But how could she escape?
She unconsciously brushed her finger over the collar beneath her neckline.
Outside the clinic, rain lashed against the dilapidated roof like a bucket being overturned, thundering deafeningly.
The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant mixed with the stench of rotting flesh.
Jiang Nuan released Sister Zhou’s hand completely, her gaze crossing the dim hallway and landing on the clinic entrance.
Ye Que leaned against the shaky glass door, arms crossed, not even stepping inside.
He didn’t need to.
That man could take down a target from a kilometer away with a single headshot.
In the dim tunnel of a restricted zone, he’d fired three shots with his back turned—one in each direction, three bodies down, every shot placed with surgical precision.
Outside, the rain poured in sheets. His gaze cut through the gloom of the hallway, settling on her.
Jiang Nuan felt her palms drenched in cold sweat, sticky against Sister Zhou’s hand.
How could she vanish right under his nose?
Sister Zhou seemed to read her thoughts. She wiped her tears, her voice dropping to barely a whisper.
“Just wait. Watch me.”
With that, she stood, hurried across the hall, pushed open the door to a consulting room, and slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind her.
Jiang Nuan froze in place, her heart hammering like a war drum.
Ye Que, still at the clinic entrance, sensed the shift. His gaze swept over like a tangible weight, carrying a chill of scrutiny.
Even through the dim stretch of hallway, Jiang Nuan could feel the icy curiosity in that look.
Steeling herself, she called toward the entrance, forcing her voice to sound casual. “Sister Zhou just went in to say a couple of words to the doctor. I’ll wait for her here.”
With that, she even sat down on a nearby bench, hands on her knees, putting up a facade of calm waiting.
Ye Que said nothing.
He didn’t move, either.
But his dark eyes slid slowly from her face down to her fingers resting on her knees.
Her fingertips were trembling faintly.
The moment she realized it, she tucked her hands into her sleeves.
Less than two minutes later, Sister Zhou emerged from the consulting room.
Her steps were quicker than when she’d gone in. She came back, sat down, and took Jiang Nuan’s hand, mimicking a pair of close friends whispering secrets.
“When the time comes, make a dash for the room I just went into. There’s a door in the back that leads to an emergency alley.”
Jiang Nuan’s heart clenched.
She wanted to ask for more details—what moment? How would she know? Where did that alley lead?
More than that, she wanted to warn Sister Zhou that Ye Que wasn’t ordinary. His perception couldn’t be shaken off by mere walls and corners.
But Sister Zhou had already moved aside, bending over a water dispenser in the corner to pour a cup, her movements as natural as if nothing had happened.
Jiang Nuan silently tightened and then loosened her fingers on her knees.
All she could do was wait.
Wait for the so-called “opportunity.”
Less than a minute passed.
Everything happened in a flash.
The door to the room Sister Zhou had just entered was slammed open from the inside.
In the next instant, several men in bloodstained white lab coats pushed three wheeled stretchers out in a frenzy.
“Move, move, move! Get out of the way!”
“Massive bleeding! Push it to the next building’s operating room! Now!”
The stretcher wheels screeched over the uneven, pitted concrete floor like nails on glass.
The bodies on the beds were half-covered with white sheets, blood dripping steadily from the edges and splattering onto the ground.
The hallway was narrow to begin with. The beds surged out one after another, instantly clogging the space.
The refugees who had been slumped against the walls wailed at the sudden commotion, scrambling to either side.
“Out of the way! All of you, out of the way!”
The lab coats bellowed as they pushed, and the stretchers collided in the chaos. One wheel caught in a crack, and the pusher lost control, sending the whole bed crashing sideways.
“Crash—”
The patient on top and a pile of bloodied medical gear spilled across the floor, knocking over several refugees who were too slow to dodge.
The scene erupted into utter pandemonium.
Screams, curses, clattering metal, the crash of thunder and rain outside—all of it wove into a tangled web of noise.
Shadows frantically crossed paths. The dim light cast twisted, chaotic silhouettes against the walls.
Vision was completely blocked.
“Go!” Sister Zhou grabbed Jiang Nuan’s arm and yanked her toward the half-open door.
Jiang Nuan’s heart felt like it would leap from her throat. In the last second before being pulled inside, she whipped her head around for a quick glance at the entrance.
The overlapping crowd of bodies blocked the door from her view. She couldn’t see Ye Que.
“Bam!”
Sister Zhou slammed the door shut behind her and locked it.
The moment the lock clicked, a deafening gunshot rang out from outside.
“Bang—!”
One gunshot cut through all the noise.
“Someone fired a gun!”
“They’re killing people!”
Jiang Nuan’s heart seized. She dared not look back. There was no time.
“Don’t freeze. Go!”
Sister Zhou gave her no time to react, pulling her through the operating room and kicking open the iron door at the back.
A gust of cold wind, laced with rain and the smell of mud, rushed in.
Outside lay a dark, cramped narrow alley.
Jiang Nuan plunged into the rain.
The rain was coming down even harder now—fist-sized droplets stinging her face. The alley had no streetlights. On either side rose abandoned, moss-caked building walls. Above was only a slit of gray sky.
Puddles up to her ankles filled the ground, mixed with some unknown black muck.
The two of them sprinted through the alley.
The narrow path split into more forks than Jiang Nuan had expected.
A turn every three steps, a branch every five. Some routes were blocked by collapsed walls; others led into deeper darkness.
Sister Zhou clearly knew the area well. She didn’t hesitate at any intersection—left, straight, right, then left again.
Jiang Nuan followed, her footsteps squelching in the mud.
This abandoned emergency alley was perfect for hiding and fleeing: dark, remote, crisscrossed with passages, virtually cut off from the world.
The rain masked their footsteps. The towering walls shielded them from all outside view.
But a growing unease pressed at her chest.
It was too smooth.
Too smooth to be real.
Had she really shaken off Ye Que?
Was that gunshot his—and who was it aimed at?
That man—the one who could silently lie in wait atop a pipeline, lock onto a target from a kilometer away—would he really be trapped by this kind of chaos?
Then a voice echoed in her ears. Lu Shiyan’s voice, as distinct as if he were whispering right next to her:
“Any deviation from the escort perimeter will be your own responsibility.”
Jiang Nuan clenched her jaw and didn’t slow down.
Rain blurred her vision. The depths of the alley lay pitch-black.
She ran with all her might, but the hairs on the back of her neck stayed standing on end.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere in the depths of that heavy, dark curtain of rain, a pair of ice-cold eyes was silently watching her struggle.
