The night had gone still.
Too still.
Naya sat on the edge of her bed, heart thudding like a war drum. The room was dimly lit by the glow of her laptop screen—on it, a single folder pulsed ominously: PROJECT SERAPHIM. The investigator's encrypted flash drive had been a Trojan horse, quietly unlocking files buried beneath layers of digital firewalls. Files not even Nian knew she had.
She clicked it open.
Her breath caught.
Page after page scrolled by—classified operations, financial transactions, confidential surgery reports… but it was the names that chilled her blood.
Jun Liang.
Nian Zeyan Xu.
And her own.
"What is this?" she whispered.
Inside, the project detailed a decade-long medical program disguised as humanitarian missions—operating primarily in conflict zones, but with shadowy ties to bioengineering, black market organ trade, and a government-level conspiracy. It was supposed to be about saving lives.
But Naya saw the patterns.
Too many missing names.
Too many erased identities.
Too many "successful surgeries" with no record of the patients ever leaving.
And Nian—his name wasn't just mentioned. It was stamped on the documents. Over and over.
Lead Surgeon.
Primary Handler.
Target Liaison.
Her hands shook as she zoomed in on a blurry image of a young man on an operating table—face bloodied, barely alive.
Jun.
Nian had operated on him during one of the Seraphim missions.
But… why was Jun listed under the column "Prototype Alpha-2"?
Suddenly, a crash echoed from the hallway outside.
Her door flew open.
Nian stood there—face shadowed, jaw set, chest rising and falling like a storm barely restrained.
"You looked into it," he said.
Naya stood slowly, her voice trembling. "What is Project Seraphim, Nian?"
He stepped inside, locking the door behind him.
"Something I buried a long time ago," he said quietly. "Something I never wanted you to see."
"Too late," she snapped, eyes burning. "You're not just a surgeon, are you?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he took off his watch and set it on the desk with a soft click, like he was shedding a persona. "The world you stepped into with me... it was never clean, Naya."
She crossed her arms, defiant despite the tears welling in her eyes. "Tell me the truth. All of it."
Nian approached her slowly. "You want the truth?"
"Every. Damn. Word."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a worn photo—two boys in scrubs, bloodied, smiling, arms around each other in front of a war-zone tent hospital.
Him.
And Jun.
"We were recruited when we were barely twenty," Nian began. "Bright, idealistic, ready to change the world. But Seraphim changed us. It wasn't about healing. It was about control. Experimentation. We were the golden boys of medicine—Jun and I. And they turned us into monsters."
Naya clutched the file. "And you kept doing it?"
"No," Nian said, jaw clenched. "I broke away. That's why I went to Juba. That's why I brought Jun with me—to get out. We tried to burn everything behind us, but…" he exhaled. "Jun didn't want to let go."
Naya stepped back, the dots beginning to connect. "Jun's not here just to win you back, is he?"
"No." Nian looked haunted. "He's here to finish what Seraphim started. And he'll do it through me."
The air grew heavy with silence.
But it was Naya who broke it, whispering, "Then what happens now?"
A dark flicker crossed Nian's eyes. "Now… we fight back."
Just as he spoke, her phone lit up.
Unknown Number.
A message.
> "You're already too deep, Naya. Back off. Or disappear like the rest."
— The Voice from the Phone
Her stomach dropped.
She looked up—but Nian was already grabbing a duffel bag from the closet, his movements sharp, military.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"We're leaving. Tonight. I'll explain on the way."
The weight of everything pressed down on her—but she nodded, grabbed her coat, and followed him out the
door.
Down the hall, unnoticed by them, Jun leaned against the stairwell wall—watching. Listening.
And smiling.
_____
The rain in Zhengzhou poured like punishment.
Slick streets. Screaming tires. Sirens somewhere in the distance. Headlights smeared across the wet asphalt like watercolors bleeding into one another. The night was chaos, and Nian Zeyan Xu ran straight into the eye of it.
His trench coat flared behind him as he sprinted, shoes splashing through puddles. Wind lashed against his face, sharp and merciless. But nothing could slow him—not tonight. Not with Jun missing and secrets slipping like oil through his fingers.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Naya.
Naya: "I checked the apartment. He's not there. His driver said he told him to take the night off."
Nian: "Then he's hiding something. I'm heading to the riverside district. That warehouse you told me about."
Naya hesitated. "Be careful, Nian. Please."
But it was already too late for caution.
---
Meanwhile, across the city in her dimly lit hospital dormitory, Naya stood with trembling hands, her phone still in her grasp. Her mind wasn't just with Nian anymore. It was far away… home.
Juba.
Her mother's last message echoed in her heart:
"Jace Lei wei is doing well today. He tried to say 'Mama' again. He misses your voice."
Tears brimmed in her eyes. Her little boy. Jace Lei wei—her 1.2-year-old miracle with soft curls and warm brown skin kissed with Chinese undertones. A perfect blend of her African roots and Nian's unmistakable lineage. She hadn't told him yet. Nian didn't even know he had a son.
He had left Juba before she found out she was pregnant. And now, while she trained in China, Jace remained in Juba, safe in her mother's arms, too young to understand the storm of emotions crashing around the adults in his life.
---
Zeyan's breath fogged in front of him as he reached the warehouse. The steel doors were ajar.
Inside, he found Jun standing alone, drenched to the bone, his soaked shirt clinging to his chest, his hair plastered across his face.
"You came," Jun whispered, voice breaking.
"You didn't give me a choice," Nian growled, stepping forward. "What is this, Jun? You vanish, leave riddles, then let me find you here like a ghost?"
Jun's lips curled into something between sorrow and mischief. "Ghosts don't bleed. But hearts do."
There was a loud crack of thunder. The tension broke like glass.
Jun stepped forward. "I didn't call you here to play games."
"Then why?"
"To tell you everything."
And he did. About the voice on the phone. About the project known only as Seraphim. About the real reason Jun had left Nian all those years ago—and why he was back now.
The truth shattered what little peace Nian had left.
And somewhere deep in the shadows of that warehouse, a hidden camera blinked red.
They weren't alone.
---
Back at the hospital, Naya clutched the photo of Jace Lei Wei that her mother had sent earlier. His little smile was pure sunshine, a soft dimple on his left cheek—a dimple just like Nian's.
She sighed and whispered, "One day, baby boy. One day soon, I'll tell him everything."
But outside her window, in the shadows beyond the emergency wing, someone watched.
And listened. And waited.