Chapter 20: The Mirror
The blood on the carpet was a dark, spreading map of everything I had done wrong.
I didn't have time to scrub it. I did something faster. I dragged the heavy mahogany desk over the worst of the stain and scattered the Ministry's hardware files across the surface. It looked like the workspace of a fanatic, not a crime scene.
The door chimes echoed—a polite, synthetic sound that set my teeth on edge.
I checked my reflection in the hallway mirror. My eyes were bloodshot. There was a faint smear of Lu Sheng's copper on my collarbone. I rubbed it hard with my palm until the skin turned a raw, irritated red. It looked like a stress rash. It looked like a truth.
I opened the door.
Director Song stood in the hallway alone. No guards. No assistants. He held a small, silver thermos in one hand and a tablet in the other. He didn't wait for an invitation; he stepped into the suite, his nose twitching once at the faint, sharp smell of chemical fog still clinging to the curtains.
"The air is heavy, Miss Lin," he said, walking toward the shattered window. He stopped at the edge of the glass, looking out at the bruised sky. "The Qin Group doesn't believe in subtle exits."
"They tried to take the server. I stopped them."
"I saw the logs. A very impressive bridge. Although," he turned, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on the desk I had moved, "it seems to have been a costly victory. Where is our shadow?"
"In the hallway," I lied, my voice steady. "He went to check the service stairwell. He doesn't like being stationary when the perimeter is soft."
Song walked toward the desk. My pulse was a hammer against my ribs. Three feet away, behind the bathroom door, Lu Sheng was a dying secret in a porcelain tub. If he coughed, if he shifted, if the water dripped—everything ended.
"The perimeter isn't soft," Song said, tapping his tablet. "It's selective. I noticed you deleted Minister Yao's name from the Sino-Veritas link before the sync finalized."
He didn't sound angry. He sounded curious. Like a teacher watching a student find a shortcut they weren't supposed to know.
"The link was a trap," I said. I didn't hesitate. "The Qin Group planted Yao's signature as a poison pill. If I'd synced it, the Ministry's internal firewall would have flagged the entire transfer as a breach. I saved the data by cutting the dead weight."
Song didn't move. He stood over the desk, his eyes fixed on me. The silence stretched until it became a physical weight.
"You're learning," he said finally. He unscrewed the top of the thermos and poured a cup of tea. The steam rose between us, smelling of jasmine and iron. "The Ministry doesn't need martyrs, Miss Lin. It needs editors. People who know which parts of history are structural, and which parts are... décor."
He held out the cup. I didn't take it.
"Is she safe?" I asked.
"Minister Yao is very pleased with the morning's progress," Song replied, neatly sidestepping the question. "He has personally overseen the apartment's security. As long as the dead weight stays buried, the woman remains a guest of the State."
He set the tea down on the desk, right over the spot where the blood was soaking into the wood beneath the mahogany.
"I'll leave the tactical units in the lobby," Song said, moving toward the door. "They've been instructed to give you... privacy. Try not to break any more windows, Miss Lin. It makes the neighbors nervous."
He closed the door.
I stayed frozen for ten seconds. Then I bolted the lock and sprinted for the bathroom.
I burst through the door. Lu Sheng hadn't moved. His eyes were wide, fixed on the ceiling, his hand gripped white-knuckled on the edge of the tub. He'd heard every word.
"He knows," Lu Sheng rasped.
"He knows I'm lying," I said, my hands shaking as I reached for the med-kit. "But he doesn't care. As long as I keep his bosses clean, he'll let us bleed in peace."
I looked at the bloody water in the tub. I had just traded the truth of my father's death for a cup of tea and a few more hours of silence.