feelings—yet charges forward on impulse, on one-sided determination, trying to get close, trying to compensate…"
"Even…"
"Trying to carry my life on your back—so your own guilt hurts less?"
The questions landed like heavy blows.
Zhu Yuan opened her mouth to argue, to deny, to insist it wasn't like that—
but her throat locked.
Because under the clarity of his gaze, even she suddenly began to doubt the tangled thing inside her chest.
It was absurd, wasn't it?
Before all this, she barely knew him. In their first meeting, what he carved into her mind was simply the image of a doctor hiding in plain sight.
And yet with time… her feelings had grown like something sealed in a jar—fermenting fast, expanding in ways she didn't notice until it overflowed.
Even she didn't understand why.
She stood there, tears falling silently. The courage she'd gathered, the resolve she'd forced into shape—felt as though it had been drained out all at once, leaving only confusion and the shame of being seen too clearly.
Watching Zhu Yuan fall into silence—like her soul had lost its color—something complex flickered in Qianye's eyes. In the end it became a small, almost inaudible sigh, and a thin, tired loneliness—close to disappointment.
He lowered his head, no longer looking at her.
And in a voice so light it seemed meant only for himself, he delivered the final line like a verdict:
"Officer Zhu Yuan…"
"Sometimes…"
"You really are someone whose whole mind…"
"…is only thinking about yourself."
Completely unlike the sterile order of the Bureau office, the Lion Gang's temporary base was thick with chaos and oppression.
It looked like an abandoned warehouse. The air was an aggressive blend of dust, rust, half-dried blood, and cheap tobacco. The only light came from a few yellow bulbs hanging from exposed beams—flickering intermittently, throwing warped, swaying shadows across stained concrete.
Supplies were piled haphazardly. Boxes were torn open, contents scattered—evidence of a hurried search or transfer.
The Lion Gang members, once swaggering and loud, now sat or leaned with injuries. Their faces were drained—fatigue and lingering shock replacing former arrogance.
Yet their eyes were not fully claimed by despair.
Instead, with near-blind trust and expectation, they fixed on the one figure who remained unhurried—
Jane.
She sat on an empty wooden crate with almost lazy ease, while her eyes stayed cold and precise—like a frozen lake.
Her gaze pinned the center of the warehouse, where a gang underling had been tied to a battered chair with rough rope.
He was white-faced, sweating, trembling violently. He twisted and fought, only tightening the ropes further as the chair creaked.
"You really are the sort who only ever thinks about yourself…"
Jane's voice wasn't loud, but it carried—cleanly echoing in the warehouse. There wasn't much anger in it. More a thin, mocking resignation.
"You sold your brothers out without hesitation…"
"All for that tiny bounty the Bureau promised?"
"No! It's not like that! Sister Jane! You've got to believe me! Brothers—listen to me!"
He screamed until his voice cracked, terror warping it out of shape.
"I was framed! The Bureau set me up!"
His miserable display ignited the crew's suppressed rage. A bulky enforcer stepped forward, pointing at the bound traitor, asking Jane for permission in a voice shaking with fury:
"Boss! Why waste words on trash like this? The rules are the rules—everyone sees it!"
His eyes gleamed with violence.
"He refuses the toast, so give him the punishment!"
"Strip him and toss him into the most dangerous Hollow nearby. Let him die out there—show everyone what betrayal costs!"
"No need for such theatrics." Jane lifted a hand lightly—casual, but absolute. The enforcer stopped.
Jane's gaze stayed on the traitor. The corner of her mouth rose into a thin curve that made skin crawl.
"How to deal with him… isn't for us to decide."
"His fate will be judged by the 'Boss.'"
She slowed the word Boss deliberately and let her eyes drift—almost casually—toward a darker corner of the warehouse.
Then she hopped down from the crate. Her boot heels clicked against the floor. She turned her back to the desperate pleading, her tone returning to cool decisiveness.
"Tie him tighter. Gag him."
"After the Bureau's search pressure eases a bit, use this damn rain to move him to the 'Lion's Nest.'"
"On the way…"
"Take good care of him. Don't let him cause trouble."
She walked toward the only broken window that admitted a sliver of gray daylight, staring out at the relentless rain curtain, eyes deep.
Didn't expect this…
The Bureau had chosen their moment well—using the sudden downpour to catch Lion Gang off guard and nearly scatter the organization.
The only force still relatively intact—and still capable of retreating with dignity—was the branch under her control.
Which meant—
Her fingers tapped softly on the cold window frame.
That paranoid bastard Riza won't have a choice.
He'll meet her.
He'll lean on her strength.
And she…
She finally had the perfect chance to think—quietly, carefully—
what kind of "impression" would be unforgettable enough…
to carve out the filthy heart that kept the Lion Gang breathing.
A cold, decisive smile spread quietly in the depths of her eyes.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
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Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
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Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
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Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 215
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
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The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 115
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 130
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
Uma Musume: I Want All 105
I Can Copy Unique Skills 100
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Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 81
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Checking In in Demon Slayer 65
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 80
I Refuse to Become a Heroic 66
My Best Friend Into a Slime? 58
A Saiyan Stands Above Marvel 65
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Tanya Starts from Re:Zero 59
Why did they assign me to Uma 55
MYGO Beauties 56
DanMachi: Emiya the Giant Hero 45
The Gacha Merchant Who Started 49
Honkai's Otherworld? Wait—Who Are You People?! 36
Emiya Shirou, Determined to Slay Every Curse and Evil Spirit 15
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