Chapter Forty-Two: Standing by to the End

With the office door missing, the room felt hollow and exposed, like a streetwalker laid bare beneath the sun, stripped of any sense of security. The woman who had spoken entered with such audacity, her presence and her commanding voice at once drawing the attention of the two men inside.

Their gazes traveled from her feet to her face—not out of any lascivious impulse, but as an instinctive act of observation: to take in the whole person at a glance, then allow the mind to search for points of distinction, and finally to let the eyes roam from those points for a more thorough appraisal.

She wore a green dress, her hair falling naturally to her shoulders. Dangling from her earlobes were two earrings shaped like green serpents, strikingly vivid. She was barefoot, her delicate feet stepping calmly and unhurriedly over the threshold as she entered.

“A calamity,” thought both men in unison. Yet, unlike Officer Bi, Director Gong’s admiration was tinged with a subtle dread. This was not the first time he had encountered someone like her. He categorized this beautiful woman with a terrifying figure from his past, for despite her outward composure, the same disdain for the world and indifference to all things shone in her eyes.

Director Gong quickly rose, circled past Officer Bi, and, to the latter’s astonishment, bent slightly at the waist in a respectful half-bow, extending both hands obsequiously. “My surname is Gong. I’m the director here. May I ask who you are?”

“Su Xiaoxiao,” the woman replied in a faint voice, flipping her hand to produce a card, which she passed to Director Gong.

“What brings your organization here today? Is there something we can assist with?” Director Gong bowed his head, deliberately sidestepping her provocative entrance and refraining from scrutinizing her credentials. He had already made up his mind about her identity.

His words were intentionally vague, for he didn’t know which state department she belonged to. If he rashly affiliated her with something like the Dragon Group and guessed correctly, he might earn some praise for his insight. If he guessed wrong—and she hailed from a rival organization—he would be courting disaster.

Indeed, the woman was none other than Su Xiaoxiao, the very source of Chen Hongxu’s headaches. Su Xiaoxiao regarded the man before her with meaningful eyes, but remained unmoved. “I’m here to take someone. As for anything else, you have no authority to ask.”

Her bluntness soured Director Gong’s expression, but he knew better than to apply ordinary reasoning to people like her. He slowly withdrew his hands, maintaining a humble posture. “May I ask whom your organization wishes to take?”

“Chen Hongxu.”

“Him?” Director Gong’s face changed, and after a brief struggle, he replied with difficulty, “That may be hard. This Chen fellow has committed a grave crime in our city. We went to great lengths to apprehend him. While your organization’s authority stands above most government agencies, if we don’t handle him here, there will be public outrage.”

For the first time, an expression flickered across Su Xiaoxiao’s previously impassive face—a smile not of pleasure, but of mockery. She had no intention of debating with this man; they weren’t on the same level, and there was no point trying to explain things he’d never understand. Besides, her purpose wasn’t to make a scene. Given her current status, she could easily have killed him on the spot and settled for writing a few reports afterward.

“You’re not the one who makes the decisions here, are you? Ask your superiors what procedures must be followed for me to take him away. Remember, it’s not that I can’t cause trouble, but that I choose not to. I hope you little ants understand this.”

At her words, Director Gong’s body trembled imperceptibly. A serious concern struck him: since she was here to take someone, her organization would certainly have its own protocols. More importantly, she’d chosen this precise moment to appear—no one would believe she was unaware of the situation surrounding Chen Hongxu.

Nor had she barged in with brute force; instead, she was choosing to play by the rules, which changed the nature of the matter entirely. If everything had proceeded as planned—if the woman who had delivered the tip-off could come forward to testify against Chen Hongxu—things wouldn’t be so difficult. After all, the law was still to be followed; with the case laid out and a little public opinion whipped up online, sacrificing someone to placate public anger was nothing unusual.

But now, the thugs involved had either fled or disappeared, and those who remained claimed total ignorance—when pressed, they resorted to desperate, self-destructive measures. Most crucially, the key witness, the woman who had leaked the information, had vanished without a trace.

“Damn it, is this the start of a higher-level power struggle?” Director Gong ground his teeth, lamenting his lack of access to broader information; it was this very limitation that restricted his vision of the bigger picture.

He left the room, entered an adjacent office, dismissed those present, and made a phone call. When he returned, he looked ten years older, his former deference gone, replaced by the bureaucratic mask of officialdom. “The Public Security Bureau is a direct administrative organ. There is no necessary connection with your organization. If you really need to take someone, please present documentation from the Provincial Public Security Department, with the signatures of the provincial committee, and finally, confirmation from the city leadership. Only then can you take him.”

“Are you certain?” Su Xiaoxiao fixed her gaze on him and enunciated each word with care.

“These are the rules,” Director Gong answered, turning his head to evade her stare, forcing himself to nod. He knew it was time to take a stand. He had spearheaded this case from the start, and it was too late to switch sides. Even if the other party would accept him, his roots were in HJ City; he had to continue living here. If he defected, once the affair ended, the other side would be gone, and he’d be left to bear the consequences alone.

Such is the helplessness of reality. If given the chance to choose again, Director Gong believed he’d feign illness and stay away, but life offers no such remedies or choices. When confronted with a situation, there is often but one path, and once you embark upon it, all you can do is grit your teeth and hope it leads to clearer skies.

“If your superiors have decided to fight this to the end, then we will see it through as well. Don’t worry; we won’t resort to any underhanded tricks. Sometimes writing reports is more troublesome than killing someone,” Su Xiaoxiao remarked nonchalantly. “I need to see Chen Hongxu.”

She ignored the two men and left the office. After all, she represented the Black List organization. If this were a personal matter, she would have long since resorted to blades and hidden weapons.

After Su Xiaoxiao departed, Director Gong’s straight back suddenly collapsed, as if some visible essence was draining from him. He waved off Officer Bi’s concerned look, signaling that he was fine. Sitting down, his face darkened. “There’s no need to overthink this. Do what you’re supposed to do. Is the auxiliary officer in position?”

If even the director had no choice in this matter, Officer Bi certainly didn’t. He nodded in understanding, then left the office with a head full of confusion.

Meanwhile, after dispatching three people who tried to stop her, Su Xiaoxiao finally reached Chen Hongxu.

Looking at Chen Hongxu, who seemed utterly unconcerned, Su Xiaoxiao said softly, “You belong to me, so you must take good care of yourself—for my sake.”

The placid expression on Chen Hongxu’s face vanished in an instant. Was this girl still addled from the last time he’d hit her? Now she was acting completely out of character.

“It’s settled, then.” Su Xiaoxiao gave him a sweet smile, turned, and waved.

Watching Su Xiaoxiao walk away, Chen Hongxu thought, Aren’t you supposed to get me out of here? He suppressed the urge to ask, sensing that something had changed. Gazing at her receding figure, he sighed, “This is only going to get more complicated.”