Shen Sixing knew the auction house’s entire layout by heart.
By the time the target appeared, he had naturally drifted away from his assigned area and paused at the entrance to a fire exit.
He poked half his head out from the corner of the stairwell, his gaze quickly locking onto the figure at the end of the corridor.
The target was standing outside a lounge, holding an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
The man raised the cigarette, then pushed open the lounge door.
Shen Sixing waited behind the corner, stepping out almost at the same moment, his footsteps barely audible.
Just as the man was about to close the door, Shen Sixing gently slipped his foot in to block it.
One step inside.
He closed the door behind him.
The motion was barely a whisper.
The man noticed the door hadn’t shut and turned around sharply, alert, only to see a young man in a dark blue uniform standing at the threshold.
The boy’s cap brim was pulled low, obscuring his face.
He probably assumed this was just some security guard who’d wandered into the wrong room.
“We don’t need outside staff in here,” the man said flatly, irritation creeping in. “You’re in the wrong place.”
Shen Sixing stepped forward twice, his feet making no sound on the carpet.
The man’s expression shifted slightly as the boy drew closer.
His gaze dropped to Shen Sixing’s sleeve.
Shen Sixing smiled naturally and closed the distance.
The blade slid into the side of the man’s neck, a clean, swift strike.
Once he was certain the target was dead beyond any doubt, Shen Sixing crouched down, pulled the knife free, and wiped the blood clean on the lining of the man’s suit.
He slid it back into his sleeve.
Then, softly, he spoke to the corpse: “Sorry, sorry—I just need a little money to keep myself going.”
“You’ve got kids too, right? You can understand the struggle of providing for a family, can’t you?”
Even he found that ridiculous, and let out a small laugh, quickly pressing his lips shut.
He had a habit of talking to himself when no one was around, sometimes muttering to the dead.
That quirk had gotten him into trouble more than once on missions, leaving him with all kinds of scrapes and bruises, big and small.
But he still liked it.
There’s a reason they say villains die from talking too much.
Shen Sixing walked out as if nothing had happened.
He lowered his cap brim, making sure the cameras wouldn’t catch his face.
A faint, subtle smile curved at the corner of his lips.
Meanwhile, Wen Ya had confirmed that her target was inside the venue, her identity forged by the government for entry.
This place was packed with most of the city’s elite—all of them on the government’s blacklist.
In a rose-red evening gown and stiletto heels, she blended beauty and grace seamlessly, politely declining a few businessmen who tried to hit on her while her eyes swept across the crowd.
The target was seated at the third table on the left side of the hall, flanked by two hulking bodyguards who never left his side.
Wen Ya walked past with a glass of champagne, and the man looked up at her, making a “come here” gesture with his finger.
She smiled instantly.
She walked over.
From a hidden pouch inside her dress, she drew a short blade.
Wen Ya stepped in, moved forward, and with a flick of her wrist, the knife drove up from below the ribs, straight into the bottom of the heart.
By the time the bodyguards reacted, the girl had already stepped back naturally, melted into the crowd, and left a cold dagger planted in the corpse’s chest.
The venue’s alarm came faster than she’d anticipated.
Every exit in the main hall was dropping rolling shutters simultaneously.
Wen Ya was forced to detour mid-route, ducking into the staff corridor, planning to take the elevator and then jump out mid-fall to escape.
The auction house went into chaos.
All the exits originally planned for retreat had been sealed off.
Shen Sixing’s heart sank.
It had only been a few minutes since he’d killed his target.
There was no way he should have been discovered this quickly.
A sudden uproar erupted.
A woman’s voice rose shrilly, shouting: “He’s dead!! He’s dead!!”
Shen Sixing saw a crowd pouring out from the side door of the auction hall, faces pale as ghosts.
Several security guards were trying to hold people back from rushing out.
Shen Sixing squinted.
Clearly, the dead man they’d found wasn’t his target.
His target was in the lounge—this commotion was coming from the main auction hall.
Someone had moved in the main hall, and faster than he had.
In the panic, many people instinctively turned to anyone in a uniform—security or police—for help.
“Officer! Officer! There’s a dead body in there!”
Shen Sixing paused for a moment, then beamed with warm, agreeable ease: “Don’t worry, take it slow, stay right here and don’t run. We’ll handle it.”
He reached out to steady a woman who looked about to collapse, his tone patient.
Once the group had calmed slightly, he lightly touched his cap and stepped back. “I’ll go check the situation. You all stay put.”
The moment he turned and hurried away, he covered his mouth and broke into a silent laugh behind his palm.
The young man moved quickly.
The security cameras had caught him entering the lounge.
Even though his face wasn’t visible, that uniform was too recognizable.
He had to get out fast.
Shortly after he left, news broke that another body had been found in the lounge.
Within minutes, two deaths.
The entire auction house went into complete overdrive.
Anyone wearing a security uniform or police attire was now considered a prime suspect.
Shen Sixing headed toward the fire exit. Before he even reached the corner, a voice called out from behind him: "Stop!"
He didn't slow down, slipping sideways into the stairwell and bounding down the steps two or three at a time. Pushing open the fire door on the other side, he walked quickly along the corridor toward the elevator.
...
Wen Ya was waiting for the elevator when she sensed someone approaching. Her gaze flickered with alertness as she looked at the newcomer, and when her eyes landed on his uniform, she frowned slightly.
She hadn't expected to run into a cop here.
If he found out who she really was...
Wen Ya moved her fingertips soundlessly. She wouldn't mind killing one more person on her way out.
Shen Sixing was startled too.
He hadn't expected anyone else to be taking the same elevator.
A young woman—or maybe a girl—in a rose-red gown. Her hair was loosely gathered, a few stray strands falling by her ears. Fragile, and harmless-looking.
He hadn't forgotten the role he was playing right now.
The young man flashed a bright grin. "Ma'am, do you need any help?"
"There's been some commotion at the auction—it might not be safe. Are you heading downstairs?"
Wen Ya thought of the man she'd just stabbed, then looked at this eager young police officer. She nodded and gave a shy, demure smile.
"Thank you, you're so kind. I really was startled... the hall suddenly fell into chaos, and I panicked and went the wrong way."
"..."
She called him kind.
Shen Sixing raised a hand to cover his mouth, bending over in a silent, uncontrollable fit of laughter. Forcing the absurd amusement down, he straightened up and said seriously:
"You're too polite. It really was chaotic just now—you heading out alone isn't safe. I'm heading downstairs anyway, so how about we go together?"
"That would be wonderful." Wen Ya shifted half a step aside, making room for him.
Shen Sixing stepped into the elevator, his eyes curving in a smile, and returned the compliment. "Thank you. You're truly a kind and beautiful lady."
Wen Ya froze.
No one had ever called her kind before.
The two assassins, in that elevator escaping the scene, found themselves glancing at each other almost against their will. Then both turned away at the same moment, and both smiled.
The same thought crossed both their minds.
—What a sweet, gullible little fool.
—What a helpful, good-natured officer.
