Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Zheng Hongwen stood at the door of room 402, raised his hand and knocked three times, the rhythm neither too loud nor too soft, sounding no different from that of an ordinary official visitor.

Footsteps came from inside the door, followed by the faint sound of a gaze moving through the peephole. A few seconds later, the door clicked open, and Su Wan stood in the doorway, wearing a beige loungewear set, her hair casually tied in a low ponytail, and holding a red pen in her hand, her fingertips stained with red ink.

She recognized the person in front of her as Teacher Zheng from the provincial song and dance troupe, whom she had spoken to on the phone that afternoon. Without thinking twice, she stepped aside to make way for the doorway.

"Teacher Zheng, you've worked hard. Come in and have a glass of water." Su Wan's voice was gentle, with the soft tone unique to a teacher.

Her hands were sore from grading papers, and she felt it was really unfair to not even let someone who had gone out of their way to deliver the materials into the door.

Zheng Hongwen stepped across the threshold, saying, "You're welcome, thank you for your trouble, Teacher Su," while his gaze quickly swept across the entire living room.

Half of the composition books were spread out on the dining table, with a red pen still tucked into the top one. The television was off, and the curtains were mostly drawn, leaving only a narrow gap for the evening light to filter through. Su Wan was the only person in the room.

The curtains are drawn, so people outside can't see inside—that's a good thing.

He handed over the brown paper bag with an apologetic smile: "There was a bit of traffic on the way, so I'm late. All the materials are here, please take a look."

Su Wan took the paper bag, glanced inside, and saw two booklets printed with the words "Provincial Department of Culture Project Application Guidelines," but she didn't suspect anything.

She placed the paper bag on the shoe cabinet in the entryway, turned around and went to the kitchen to pour water, her slippers making a soft sound as they stepped on the wooden floor.

Zheng Hongwen walked to the sofa and sat down. He reached out and flipped through the composition books spread out on the dining table. The page he turned to was a student's assigned essay titled "My Ideal." The childish handwriting was crooked and messy, and the student wrote that he wanted to be a teacher when he grew up.

He glanced at it and pushed the notebook back to its original place, showing no interest in reading it at all.

The sound of running water came from the kitchen. His fingers unconsciously reached for the right pocket of his coat and pressed the cold glass bottle through the fabric. His fingertips felt the hard texture, and the evil thoughts in his mind rose like a thermometer being heated by fire.

Su Wan came out of the kitchen carrying two glasses of warm water and handed one to Zheng Hongwen.

Zheng Hongwen reached out to take the cup, his fingers deliberately brushing against the back of her fingers.

Su Wan felt a chill on the back of her hand, as if she had touched some icy snake, and she pulled her hand back as if she had been electrocuted.

She took half a step back, her back hitting the corner of the sideboard.

Such actions are not part of a normal official handover.

"Sorry, my hand slipped." Zheng Hongwen's tone was apologetic, but his smile remained unchanged. His gaze lingered on her exposed ankles, not looking away for a long time.

"It's nothing," Su Wan replied, but her body didn't relax. She stood opposite the coffee table and didn't sit down again.

Zheng Hongwen's gaze was off; he kept glancing at places on her body he shouldn't have. His tone of voice was also completely different from the formality he had when they talked on the phone that afternoon; it was now tinged with a sticky, frivolous air.

She glanced instinctively toward the door, her mind racing as she tried to come up with a suitable reason to make him leave as soon as possible.

------

When Shen Qinghou's car rushed into the old town of Chenxi City, the tires rolled over the potholes in the road, splashing up a spray of water mixed with mud and sand, which splashed onto the car door, leaving streaks of dirt.

He stared intently at the shared location on his phone screen. The red dot curved a corner, revealing an exclusive interview with Nya-Guri and behind-the-scenes details of the creation of "Desperate People, Accept My Seed of Soul!" (Cola Novels only). The phone stopped near the Third Middle School.

What is Zheng Hongwen doing at the school?

The students have all left school by now, and the teachers should be getting off work soon too.

He pressed the accelerator down a bit more, the engine roared with a deep groan, and the car instantly reached 80 mph. The shadows of the trees on the roadside rushed past like tombstones knocked down by the wind.

The red dot came to a complete stop, its position fixed in the area of ​​the Third Middle School's staff quarters.

Shen Qinghou's mind suddenly felt like it had been hit hard by something, and it was buzzing.

Su Wan lived in that apartment building, room 402. Two years after their breakup, he had never forgotten that address.

She said that the window of that room faced the school playground, and at night she could hear the bell ringing when students finished their evening self-study. In the summer, the sycamore trees by the playground would shed their fluff, which would fall on the windowsill, leaving a layer of white fluff.

A chill ran up his spine, instantly chilling his entire body. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms, causing his temples to throb with pain.

Zheng Hongwen shouldn't be here to see Su Wan; they shouldn't know each other. It must be a coincidence, or he must be overthinking it.

These two sentences kept replaying in Shen Qinghou's mind, but he had already floored the accelerator, the tachometer needle hit the red zone, the tires screeched against the ground, and the black sedan shot towards the residential building like an arrow.

He used one hand to send a message to Lin Shen, who was following behind: Speed ​​up.

After sending the message, he tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, his eyes fixed on the intersection ahead. The wind blew his bangs across his face, obscuring his vision, but he didn't bother to brush them away.

------

Zhou Chenghai was leaning against the wall under the shade of a tree, preparing to turn around and patrol the other side, when suddenly the ear-piercing sound of a car screeching to a halt came from the alley entrance, and the tires screeched as they rubbed against the ground.

He looked up and saw a black sedan parked at the alley entrance. Before the car had even come to a complete stop, the driver's side door was kicked open, and a man carrying a dark brown cloth bag rushed out, his steps as fast as the wind.

The man ran to Zheng Hongwen's car, reached out and touched the hood; it was still warm.

Then he suddenly looked up in the direction of the family building. The light from the streetlamp fell on his face, revealing half of his hard-lined jawline, and his eyes were filled with barely suppressed rage.

Zhou Chenghai saw his face clearly in the light of the street lamp, and his heart clenched so hard it almost stopped beating.

How could it be him?

How did he find this place?

The General Administration had no intelligence indicating that Shen Qinghou would appear in Chenxi City today, and even the surveillance network had not captured his whereabouts.

Zhou Chenghai's mind raced. Commander Gu's plan only included Zheng Hongwen and Su Wan, completely overlooking Shen Qinghou as a variable. His presence here would disrupt the entire plan.

He saw Shen Qinghou rush to the entrance of the building, suddenly pull open the unlocked door, and disappear into the darkness of the corridor in an instant.

Zhou Chenghai took out his phone and typed rapidly, sending a second message to Gu Mingyuan: Breaking news, Shen Qinghou has appeared and entered the building.

Gu Mingyuan's phone screen lit up again. When the second message popped up, he was signing a document with a pen. The pen nib paused for a moment, and the ink bleed into the paper, leaving a small black dot.

He stared at the words "Shen Qinghou appeared" and frowned slightly.

Why did he come?