Qin Zhong’an’s eyelids flickered several times.
His brow furrowed and then relaxed, as if he were struggling against some lingering drowsiness.
Then, he slowly opened his eyes.
The fluorescent light on the ceiling hummed softly, the white light making him squint.
He stared at the light tube for several seconds, his consciousness rising like a stone from the bottom of a pool, surfacing bit by bit.
“Awake?”
A voice came from beside him.
Qin Zhong’an turned his head sharply. The sudden movement pulled on his stiff neck muscles, and a surge of soreness made him hiss in pain.
Liu Junnan stood by the bed with his hands in his pockets, his expression somewhere between concern and impatience.
It was his usual style—neither hot nor cold, neither too close nor too distant—making people feel he cared without it seeming intentional.
“Young... Young Master Liu?” Qin Zhong’an’s voice was as raspy as sandpaper on glass. He propped himself up, trying to sit, but his arms gave way, and he fell back down.
“Don’t move,” Liu Junnan said, pressing a hand onto his shoulder. The force wasn’t great, but it carried an unquestionable weight.
“You’ve been unconscious for a long time. Your body hasn’t fully recovered yet.”
Qin Zhong’an lay back down, taking a few breaths as his gaze swept around the room.
Where... where was this?
He felt as if his head were stuffed with wet cotton—heavy and sluggish.
After a dozen seconds, he remembered. This was his bedroom on the third floor of the Yuanhang Freight Transit Station, a temporary lodging.
“What... what happened to me?” He frowned, pressing his fingers to his temples.
“I remember we were in the office, and then...”
His voice trailed off.
And then?
What happened after that?
His memory felt as if it had been cleanly severed at a certain point, leaving only blurry, unrecognizable fragments.
“You don’t remember?” Liu Junnan’s voice came from above, carrying a perfect touch of concern.
Qin Zhong’an shook his head slowly, as if testing whether his neck could still turn.
“We were discussing the mysterious person in Jiangcheng,” Liu Junnan said, sitting in a chair nearby and crossing his legs. His voice was steady.
“You said you wanted to report it, and I said to give me a little more time. And then...”
He paused.
“Then someone attacked you.”
Qin Zhong’an’s pupils constricted slightly. “Attacked?”
“Yes.” Liu Junnan nodded, his expression turning serious.
“The person’s strength was far beyond mine. My sensing ability didn’t even have a chance to work before you were hit...”
“I couldn’t stop them.”
He pointed toward Qin Zhong’an’s head. “Your head hit the corner of the desk, and you bled quite a bit. I checked it, and there’s no major damage, but you’ve been unconscious ever since.”
Qin Zhong’an instinctively reached back to feel the back of his head.
There was indeed a lump.
“Then... the person who attacked me?” His voice tightened. “Did you find them?”
Liu Junnan shook his head, a look of frustration crossing his face. “No. They were very cautious and left no traces. By the time I chased them out, they were long gone.”
His tone was natural, carrying a sense of suppressed annoyance—the feeling of “I’m pissed off too, but there’s nothing I can do”—which perfectly matched his usual personality.
Qin Zhong’an didn’t ask further.
He leaned back against the pillow and closed his eyes, trying to find something within those chaotic memory fragments.
But he found nothing.
That segment of memory was like something erased cleanly with an eraser, leaving only a blank, smooth cross-section.
“By the way,” Liu Junnan’s voice suddenly became less casual.
“While you were unconscious, something happened... I’m not sure if I should tell you.”
Qin Zhong’an opened his eyes. “What is it?”
Liu Junnan looked at him with a subtle expression. “Gu Mingshan is dead.”
Qin Zhong’an froze.
“When did this happen?”
“Ten days ago.”
“Ten days ago?” Qin Zhong’an’s eyes widened in disbelief, his voice trembling. “Exactly how long have I been out?!”
“Nearly a month.”
“What? A month!” Qin Zhong’an was stunned.
Liu Junnan nodded with a hint of impatience.
Qin Zhong’an sat on the bed, mouth agape, unable to say a word.
How... how could he have been unconscious for a month for no apparent reason?
Liu Junnan didn’t seem to want to look at him in that state and spoke again.
“That old man Gu Mingshan died of brain cancer.”
“The organization ordered you to go and check things out as a formality, but since you were unconscious, I went in your place,” Liu Junnan said matter-of-factly.
Qin Zhong’an’s thoughts were drawn to Gu Mingshan by Liu Junnan’s words.
Although Gu Mingshan wasn’t a formal member of the organization, he was an external collaborator who had provided many conveniences for Yuansou’s affairs in Jiangcheng.
When someone like that died, according to the rules, the organization indeed had to send someone to verify the situation.
The main purpose was to see if anything remained that needed to be handled or if any information that shouldn't have been leaked had gotten out.
“I discovered something interesting on Gu Mingshan’s body...”
Qin Zhong’an looked up at Liu Junnan, his eyes filled with curiosity.
Seeing him like this, Liu Junnan knew that Qin Zhong’an’s thoughts were now following his lead.
“I found that his brain had been intruded upon!”
Qin Zhong’an gasped. “What?!”
“It was a mental-type Ability User,” Liu Junnan whispered. “They were very powerful and professional!”
“If I weren’t so familiar with the traces of mental abilities, I wouldn’t have noticed at all.”
Qin Zhong’an’s face turned pale. “Was it that mysterious person?”
“I can’t think of anyone else,” Liu Junnan said firmly.
Qin Zhong’an sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers instinctively clutching the bedsheet.
“They intruded into Gu Mingshan’s brain... does that mean they know about the project?” His voice was strained.
“Gu Mingshan didn’t know much, but regarding that project, if even a tiny bit of information is leaked, we’ll be punished...”
Qin Zhong’an broke into a cold sweat. The thought of the potential punishment made him tremble with fear.
Liu Junnan said nothing.
The room fell into a brief silence.
Just then—
A sharp buzz suddenly rang out, shattering the peace.
The sound was different from a normal phone ringtone; it was higher in frequency and more piercing, like a warning signal from some electronic device rather than a call notification.
Qin Zhong’an and Liu Junnan turned simultaneously, their gazes falling on the phone on the nightstand.
It was a black phone, thicker and heavier than any smartphone on the market. Its casing was made of a matte alloy that felt slightly grainy to the touch.
It had no brand logo, no decorative elements, and even the screen was a size smaller than a normal phone.
The screen was lit, displaying not a phone number, but a string of constantly jumping encrypted codes.
This was an internal encrypted communication terminal used exclusively by Yuansou.
Rate on N.U.
