Chapter 59

The moment Qi Jin grabbed the edge of the access panel, her fingertips dug into the gaps in the metal frame, causing a sharp pain. She didn't turn around—not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't. The force of Shi Ye's all-out shoving and the rope pulling still lingered in the muscles of her arm, a burning pain. The loud crash of the study door shattering behind her, the roaring explosions of flames, and Shi Ye's last hoarse, distorted cry of "Get up!!!" were like a red-hot, blunt knife, stabbing into her eardrums and nailing into her brain.

Go up.

She came up.

The narrow, dusty, cobweb-covered vertical maintenance passageway could only accommodate one person curled up. From the direction of the study below came a dull, teeth-grinding metallic twisting sound, followed by a more violent, muffled explosion that made the fragile passageway tremble and send a shower of years of dust falling.

Qi Jin's movements didn't falter in the slightest. She seemed to have shed all the hesitation and emotional feedback inherent in "humanity," transforming into a precise machine programmed only with the commands "upward," "escape," and "get the umbrella." Her fingers and toes searched for footholds on the smooth metal walls and rudimentary support frame, each movement precise, swift, and mechanical. The fire blanket rubbed against the pipe walls, making a soft, rustling sound, but it couldn't mask the escalating apocalyptic clamor below.

My mind is blank.

Or perhaps, the silence is so intensely filled with overly sharp noise that it creates an eerie stillness.

Only the body instinctively climbs.

At the end of the passage was a rusty trapdoor. Pushing it open, blinding sunlight and a scorching stream of air, carrying black smoke and dust, rushed in. Qi Jin rolled onto the concrete floor of the rooftop terrace, her back aching from the rough surface, but she immediately sprang to her feet, her eyes scanning the area like radar.

The terrace was a mess. The small storage room, where odds and ends were piled up, had been affected by the explosion; half of it had collapsed, and flames were leaping out from inside. On the eastern edge... she lunged at that almost burned corner, tearing apart the scorching, warped metal plates and charred wooden planks with her bare hands. Her fingernails cracked, and blisters formed on her palms, but her movements were terrifyingly steady.

Found it.

An old, military-green canvas bag with faded serial numbers was buried under broken bricks. It had burn marks on the edges, but was still relatively intact.

Qi Jin unzipped his jacket.

Inside, sure enough, was only a neatly folded, orange single-person parachute pack. Next to it were a small bottle of water, a few expired compressed biscuits, and a first-aid kit. These were relics from twenty years ago, something Grandpa insisted on keeping "just in case," and who knew they'd actually come in handy one day.

There is only one.

She stared at the blinding orange light for about half a second. Then, with lightning speed, she slung the parachute pack over her shoulder, fastened the chest strap and leg straps, and checked the simple parachute deployment mechanism—theoretically, all it took was pulling down this ring.

In theory.

The railing at the edge of the terrace was twisted and deformed. She stood on it, dozens of meters below, the central fountain of the complex shimmering in the morning light, looking like a fragile little blue stamp. The wind howled, carrying with it the crackling sounds of burning buildings below, faint cries, and the distant wailing of fire trucks and sirens.

Without hesitation.

The so-called "probability" was not calculated.

She didn't even glance again at the gap in the apartment building, which had once been her "home," now engulfed in flames.

Qi Jin leaped into the air.

A sudden feeling of weightlessness gripped her entire body, her heart pounding in her throat. The wind howled violently, tearing at her hair, fire blanket, and clothes. Her vision spun, a chaotic mix of burning buildings, shrinking ground, and the azure sky.

She pulled the parachute flap when she was about ten stories high.

"Bang--!"

With a not-so-loud bang, the orange canopy struggled to open above her head. It was somewhat hesitant, and a few of the parachute lines seemed to have gotten tangled, but it finally opened. The speed of the descent decreased abruptly, turning into a violent, swaying drift.

The parachute was old, crudely designed, and almost impossible to control. Qi Jin could only try to adjust his center of gravity, watching helplessly as he veered off course from the fountain and veered off course towards the edge of the hard stone plaza beside him.

"Bang!"

Another dull thud. She landed sideways, crashing heavily onto the soft soil of the green belt at the edge of the square, then rolled several times before coming to a stop against the metal base of a landscape light. A distinct, dull pain shot through her right shoulder; it was likely a fracture. The parachute canopy trailed down, covering her completely.

She lay there, breathing heavily, her nostrils filled with the smells of burnt food, dust, and crushed grass. The sirens of fire trucks and ambulances grew closer, mingling with the panicked clamor of the crowd.

Then, she ripped the canopy off her head, scrambled to her feet, her movements distorted by the pain in her shoulders, but still incredibly fast. She didn't even bother to untie the cumbersome parachute straps; dragging half the canopy along, like a wretched, trapped animal crawling out of a disaster movie, she stumbled and staggered towards the apartment building where thick black smoke still billowed from the lower floors and flames raged on the upper floors.

Fire trucks had just arrived and were setting up ladders and cordoning off the area. People in uniform were trying to stop the woman who had fallen from the sky, covered in soot and with a terrifying look in her eyes.

"Get out of the way!" Qi Jin's voice was hoarse beyond recognition, like sandpaper scraping against sheet metal. Her face was expressionless, only a frozen paleness, but her eyes were bloodshot, her gaze passing over the crowd that was blocking her way, locked on the upper-middle floor of the apartment building that had been blown open and was engulfed in flames—that was her study, the place where Shi Ye had last been.

“Madam! You can’t go over there! It’s dangerous!” the firefighter shouted.

Qi Jin seemed not to hear and rushed straight into the cordon. The pain in her shoulder made her movements sluggish, but her strength was astonishing, and she actually managed to break through the barrier.

"Stop her!" someone shouted.

Several security guards and firefighters surrounded them.

Just then—

Boom!!!

The upper floors of the apartment building, where the flames were most concentrated, finally succumbed to the continuous explosions and burning, resulting in a partial collapse! Large chunks of concrete slabs, steel bars, and burning furniture debris, accompanied by towering flames and even thicker black smoke, crashed down with a deafening roar!

The ground was shaking.

The crowd screamed in terror and retreated hastily.

Qi Jin's feet were rooted to the spot.

She stood there, just a few steps from the police line and dozens of meters from the collapsing, burning building. Hot blasts of air, carrying ash, slammed into her face, but she didn't flinch, her eyes fixed on the gaping hole in the collapse.

The firelight reflected in her dark pupils, pulsating wildly, yet it could not penetrate the rapidly solidifying, absolute coldness deep within.

Fire hoses finally began to spray powerful jets of water, suppressing the fire. A ladder truck ascended into the sky. More rescue workers poured into the scene.

Chaos, noise, filled with human urgency and clamor.

Qi Jin stood there, motionless, the parachute strap digging into her flesh, half of the orange canopy trailing behind her in the dust like a strange and desolate flag. Her face and hands were covered in black ash and abrasions, and a gash on her forehead, cut by flying shards, was still running through her, blood mixed with ash, but she felt nothing.

Time ticked by, as if dragged down by sticky tar.

The fire was gradually brought under control with the help of high-pressure water hoses, and the black smoke turned into billowing white steam. Rescue workers began to risk entering the building.

Qi Jin's gaze never left the collapsed area.

until……

Several fully equipped firefighters carefully carried something out of a gap in the building, where embers and thick smoke still lingered, using a stretcher.

Something that was half-wrapped in a silver fireproof blanket (which was already charred and torn).

A sliver of pale apricot-colored fabric peeked out from under the blanket—the hem of the dress. A pale, slender hand hung down, its fingertips curled and covered in black ash.

The stretcher was quickly moved to a spacious, makeshift medical area. Paramedics surrounded it, but their movements soon slowed, and they exchanged glances and shook their heads.

Qi Jin's gaze pierced precisely through the swaying figures and landed on the stretcher.

She finally moved.

He took a step, one after another, towards the stretcher. His steps were steady, even more steady than when he charged forward, but each step felt like stepping on an invisible blade, leaving silent bloodstains.

No one stopped her anymore. Perhaps it was the deathly aura emanating from her that made people afraid to approach.

She walked to the stretcher.

The paramedics quietly moved aside a little.

A corner of the damaged silver-black fire blanket was gently lifted.

Shi Ye lay there.

Her face was relatively clean, probably because she had been wearing a breathing mask, which had only come off later. Her eyes were closed, and her long eyelashes cast two small shadows on her pale skin, making her look as if she were asleep. However, her complexion was almost translucent white, there was a trace of dried blood at the corner of her mouth, and her hair was disheveled and stuck to her forehead.

The light apricot-colored dress was so faded that its original color was unrecognizable, covered in scorch marks and stains. Her neck was bare, without a necklace or a safety buckle.

She looked...very quiet. There was even an eerie calm, detached from all pain and turmoil.

Qi Jin slowly squatted down, kneeling on one knee. The pain in her right shoulder made her sway slightly, but she quickly regained her balance. She reached out her hand, her fingertips hovering a few millimeters above Shi Ye's cheek, trembling violently as if bearing an invisible, immense pressure.

In the end, the fingertip did not fall.

She withdrew her hand, clenched it into a fist, her knuckles turned white and her bones were bony.

She just squatted there, looking at Shi Ye's quiet face for a long time.

The surrounding sounds were a symphony of post-disaster chaos: the sounds of water, people, and machinery.

But here, there was only a deathly stillness, like a vacuum.

Suddenly, a rapid, tearful cry pierced the deathly silence as it grew louder.

"Sister Shi Ye—!! Senior—!! Where are you all—!!!"

Lin Xiaoyu stumbled across the police line, her hair disheveled, her face streaked with tears, and her eyes swollen and red like peaches. She must have seen the news or something and had run over there like a madwoman. She immediately spotted Qi Jin crouching beside the stretcher, and that familiar figure on the stretcher.

"Shi... Sister Shi Ye?" Lin Xiaoyu's voice suddenly changed, as if someone had choked her. She rushed to the stretcher, looked at Shi Ye's lifeless face, and froze, as if her soul had been instantly ripped out.

“No…it can’t be…Sister Shi Ye? Wake up? Look at me? It’s me, Xiao Yu…” Her hand trembled as she reached for Shi Ye’s shoulder, only to find it ice-cold. She jerked her hand back as if burned, then an even greater despair gripped her. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground, covering her face and bursting into a heart-wrenching, uncontrollable sob. “Ahhh—how could this be…she was fine this morning…she was fine…”

Qi Jin seemed oblivious to Lin Xiaoyu's breakdown. She remained squatting there, her gaze fixed on Shi Ye's empty neck. Then, as if remembering something, she slowly and with great difficulty (due to the injury on her right shoulder) raised her left hand and reached into the inside pocket of her fire blanket.

Fingertips touched the cold, hard metal and the warm, slightly rounded jade.

She slowly took it out.

In her palm, stained with black ash and blood, lay quietly the crescent-shaped necklace and the jade clasp given to her by Grandpa Qi, engraved with a peace pattern. The two items were pressed tightly together, warmed by her body heat, reflecting a faint but stubborn luster against the surrounding blackened and chaotic background.

Lin Xiaoyu's sobs choked for a moment. Through her teary eyes, she looked at Qi Jin's palm and saw the two items, recognizing who they originally belonged to.

“This is… Sister Shi Ye’s…” she murmured, overwhelmed by grief and a bizarre association that rendered her incoherent. “She…she gave it to you? She…did she…already…”

Qi Jin didn't answer. She just looked at the two things in her palm, and as she looked, a very slight smile appeared on her lips.

It was an arc that was hard to call a smile. Cold, hollow, with the smell of blood and rust, yet it seemed to be mixed with something else, something more complex and indescribable. It was like mockery, yet also like some kind of... complete understanding and decisive action.

She clenched her fingers together, gripping the necklace and jade clasp tightly in her palm, the sharp edges digging into her skin.

Then, she supported herself on her knees and slowly stood up. Her movements were somewhat slow due to her shoulder injury, but her back was straight, like a steel rod that had been burned but still refused to bend.

She didn't look at Shi Ye on the stretcher again, nor at Lin Xiaoyu, who was crying so hard she almost fainted.

She turned around, dragging the half-dirty orange umbrella, and walked step by step towards the edge of the police line. Ahead of her were the livid-faced head of Qi's security, company executives, and an anxious assistant who had rushed over after being alerted.

The sunlight shone on her blood-stained and ashes-covered back, making the orange hue appear glaringly bright.

Lin Xiaoyu's cries still lingered behind them, mixed with the splashing sound of fire hoses.

Qi Jin walked up to the person in charge and stopped. Her voice wasn't loud, but it clearly overwhelmed all the noise, carrying a calm like a frozen volcano, each word distinct:

"check."

"Qin Ming, and all of his people."

"as well as……"

She paused, then looked up at the dilapidated building still emitting wisps of smoke, at the city's concrete and steel skyline, and at a direction in the void imperceptible to ordinary people. Deep within those crimson, icy eyes, it seemed as if black flames were burning silently.

"Everyone who should be held responsible for this..."

"None of them will escape."