All through the afternoon, Qiu Fa’s phone remained quiet. Not a single message came through, let alone any sign of the person who had promised to come explain things.

His mood grew colder by the hour. An Yan stepped inside once, only to retreat immediately, shivering from the oppressive chill in the office. He cursed himself for opening his big mouth earlier, bringing up past memories and putting the director in such a foul mood.

If only there were a way to cheer him up. But how could anyone fix this? His past had been so bitter that no ordinary joy could ever overshadow it.

An Yan slumped at his desk, looking gloomy, until it was almost time to leave and someone showed up outside.

Knock, knock, knock.

The office door rattled.

“Come in,” Qiu Fa called out.

He lifted his gaze to see An Yan walk inside, holding a ribbon-wrapped gift box with both hands. “Director, someone brought this for you.”

“Who sent it?” Qiu Fa asked, eyeing the package on his desk.

“No idea, but she was a gorgeous girl. Specified your name and everything. Passed right through security screening, no hazardous materials inside.” An Yan delivered the performance of his life, maintaining a perfectly straight face until he turned toward the door, where his lips twitched with suppressed laughter.

Qiu Fa watched his assistant leave. Once the door clicked shut, he reached across the desk, pulled the box closer, unknotted the bow, tore off the wrapping paper, and opened the lid.

A house-shaped music box rested inside.

Expressionless, Qiu Fa picked it up and scanned the exterior. Confirming there was nothing unusual, he lifted the lid—the roof of the little house.

A photograph fitted neatly inside the lid caught him completely off guard.

Qiu Fa froze, his pupils dilating in an instant.

The world around him seemed to fall dead silent.

Nothing remained except the thunderous pounding of his heart and the rush of blood roaring through his ears.

Those two faces—gone from sight for so long that many small details had been forgotten—finally came back into clear focus.

His fingers brushed across the photograph, gentle and hesitant, trembling slightly as he pressed the small power switch.

In the center of the wooden house, a tiny white tiger sprang to life, bounding lively in circles. A woman’s voice drifted out alongside the melody: “Is it recording yet? Do you even know how to use this thing…”

If divine music existed in this world, a mother’s voice was undoubtedly its purest form for any child. It carried an inborn magic, a single soft phrase capable of soothing endless pain better than a thousand remedies.

“Is it working? Oh, looks like it already started. Ahem, alright, let’s begin…”

“You go first.”

“…No, you first.”

“Tsk, look at you, big and tall but blushing like a boy. Fine, I’ll start. Baby, this is Mommy. Today is twenty-nine days before you’re born. I wanted you to know that even before you arrive in this world, Mommy loves you so much…”

“You aren’t born yet, so we don’t know if you’ll be an Atavist or an ordinary human. But no matter whether you turn out extraordinary or ordinary, you’ll always be our precious treasure, the best child we could ever ask for. We don’t need you to achieve great things; as long as you grow up safe, happy, and healthy, your father and I will be completely content…”

“Mm. Just grow up well.”

“…”

The twenty-minute recording passed in what felt like a single breath.

The little tiger inside the music box stopped running, curling up lazily to sleep once more. Silence descended upon the office again, broken only by the overwhelming wave of emotion crashing over him.

Qiu Fa kept his head low, his palm tracing the contours of the music box over and over. After a long moment, a sudden thought struck him. He stood up abruptly, placed the box gently back inside its packaging, and practically ran out the door.

Outside, the officers returning from field operations were shouting about starving to death and threatening to devour the cafeteria cooks. Catching sight of Qiu Fa’s wild expression and frantic stride, every single one of them shut their mouths instantly.

Chest heaving slightly, Qiu Fa scanned his surroundings. Seeing no one nearby, he marched straight toward An Yan. “Where is the person who delivered this?”

Startled out of his skin, An Yan ducked his head and pointed toward the main exit of the Tribunal Division.

Qiu Fa sprinted out.

There was no sign of her on the upper plaza. He descended the steps in long strides, looking left and right until his gaze suddenly locked in place.

Along the sidewalk a short distance away, a group of elementary school children wearing thick coats lined up like a cluster of little penguins, their backpacks bouncing as they stared up into a tree. A young girl draped in a crimson cloak stood on tiptoe, gently lifting a small kitten down from a branch. The children let out a collective cheer.

She patted the kitten’s head and set it on the pavement. The little cat blinked in confusion, looked left and right, then scampered toward the corner of the wall. An adult cat that looked almost identical waited there, and together, big and small vanished around the turn.

With the kitten rescued, the schoolkids began heading home. Only one little girl lingered behind. The young woman bent down, stroking her hair, and smiled at whatever the child whispered to her.

That smile seemed a bit different from her usual one—gentle, sparkling like clear autumn waters, almost as if a holy mother were gazing down upon mankind with mercy and warmth. It held a strange magic, and in an instant, her appearance overlapped with that of her 28-year-old self. Whatever she whispered next, the child bounded away happily.

She straightened up and looked straight over at the stunned man standing by the steps. Her smile shifted again—brighter, more radiant, mischievous and lively, as if she might play a trick on him at any second. She waved her hand at him, grinning warmly.

Under the golden glow of the setting sun, her smile seemed to sparkle.

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

Qiu Fa took a deep breath and walked toward her.

“Good afternoon, big cat,” Jing Pei said, her smile widening as she tilted her head up to meet his approach.

“…I knew it was you.”

“What’s wrong? Disappointed it’s me?”

“Hmph. You think something like this can buy me off?” Qiu Fa kept his eyes fixed on her, though his tone remained stubborn.

“Not at all. I just wanted to make you happy,” Jing Pei replied, hiding her hands behind her back with a light laugh.

Qiu Fa’s hand twitched. He clenched it into a tight fist, keeping his expression composed. “You treacherous information broker. You think I’ll just fall for your tricks so easily now?”

“Aww, hearing you say that hurts my feelings. To find this music box, I flipped your old house upside down, getting filth all over myself. Look, my hands got scratched up so badly.” She extended her pale, delicate hands toward him like a child reporting an injury to a parent.

Even knowing that an Azure Dragon Atavist possessed skin too tough to be cut easily, Qiu Fa still leaned in out of instinct to check.

Then.

Qiu Fa: “…”

Jing Pei glanced down at her spotless, smooth palms. “Oops, my bad. Looks like it healed already. I should’ve taken a picture first.”

Watching her shameless, cheerful grin, Qiu Fa felt a mix of irritation and helpless fondness. In this moment, he couldn’t even remember how heavy the negative emotions from yesterday had been. In the past, he never could have imagined a day when his anger and sorrow would dissolve so effortlessly, or that happiness could come this easily.

“As proof that we’ve made up, you’re buying me dinner,” Jing Pei said, clutching her stomach with a piteous expression. “I skipped breakfast out of fear that my second uncle would scold me, and I didn’t have time for lunch either. I’m starving right now, so pitiful.”

“…Stop acting.”

She kept gazing at him pitifully. “Can we get tuna? Bluefin. I know you like it.”

“…” Treacherous information broker. Glib-tongued dragon.

The seafood restaurant they had visited a few times wasn’t far from the Tribunal Division, so they decided to walk.

As they strolled along, Qiu Fa asked, “Why did you open Liu Yin’s heart?”

“There’s something inside his heart, one of the reasons the organization targeted him in the first place. Taking it away makes Liu Yin safer, and it keeps the world safer too,” Jing Pei explained.

“Why didn’t you discuss it with Liu Yin beforehand? You know that if you explained your reasons, you wouldn’t need to resort to such extreme methods.”

“There are certain reasons I can’t speak of.”

“Because of your ability?” Qiu Fa guessed.

“You could put it that way,” Jing Pei laughed softly.

Traffic flowed like an endless river along the main avenue as streetlights flickered to life one by one, marking the early convergence of day and night.

Qiu Fa slowed his pace by a half-step, then took a longer stride, gently nudging her toward the inner edge of the sidewalk while taking the side closer to the road. “You might possess extraordinary abilities unknown to others, and you might genuinely believe everything you do is for the greater good. But in this world, just believing you’re right doesn’t give you permission to do whatever you want.”

Had her calculations slipped even slightly and Liu Yin died last night, the consequences would have been catastrophic. Setting aside how the government would react, Tao Ying’s future would have been shattered. She might have driven herself to madness and death, sunk into lifelong despair, or eventually uncovered the truth and become Jing Pei’s sworn enemy, fighting her to the death.

A close friend turning into a mortal foe—wasn’t that one of the deepest pains in this world?

Jing Pei blinked, gazing at Qiu Fa in surprise. He spoke those words with incredible composure, not even looking back at her—perhaps to hide the emotions in his eyes. Yet she could still feel the sorrow, pity, helplessness… and a dangerous warning in the tight line of his jaw and the pulse in his neck.

Her heart fluttered. She suddenly asked, “I did all those things, yet you didn’t arrest me because you believe I’m a good person, right? If it were anyone else, would you trust them the same way?”

“I don’t trust you completely,” Qiu Fa replied. “I’ll keep my eyes on you forever.”

“Oh? And if you discover I’m actually a terrible villain, will you arrest me then?”

Qiu Fa stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her, his brow furrowed in clear displeasure at her words.

A few seconds passed before he spoke, his voice grave. “I will personally drag you to prison. That’s not a joke.”

He meant every word. “There’s a special cell inside the Atavist Prison reserved for the most dangerous criminals. That cell happens to be empty right now. An information broker like you, with an elusive network, Dragon Atavist blood, and high purity… if you ever end up on the wanted list, I’ll lock you in that cell and guard you myself. Don’t even dream of leaving my sight again.”

Jing Pei burst out laughing. “Doesn’t that mean you’d have to step down as Director of the Tribunal Division? Are you saying you’d trade being a police chief to become my personal prison guard? Watching over me day and night… If that day ever comes, wouldn’t it be more convenient if you just married me right there in prison?”

Qiu Fa: “…”

“Hahaha, if that was supposed to be a threat, it’s not scary at all!” Jing Pei laughed, her shoulders shaking with amusement.”

“You!” Qiu Fa gritted his teeth. Couldn’t this woman be serious for once?!

Jing Pei gazed up at him, her beautiful eyes sparkling as if filled with starlight.

So that’s why I love Qiu Fa.

The unwavering resolve in his eyes was his commitment to justice, the backbone of his core beliefs. It could never be threatened, bribed, or swayed by personal affection. Just as he hadn’t turned into a bitter anti-social monster seeking to inflict pain upon the innocent after his entire clan was slaughtered at age five and he endured twelve years of wrongful imprisonment and torture.

That noble, unyielding spirit shone with the warmth of the sun—comforting and reliable, as though all evil would be reduced to ashes in its light.

She had written so many books and created countless characters, yet why had he become her absolute favorite? She had never thought deeply about it before, but reflecting on it now, this was undoubtedly the reason.

Perhaps during those distant, agonizing years of her past life, she had secretly longed for someone like him to appear. Though no one ever came and she had to save herself in the end, his presence filled that void.

Jing Pei had always known she wasn’t entirely normal; she simply kept herself strictly in check. Her ex-boyfriends had probably loved her deeply—she often felt that if she committed a murder, they would help her dispose of the body, seduced by her words into dragging themselves down to hell alongside her.

Qiu Fa, on the other hand, was the one person who would pull her back with everything he had if she ever slipped into madness, rather than watching her sink or drowning with her.

She hated hell. Hell belonged to those who had hurt her in the past; why should she share their fate?

So loving a man who stood for uncompromising justice, possessed an ironclad sense of duty, and held a rock-solid conviction was truly a wonderful thing.

Qiu Fa snapped back to reality, looking into her eyes and feeling as if she were a sorceress casting a spell over him. He tightened his grip on his baton, its cold, solid weight restoring his composure. Turning his gaze slightly away, he muttered, “Do you think I’m joking with you?”

“I know you’re serious,” Jing Pei said softly.

“Then tell me now—why are you doing all of this?”

Jing Pei shook her head. “I can’t tell you right now. But I will tell you… one day in the future.”

Realizing she truly wouldn’t divulge anything, Qiu Fa almost didn’t want to waste his breath further. Yet the emotion suppressed deep in his heart, growing steadily without end, drove him to speak once more.

“If some disaster is going to strike this world in the future… you don’t have to carry it all alone.”

I’m willing to stand beside you.

Jing Pei seemed to read the unspoken words in his eyes, her heart trembling slightly. An overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around him and be held tightly in return surged within her.

Of course she knew that every scheme and strategy carried immense risks. A single misstep meant a massive betrayal, costing her friendships, trust, and potentially everything she possessed.

Yet on this gambling table, only she and invisible destiny were the true players; everyone else was merely a chess piece. This was the mess she had written, and she was the one obligated to bear it.

Naturally, if she ultimately failed, she wouldn’t wallow in self-blame. Though she had written this destiny, without her, this world wouldn’t even exist in the first place. Since the Creator had done everything possible to make amends, she shouldn’t be judged too harshly.

The two stopped at a pedestrian crossing, waiting for the light to change.

“Let me tell you a secret,” Jing Pei said slyly. “Do you know why I know so much? Lean over here.”

Qiu Fa looked at her skeptically, but still leaned his ear down toward her.

Jing Pei cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered into his ear, “Because I’m the God of Creation.”

Whether from her warm breath brushing against his ear or sheer annoyance at her absurd statement, Qiu Fa’s ear turned bright red. He shot a fierce glare at the smooth-talking information broker. As the light turned green, he took a long stride ahead.

Jing Pei giggled and trotted along behind him.

Crossing the street, the restaurant came into view just ahead.

Before going inside, Jing Pei suddenly reached out and tugged on the corner of Qiu Fa‘s coat. “If I ever become a villain one day, I’ll let you arrest me without a fight. But when that happens, it won’t be because I regret what I did.”

“?”

“It’ll be because… I broke your heart.”