The holographic projection cast its eerie blue glow into the air, the light playing across Jiang Nuan’s pale face. The conference room was deathly quiet—even the low hum of the ventilation ducts was clearly audible.
Lu Shiyan’s fingers were steepled beneath his chin, his dark brown eyes fixed on Jiang Nuan from across the long table.
No one in Zero Squad said a word.
Jiang Nuan’s mind was racing at full speed.
Refuse? Bai Siyuan wouldn’t let it go.
If he could offer up core intelligence from the Tianshe Society as leverage, it meant his hand held far more cards than anyone imagined. Suppressed today, he’d find another angle and come back tomorrow.
Agree? That meant walking straight into Bai Siyuan’s territory.
But…
“What are the specific terms of this compromise agreement?” Jiang Nuan asked.
“Seven days per month residing at the Bai estate for family reunification, with a federal observer stationed for routine documentation,” Shen Wu said slowly. “The agreement is tentatively set for six months, after which you may reassess and decide whether to continue.”
Something clicked into place in Jiang Nuan’s head.
She deliberately avoided looking in Shen Wu’s direction and lowered her gaze.
Given her current status, she couldn’t access the Federal Central Archives—hell, she couldn’t even step foot outside Zero Squad’s base without the collar around her neck delivering a shock.
But if she could use the Bai family? Bai Siyuan had consistently leveraged federal resources to pressure the high command, to pressure Lu Shiyan. That meant he had access to channels that touched the core of federal authority.
This was a dungeon—dangerous, but one that held the keys to her origins and the truth about this world.
Jiang Nuan’s fingers curled beneath the table.
She could feel that gaze from across the room. Lu Shiyan’s eyes hadn’t left her face the entire time, like a film of thin ice settling over every exposed inch of her skin.
He was waiting for her answer.
No—he was watching every expression she made while deciding.
Jiang Nuan took a breath.
“I’ll go.”
The moment those two words landed, the air in the conference room seemed to vanish.
Then Qinian lunged forward, his chair legs scraping against the floor with a harsh screech, tearing through that vacuum.
“Are you insane?!”
“Do you know what kind of monster Bai Siyuan is? Do you think he’ll let you come back in one piece?!”
“I’m not insane.”
Jiang Nuan looked at Qinian’s jaw, tight with fury, and her voice was calmer than she expected.
“The captain just said it—Bai Siyuan is the most perfect piece of the White Whale Zone puzzle. Since he’s a piece of that puzzle, he must carry the secret that triggers the Zone’s anomalies. That secret—you can’t crack it from the outside, not with all the research departments at our base analyzing data remotely.”
She turned her head, meeting Lu Shiyan’s gaze.
“You can’t catch a tiger cub without entering the tiger’s den.”
She said it slowly, each word deliberate.
“The Bai family opened the door themselves. So why not ride the current and walk through it to see what the hell is hiding inside?”
That was the reason she offered aloud.
Lu Shiyan watched her.
He’d always known Jiang Nuan was sharp, but her intelligence carried a timidity that always leaned toward running away. Now, she was like a kitten finally baring its claws—still weak, but her eyes had changed.
She was no longer just trying to survive.
She was trying to become a player on the board.
Deep approval flickered in those dark eyes.
Beneath that approval lay something even deeper.
Something dangerously close to… satisfaction.
Like a tamer watching a young beast in its cage take down prey for the first time on its own instigation.
Pleased, of course—thrilled, even.
But the chain in his hand only tightened another notch.
“Continue.” Lu Shiyan spoke the words flatly.
He leaned slightly forward, folding his hands on the table, a posture of complete attention.
Jiang Nuan felt the encouragement and her thoughts crystallized further.
“The command approved the compromise agreement, but it only specifies seven days a month at the Bai residence and a federal observer for routine documentation, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then does the agreement state that I have to go alone? Does it state that I’m not allowed to bring security?” A faint, sly smile curved at the corner of Jiang Nuan’s lips.
She was treating this as an undercover mission—using Zero Squad’s muscle to keep herself alive, using the Bai family’s influence to chart her own path.
Qinian’s fury died down by half instantly. He snapped his head toward Lu Shiyan, eager and vying for the role. “She’s right! The agreement says nothing about bringing backup! Captain—I’ll go. I’ll be her bodyguard. If Bai Siyuan dares to touch a single hair on her head, I’ll dig up his ancestral graves!”
“No.” Lu Shiyan raised his eyes to him, his gaze cold without a trace of warmth.
“Is your three-thousand-word safety report finished?”
“…”
“And the doubled physical training for the next month—I believe I made that clear earlier.”
Qinian’s mouth twitched. He slumped back into his chair, arms folded, his face broadcasting four words in capital letters: THIS IS BULLSHIT.
Qi Sui unobtrusively tugged at his sleeve from the side.
Lu Shiyan’s gaze left Qinian and settled on the White Whale projection hovering above the table.
He paused for a moment as the blue light flickered silently across the surface.
“The plan is viable.”
Lu Shiyan’s tone carried that same flat, emotionless edge.
“But I’ll choose who goes.”
He looked up, scanning everyone at the table, and stopped at the person on his left.
“Ye Que.”
In the corner, Ye Que, who had been silent the whole time, lifted his head slightly.
He hadn’t changed his posture—leaned back, arms crossed, like a blade sheathed in its scabbard.
The instant his name was spoken, his eyelid flicked up once.
His gaze drifted sideways, landing on Jiang Nuan.
More precisely, on the small patch of skin above her collar that wasn’t quite covered—and he absently rubbed his thumb against his own index finger.
“Yes.”
“Shen Wu.” Lu Shiyan called the second name.
Shen Wu paused in the middle of raising his teacup, arched an eyebrow.
“The Bai family’s intelligence network is labyrinthine,” Lu Shiyan said, all business. “We need someone who can separate fact from fabrication. You’re the best fit.”
“…Fine.” Shen Wu set down his teacup, shooting back in a chilly tone. “Captain—are you sending bodyguards or prison wardens?”
Lu Shiyan didn’t acknowledge it.
His gaze turned to Qinian, who was glaring at him with embers practically burning in his eyes.
“Everyone else stays on base.”
“Why the hell can’t I go?”
Lu Shiyan looked at him, his face utterly still.
“Bai Siyuan is a high-level psychic-type ability user.”
“Your emotional control ranks dead last at this table.” Lu Shiyan’s eyes were calmly merciless. “Taking you to the Bai estate is like handing Bai Siyuan a ready-made entry point.”
Qinian’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.
Not because he was convinced.
He knew Lu Shiyan was right—and that was what made it sting the most.
“Ye Que is taciturn and not easily provoked,” Lu Shiyan continued the deployment. “Ranged and close-quarters protection, plus crisis suppression—those are his strengths. Shen Wu’s mind-reading—”
He paused.
“Shen Wu’s mind-reading doesn’t work on Bai Siyuan.”
That remark made everyone else pause for a moment.
Shen Wu, however, remained calm as ever, his slender fingers turning the tea cup. "So you sent me there, not to read Bai Siyuan's mind."
"It was to read the minds of the rest of the Bai family," Lu Shiyan said.
"Bai Siyuan alone can block you, but the entire Bai household, all those people."
He paused for half a second.
"He can't block everyone."
Shen Wu's fingers, still rotating the cup, stopped for a beat.
Then, they turned even more slowly.
