My online dating circle has millions of followers, why would she put a collar on me?

After Su Xiaoyue left, Jiang Yi stood on the street for a while.

The afternoon sun filtered through the gaps in the sycamore leaves, falling warmly on his shoulders, but he couldn't feel the warmth.

He looked down at the link from the unknown number on his phone screen, his thumb hovering above the screen for about three seconds before pressing it.

The link redirects to a cloud storage page with a simple interface, devoid of any unnecessary decorations, containing only a video file and a text document.

The text document was titled "Surveillance Footage from the Night Before Last". He opened it and glanced at it; it contained only one sentence: "The video from last night is under censorship; we can only get the one from the night before last."

Jiang Yi stared at the words for a while, then put his phone back in his pocket and looked around.

Across the street was an internet cafe with a faded dark blue sign. The door was half-open, and dim light shone from inside.

He crossed the street, pushed open the somewhat rough glass door, and was greeted by a smell that was a mixture of smoke, instant noodles, and cheap air freshener.

A young man wearing black-rimmed glasses was sitting at the front desk, looking down at his phone. Hearing the door open, he raised his eyelids slightly, then lowered them again: "Use the internet? ID card."

Jiang Yi handed over his ID card, which the boy swiped and tossed back a temporary card: "Three yuan an hour, how much do you want to top up?"

"Ten yuan."

Jiang Yi paid the money, took the temporary card, and sat down in front of a machine against the wall in the corner.

The computer emitted a deep hum, and when the screen lit up, the blue and white light reflected on his face, making the dark circles under his eyes particularly clear.

He plugged in his headphones, opened his browser, entered the link, and the page loaded for a few seconds before the video started buffering.

The image is in black and white, and the resolution isn't very high, resembling footage from an old-fashioned surveillance camera.

The time stamp in the corner was ticking—7:40 PM the night before last.

For the first ten minutes or so of the video, the footage remained almost unchanged.

The street in front of the branch office was deserted, with only the occasional car driving by, its headlights drawing a thin white line across the screen before disappearing at the edge.

Jiang Yi leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the screen, unblinking.

His fingers rested on the edge of the mouse, his knuckles slightly white.

At 7:53, a car appeared on the screen.

The car came from the end of the street, moving slowly, and came to a smooth stop on the shoulder in front of the police station.

The car was black, almost blending into the darkness in the dim surveillance footage, but the two headlights on the front of the car were dazzlingly bright in the picture.

Jiang Yi's breath caught in his throat for half a second.

He recognized the car.

He had ridden in that car, in the back seat, his hands bound by that nylon cable tie.

That's Zhao Ran's car.

He sat up straight and gripped the mouse tightly with his fingers.

In the video, the car door is open.

Zhao Ran got out of the driver's seat, wearing a dark coat, and walked quickly without looking around, heading straight for the branch office gate.

The surveillance camera captured the outline of her profile perfectly; her short hair gleamed coldly under the streetlights, and her jawline was sharp and defined.

She walked to the door and said something to the person on duty. It was too far away to hear clearly, but she was very relaxed, as if she was there to handle a routine matter.

The staff on duty seemed to recognize her and stepped aside to let her through the door. She pushed open the glass door and went inside, her figure disappearing into the light inside.

Jiang Yi stared at the empty doorway, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the table.

Time ticked by second on the monitor screen, each second seeming to stretch out.

He looked at the light spots cast on the ground by the street lamp at the entrance, watched people occasionally walk in and out of the door, and watched faces unrelated to Zhao Ran flash by in the scene.

At 8:23, Zhao Ran walked out of the branch office.

She was still walking quickly, but now she had something in her hand.

A small white paper bag, seemingly brought from an office.

She walked to the car, opened the door, bent down and sat inside. The door closed, the headlights came on, and the black sedan rejoined the sparse traffic at the end of the street, quickly disappearing from the edge of the frame.

The video continued to play, and for the next ten minutes or so, the scene returned to its previous calm, and nothing happened.

Jiang Yi dragged the progress bar back to the frame where Zhao Ran walked out of the branch office and pressed the pause button.

In the image, Zhao Ran's profile is frozen in the halo of the streetlight, and she is holding a white paper bag in her hand, with the creases on the edges clearly visible.

He stared at the paper bag for a long time, his mind racing.

Why did Zhao Ran go to the Zhongshan branch of the Public Security Bureau?

Who does she know?

What is she doing there?

What's in that white paper bag?

What connection between her and Jiang Miaomiao is there that he doesn't know about?

He recalled her nonchalant attitude when she kidnapped him.

She could take him away from the street that way, and of course she could also get him into the detention center where his sister was being held in the early hours of the morning.

Once this idea took hold, it was like a seed falling into moist soil, quickly taking root and sprouting, entangling all his rational judgments.

Jiang Yi closed the video page, exited the browser, unplugged his headphones, and stood up.

When he pushed open the door of the internet cafe and walked out, the afternoon sun had completely changed. Gray clouds pressed down overhead, and the wind was cooler than before, carrying the dry and biting air unique to late autumn.

He stood on the street, glanced down at his phone screen, pulled out the gym membership address from his notes, and then walked briskly along the sidewalk in that direction.

He paused for a moment as he passed a hardware store.

The shop window displayed several rows of knives, including fruit knives, kitchen knives, and a few small folding hunting knives, their blades reflecting a cold light under the fluorescent lights.

He stood in front of the shop window for two seconds, then pushed open the door and went inside.

The shop owner, a man in his fifties, was sitting behind the counter looking at his phone. He looked up at him and asked, "What do you want?"

Jiang Yi's gaze swept over the row of knives, finally landing on a folding knife with a black handle.

The blade isn't very long, but it looks very sharp. The handle is made of a frosted material, so it shouldn't slip in your hand.

"How much is this?"

Thirty-five.

Jiang Yi paid, and the shop owner casually tore off a transparent plastic bag, put the knife inside, and handed it to him.

He clutched the bag in his hand and walked out of the hardware store.

The blade, separated by a thin layer of plastic, rested against my palm; the cool touch seeped through the fabric and skin, like a silent reminder.

He didn't pull out the knife to look at it; he just clutched the bag and quickened his pace toward Zhao Ran's gym.