“Captain Han, what do we do with this guy?” Ling Yue asked, pointing at Hu Long.
Han Huaixiao frowned, his gaze falling on Hu Long’s legs, both bleeding from gunshot wounds. If he hadn’t seen wrong… when he hit the man’s left leg, the bullet that struck his right had come from the northwest. But there were no officers stationed northwest… only Hu Long’s own accomplices. Earlier, that man even fired several shots in their direction to protect Hu Long and his companion.
So why had he suddenly turned his gun on Hu Long?!
Was it to silence him? But if so, why not shoot to kill? Why aim for the legs?
Suppressing his doubts, Han Huaixiao ignored Hu Long’s dark, defiant glare. Instead, he gestured to signal the team to wrap up. “Keep an eye on him,” he ordered Ling Yue. “Report to Chief Yan, and get the children to the nearest hospital for examination and treatment.”
Truth was, their encounter with Xiao Zhun and the traffickers had been a pure coincidence. A week earlier, a major criminal case had erupted in Lang City. The investigation was assigned to the Major Crimes Unit of the Criminal Investigation Division, with Han Huaixiao, recently promoted to deputy captain, leading the operation.
After a week of tracking, they finally traced the suspect’s last location to Yushan, near the border. The man was armed and hiding deep in the mountains, so Han Huaixiao had requested a sniper team. Coincidentally, just as they captured the suspect, the sniper hidden in a high vantage point reported unusual movement across the border.
Han Huaixiao had already heard yesterday about the disappearance of five children from a Chinese tour group in Thailand. When he received the sniper’s detailed report, he immediately relayed the situation to headquarters. The bureau instructed his team to stay put, wait for the right opportunity, and rescue the children, capturing the traffickers if possible.
Now, they’d done all of that: caught their original suspect, rescued the five kids, and arrested one trafficker, so Ling Yue was in great spirits. After more than a week of nonstop overtime, exhaustion vanished from his face as he lounged in the car, leaning over the front seat to chat with Zhang Tianhua, the team’s oldest member. But the moment he got too close, he gagged and recoiled.
“Damn, Brother Hua, when was the last time you took a shower?! You smell like death!”
Zhang Tianhua rolled his eyes. “No kidding,” he answered. “We’ve been on duty for over a week straight, and I’ve only been home once. Then we spent all day running through the forest. You try not to stink after that.”
Ling Yue sniffed himself, then leaned closer to Han Huaixiao with fake seriousness, mocking him: “Hmm… even our clean freak Captain Han smells pretty bad today.”
On any other day, Han Huaixiao would’ve shot back with something like, ‘That’s not stink, that’s the scent of pure masculinity!’ But today, he said nothing. With his arms crossed, he sat deep in thought.
Curious, Ling Yue asked, “Captain, what are you thinking about?”
Han Huaixiao blinked out of his daze, then suddenly smirked, charming and dangerous.
“What else?” he answered. “My ex, of course.”
Hearing his answer, Zhang Tianhua’s hands twitched on the steering wheel, and the vehicle swerved slightly. “Wait, what?!” he asked. “You had a boyfriend?! Since when?!”
Han Huaixiao’s orientation wasn’t a secret, but Zhang Tianhua was still shocked. He’d worked with him for years and had never seen him date anyone.
“A few years ago,” Han Huaixiao said casually.
Ling Yue’s eyes lit up like a gossip columnist’s as he asked: “Then why’d you break up?”
At that, Han Huaixiao’s expression darkened as he remembered the reason. “First rule of the workplace,” he said flatly, “don’t dig into your boss’s private life.”
Normally, Han Huaixiao was easygoing outside of work, joking freely with the team. Hearing his sharp tone now, Zhang Tianhua chuckled and teased, “Tsk, tsk… sounds like our Captain Han was the one who got dumped.”
Ling Yue grinned, about to laugh as well, but Han Huaixiao shot him a single look, cold and razor-sharp. The smile froze on his face, but he forgot to close his mouth, so the rest of the team turned their attention to him, bursting out laughing at his stunned expression.
Meanwhile, Xiao Zhun and his Burmese companion returned across the border and went straight to see Wu Gang.
When they reported that the Chinese police had intercepted them just after crossing and that Hu Long had been shot and captured, Wu Gang’s face twisted in fury. The next instant, he hurled his favorite teapot to the ground.
The shards flew, and one cut across Xiao Zhun’s cheek, but he didn’t so much as flinch.
However, the Burmese man glanced at him, then said, “Brother Gang, don’t you think it’s too much of a coincidence? The route’s been clean for years. Xiao Zhun just learned about it, and suddenly the Chinese police show up?”
Wu Gang’s expression darkened. He was silent for a long moment before speaking. “Xiao Zhun, anything you want to say?”
“I failed to bring Brother Long back,” Xiao Zhun replied calmly. “I’ll accept punishment.”
Wu Gang’s expression eased slightly. “Nothing else?”
Standing straight, Xiao Zhun met his gaze evenly. “Brother Gang, you’re the one who brought me up. You know what kind of man I am. I’ve got nothing else to say.”
It was true, he’d only recently been cleared to access that route. If it leaked immediately after, he’d look guilty. But that timing was also his best defense. No one would be that stupid to blow their cover so fast.
And yet, Wu Gang didn’t say whether he believed him or not. “You might’ve gotten the kids back into China,” he continued, “but Hu Long got caught, and the line’s exposed. That means failure.”
“So go take your punishment yourself.”
…………………….
In a damp, dark cellar, a whip soaked in saltwater sliced through the air.
Xiao Zhun hung suspended by his wrists, his back crisscrossed with open wounds. Flesh split and bled under each lash, but he didn’t make a sound. Not a groan, not a cry, only clenched teeth and sweat-soaked silence.
Five meters away, a crocodile pit seethed. The thick, metallic scent of blood had the beasts thrashing, baring rows of jagged teeth.
For two days, Xiao Zhun hung there, feverish and delirious.
Wu Gang was a paranoid man. No matter how flawless Xiao Zhun’s composure seemed that day, he wouldn’t release him until the leak’s cause was clear. And on the third day, someone finally lowered him down and allowed him to leave the dungeon.
As the doctor treated his wounds, Wu Gang entered. Xiao Zhun made a move to stand, but Wu Gang pressed a hand to his shoulder. “You don’t blame Xingde, do you?” he asked. Xingde was the name of the man who always carried a Burmese blade tied to his hip.
In fact, the five kidnapped children hadn’t been taken on Wu Gang’s orders either. It had been solely Hu Long and Xingde’s idea.
They’d been gambling in Thailand when they spotted a children’s tour group, reeking of rich young masters. Drunk and losing all of their money, they’d assumed the group was Korean and hatched a plan to kidnap a few for ransom. Therefore, they smuggled the children back into Myanmar, ready to demand a fortune, only to discover too late that the kids were Chinese.
And of course, that changed everything. If word got out that they’d kidnapped Chinese citizens, they’d be in deep trouble.
Hu Long, reckless as ever, suggested killing the children before the news spread. Xiao Zhun had argued against it, proposing instead to quietly send the children back across the border and erase the evidence of their involvement.
As for Wu Gang, he had beaten his subordinates senseless, then ordered them to return the children to the Chinese border immediately, sliding with Xiao Zhun’s plan and sending him along to ensure it was done cleanly.
And yet, not in his wildest nightmares had he expected things to go so stupidly wrong.
Now, after all that, Hu Long was as good as dead, Xingde had turned against his companions, believing they were betrayed, and Xiao Zhun was tortured for something he didn’t do.
“I don’t blame him,” Xiao Zhun said quietly.
Seeing his meek demeanour, Wu Gang nodded. “Good,” he said, while exhaling a sigh of relief. “Then recover quickly. You’re coming with me to Yangon in three days.”
Xiao Zhun’s heart jolted. Yangon was the heart of Sheng Jun’s empire.
Wu Gang patted his shoulder again, continuing: “Do well, and don’t disappoint me.”
Earlier that day, Wu Gang had discovered that the Chinese police had appeared because they were hunting a random suspect in one of their major cases. Their encounter had been a pure coincidence, and fortunately, Wu Gang had investigated and found out in time; otherwise, Xiao Zhun’s final resting place would have been the dungeon’s crocodile pit.
After all, Brother Gang was an extremely suspicious man. Once he suspected someone, he rarely sought proof and would simply make them disappear. The only reason he checked this time was that Hu Long had fallen into the hands of the Chinese police, so he needed to know the full story if he planned to rescue him.
After Wu Gang left, Xiao Zhun exhaled quietly toward the north, where the border stood. Three years had passed, and he finally had a chance to meet Sheng Jun. That was a major breakthrough, but it also meant that the road ahead would be even more dangerous and arduous than the past three years.
Under the influence of the sedatives, he slowly drifted to sleep, and in his dream appeared a face both righteous and roguish, smiling at him…
……………………
Five years later.
In a high-end hospital room in Yunnan Province, China, a television on the wall broadcast the news: “Led by our police force, in cooperation with Thailand and Myanmar, authorities from the three countries have successfully dismantled the largest drug trafficking organization in the Golden Triangle, the Sheng Jun Group. Regrettably, the head, Sheng Jun, escaped during the operation…”
By the bedside, an elderly man with graying hair and piercing eyes, someone most officers would never meet in their lifetimes, spoke to the young man lying there: “Intelligence reports indicate Sheng Jun has fled to the United States.” Sheng Jun was of mixed American and Burmese descent; his father was Burmese, his mother American, and the family had deep criminal ties. If he had truly fled to the U.S., capturing him would be extremely difficult.
Xiao Zhun, dressed in a loose hospital gown, muttered, “I shouldn’t have drunk that cup of wine.”
On the night of the raid, after reporting the work, Sheng Jun had invited Xiao Zhun to drink. Sheng Jun appeared to want a casual chat, pouring two drinks at the same time, and drinking his own first. Though Sheng Jun didn’t discriminate by gender, he never targeted someone close to him, so Xiao Zhun drank the cup Sheng Jun offered, thinking there was nothing wrong with it.
Unexpectedly, Sheng Jun had spiked the drink. The drug was not lethal, but it would drain one’s strength and, once it took effect, Sheng Jun no longer hid his desire for Xiao Zhun, scanning him up and down with an evil grin. “Zhun,” he said, “you’re too perfect. Breaking my principles for you… doesn’t feel so bad after all.”
At that critical moment, the alarm system in Sheng Jun’s house blared, but he remained calm, tapping a few times somewhere in the living room. On the wall to the right, over ten surveillance screens appeared, showing the agile military and police forces encircling his stronghold.
Sheng Jun cursed in anger as two of his ever-present bodyguards approached. “Boss, we have two minutes left.”
Sheng Jun even had the leisure to kiss Xiao Zhun lightly, saying, “Sorry, darling, I can’t take you with me.” However, seeing how calm he was, Xiao Zhun’s intuition went cold, and, sure enough, Sheng Jun and his men walked toward the elevator. One bodyguard swiped his hand three times on the wall beside the elevator panel, and a trap door opened, showing a second elevator. Xiao Zhun watched with wide eyes as all three vanished into the hidden lift.
Xiao Zhun had spent three years becoming Wu Gang’s confidant, and another three years becoming Sheng Jun’s. In the two years he’d spent as Sheng Jun’s inner circle, he had been to that hideout countless times, secretly scouting it and becoming intimately familiar with every corner of the villa. Tonight, Sheng Jun had used the pretext of a report to lure him here, intending to take advantage of him, but Xiao Zhun never expected him to break his own rules and drug him, nor that another elevator would be hidden right next to the first.
Luckily, Xiao Zhun had only drunk half a cup, and his military background also covered training against various drug effects. By the time Sheng Jun’s group disappeared into the elevator, Xiao Zhun had already regained about twenty percent of his strength. A fruit knife lay on the coffee table, and, without hesitation, he stabbed it into his palm, restoring a bit more energy. Next, he quickly relayed Sheng Jun’s escape to his superiors, then stumbled toward the elevator. Following the hand gestures he had just seen, he located the hidden lift.
The elevator led straight down three levels to a tunnel. When Xiao Zhun reached the exit, he saw a river outside, with Sheng Jun and his men already boarding a speedboat. Thinking fast, Xiao Zhun fired at the boat’s engine, but his strength had not fully returned. His aim was off, missing the engine, and in doing so, he revealed his position to Sheng Jun’s men.
The two bodyguards opened fire on him. Xiao Zhun dodged but was still hit twice. Just as he thought he might die there, Sheng Jun stopped the bodyguards from firing again, smiling at Xiao Zhun, who was hiding behind a rock. “So it was you, darling,” he said. “You make me more and more interested. Stay alive. I very much look forward to the day we meet again.”
“…”
Back in the hospital room, the elderly superior raised a hand, signaling Xiao Zhun not to blame himself. “You did your best,” he praised him. “Without your intelligence, our operation wouldn’t have gone so smoothly anyway. Sheng Jun’s power in the Golden Triangle has now been destroyed, and the rest is in Interpol’s hands. Rest well.”
“Mm,” Xiao Zhun replied.
The man then asked, “As for your future assignment, do you have any personal requests?”
“I want to go to the Major Crimes Unit in Lang City,” Xiao Zhun said.
“Why Lang City?” The man raised an eyebrow.
On the hospital bed lay a young man with thin, sharp features, his eyes clear as glass. “I hope you’ll grant it,” he answered. And yet, Xiao Zhun didn’t explain anything further. Instead, his mind flashed a roguish, handsome face, belonging to a man who had been his only light through eight years of hell. Probably no one, except maybe his commanding officer, would have believed that that quiet, frail-looking patient was the very same “Snow Owl” whose name made the Golden Triangle’s drug lords tremble.
The elder considered it for a moment and nodded. “Once your condition stabilizes a bit, we’ll transfer you to Lang City. The rehab conditions there are better, and it will help you adapt early. Any other requests?”
“Could you help me rent an apartment in Lang City?”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
The man looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.
Two nights later, a helicopter landed on the hospital rooftop, and just like that, Xiao Zhun’s name was forever sealed in classified files. From then on, a young officer named Xia Hang was transferred to Lang City for recovery.
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