Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Zhaoyang City, at a temporary accommodation.

The night wind whistled through the broken windowpanes, like some wild beast panting in the darkness.

In the corner, Meng Zhaowen was counting the plant seeds in her hand.

Morning glories, cockleburs, wild grasses... he sorted these ordinary seeds and packed them into individual transparent bags.

Not far away, Liu Zhen leaned against a cement pillar, repeatedly disassembling and reassembling the electrical overload trigger.

The metal parts collided, producing a subtle, crisp sound that was amplified infinitely in the silent space.

The silence lasted for half an hour.

Liu Zhen suddenly spoke, breaking the silence: "When Zhao Hongtu mentioned Han Dongcheng before he died, your reaction was off. What was your relationship with him?"

Meng Zhaowen's fingers paused.

The morning glory seed held between my fingertips gleamed faintly in the dim light.

He stared at him for a long time before speaking softly, "He was the last person my brother spoke to before his accident. It took me three years to find this lead. Song Mingzhang gave the order, and Han Dongcheng handed him the knife. Without the 'witness list' he provided, my brother wouldn't have been targeted."

Liu Zhen placed the assembled trigger on the floor between the two of them: "Then tonight, it's principal and interest."

Meng Zhaowen looked up at him.

The reflection from the lenses obscured his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—it was a confirmation, and also a kind of resolute acceptance that everything had settled.

……

He took a hand-drawn map out of the inside pocket of his trench coat and laid it on the dusty cement floor.

The edges of the paper were worn and covered with dense markings and red lines.

This is the layout of Jingyuan Villa that he has painstakingly explored inch by inch using plant roots over the past three days.

"There are twelve hidden sentry posts on the perimeter, with shifts changing every forty minutes." Meng Zhaowen's finger traced the edge of the map. "The main building has a copper mesh in the wall, a Faraday cage-like protection covering the entire building. Deep in the underground garage, there's a modified bulletproof vehicle, diesel-powered, with its electrical system simplified to the extreme."

His finger hovered over two rooms in the main building: "Han Dongcheng's bedroom and office also have copper mesh on the inner walls, forming two independent electrostatic shielding zones. He's very well prepared."

Meng Zhaowen pushed up his glasses, his tone grave: "Insulation equipment, power outage contingency plan, backup evacuation route—he seemed to know that what was coming was 'electricity'."

Liu Zhen stared at the "underground parking garage" marked in red on the map, a cold smile curving his lips: "Does he even know if it's useful? Cages are for wild animals, not for mines."

"Are you confident?" Meng Zhaowen asked.

Liu Zhen raised his right hand, and a wisp of dark blue electricity leaped from his palm, illuminating what was churning in his eyes.

The electric arc did not rage, but instead gently coiled around his fingertips, as if it had come to life.

"What I want now can't be stopped by any insulating net."

After a moment of silence, Meng Zhaowen nodded: "Alright, then we'll act tonight. Make Han Dongcheng disappear before dawn."

……

Before leaving, Liu Zhen took something out of his pocket and slowly opened it.

It was a photo carefully wrapped in plastic film, the edges of which were worn and frayed, but it was clear that it had been touched countless times.

In the photo, a boy of about ten years old is wearing a school uniform, grinning at the camera and revealing a missing front tooth.

A woman stood beside the boy, her arm gently around his shoulder, her smile as warm as the sunshine.

Meng Zhaowen's gaze fell on the photo and stopped.

He didn't ask, he just watched quietly.

Liu Zhen's fingers traced lightly across the photograph, from the boy's face to the woman's, his movements slow, as if afraid of breaking something.

"It was taken last year." Liu Zhen's voice was hoarse. "He had just lost his baby teeth, and his front teeth were newly grown. On the day of the photo shoot, he kept his lips pursed when he smiled, afraid that they would look bad if they were showing. His mother said, 'What's there for a boy to be afraid of looking ugly? Smile more—and that's how he ended up smiling like this.'"

Liu Zhen's lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but he didn't.

That smile concealed too much pain and too much regret.

Meng Zhaowen remained silent for a long time before finally speaking: "...How old are you?"

"Twelve." Liu Zhen carefully put the photo back into his arms, close to his heart. "He can recite all the circuit knowledge I taught him. How to connect wires, how to operate a switch, how to calculate current overload—he memorized it after I explained it to him only once."

He looked up at the dark night sky outside the window, his voice becoming even softer, as if afraid of disturbing some sleeping soul: "He asked me, 'What is electricity?' I said, 'It's light, it's heat, it's something that can make many things move.' He asked again, 'Can you make it move?' I said, 'Doesn't Dad make electricity work every day?'"

Liu Zhen paused, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

He nodded and said, "When I grow up, I want to be like my dad and use electricity to help people."

The factory was so quiet that only the night wind howled through the broken windows.

The sounds seemed to come from a very far place, yet also seemed to be right next to my ear.

Meng Zhaowen lowered her head, looking at the seeds in her hand, clenching and unclenching them repeatedly.

The sharp edges of the seed pricked his palm, causing a slight pain, but it also made him more alert.

After a long silence, he spoke, his voice softer than usual: "My brother is like that too. When I was little, someone bullied me, and he rushed to fight for me, getting pinned to the ground and beaten, and then getting a beating from our father when we got home. I asked him if it hurt, and he said, 'No, it doesn't hurt, I'm here for you.'"

He took off his glasses and slowly wiped the lenses with the corner of his shirt, as if he were wiping something unseen.

A thin layer of condensation covered the lenses; I couldn't tell if it was from wiping or something else.

"Later, he established himself in the provincial capital, and every time he came back, he would bring me food. I told him not to spend so much money, and he said, 'As long as my brother is eating well, that's enough.' I said I would pay him back when I grew up, and he laughed, and then said, 'Just focus on teaching and don't get involved in any messy things. Your brother is here for you.'"

Meng Zhaowen put her glasses back on, took a deep breath, and stuffed the bag of morning glory seeds into the deepest part of the inner bag.

"I'm here for you"—these four words have stayed with me for many years.

He stood up, walked over to Liu Zhen, and sat down next to the worn-out tactical bag.

The two stood side by side against the wall, their determination and will spreading out in silence, weaving into an invisible net.

"Tonight, we'll strip away the principal and interest. Han Dongcheng is the first, Song Mingzhang is the second. No matter how many layers are behind, we'll peel them off layer by layer until the very end."

Meng Zhaowen stood up and patted the dust off her trench coat.

He walked over to Liu Zhen, and the two stood side by side, looking at the pale moon outside the window.

The moon was half-hidden by clouds, like a spying eye.

A night breeze blew by, and the distant barking of wild dogs echoed from outside the factory, one bark after another, as if they were the only living things in the night.

"Let's go." Liu Zhen withdrew his hand, turned around, and walked towards the door.

The two pushed open the door and stepped into the night.

Behind him, the carefully tucked-away photograph was pressed against Liu Zhen's chest through his clothes, pulsating warmly with each step he took.