Lu Shiyan let go of her wrist.
He stepped back half a pace, his gaze sweeping past her neck.
"Wait a moment."
With that, he turned and walked toward the half-closed door on the other side of the office, the hem of his uniform shifting slightly with the motion.
Jiang Nuan knew what was behind that door. The memory was clear enough to make her teeth ache.
The door was pushed open and then shut again. Through the door panel came the faint sound of a drawer being pulled open.
Jiang Nuan stood alone in place.
Her gaze had nowhere to settle, and she unconsciously swept it across the wide desk. Her eyes paused at the right side of the surface, at the edge of a stacked pile of documents.
The topmost file wasn't fully closed. A slight upward curl of the paper revealed something pressed beneath it.
The edge of a photograph.
In this era, a paper photograph was itself a rare object. Anything that had survived to the present without being destroyed had to be either a critical archival record or some kind of cherished obsession.
She hesitated for a moment, then walked over, pinched the corner of the photo paper, and gently slid it out.
The image showed five people.
Three men and two women, standing in front of a base. On the outer wall of the base, a tower-shaped emblem could be faintly seen, though it had blurred into nothing more than a silhouette.
All five were young, wearing matching dark combat uniforms. The woman on the far left had short, sharp hair, her arm draped over the shoulder of the man beside her, laughing boldly. The woman on the far right was quieter, the curve of her lips faint, but there was light in her eyes.
The man in the middle... Jiang Nuan's breath stalled for half a beat.
Broad shoulders, narrow waist. That face bore a seven-tenths resemblance to Lu Shiyan.
The biggest difference was in the eyes.
The man in the photo looked at the camera with something Jiang Nuan had never seen in Lu Shiyan's gaze.
It was warmth.
Of the other two men, one had messy hair, the other had slightly wavy hair, both grinning with wild, unrestrained energy.
Footsteps sounded from behind her.
Lu Shiyan walked out carrying a black paper bag. The moment his gaze landed on the photo in her hand, there was a brief stiffness in his movements.
Then he continued walking over.
His fingers reached out and gently took the photo from her hand.
"That was my father."
Jiang Nuan was briefly taken aback, her gaze resting on the yellowed group photo. "Were the others your father's colleagues?"
Lu Shiyan flipped the photo over. On the back was a tiny line of handwritten script, the ink so faded that only a few letter abbreviations could be made out.
【LT-00】
"This was the first-generation survey team." His thumb brushed across the handwriting on the back. "In the era before the Restricted Zone was defined as such, they were the first group to enter the anomalous areas to carry out investigations."
He paused.
"Only two of them remain now. My father isn't one of them."
Jiang Nuan's throat tightened.
Lu Shiyan tucked the photo back between the documents, pausing for a beat before withdrawing his hand.
Then he picked up the black paper bag and held it out to her.
"For you."
Jiang Nuan took the bag and opened it.
Inside were several neatly folded sets of new clothing.
She pulled one out and unfolded it.
A high-neck undershirt, the fabric soft and skin-friendly, with a collar height that precisely covered everything above the collarbone, including the faint indentation left by the collar.
A long-sleeved jacket with drawstring cuffs.
Fitted trousers in dark gray, inconspicuous in any setting, yet unlikely to make her stand out awkwardly among the Bai family's people. The workmanship was fine, the cut understated.
The pant length and waist size were exact.
Even the inner layer, she estimated its measurements at a glance, perfectly precise.
Jiang Nuan's fingers paused at the collar of that inner garment. A feeling so complicated she couldn't name it surged up.
When had he taken her measurements?
Or had he never needed to?
Every time he had held her in his arms, his palm covering her shoulder, her waist, her wrist.
Those touches that seemed like comfort, each one had been taking measure.
When had he started preparing? Before she agreed to go to the Bai family? Or even earlier? Earlier than when she had even made her choice, had he already paved the road for her?
"Do they fit?"
Lu Shiyan's voice came from beside her, his tone casual.
"...They fit."
Jiang Nuan folded the clothes and placed them back in the bag, her throat a little dry. "Thank you."
Lu Shiyan glanced at her.
As if gauging the moisture content of that "thank you."
Then he took the bag and pulled out a very small metal case from inside.
He opened the lid, and lying on the soft cushion was a needle-thin syringe.
The barrel was transparent, the liquid inside nearly colorless. But attached to the end of the metal needle was a silver particle smaller than a grain of rice.
The slight extra weight she had felt at the bottom of the paper bag, it had been here all along.
Jiang Nuan stared at the silver particle. The fleeting softness she had just felt quietly cooled in that instant.
"A subcutaneous biometric tracking chip. Investigation Department grade."
Lu Shiyan's voice was unhurried.
"The main residence of the Bai family may have communications monitored. Conventional contact isn't reliable. If something goes wrong, I need to be able to pinpoint your location in the shortest possible time."
He pushed the metal case toward her.
"Do it yourself."
Jiang Nuan stared at the syringe.
Four words.
Do it yourself.
How considerate.
The choice was placed in her hands. But there was only one option.
Don't do it, and she would walk into Bai Siyuan's territory with no backup whatsoever.
Do it, and there would be something forever embedded beneath her skin that she couldn't remove.
If she truly refused, the fragile understanding built during this conversation would reset to zero in an instant.
Lu Shiyan knew very well that she wouldn't refuse.
That was why he had used those four words.
Jiang Nuan reached out and picked up the syringe.
The barrel was thinner than her pinky finger, almost weightless in her hand, but that silver particle caught a glint of cold light under the lamp, a heavy weight pressing into her line of sight.
She rolled up her left sleeve, exposing a small patch of pale skin on the inner forearm.
The needle tip lined up just above her wrist.
Her fingers tightened, then loosened.
She couldn't push it in.
She had been terrified of needles since childhood, and surviving into the apocalypse hadn't cured that.
Silence stretched on for a few seconds.
Then she heard a very soft sigh.
Falling from above her, carrying a trace of helplessness.
A hand covered hers.
A broad palm closed over the back of her hand holding the syringe, fingers interlacing with fingers, warm and steady, carrying an unyielding force.
"Don't move."
His voice was low, right above her head.
His breath landed on the crown of her hair, carrying a faint warmth.
Jiang Nuan's back stiffened for an instant.
She wanted to pull her hand away.
But the gentle pressure of his palm held her down, holding her hand, and holding every instinct in her that wanted to flee in this moment.
The silver particle was pushed beneath the skin along with the liquid.
The pain of the needle piercing wasn't pronounced, just a brief sharpness, but what followed was a deeper strangeness, the feeling of a foreign object forcing its way into flesh, weak yet unmistakable, spreading slowly along the blood vessels.
At the same time, the heat from the palm covering the back of her hand was scalding.
One cold, one hot, spreading in two directions from the same point of contact.
It was an indescribable feeling, utterly strange.
Jiang Nuan's lashes trembled, and her breath unconsciously caught.
The implantation process lasted only a few seconds.
The moment the liquid was fully pushed in, Lu Shiyan withdrew the needle and pressed a sterile cotton swab over the puncture site.
There was only a barely visible red dot on the skin.
The pain was fading quickly.
He didn't let go right away.
The thin calluses on his fingertips brushed against the delicate skin on the inside of her forearm, the sensation unnervingly clear.
Once, twice—like he was rubbing away the lingering sting for her.
Or like he was confirming that something had been inserted.
That it could no longer be taken out.
"Does it hurt?" His voice was low, his breath grazing the curve of her ear.
Jiang Nuan didn't answer, but the fine tremors running through her arm traveled straight into his fingertips.
His thumb paused for a beat, then continued pressing the spot, gentler now.
She could feel her own heartbeat, passing through that patch of skin into his hand.
Thump.
Thump.
"So you know everything now."
Lu Shiyan let go, tossing the used syringe into the disposal bin on the table. The motion was brisk and clean, a world away from the almost tender patience of moments before.
"About you and Bai Siyuan. About the Bai family looking for you. And this."
His gaze swept across her forearm.
"What happens next is up to you."
Up to you.
Jiang Nuan looked up at him.
He'd said those words with convincing sincerity.
But the chip under her skin, the perfectly sized clothes she'd been given, the constant surveillance from Ye Que and Shen Wu—
All of it spoke the same silent message.
You're free.
Within the limits I've set.
Jiang Nuan's lips parted, but all she said, calmly, was, "I understand."
Lu Shiyan watched her.
It was hard to say what was in that gaze. Maybe satisfaction. Maybe something more hidden.
He reached out, taking her chin between his fingers.
His thumb pressed against the edge of her lower lip, tilting her face up with gentle force.
The distance between them collapsed into something dangerously close.
She could see the curve of his lashes, the faint creases pressed into his uniform from movement, feel his breath skim across the tip of her nose.
"In the Bai family, no matter what happens."
He lowered his head.
His lips brushed the corner of her mouth.
Feather-light, a kiss that fell half an inch short of landing where it was aimed.
Jiang Nuan's mouth was slightly open, not yet closed.
He stopped right there, his breath spilling warm against her lips, carrying a faint, unspoken pressure.
"Don't forget whose implant you're carrying."
With those words, he released her.
He stepped back, tugged his sleeve straight, his composure so complete it was as if nothing had happened at all.
Jiang Nuan's fingers tightened around the paper bag in her hand.
Her ears were burning.
Blood pounded at her temples, and that tiny silver thing under the skin of her forearm seemed to pulse in rhythm.
That man is seriously unhinged.
The night ran deep.
Jiang Nuan sat on her bed with her back flat against the wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around her shins.
The dormitory lights were off. Only the emergency lighting in the hallway crept through the crack under the door, casting a faint, sickly glow across the floor.
The needle mark was already hard to distinguish, but underneath her skin, something stubbornly registered as foreign—tiny, hard, throbbing with every pulse.
She pressed her right fingertips lightly against the spot.
No bump, no raised edge.
But she knew it was there.
She pulled her hand back and hugged her knees tighter.
Then she started thinking about Bai Siyuan.
After Lu Shiyan suppressed the first agreement, she'd assumed there would be at least some period of standoff.
Public perception held that the Bai family conducted itself with decorum. By conventional logic, they should have waited, observed, and found a safer angle before making their move.
But the second agreement arrived first thing the next morning.
It was so lacking in dignity that it didn't seem like Bai Siyuan's style at all.
More like he couldn't hold himself back any longer.
Jiang Nuan frowned.
When he'd come to the training ground that day, his demeanor had been warm, courteous. He'd gifted her the earrings, and Shen Wu had verified they were clean.
But the speed of that second agreement didn't match the composure he'd shown in person.
What had happened in between?
Clauses in the agreement—"Jiang Nuan's choice," "the right of second option"—each one was perfectly reasonable.
So reasonable that Command had no grounds to reject it. So reasonable that even if Lu Shiyan wanted to block it, the only move left was to hand the final decision to her.
She couldn't refuse it.
Because her memory was incomplete.
Bai Siyuan almost certainly knew that.
The agreement was like a door, deliberately pushed open.
He'd placed the answer inside the Bai family's estate, then stood by the doorframe, smiling: You don't have to come in.
But he knew she would.
A shiver traced up Jiang Nuan's spine. Bai Siyuan knew her—really knew her.
Not the old her. This her. The Jiang Nuan of right now.
But how?
An formless thought surfaced, and she pushed it back down.
But the chill never really faded, lingering at her back like someone, somewhere she couldn't see, had already read her front to back, inside and out.
