Re-emergence

As the black Mercedes pulled into the underground parking garage of the Northern Desert Gang headquarters, Du Siling noticed that there were twice as many security personnel as usual. Each of them wore a tense expression, their right hands never leaving the grip of their guns.

"It's been three days," Han Beimo said, gazing out the car window, his voice losing its usual calm. "Enough time for the rat to show its tail."

Du Siling followed him into the private elevator. The mirrored wall reflected the two figures standing side by side—Han Beimo was impeccably dressed in a suit, showing no signs of the weakness caused by the high fever the night before; Du Siling himself had dark circles under his eyes, and his stubble from not shaving for three days made him look much older than his actual age.

The elevator went directly to the top-floor conference room. The moment the door opened, a strong smell of tobacco and a tense atmosphere hit the senses. A dozen or so high-ranking gang members sat on either side of the long table, all standing up the moment they saw Han Beimo. Zhao Kunyang stood at the head of the table, the scar on his left eye appearing particularly menacing under the overhead light.

"Master Han," everyone said in unison.

Han Beimo walked straight to the head seat, and Du Siling habitually stood behind him on the right. Zhao Kunyang's gaze swept across Du Siling's face like a venomous snake, then quickly replaced with a respectful expression.

"Have you found out?" Han Beimo asked, tapping his fingers lightly on the table.

Zhao Kunyang pushed a folder towards him: "Liu Qiang, the nightclub manager. Lao Mao gave him two million to install cameras in the ventilation ducts. He was also the one who tipped off the assassination attempt."

Du Siling stared at the photo in the folder—a slightly overweight middle-aged man was tied to a chair, his face covered in blood, and three fingers on his right hand were missing.

"Where is he?" Han Beimo asked.

"The basement level." Zhao Kunyang revealed a cruel smile. "Waiting for your judgment."

Han Beimo stood up, and the others followed. Du Siling's stomach clenched. He knew what he was about to see—he had learned about various forms of torture in police academy classes, but he had never imagined witnessing it firsthand.

In the soundproof room on the basement level, Liu Qiang was suspended by iron chains, barely recognizable as a human. Upon seeing Han Beimo, he struggled to kneel down, blood still dripping from his severed finger.

"Master Han...I was wrong...My daughter is sick and I need money...Old Cat threatened me..."

Han Beimo took a machete from the wall and weighed it in his hand: "You know the rules."

Liu Qiang closed his eyes in despair. Du Siling gritted his teeth, his nails digging deep into his palms. As a policeman, he should stop this vigilante justice; as an undercover agent, he must remain silent.

Han Beimo suddenly turned around and handed the knife to Du Siling: "You take it."

The conference room fell eerily silent. Du Siling felt all eyes on his back. This was a test, a test far more cruel than the one at the docks.

The hilt of the knife was icy cold. Du Siling walked towards Liu Qiang, his mind racing. He could use the techniques he'd learned at police academy to fake death—a precise stab that would temporarily incapacitate his opponent without killing them. But the risk was extremely high...

"Master Han!" Zhao Kunyang suddenly spoke up, "This kind of traitor doesn't deserve to dirty the hands of a newcomer. I'm more suited to handle it."

Han Beimo stared at Du Siling for a few seconds, then suddenly reached for his machete: "You're right." He turned to Liu Qiang, "I'll give you a quick death."

A flash of light. Liu Qiang's body crashed to the ground, blood spreading across the surface. Du Siling forced herself not to look away. Han Beimo's movements were clean and swift, as if he had practiced them a thousand times.

"Listen up, everyone," Han Beimo said, wiping the blood from his knife. "There's only one consequence for betrayal." He looked around at the crowd, his gaze lingering on Zhao Kunyang's face for a second longer. "Du Fei saved me this time. From today onwards, he'll be in charge of the three venues in the East District."

Zhao Kunyang's face instantly darkened. The Eastern District was the most lucrative area, originally his sphere of influence.

Back in his office, Han Beimo took off his blood-stained coat and threw it aside: "You're not suited for this."

Du Siling's heart skipped a beat: "I can learn."

"I'm not criticizing you," Han Beimo poured himself a glass of whiskey. "A murderous look is different. Just now, there was hesitation in your eyes, not excitement or numbness." He took a sip. "That's a good thing."

Du Siling didn't know how to respond. Han Beimo always seemed to be able to display some kind of...morality at the most unexpected moments?

"There's a group of important guests at the 'Jade' club tonight at eight o'clock," Han Beimo said. "You're coming with me."

For the next two weeks, Du Siling was extremely busy. He suddenly had control over three nightclubs, two underground casinos, and a loan shark company in the East District. Every day, after returning to his apartment in the early hours of the morning, he would spend two hours organizing and encrypting intelligence to send back to the police station.

Strangely, his reports became increasingly cautious. He would "coincidentally" omit crucial information that could directly lead to Han Beimo's arrest—such as the drug trafficking route for the following week.

Late Friday night, after Du Siling finished her routine inspection of the last nightclub, she found Han Beimo's car parked at the back gate of headquarters. The lights in the rooftop greenhouse were on, which was unusual at three in the morning.

Out of professional habit—he told himself—Du Siling quietly went upstairs. The greenhouse door was ajar, and through the crack he saw Han Beimo standing among the azaleas, holding a bright red flower in his hand.

"...Another traitor was dealt with today, Mother." Han Beimo's voice was soft and unfamiliar. "Sometimes I think, if you hadn't protected me back then, would I have survived..."

Du Siling held her breath. Han Beimo spoke to the flowers like a lost child, completely different from the cold-blooded gang leader he was during the day.

"That Du Siling," Han Beimo suddenly mentioned his name, and Du Siling stiffened, "He has eyes just like yours. So alike... sometimes I almost think..."

A gust of wind blew by, and the door creaked softly. Du Siling quickly backed away, but was still discovered.

"Come in." Han Beimo's voice returned to normal.

Du Siling pushed open the door and entered, pretending to have just arrived: "Master Han, the accounts for the East District have been reconciled."

Han Beimo nodded, gesturing for him to sit down. Moonlight streamed through the glass roof, casting an unreal blue halo over the azaleas.

"Do you know why I like azaleas?" Han Beimo suddenly asked.

Du Siling shook her head.

"It can bloom even in the harshest environments," Han Beimo said, gently stroking a petal. "Just like people, you either adapt or you die."

He turned to Du Siling: "You adapt very quickly. But there are some things... it's best not to adapt to them." His words seemed inexplicable, yet also contained a deeper meaning.

The following afternoon, Du Siling was processing documents in her office when her phone suddenly rang. It was Chen Yan's emergency contact signal.

Inside the safe house, Chen Yan's face was grim: "Why were you withholding information? The anti-narcotics team had absolutely no idea about Han Beimo's drug deal next week!"

Du Siling was prepared: "The source is unreliable; I need to verify it."

"Verify?" Chen Yan sneered. "Si Ling, don't forget who you are. If your father knew you were protecting that bastard..."

"I didn't protect him." Du Siling's voice was sharper than expected. "I was carrying out a mission. Capturing Han Beimo requires solid evidence, not hearsay."

Chen Yan narrowed his eyes: "You've changed." He handed over a folder. "Take a look at this."

The document contains surveillance screenshots from the "Jade" club, clearly showing two members of the Northern Desert Gang hiding several packets of white powder in the ventilation ducts.

"Last night, the anti-drug team raided the premises and seized five kilograms of [illegal substance]," Chen Yan said. "The problem is—" He turned to the next page, "according to your report, this club is not part of the Northern Desert Gang's drug network at all."

Du Siling frowned. This didn't make sense. Han Beimo had personally stated that he wouldn't touch hard drugs, only engaging in smuggling and gambling, which offered higher profits and lower risks.

"Someone framed me," Du Siling blurted out.

Chen Yan slammed his fist on the table: "You've been brainwashed! This is your last chance. Next week's transaction must be completed with the evidence caught red-handed, or I'll revoke your undercover status!"

Back at headquarters, Du Siling went straight to Han Beimo, but ran into Zhao Kunyang in the corridor.

"Hey, big shot." Zhao Kunyang blocked his way. "I heard your place is having some...trouble?"

Du Siling immediately understood: "It was you who did it."

Zhao Kunyang feigned surprise: "What did I do?" He leaned close to Du Siling's ear, "Just gave the cops a little gift. Guess what they'll find next? Like... a missing policeman?"

Du Siling's blood froze instantly. Did Zhao Kunyang know his identity?

"Get out of my way." Han Beimo's voice came from behind. He had appeared out of nowhere, his face terribly grim.

After Zhao Kunyang left dejectedly, Han Beimo pulled Du Siling into his office: "Have you heard about the Jade Club incident?"

Du Siling nodded and carefully observed Han Beimo's reaction.

"I never touch drugs," Han Beimo sneered. "Someone's trying to use the police to target me." He turned on his computer and pulled up a surveillance video. "Watch."

The footage shows Zhao Kunyang's confidant sneaking into the club's storage room late at night. Although the act itself wasn't directly filmed, the timing matches perfectly.

"Why not deal with him?" Du Siling asked.

Han Beimo shut down his computer: "The time isn't right. Kunyang has someone behind him; I need to wipe them all out in one fell swoop." He looked meaningfully at Du Siling, "Until then, I need someone I can completely trust."

Du Siling avoided his gaze. Complete trust? What if Han Beimo knew his true identity...?

That evening, Du Siling returned to the greenhouse. Under the moonlight, the azaleas were dazzlingly red. He recalled Han Beimo confiding in the flowers, the donation records to the orphanage, and the fleeting weariness in Han Beimo's eyes when Liu Qiang was executed.

Was this complex man a cold-blooded gang leader or a scarred orphan? Du Siling was increasingly unable to tell.

He took out his phone and deleted the report text message he had just edited for Chen Yan.