“Grandpa! Is this flower pretty?” A little girl held up a blossom she had plucked from the roadside bushes, looking up at her white-haired grandfather.
The old man, somewhere in his sixties or seventies, wore a plain, worn suit. Full of energy after dinner, he had brought his grandchildren down for a walk. Smiling with warm affection at his granddaughter’s innocent banter, he bent down. “It’s lovely. Very pretty.”
A chubby little boy came running over. “Grandpa, I want a piggyback ride!”
“Oh, my little prince, not here. We’ll do piggybacks when we get home. How about a shoulder ride for now?”
“Okay.”
The little boy hoisted himself onto his grandfather’s shoulders.
“Old Lei, watch your back!”
“Ah, Old Lei, that’s too heavy for you. Put the boy down…”
Passersby called out one after another, their faces showing genuine concern and respect.
“I’m fine, I’m fine! These old bones are still plenty sturdy,” he chuckled, even bending down to scoop up his granddaughter as well. The surrounding neighbors gasped and urged him to be careful.
Realizing they couldn’t persuade him, the villagers gave up and shifted to the topic circulating through all the nearby hamlets lately.
“Word is the Qiu Family castle got taken over by the Long Family. That young Long Family Head spent hours inside the other day. Who knows what she was up to.”
“Yeah, we checked the perimeter, but we couldn’t spot anything unusual. You used to work at the main estate, Old Lei, so you know more than the rest of us. Thinking of going over for a look?”
Lei Village was one of several hamlets surrounding the Qiu Estate, its residents originally making a living by fishing.
Old Lei nodded slowly. “Sure. I’ll drop by in a few days.”
The villagers breathed a collective sigh of relief. It seemed as long as he went to check, everything would be fine.
For centuries, the Qiu Family had looked after these local hamlets, bestowing countless favors upon them. As long as Qiu Fa drew breath, even if he rarely returned, the villagers vowed to guard that castle for him so he would never come home to find his ancestral house gone.
Old Lei held the highest status in the village—not merely because he had shared his wealth after returning from his travels, nor because they shared clan roots, but because he had served in the Qiu household and earned their deep trust. When Qiu Fa was imprisoned years ago and the villagers were frantic yet helpless, Old Lei had traveled back and forth to mediate, bringing back updates on Qiu Fa and becoming the anchor of these coastal hamlets.
By the time Old Lei headed home, he was carrying not just his grandchildren, but several bags of fresh produce, fish, and shrimp gifted by his neighbors.
Blessed with children, grandchildren at his knees, good health, and the respect of his community, he was the picture of an enviable old age.
Just as he stepped through his front door, his phone rang. He set his grandchildren down and picked up.
“Hello? Who’s calling?”
“It’s me,” a familiar voice replied on the line.
The gentle warmth in Old Lei’s eyes vanished in an instant. As the caller went on, his expression turned dark and venomous.
“Ah! Waaah!” A frightened cry broke his focus. Old Lei turned and saw his granddaughter staring at him, sobbing in sheer terror.
The malice vanished from his face as if it had never been there. Tucking his phone away, he put on his warm smile, scooped up the little girl, and began cooing, “Don’t cry, sweetie, don’t cry. Did Grandpa startle you? There, there… How about I call your dad to take you kids out to play? Dry those tears…”
It was as though that sinister look had been nothing more than an optical illusion.
The next day, Yunjin Prefecture sank into a heavy rainstorm that would last for half a month. By early morning, the sky was as dark as dusk, howling winds and torrential rain sweeping across the city.
The Secretary General pushed open the door to the President’s office and saw Madam President standing by the window, staring out at the murky downpour. Her expression looked grim.
“You should rest, Madam President. Our arrest and interrogation operations against the illegal organization are winding down. Why not get some acupuncture to unwind?” The Secretary General assumed the heavy workload was taking its toll. Though Madam President stayed fit and healthy through regular exercise, she was, after all, sixty years old.
Madam President simply sighed, walked back behind her desk, and picked up a cup of hot tea without drinking it.
The Secretary General’s eyes lit up as another thought struck her. “Isn’t tomorrow Director Qiu Fa’s birthday? You usually pick out a gift for him yourself. Why not take a short break and stroll through the shops today?”
The rain wouldn’t matter inside the shopping centers.
She had hoped to offer a pleasant distraction, but the suggestion only darkened the President’s face further. She set the teacup back down.
“Qiu Fa’s birthday again… He grew up in the blink of an eye,” Madam President murmured softly. “I saw him when he was just an infant. The Qiu Family held a grand Zhou-zhuo ritual for him, and I attended as a government representative. They laid out all sorts of items on the table—his mother’s service pistol, his father’s books… Ah, you probably didn’t know, but his mother was a police chief and his father was a university professor. Even among the great Atavist families, that was a remarkably unique pairing…”
“At the ritual,” she continued quietly, “the little boy reached past everything and grabbed the Scales of Judgment badge from the Tribunal Division—the one I had accidentally dropped.”
“Fate really works in strange ways.”
“That was why, when they claimed back then that Qiu Fa went wild from Atavist power and wiped out his entire clan, I didn’t believe a word of it. For years, right up until the year I took office, I kept a close eye on him and investigated the massacre.”
“And you succeeded,” the Secretary General said gently. “If not for you, he wouldn’t be Director Qiu Fa today.”
A shadow of grief crossed Madam President’s eyes. “I never had children of my own. Qiu Fa is the only child I watched over, cared for, and loved as my own. If I ever have to bury him… I imagine the pain would feel no different from losing a son.”
The Secretary General gasped. She had assumed the President was merely feeling nostalgic about the passage of time, not expecting such a dark premonition. “How could that ever happen, Madam President? Director Qiu is so formidable, unmatched in all of Hualan. A White Tiger Atavist enjoys a long life. You’re just overworked and letting grim thoughts run wild.”
“Perhaps. I suppose I’m getting old, and old people get sentimental,” Madam President said, burying her emotion as she picked up a document from her desk and handed it over. “Notify the senior leadership to convene for a meeting.”
The Secretary General opened the folder and froze. For officials of that caliber, meetings were normally scheduled days in advance given their packed itineraries. An emergency summons like this was virtually unheard of—it meant whatever was being discussed took precedence over everything else.
What kind of meeting was this? That even she hadn’t been given advance notice proved it was a matter of utmost gravity.
She asked no questions, simply stepping out with a grim expression.
As the office door clicked shut, Madam President turned back to the window. She had always liked rainy days, finding a quiet comfort in the downpour, but today’s rain filled her with an unsettling dread.
Not long ago, Qiu Fa had come to her with a piece of intelligence: the Information Broker had told him that January 18th—his birthday—would be his day of death.
Hearing that, she had risen from her chair, her hands going cold and numb.
Qiu Fa had said, “We’ve verified her intelligence through numerous events. The Information Broker never misses. She almost certainly possesses the ability to foresee the future.”
Which meant his doomed fate was nearly guaranteed to come.
Regaining her composure, Madam President had urged, “We must prepare at once. Our enemy is far more dangerous than we anticipated! On the 18th, you must have a full defensive escort around you…”
“Whatever is powerful enough to kill me would render extra guards useless—it would only waste personnel,” Qiu Fa had cut in smoothly. His tone remained calm, his deadpan expression unchanged, as if discussing someone else’s demise.
But he was right. If a force could slay Qiu Fa, any guards shielding him would be trivial obstacles.
“I will protect myself, but if the prophecy proves true, I’ll do everything I can to leave clues behind before I die.”
“Qiu Fa! Your value alive is far greater than dead—this nation needs you!” Madam President had sharply reprimanded him. “On the 18th, you will stay inside the Tribunal Division, and you won’t step out by a single inch!”
“And leave that ticking bomb—the one strong enough to kill me—to detonate in the future when everyone is completely unprepared?”
Madam President had choked on her words, her fists clenching tight. Her personal feelings had driven that command, but logic dictated otherwise. If a weapon or trap could take Qiu Fa’s life, it could slay anyone in Hualan, potentially plunging the entire nation into ruin.
So what if he knew the day of his death? Even knowing a trap lay ahead, he had to walk in to uncover how the enemy planned to destroy him.
“I’m a soldier. This is my duty.”
Since ancient times, soldiers had laid down their lives for their country. It could be anyone, and it could just as well be Qiu Fa.
Yet emotionally, her heart bled for him.
“Madam President, the senior leaders have arrived,” the Secretary General knocked and called out.
Madam President banished every trace of sorrow, replacing it with resolve and iron determination as she stood up and walked out.
A soldier was prepared to sacrifice his life for the nation; that was his honor. As leader, her duty was to bear the burden of leadership and do everything in her power to ensure he didn’t have to bleed.
Jing Pei hadn’t slept well all night, drifting in and out before waking early. She sat on her bed, biting her thumbnail as her mind raced, her nail chewed ragged without her noticing.
When she had revealed his death date to him, she hadn’t worried about butterfly effects because she knew Qiu Fa’s character. Even knowing he was walking into a trap, he would step forward for Hualan’s sake, ensuring the event unfolded as foretold.
Back then, that predictability had offered comfort. But now, with a day still remaining before tomorrow, despite having laid all her preparations, she found herself consumed by anxiety.
The scene of Qiu Fa’s death in the original novel flashed vividly in her mind, sending a sharp pang through her chest.
Unable to contain herself any longer, she picked up her phone and dialed Qiu Fa.
After a few rings, Qiu Fa’s deep, pleasant voice echoed against the backdrop of falling rain. “What is it?”
“Do you remember what I told you before about tomorrow—January 18th?”
Qiu Fa was currently apprehending a suspect. Holding the phone to his ear, he kicked his fierce opponent flat onto the ground. The torrential rain soaked him completely, his clothes clinging to his physique as his dense muscles flexed with explosive power.
He pinned his foot onto the man’s back. No matter how wildly the suspect thrashed—his neck flushing red, veins bulging to bursting point—Qiu Fa remained immovable as a mountain.
To make matters worse, Qiu Fa was calmly answering a phone call, looking casually indifferent to the struggle beneath his boot.
“I remember.”
“So… what are your plans for tomorrow?”
He caught the trace of worry in her voice—a rare note for an Information Broker who usually handled everything with calm mastery. Beneath the brim of his cap, Qiu Fa’s eyelashes fluttered, that sweet, intoxicating warmth swelling in his chest once more.
“…I’ll be careful. The government is deploying measures as well,” he answered. “If I’m outmatched, I’ll do everything I can to escape.”
Jing Pei blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected the word “escape” to come from Qiu Fa’s mouth.
Sensing her surprise, Qiu Fa tightened his grip on the phone. “I want to live now.”
In the past, Qiu Fa lived solely to uncover the truth. No enemy was more reckless with their life than he was. During those twelve years in prison, he was constantly battered and wounded, yet his foes suffered far worse.
But things were different now. The simple, heartfelt wish recorded in that music box—his parents’ hope that he would grow up well—and her presence had changed him. If there was even a fraction of a chance to survive, he would grab it. He had finally discovered how beautiful this world could be, and he couldn’t bear to leave it behind.
Jing Pei’s heart gave a violent thump, a soft ache blooming in her chest.
“Alright,” her voice rasped slightly. I won’t let you die. Never.
“I’ll get back to work then.”
Ending the call, Qiu Fa tucked his phone away. His lips curved up into a faint smile, his sharp, deadpan features softening as the coldness thawed.
But when his gaze shifted back down to the struggling criminal beneath his foot, that brief warmth vanished like a phantom. His face returned to an ancient sheet of ice, his amber eyes cold as an apex predator.
“Still trying to run, trash?”
Along the coast of Yunjin Prefecture.
Three massive machines wrapped in black cloth were unloaded from a truck and carefully wheeled into the castle.
Several elderly villagers stood beside Old Lei, watching in confusion. “What are those things?”
Since the younger generation was away working to support their families, guarding the castle mostly fell to the older folks taking shifts.
Old Lei replied, “Devices to help protect our main family’s estate from being damaged by shameless trespassers. With these, you won’t need to send people to guard the place every day. I’ll explain how they work later.”
“No need, no need! We wouldn’t understand all that high-tech stuff anyway.”
“If Old Lei’s handling it, we’re at ease.”
“Is it something like alarms or security cameras?”
Old Lei nodded with a smile. “Something like that. I’ll take it from here. The weather’s bad, so head on home. After dinner tonight, make sure everyone gathers at the ancestral hall—I have something to discuss with you all.”
“Alright, sounds good.”
“We’ll leave it in your hands then.”
The elders turned and departed together.
Old Lei clasped his hands behind his back and walked into the castle, taking in the shocking structural collapses and the stubborn, dark bloodstains that couldn’t be scrubbed clean.
“Long time no see,” he murmured under his breath, as though greeting invisible old friends lingering in the air.
At five in the afternoon, the day-long government emergency meeting finally concluded. Madam President called Qiu Fa directly.
“Since no single guard can shield you, we will rely on our highest technology,” she said. “Hualan’s capabilities lead the world today—not only in conventional armaments, but in Atavist weaponry as well. Many consider this the blessing of our refusal to participate in the persecution of the Cyborg Clan. Now, we will use that blessing to protect the man who must be protected. Qiu Fa, as long as you live, our future remains bright.”
Qiu Fa replied, “Understood.”
“We are deploying two military satellites to lock onto your location,” Madam President instructed. “The moment you make a move, we will track it and initiate our response. We will set our perimeter at a safe distance. All you need to do is hold out until our heavy weaponry is fully positioned, then break out of the hazard zone. Our armed forces will handle the rest.”
Every military satellite in Hualan served crucial national defense roles, costing astronomical sums for every second of operation. Redirecting two satellites exclusively to track a single individual meant shutting down other vital functions—an unprecedented, costly sacrifice.
It demonstrated the government’s absolute resolve to keep Qiu Fa alive.
“The satellites and military units will go on standby at midnight tonight.”
The Information Broker had specified the 18th without giving an exact hour, so they were preparing from the stroke of midnight. Following the meeting, every relevant department mobilized in an urgent operation, bracing for a mysterious yet terrifying conflict.
Across the gloomy skies, military helicopters and fighter jets cut through the rain, flying in tight formation. Commuters stuck in evening traffic looked up through their windshields in curiosity.
Only those with keen instincts sensed the faint, ominous tension gathering in the air.
“Old Lei? He is indeed the most suitable choice.”
“I imagine as long as Qiu Fa lives, he can’t sleep at night either.”
“But Qiu Fa is no fool. If we lure him over, he might notify the government to deploy forces or send intelligence. And since our moles inside the administration have been entirely rooted out, when that time comes…” The speaker frowned at The Moderator, deep concern etched on his face.
“Don’t worry, Qiu Fa will come. He’s exactly the kind of stubborn, stupid noble soldier,” the Host said with complete confidence. Knowing more than the others, he added, “If our experiment fails, the government won’t even understand what we were trying to do. And if it works, Qiu Fa will die. As Hualan’s strongest fighter, once Qiu Fa is down, even if our real goal is revealed, they won’t be able to stop us.”
The Host slowly stroked his cane, a flash of inspiration striking him once again.
“However, to guarantee success, there is one more thing we must accomplish.”
“What’s that?”
The Host narrowed his eyes. “It feels as though some divine force is guiding me. We must intercept one person and keep her from meddling in our affairs. If we block her, not only will this battle be won, but the ultimate fate of this world will be sealed forever.”
Jing Pei had been thinking about Qiu Fa all day. His words—I want to live now—echoed in her head, making her toss and turn in bed, a tight ache gripping her chest.
On a rainy day like this, curling up in bed should have been cozy, yet sleep eluded her completely. Her mind was filled with the urge to see him, even if she didn’t know what she would say when they met.
Finally, Jing Pei leaped out of bed, deciding to follow her heart and find Qiu Fa.
“What about me? What about me?” Chu Xusheng, currently taking online classes at home since the Twelve Zodiac Academy was on winter break, perked up eagerly the moment he saw Jing Pei dressed to head out. He looked desperate to escape his desk.
“Focus on your studies,” Jing Pei said flatly.
Chu Xusheng instantly deflated, slumping onto his desk with his pen in hand.
“It’s peak rush hour. Take the longer route,” Jing Pei instructed her driver.
“Understood, Family Head! Don’t you worry—I’ve been called the ‘Living Map’ since I was a kid. I know every shortcut and traffic pattern like the back of my hand. Won’t waste a single minute.”
Jing Pei smiled and nodded.
The driver wasn’t exaggerating. Heading out from the Long Estate, he soon merged onto the highway, smoothly bypassing the clogged arterial roads in the city center before veering into side streets, steadily nearing Qiu Fa’s apartment.
Just as he was about to make a turn, a taxi cut abruptly in front of them, forcing him to slam on the brakes.
Holding back a string of curses, the driver turned and apologized profusely to Jing Pei.
Jing Pei braced herself against the seat in front and told him to keep driving.
Little did they know, inside that sudden taxi ahead, the passenger was also fuming.
“Driver, what are you doing? This isn’t the route to my destination! Why did you change roads without asking?”
Sweat beaded on the taxi driver’s forehead. “That main road is jammed. This way is clear.”
“I checked the live traffic! That road isn’t jammed at all!”
“Feel free to get out and call another cab then.”
The passenger grimaced and fell silent. In weather like this, during rush hour, hailing a ride was nearly impossible. He had waited nearly an hour for this cab and couldn’t risk getting stranded again.
Seeing the passenger quiet down, the taxi driver let out a sigh of relief. Honestly, he was confused too. The original route wasn’t crowded, but suddenly he had an unexplainable feeling—this way is better—that made him turn. He just figured it was a brief moment of irrational thinking.
But stranger things quickly followed. This newly opened bypass wasn’t registered on main navigation apps yet, meaning only seasoned local drivers knew about it.
By all logic, it shouldn’t have been congested. Yet inexplicably, an influx of vehicles poured in from every side street within minutes. Before Jing Pei knew it, traffic had ground to a complete standstill around them.
Beep! Beep!
Honk—!
Car horns blared nonstop through the pouring rain.
Jing Pei checked her watch, her brow knotting in frustration. They were less than twenty minutes from Qiu Fa’s apartment under normal conditions. She debated whether to jump out and run through the storm.
Her driver mumbled in confusion, “Why is it suddenly jammed? And look at those crazy drivers cutting in like that. In this weather, do they have a death wish?”
Screeech—!
Crash!
The moment the words left his mouth, a sharp screech of tires echoed from the intersection ahead, followed by a chain reaction of collisions.
An accident had occurred up ahead. The horrific sounds prompted trapped drivers to stick their heads out into the rain to check.
“Is that a pileup?”
With her heightened senses, Jing Pei saw and heard far more clearly. Dozens of cars ahead, flames flickered amidst the heavy scent of gasoline and blood, accompanied by frantic screams.
“Mommy! Waaaah, Mommy!” A child’s desperate crying reached her ears.
Jing Pei cursed under her breath and ordered the driver, “Call Second Uncle immediately. Have the family hospital dispatch emergency airships here!”
With that, she threw open the car door and ran out into the storm.
The intersection looked like a scene straight out of a disaster movie. A massive semi-truck lay overturned beside a bus that had veered off course, flanked by crumpled, flipped sedans. Gasoline mixed with blood burned across the pavement, threatening to detonate at any moment.
Brave bystanders had rushed over to help, but the deformed car doors were jammed tight as if welded shut.
As the rescuers panicked in helpless frustration, a dark figure flashed forward. With a single yank, she tore the jammed car door off its hinges and pulled the unconscious driver out.
“Stay away from those cars! They’re about to blow! Move him over there!” Jing Pei instructed, handing the driver off before charging toward the burning wreckages.
“Wait… isn’t that Long Jin?”
“I… I think it is!”
A helper wiped the rain from his face, staring in disbelief.
News of the massive pileup at the Yuning Intersection quickly reached the police and medical centers. Sirens wailed across the city as emergency response units mobilized.
“Attention all drivers: A major traffic accident has occurred on Yuning Road. The area is currently closed. Please detour and refrain from blocking emergency lanes. Drive with caution in the heavy rain…”
Qiu Fa was sitting in a taxi on his way home when the broadcast played. Traffic accidents normally didn’t fall under the Tribunal Division’s jurisdiction, but since he was nearby, he prepared to step out and assist.
At that moment, an emergency medical airship bearing the Long Family Hospital crest sped overhead. His taxi driver was listening to a voice message from a chat group: “I’m at the scene! It’s terrifying—blood everywhere! Someone got flung out of a car, but thankfully an Atavist is here pulling people out insanely fast…”
Qiu Fa paused. So an Atavist was already on-site and the medical airship had arrived. Things should be under control.
Just then, his phone rang.
“Hello, young master. I wonder if you still remember me,” an unfamiliar, elderly voice spoke on the line.
Qiu Fa asked, “Who is this?”
“Ah, have you forgotten? That day… the green ribbon tied around your wrist was put there by my own hands.”
Qiu Fa’s pupils instantly narrowed into ferocious predator slits.
“Come here. I’ll tell you what really happened back then.”
Qiu Fa gripped his phone tightly, half his handsome face illuminated by passing streetlights, the other half swallowed in shadow.
“Excuse me, I need to change my destination,” he told the driver. He wasn’t going home.
The location given by the caller required passing through Yuning Road. Since the accident only closed one direction, traffic on the opposite side moved smoothly.
Qiu Fa glanced across the central guardrail just as a car detonated in a burst of blinding flames. Through the fire, he saw someone shielding a small child in a protective embrace, using her own back to block the roaring heatwave.
Qiu Fa froze, his eyes widening slightly.
Surrounded by flames, Jing Pei held the child tight. Her dragon scales protected her body from burns, though the tips of her hair were singed—a minor detail she ignored in the chaos.
Once the shockwave passed, Jing Pei stood up. The child’s parents rushed forward weeping, kneeling in tearful gratitude. The surrounding crowd broke into applause.
The taxi driver had slowed down to catch a glimpse of the commotion. Looking at Jing Pei, Qiu Fa understood. The good Samaritan rescuing people at the scene was her.
She looked so disheveled—drenched to the bone, her clothes covered in grime, soot smudged across her face. Yet seeing her like that only made his heart throb with fond affection.
I knew it. She’s clever and full of sweet talk, but she’s a good person at heart.
His lips curved into a faint, gentle smile. He pressed his large hand against the car window, his amber eyes reflecting the soft glow of streetlights like flecks of shimmering gold.
He longed to call out her name, to let her know he was there—even if just for a single glance. But…
Qiu Fa’s fingers tightened against the glass. It was too dangerous. His doomed fate was a path he had to walk alone.
No matter how slow the taxi crawled, the stretch of road eventually ended, and the driver accelerated again.
The vehicle sped away into the night.
As Jing Pei helped the parents to their feet, something prompted her to look toward the end of the opposite lane. Amidst the roaring flames, torrential rain, and wailing sirens, she felt as though, through some unseen thread of fate, she heard a faint call that broke her heart.
