Zhuo Shuqing felt like he must still be dreaming.
Ever since Chen Ling had shattered half his teeth with a single punch in the outer district, that calm and indifferent face had beco his nightmare. Forget the sleepless nights from the toothache—every ti he closed his eyes, he’d dream of the day Chen Ling had delivered that [Fist of Justice]…
Under the relentless tornt of these nightmares, Chen Ling’s face had taken on an increasingly terrifying filter in his subconscious, to the point where it was now practically synonymous with "demon."
Last night, he’d finally managed to sleep a little better. But today, the mont he walked into the office and sat down, the face from his nightmares suddenly appeared right in front of his workstation. The shock was no less than seeing a ghost in broad daylight.
"You two know each other?" Feng Man glanced at Chen Ling in surprise.
"We’ve t once. Not close." Chen Ling shrugged. "Where’s my workstation?"
"That’s your desk. When you’re not out on assignnts, you’ll be writing articles there."
She paused, then added, "Though, since you’ll be following Wen Shilin around, I doubt you’ll have much ti to sit still… We’ll see how it goes."
The spot Feng Man pointed to was the empty desk right next to Zhuo Shuqing’s.
Chen Ling looked at Zhuo Shuqing, the corner of his mouth curling into an amused smile. "Got it."
"I’ve left your things on the desk. The cara is with Wen Shilin—just ask him for it when you need it. If you have any other questions, ask Zhuo Shuqing. Since you two already know each other, that should be easy." Feng Man checked the ti. "I have a eting soon. I’ll head out first."
Feng Man seed like the quintessential career woman, constantly busy. The mont she finished showing Chen Ling around, she dove straight into other tasks without hesitation.
As Feng Man left, Zhuo Shuqing still hadn’t recovered. He stared blankly at Chen Ling as he approached, as if trapped in a dream.
Chen Ling strolled leisurely up to Zhuo Shuqing and flashed him a harmless smile, "Looking forward to working with you… Zhuo… what was it again?"
"This can’t be real…" Zhuo Shuqing snapped out of his daze, his voice trembling with disbelief. "You beca a reporter?"
"What do you think?"
Chen Ling took a seat at the workstation beside him and began sorting through the items on the desk—mainly so rulebooks, a notebook, a fountain pen, and the like.
Chen Ling picked up the fountain pen and gave it a light flick to check the ink. The mont his hand moved, Zhuo Shuqing flinched violently, instinctively covering his face.
Seeing this, Chen Ling couldn’t help but laugh, "What are you scared of? With so many people around, you think I’d hit you here?"
Zhuo Shuqing’s face twisted with humiliation. Last ti you hit , there were even more people around… He didn’t dare glare at Chen Ling, so he just snorted and turned away.
After confirming the pen worked fine, Chen Ling’s gaze swept across the office. Over a dozen desks were arranged haphazardly across the floor, about two-thirds of them empty. Most of the people working on this floor were reporters, and at this hour, many were likely out on assignnts.
"Xiao Zhuo, got a question for you." Chen Ling spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Zhuo Shuqing had no intention of humoring him and was about to get up to fetch himself so water when a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder like a mountain, forcing him back into his seat.
The fingers dug into his bones like iron pincers, sending a sharp pain shooting through his body. At the sa ti, an icy voice whispered in his ear, "I’m asking you a question… Got ti?"
Zhuo Shuqing’s face went pale. He nodded frantically. "Y-Yes! Of course!"
"Do you know A’Cheng? Which desk was his?"
Zhuo Shuqing gulped, his voice trembling. "A’Cheng… You’re sitting at his old workstation."
A flicker of surprise passed through Chen Ling’s eyes as he released Zhuo Shuqing’s shoulder.
Though it had only lasted a few seconds, Zhuo Shuqing felt like his shoulder had nearly been crushed. He scrambled to his feet, snatched up his press pass, and bolted for the exit like his life depended on it…
The only reason he’d been lounging around the office at this hour was his laziness—plus, he had outside sources paying him off, so he had no reason to endure the hardships of fieldwork. But now, with Chen Ling sitting right beside him, Zhuo Shuqing would rather exhaust himself running assignnts every day than stay here a second longer.
Chen Ling didn’t stop him. Once Zhuo Shuqing was gone, his fingers began tracing the drawers of the desk.
According to A’Cheng, he’d transcribed the article about the "Hand of Redemption" and hidden it in a secret compartnt of his desk. Chen Ling had assud he’d need to search extensively after infiltrating the Aurora Daily, but unexpectedly, the answer had fallen right into his lap.
Soon, his fingertips brushed against an almost imperceptible bump.
With a slight press of his finger, a few thin sheets of paper slid out from a hidden crevice inside the drawer. Chen Ling’s eyes flickered over them, catching a glimpse of the words "Hand of Redemption?" before they vanished from sight.
With so many eyes around, Chen Ling couldn’t risk unfolding the docunts here. With a flick of his wrist, he made the papers disappear as if by magic, leaving no trace behind.
Chen Ling lingered at the desk for a while longer. About ten minutes later, Wen Shilin returned to the office and walked up to his workstation.
Noticing Zhuo Shuqing’s absence from the neighboring desk, he seed montarily surprised—but then he saw Chen Ling idly spinning his pen, and understanding dawned…
"How’s it going?"
"Not bad." Chen Ling replied. "The atmosphere isn’t as bad as I expected, and my colleagues are… unexpectedly interesting."
"t Feng Man yet?"
"Yeah."
"She’s my supervisor. A good person… If you run into any trouble at the paper, you can ask her for help."
Chen Ling nodded slightly. "What about the body?"
Wen Shilin’s expression turned serious. After scanning their surroundings, he motioned for Chen Ling to follow. "Co with ."
Chen Ling trailed Wen Shilin out of the office and down the street. As the crowd grew thicker and the noise louder, Wen Shilin lowered his voice, "That body… ca from Frostleaf Hospital."
Chen Ling froze, staring at Wen Shilin in confusion. "How did you figure that out?"
In his view, the most Wen Shilin could’ve determined from the corpse was its age, cause of death, or other physiological details—after all, those were the only clues left. He couldn’t fathom how Wen Shilin had pinpointed the exact hospital from just a body.
"The body’s condition was about what I expected. The organs were removed with professional precision, and my friend found traces of dical anesthesia in his system. Nothing surprising there…"
Wen Shilin paused, his eyes narrowing.
"The key… was the sheet it was wrapped in."
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