088 The Final Trump Card

This was destined to be an encounter foreseen.

There was no need to hide, and of course, no reason to panic.

...

Around eleven o’clock at night, a black motorcycle carrying a slender figure turned into an abandoned residential district.

All around stood dilapidated houses, some half-collapsed, others with fallen courtyard walls. Wild grass grew unchecked; the ground was littered with rubble, and even the air was saturated with a scent of decay.

Dead trees, tall and imposing despite their withered state, stretched skyward, blocking the moonlight and casting an air of desolation over the ground. It seemed the place had been deserted for so long that even stray cats were scarce.

Far from the city, devoid of any sign of life, this place paradoxically inspired a strange sense of security.

The motorcycle soon came to a halt beneath one of those withered trees. A few crumbling tile-roofed houses cast deep shadows, perfectly concealing any trace the metal frame left on the earth.

A woman stepped lightly from the bike, removed her helmet, and with a careless gesture, pinned her loose hair back. After scanning the surroundings to confirm there was no one nearby, she entered a house across the way, its wooden door missing half its frame.

Yet only moments later, another figure emerged from the opposite side. Eyes fixed on the direction in which the woman had disappeared, he said nothing, but silently positioned himself beside the motorcycle.

...

This place had originally served as a temporary stop for Ye Zi, but this time, Shadow’s speed had far surpassed Trace’s expectations.

Thus, by sheer chance, the opportunity was snatched away, and someone was taken.

Yet it was precisely this turn of events that set off a chain reaction.

Looking back now, perhaps it was all predestined.

So, when Mu Qingcheng finished gathering her scattered belongings and stepped outside, it was only natural that she should see the man leaning against her motorcycle.

She paused, but did not move any closer.

Standing just a few steps away, she refused to approach.

They faced each other in silence for so long that her legs began to ache, until finally, the man laughed helplessly and spoke:

“If I don’t say anything, are you planning to stand there all night?”

“Perhaps.”

Both spoke through voice changers, concealing their true voices.

The girl remained steadfast, unwilling to reveal her final card.

As for the man—he simply understood her hesitation and did not wish to make her uncomfortable.

Even though the answer was almost painfully obvious to him, in the end, he chose to honor her feelings.

His concern and care for her had long since seeped into every fiber of his being.

And not far away, two burly men stood side by side, hidden beneath a row of withered trees.

Watching the peculiar scene, one man tilted his head toward the other and muttered suspiciously,

“Hey, you don’t think the boss is… trying to have it both ways, do you?”

The other did not respond immediately, but stared intently at the distant scene. Suddenly, a flash of realization crossed his mind.

...

Meanwhile, on the other side, Mu Qingcheng stubbornly remained rooted to the spot, locked in a stalemate, refusing to move.

After a while, a cold wind swept through, further unsettling her already muddled nerves.

She swayed, as though struck on the head by a stone, and slowly began to fall backward.

“What’s wrong?” the man asked.

A moment later, she naturally fell into a warm—and all too familiar—embrace.

But at that moment, she lacked even the slightest strength to speak.

The man scooped Mu Qingcheng into his arms and strode quickly away.

Wrapped in that warmth, Mu Qingcheng’s remaining resistance melted away. The heavy exhaustion washed over her in relentless waves, eroding what little clarity remained in her mind.

At last, gazing into those familiar, gentle eyes, she could no longer hold on. Gradually, her eyes drifted shut…