Jiang Nuan had spent an extremely peaceful twenty-four hours in the dormitory.
No six lunatics, no interrogations, no purifications, no Apocalypse Society.
She had taken a hot shower, changed into clean pajamas, and the wound on her calf, under Qi Sui's almost freakish medical skill, had formed a thin scab. Walking only gave her a slight pulling sensation.
The only interruption was Jiang Ce bringing her meals a few times.
That big guy stood at the door, holding a metal tray loaded with steaming rice, stir-fried dishes, and her favorite tomato soup.
He grinned as he handed the tray over, his large palm casually ruffling the top of her head, but he didn't control his strength well, nearly sending her stumbling.
"Feels like you've lost weight again. You really need to eat more."
Other than that, it was as quiet as if the whole world had forgotten her.
This feeling—it was wonderful.
Jiang Nuan lay sprawled on the bed in a starfish position, holding a pack of crackers in her left hand. She took a bite, turned over contentedly, and buried her face in the pillow.
They could lock her up for another ten or fifteen days, and she wouldn't mind at all.
After all, the dorm had hot water, a bed, and air conditioning. If only she had a few novels to read, she could stay here until the end of time.
"Beep—"
The communicator on her wrist suddenly vibrated, the cool touch against her skin pulling her out of her comfort.
Jiang Nuan raised her wrist.
A line of text appeared on the screen.
[Lu Shiyan: Second-floor meeting room. Meeting in fifteen minutes.]
Jiang Nuan stared at the line for a few seconds.
Then she buried her face back in the pillow, letting out a muffled groan.
Weren't you supposed to be reflecting on your mistakes!
Wasn't she supposed to think things through properly!
How come she got called to a meeting after only a day and a half of confinement?
What kind of mistake had she made that even the right to a quiet lockdown was denied to her?
The cracker in her mouth lost its flavor after a couple of chews.
Jiang Nuan resigned herself and sat up, replying proper and formal.
[Received.]
—
Ten minutes later.
Jiang Nuan stood at the door of the second-floor meeting room, instinctively tugging at her black combat uniform.
She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
The meeting room was much larger than she had imagined.
An oval long table dominated the center of the room, with a massive holographic projection screen hanging above, currently blank.
All members of Zero Squad had already arrived.
Lu Shiyan sat at the head of the table, looking down at an electronic file pad. The sleeves of his dark gray shirt were rolled up to his mid-forearms, a pen resting between his fingers, spinning half a turn before stopping.
Ye Que sat in the second seat to his left, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.
Qinian and Qi Sui sat side by side on the right.
Qi Sui had changed into a dark combat undershirt, his wire-rimmed glasses neatly perched on his nose, whispering something to Qinian beside him. Qinian had one leg crossed, twirling a black pen between his fingers at lightning speed.
Both of them turned to look at Jiang Nuan almost simultaneously.
One smiled; the other raised an eyebrow.
Jiang Ce sat across from them, his broad shoulders nearly filling the back of his chair. When he saw Jiang Nuan enter, he flashed her a grin and silently waved.
Shen Wu sat nearest the door, holding a cup of tea.
He glanced up at Jiang Nuan, his gaze passing coolly over the top of her head.
Jiang Nuan reflexively touched her messy hair, quickly smoothing it down and tucking it behind her ear.
Shen Wu expressionlessly withdrew his gaze.
...Alright, even his disdain came so quietly.
Jiang Nuan quickly scanned the room, found an empty seat farthest from Lu Shiyan, and sat down without a sound.
She noticed that the first seat to Lu Shiyan's left was still empty.
But a glass of water and a file were placed in front of it.
Was someone else coming?
Just as she was thinking, the meeting room door opened again.
Wen Xu'an walked in.
Jiang Nuan's back instantly stiffened.
He was wearing a deep blue formal uniform today, a command insignia pinned to his collar. He looked more formal and sharper than the last time she had seen him.
When those eyes swept over Jiang Nuan, the corners of his mouth curved slightly. Then he calmly walked to the empty seat, pulled out the chair, and sat down.
Lu Shiyan looked up the moment Wen Xu'an settled into his seat, his eyes sweeping the room before finally landing on Jiang Nuan.
He paused for a beat.
That beat was brief, but Jiang Nuan felt as if an invisible hand had gently squeezed her heart.
Then he withdrew his gaze and pressed a touch-sensitive button on the table.
The holographic projection screen above lit up.
An image appeared—a three-dimensional model of a ship.
It was a large transport vessel, painted entirely in silver-white, with sleek lines and at least four decks above the waterline.
At the bow, three characters were labeled: The White Whale.
But Jiang Nuan's gaze was uncontrollably drawn to an emblem on the ship's side.
A gold crest.
Two snakes intertwined, spiraling up a staff.
Two snakes coiled around a staff.
Exactly like the one on the medicine box.
Her heartbeat quickened by half a beat, and a nerve in her temple began to throb faintly.
That voice came again.
"A Nuan..."
Jiang Nuan clenched her fists tightly, controlling her breathing.
Then, she felt a gaze fall on her.
Shen Wu.
He sat diagonally across from her, those cold eyes fixed on her.
A layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on Jiang Nuan's back.
Oh. No.
She raised a high-level alarm in her mind and immediately began frantically recalling how good Jiang Ce's tomato soup had been.
She mixed in some scattered thoughts.
[So hungry. Want hotpot. Want spicy Sichuan noodles. Want to go back to sleep. So annoying.]
In short: a mental interference barrage, fired at once.
Shen Wu looked at her for two seconds.
He frowned very slightly.
Then he took a sip of tea and looked away.
Jiang Nuan's tense back relaxed a little.
Close call.
Wen Xu'an was the first to speak.
"The White Whale, the largest oceangoing transport vessel under Bai's Biopharmaceutical."
He tapped the table with his slender finger, and the holographic model rotated half a turn, revealing the cargo hold structure on the other side of the ship.
"It's carrying three months' worth of pharmaceutical supplies and provisions for the Canglan City Federal Investigation Team, along with a batch of highly classified materials."
Wen Xu'an's smile faded.
"Five days ago, the White Whale departed from Port Zone A of Whale Harbor City. Its original route was to first transport a batch of high-priority supplies along the coastal safe passage to Zone A of Canglan City, near the port adjacent to Zero Squad Base."
He paused.
"At 2:00 AM yesterday, the White Whale sent out its last routine coordinate broadcast near the waters off Zone F of Canglan City."
"After that—complete loss of communication across all frequencies."
The atmosphere in the meeting room grew heavy.
"Satellite positioning shows the White Whale is currently stationary at this coordinate."
Wen Xu'an tapped the red dot.
"The ship's structure is intact, with no signs of sinking. Thermal imaging indicates weak heat signatures on the upper decks."
"Heat signatures don't necessarily mean living people." Ye Que's cold voice cut in.
Wen Xu'an didn't argue. He continued, "The command suspects the existence of a restricted zone in that area capable of self-concealing fluctuations, undetectable by conventional means."
He looked at Lu Shiyan.
“So, Command wants Zero Squad to carry out this boarding rescue and restricted zone clearance mission.”
“Since when did Zero Squad become a team that rescues supplies for others?” Lu Shiyan’s tone was flat, but beneath that calm like a layer of thin ice lay a sharpness that brooked no challenge.
Wen Xu’an remained unruffled.
“Shiyan, the serums on that ship are critical to every squad, and furthermore—”
He laid out the real reason in a steady voice.
“There are forty-seven crew members on board, including five from BaiBiotech, four accompanying researchers, and a current member of BaiBiotech’s management.”
“BaiBiotech is extremely concerned and has already pressured the Federation three times.”
“We’re all doing this for the Federation.”
Lu Shiyan set his pen down on the desk with a sharp clap.
“Don’t use the Federation to pressure me.”
He stood up. His tall frame blocked most of the light streaming in from the window.
Wen Xu’an looked up at him, his expression composed, but he didn’t press further.
Silence stretched for a few seconds.
“I’ll take the mission.”
Wen Xu’an’s lips began to curl into a smile.
“But, thirty percent of the recovered supplies go to us.”
The smile froze on Wen Xu’an’s face.
Thirty percent.
That was practically daylight robbery.
But he had no room to bargain.
Command suspected that region contained undetectable restricted zones and didn’t dare risk sending other squads to feed experience points to those zones.
Only Zero could handle this.
After a few seconds of silence.
“Deal.” Wen Xu’an smiled and extended his hand.
Lu Shiyan didn’t shake it.
He simply nodded curtly.
Wen Xu’an didn’t take offense. He withdrew his hand, his smile intact.
“Zero Squad, full deployment.”
Lu Shiyan addressed the team.
“One hour. Assemble at the helipad.”
His gaze swept over every person in the room, finally landing on Jiang Nuan.
Those eyes were deep and unreadable, but Jiang Nuan was certain his next words would involve her.
“Jiang Nuan is coming with the team.”
It was a statement of fact.
Jiang Nuan sighed inwardly.
Her time in isolation had turned into a mandatory field assignment.
But beyond that, something else hammered against her chest.
BaiBiotech’s people…
Would that person be on that ship?
Jiang Nuan suddenly realized she didn’t know what to hope for.
She was afraid to see him.
Because she wasn’t the original owner. She didn’t know what history that boy had with the original Jiang Nuan, didn’t know how to react when they met, and didn’t know if he would see through her at a single glance.
Jiang Nuan took a deep breath and stood up.
On the holographic screen, the three-dimensional model of the White Whale still rotated slowly.
The golden caduceus emblem swept past her line of sight with every turn.
Jiang Nuan looked away and followed the others toward the door.
As she passed Lu Shiyan,
“Jiang Nuan.”
She stopped.
Lu Shiyan didn’t look up. He was syncing data from his electronic clipboard to his communicator.
“Once we’re on the ship, don’t leave my sight.”
A pause.
“There won’t be a second chance this time.”
