While waiting for the elevator to descend, Wen Ya couldn't help sneaking a glance at him.
He was really tall, wasn't he?
She looked up and saw the fair, clean-shaven face beneath his police cap. Noticing her gaze, Shen Sixing's expression paused for a moment, then he smiled warmly.
Clearly a helpful officer.
It was just that... going out on the job as a cop carried a lot of risk, didn't it?
A guy that skinny—if she landed a punch on him, he'd be crying for a long time, wouldn't he?
The thought that suddenly rose in her mind was far too rude, and Wen Ya snapped back to reality, giving him an awkward smile.
Shen Sixing had no idea what this lady beside him was really thinking.
When the elevator reached their floor, to avoid anyone blocking him at the door, Shen Sixing played the gentleman and made a "please" gesture.
He intended to let Wen Ya go out first to test the waters.
Wen Ya stepped out first, and Shen Sixing followed right behind.
They were headed in the same direction.
Shen Sixing heard commotion from the other end of the lobby—clearly, people had already positioned themselves to cut off all exits in advance.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
That wasn't good at all.
Wen Ya was also getting a headache.
All she could do was quicken her escape.
Damn this cop—if it weren't for him, she could've just jumped straight down and gotten away.
The two walked in the same direction for about a dozen meters.
Shen Sixing noticed the footsteps behind them splitting apart.
At least two groups—one veering left, one veering right—blocking both the main path and the side path.
He did the math in his head: the original route he'd planned was now unusable—he'd need a different one.
But he still had a woman in a red dress strolling along behind him; he couldn't exactly sprint off in front of her without warning.
Wen Ya also noticed the movement nearby.
She clicked her tongue inwardly, a bit annoyed, but kept the mild, composed expression on her face.
Shen Sixing and Wen Ya cursed in their minds at the same time, and without consulting each other, both made the call to switch to a different route.
Wen Ya immediately quickened her pace—a little too obviously.
Shen Sixing sped up to match her.
But he couldn't keep up with her?!
The woman, in high heels with a floor-length skirt, moved at a stride so fast it was like a gust of wind—he almost had to jog to keep pace.
He heard the footsteps behind closing in, and had to consider the possibility of ducking into another exit mid-way.
Suddenly.
A tight grip on his wrist.
Wen Ya grabbed hold of him.
Her hand clamped around his wrist with astonishing force; he was nearly yanked off balance as she pulled him along.
He stumbled for a step before being dragged into a run.
She ran faster on those heels than he did on flat shoes, and steadier, too.
Behind them came the piercing sound of alarms as the two sprinted, just barely managing to escape the auction house's inner hall.
Night pressed down heavily from above, the city's lights gleaming bright and bustling, the air thick with the damp chill that lingers after rain.
Yet the two didn't have any hint of fleeing for their lives—their expressions and breathing were both eerily calm.
Shen Sixing leaned against the wall, looking down at his wrist that had nearly been twisted clean off.
He lifted his head, a strange look on his face. "Miss, you hurt me."
Wen Ya met his gaze and explained casually:
"Sorry, I've always been strong since I was little."
"...I can tell." Shen Sixing kept his composure.
Wen Ya was sizing him up too—as she'd dragged him along, his wrist had felt thin, the bones pressing into her palm.
They both gave each other a once-over at the same time.
Wen Ya spoke first.
She decided to strike while the iron was hot: "Why were you running?"
She asked, "Aren't you a police officer?"
Shen Sixing paused for a few seconds, then laughed. "I was running because I was on duty. I'm tasked with catching a killer who attacked someone in the auction house. I got a tip to intercept the culprit at the next intersection—unfortunately, you ruined my plan."
His explanation was perfectly reasonable, and Wen Ya didn't dare ask further.
"And you, miss?" Shen Sixing turned it back around smoothly. "Why were you running?"
Wen Ya had her excuse ready on her lips. "Someone died inside the auction house. I was scared."
She put on a convincingly shaken expression, clasping her hands over her chest as she gave a small, neat shudder.
"I saw that person collapse with my own eyes. It terrified me. When I came out of the elevator and saw so many people chasing us, I was afraid of getting caught up in it, so I just ran."
"Don't worry. If this has nothing to do with you, they won't give you any trouble." He gave her a reassuring smile, his tone genial like a real officer comforting a member of the public.
Wen Ya let out a small, relieved breath and nodded. "That's good to hear."
The moonlight and the city's brilliant neon glow fell across the side of Shen Sixing's face. Beneath the shadow of his cap brim, those eyes looked strangely melancholic.
She couldn't help thinking.
Being a cop seemed like a decent profession.
Staring at him, Wen Ya suddenly thought of her retirement plan.
Find a man from a respectable family with a stable job, bring him home to her hometown, and settle into a peaceful life.
A cop—that was good. Steady government job, solid pension down the line, and bringing one home would impress the village.
She took a few quiet glances at Shen Sixing's youthful face, thinking:
He just looks a bit too skinny. A little feeding-up could fix that.
"What's your name?" Wen Ya asked.
Shen Sixing smiled, his tone tinged with a theatrical hint of regret: "I can't reveal my identity until the mission is over. I'll tell you the next time we meet."
There wouldn't be a next time, of course.
She cheerfully handed him her personal number. "Then let's keep in touch?"
Wen Ya had saved the numbers of over a dozen men—all potential prospects she was sizing up—and Shen Sixing so far was the one who'd left the best impression.
Shen Sixing wasn't interested.
He had a low tolerance for fools and no desire to chat with a girl like her.
He gave a perfunctory reply: "Sure."
The night breeze ruffled the hem of his coat, and gave Wen Ya a polite nod. "I'd better get going."
Her voice chased after him from behind: "My name is Wen Ya. Next time we meet, you have to tell me your name, got it?"
Shen Sixing's steps stopped dead.
The young man stood frozen in place, like someone had hit a pause button.
Those eyes beneath the cap brim widened slightly, and he turned around, unnaturally slowly.
"...What did you say your name was?" His clear voice came out a little unsteady.
"Wen Ya."
"Wen as in gentle, Ya as in elegant. Why?"
Shen Sixing said nothing.
The name hit him like a thunderbolt—so much so that his left foot caught his right, his balance tipped, and he dropped, flat on his backside, onto the ground.
Wen Ya froze for a second.
The calm, composed, smooth-talking young officer from a moment ago was now sitting sprawled on the wintry pavement, cap askew, eyes dazed.
"Hey? Sir?!" She startled, moving to help him up.
How did this guy just trip over flat ground?
Shen Sixing flinched when she reached for him, swatted her hand away like a reflex, and let out a surprising scream.
"Ahhh—!!"
