He turned his head suddenly, his gaze passing over the crowd and falling on the shadow of the century-old banyan tree fifty meters away.
The rear window of the black Maybach was slowly rising, but that moment was enough for Li Zhou to clearly see Zhou Hui's sculpted profile and Chen Ming's head turning in the passenger seat.
Chen Ming was wearing a light grey suit today, with a silver tie clip from the Starlight Group pinned to his tie – the same one he wore in the coffee shop three months ago.
"What's wrong?" Lin Xiaoman had already squeezed in beside him and followed his gaze. Her hair was still stained with scraps of ribbons she had picked up when she was walking through the crowd.
Li Zhou quickly stuffed his diploma into his backpack and his fingers touched the metal USB drive in the inner pocket.
The cool touch calmed him down a little - inside was the original files of the cafe's surveillance, as well as all the evidence he had collected over the past three months.
"Nothing," he heard his own dry voice, "Let's go eat first, to your favorite Sichuan restaurant."
As they crossed the lawn, Li Zhou noticed from the corner of his eye that two men in black suits were following them closely. One of them was holding a walkie-talkie, and the other was holding what looked like a professional camera.
This was not his illusion - this vague surveillance had begun since he rejected Zhou Hui's "support plan".
There is still a sticky note on the glass door of the Sichuan restaurant that they left during their senior year - "Exclusive seats for Lin Xiaoman & Li Zhou".
When the boss lady saw them, her eyes widened with smile: "I've been waiting for you to come! Happy graduation!"
She led them to their old seat by the window and suddenly lowered her voice, "Xiao Li, last week a big boss came to ask about you..."
Li Zhou paused as he was pouring sour plum soup for Lin Xiaoman. The amber liquid swirled dangerously in the glass, nearly spilling.
"What kind of person?" Lin Xiaoman asked first, her nails unconsciously scratching a small hole on the tablecloth - that was the mark left by her excitedly knocking over the hot pot on Li Zhou's birthday last year.
The proprietress looked around and lowered her voice: "He's in his forties, driving a black luxury car. He asked if you come here often and where you sit..."
She shuddered suddenly. "That man had a creepy smile and his eyes were as cold as a snake."
From the kitchen came a crisp "crack" sound, like the sound of a porcelain plate breaking. Lin Xiaoman's chopsticks dangled in mid-air as chili seeds from a piece of boiled fish slowly dripped into the bowl of oil.
Li Zhou watched the beads of sweat on the tip of her nose and recalled Zhou Hui's seemingly thoughtful words three months ago, "I wish you good luck with your studies." Thinking back now, every word was like a carefully sharpened blade.
"What else did he ask?" Li Zhou heard his own voice was unusually calm.
"I asked what you usually order..." The proprietress repeatedly wiped the already shiny table with a rag. "I was particularly interested in what Xiaolin likes to eat. I asked about...an allergen survey?"
Lin Xiaoman's pupils suddenly constricted. She had just filled out her seafood allergy history on her pre-employment medical form for Metropolitan Finance last week. Li Zhou's fingertips dug into his palm under the table—Zhou Hui had even mastered this detail.
"Oh, right," the proprietress suddenly remembered something, "that person dropped a business card when he left..."
She fumbled in her apron pocket for a long time and took out a black card with a gold edge.
The moment Li Zhou took the business card, it was as if an electric current ran up his spine along his fingertips.
The card simply read "Zhou Hui, Vice President of Xinghui Group", and on the back was written a small line of words in pen: "Graduation gifts are ready, looking forward to seeing you again."
The sunlight outside the window suddenly became glaring. Li Zhou vaguely saw the familiar Maybach parked across the street, with someone behind the window seemingly holding a telephoto lens.
But when he looked again, there was only a dazzling spot of light.
"We should go." Li Zhou suddenly stood up, and the strap of his backpack hooked over Lin Xiaoman's camera on the corner of the table.
The last photo in the frame just happened to capture a fleeting reflection outside the window - like glare from a telescope or lens.
When Lin Xiaoman lowered her head to check the camera, Li Zhou noticed a new patch of tiny rashes at the back of her neck, at her hairline.
That was an allergic reaction she only experienced when she was under too much stress. He remembered that before leaving this morning, Lin Xiaoman had said that a box of seafood sushi had inexplicably appeared on her desk at the new company...
"Zhou Zhou," Lin Xiaoman suddenly grabbed his wrist, her fingertips cold, "Chen Ming sent me a message."
She flipped the screen of her mobile phone, which showed a message she had received ten minutes ago: "Welcome to join the Starlight Media family, and look forward to in-depth cooperation with you" - the sender was the editor-in-chief of "Metropolitan Finance".
Li Zhou's diploma suddenly felt incredibly heavy in his backpack. He recalled what Zhou Hui had said during their video call: "Young man, expired evidence is like expired food..."
Now he understood that the coffee shop surveillance video had never been their amulet, but a bait deliberately left by Zhou Hui - waiting for them to step into the real trap when they thought they were safe.
On the glass window, their reflections overlapped with the reality outside, like two fish being slowly caught in a net.
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