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墨書 Inktalez
I shook my head. It was impossible; I had no impression of him in my mind at all. A man who looked like that, even if I had just seen him in a crowd, I would definitely remember.
"I also think it's impossible, because I haven't spent much time in the country," the man said, slightly furrowing his brow. "But I'm certain I've seen you somewhere, and it’s not just a simple 'saw you.'"
His words made me less confused, as they were standard lines from the so-called "pickup artist's handbook," a common tactic men use to get closer to women.
But come on, even if I looked decent, there was no way a man of his caliber would want to "hit on" me right away unless he was some kind of pervert who approached everyone.
"Sorry, I think I’m in the wrong place." I quickly turned to leave this troublesome spot.
However, just as I turned around, I felt a sudden warmth on my wrist; a hand had caught hold of me.
"Don't go," the man said.
To my surprise, he had gracefully stepped out from behind the Dissection Table, holding my wrist with that extraordinarily beautiful hand. It was so stunning that I felt almost enchanted by it.
Now I could see him clearly: he had a slender figure and was dressed very casually in a loose cotton-linen short top. He wore what appeared to be culottes, somewhat resembling a kendo practice uniform but more like he had just thrown on his loungewear. Regardless of his identity, showing up at the police station dressed like this was quite inappropriate.
Yet this casual appearance blended seamlessly with his demeanor. Clearly, beneath those clothes lay a body capable of great combat prowess, but his aura was remarkably gentle, imbued with an inexplicable scholarly charm. If there were "martial heroes" and "literary heroes" in this world, I thought he would fit the latter category perfectly.
"Luo Hanyan, that's my name," he suddenly smiled.
"Hello." I glanced sideways at my wrist. Realizing he was still holding onto it brought an awkward expression to my face, and he quickly let go.
I lost all interest in who he was and why he was here. Although he was strikingly handsome, I had been around beautiful men before and had developed immunity to such charms.
The handsome man pondered for a few seconds before directly reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a red piece of paper and took out a pen, swiftly writing something on it.
He handed me the paper, and as I focused on it, I saw it was the size of a business card. An eagle with outstretched wings was printed in dark gold on it. Below the eagle were the numbers he had just written with the pen, followed by an English word.
"Guns?" I asked. The Desert Eagle is a semi-automatic handgun that became wildly popular among firearm enthusiasts after its release in the 1980s.
Luo Hanyan let out a light laugh.
"Eagles are eagles; do they really need to be handguns?"
I had to admit that the man's strange behavior piqued my curiosity, so I stopped in my tracks, forgetting my intention to leave quickly.
"So what is this?"
"A privilege for you."
"What... privilege?"
"IP, you know what that is, right?"
I was taken aback. This seemingly carefree person was actually from Interpol?
Seeing my astonished expression, Luo Hanyan smiled knowingly.
"You’re studying Criminal Investigation, right? You must not have graduated yet. When you want to, dial this phone number on top. No matter what questions they ask you, just answer 'deser/eagle.' That way, someone will take you into the core of IP and find me. Inside IP, anything you want to experience, as long as my clearance allows it, can be done. If you want to join, that can also be arranged."
"You... you...!!!" I felt that this privilege was too immense, almost absurdly so. "Senior, this is our first meeting! What if I'm a bad person, a spy, or something else entirely? How can you do this?! IP is law enforcement; how can they act like this? Do you have any sense of rules or confidentiality in your mind?!"
I was furious. Clearly, he was offering me a privilege, but I felt he was being too frivolous, undermining the sacred image of IP.
Luo Hanyan displayed an appreciative smile. "Theoretically, this shouldn't be allowed. However, I suddenly feel quite certain that I know you very well. Moreover, I'm confident that if we can recruit you, it would not be a loss for us; on the contrary, it would be a tremendous gain."
Could it be that IP was just playing with me...? I suddenly found myself confused.
"Excuse me, senior, but to be blunt, you don't seem much older than I am. Is it really that easy to grant IP permissions?" I calmed myself and asked the pointed question.
Luo Hanyan smiled warmly but did not directly answer my question.
"Just take it. You'll find out how extensive my permissions are once you try it. For now, I can only tell you that it's an interesting world—vast, mysterious, and thrilling. With your personality, you'll likely become fascinated."
Perhaps I would become fascinated, but how could you know?
"However, keep in mind that I'm not part of a normal organization. I belong to the Shadow Warriors, so what I do involves dangerous matters."
Hearing those two words sent a surge of excitement through me.
The Shadow Warriors was a name that existed only in legends; this organization was not listed in any IP directory, so no one knew if they truly existed. Yet there were often rumors about them—wherever there was the greatest crisis or the most difficult mystery to solve, their presence could be felt. They were a group of anonymous guardians of justice.
Come on, are you blatantly leaking secrets to me?
I started to sweat. As a detective, I understood deeply that knowing things one shouldn't know usually meant death was not far away. Yet Luo Hanyan casually shared these top secrets with me as if we were just chatting about everyday life.
My curiosity ignited fiercely.
"So... the Shadow Warriors really exist? What are the requirements to become one? And is the Sword real? I've seen a case where, although there was no mention of the Shadow Warriors in the records, the way they captured the Criminal seemed impossible for ordinary people—it looked fake. Was that done by the Sword?"
"You've only heard of the Sword?"
"I've heard many names—Flying Fish, Falcon, Robin... so many! Hey, do you all use animals as code names? By the way, do these names really exist?"
Luo Hanyan chuckled and said, "They all do. It seems there are benefits to being showy."
"Well, there's still..."
The man interrupted me.
"I'll tell you anything you want to know, as long as I can. So, as a condition for that, accompany me until tomorrow. Let's sit down and chat. What do you say?"
It was rare for someone of such high status to drop their guard like this. I had so many questions swirling in my mind. How could I refuse such a simple proposal?
We settled down on the sofa next to the Dissection Table.
As soon as I sat down, my gaze was drawn to a book he had placed on the desk. The cover clearly read "Leonardo da Vinci."
"An artist?" I asked curiously, picking up the book, the mysterious smile of the Mona Lisa flashing before my eyes.
Luo Hanyan shook his head.
"It's just a personal interest. This person is fascinating. He was curious about everything and interested in all things; he is considered the father of anatomy. To understand the human body, he lived in a tomb for a month, dissecting dozens of corpses and meticulously drawing the muscles, bones, and organs of the human body. And in the end, guess what he found?"
"What?" I was extremely curious.
"He strangely did not discover the soul!"
We both burst into hearty laughter. After that, our conversation flowed easily; I was surprised at how well this stranger could talk. He was knowledgeable about everything, especially my field of expertise—just a few exchanges revealed him to be quite an expert. It was odd; he seemed so young. Could he really be that talented?
As our conversation became more engaging, time flew by quickly. I was engrossed in his thrilling account of Shadow Warrior when suddenly, daylight broke through the window.
Without warning, someone burst through the door and rushed in, immediately attacking Luo Hanyan, who was seated on the sofa.
The incident happened so suddenly that it left me stunned. When I regained my senses and realized that the person before me was none other than "Zhang Yang," who had already transformed into Nie Qiuyuan, the two of them were already engaged in a fierce fight.
Over the years, I had come to understand Nie Qiuyuan; he was never impulsive when it came to serious matters. Yet today, without uttering a single word, he had directly attacked someone he didn't even know. This was completely out of character for him.
What I could see was that Nie Qiuyuan's fighting style was chaotic. He employed a mix of techniques—modern combat styles and ancient martial arts like the Bone Dislocation Technique and Acupoint Striking—leaving his opponent utterly confused. However, Luo Hanyan's response was straightforward; he relied on a single set of moves, adapting effortlessly to every change. It seemed to me that he was using Aikido.
Given that they had only recently merged, Nie Qiuyuan and Zhang Yang's physical integration was still quite low. It was impressive enough that they could function normally, let alone engage in a fight. After several exchanges, Luo Hanyan found an opening and struck with a palm like a blade, hitting Nie Qiuyuan's joint with a loud "bang." Autumn lost his balance and stumbled, falling to the ground.
I gasped and rushed forward to stand in front of Nie Qiuyuan.
Luo Hanyan frowned, paused for a moment, then asked, "Zhang Yang?"
So he even knew the name "Zhang Yang."
"I am already familiar with your situation. You are an important person we will be collaborating with in this city. However, why does the information not indicate that you have PD Symptoms?" Luo Hanyan continued.
I was taken aback. This person made no comments about Nie Qiuyuan's seemingly unprovoked attack but had discerned through his movements and reactions that there was more than one consciousness within this body. How sharp was his insight?
Looking at Nie Qiuyuan now, his condition did bear some resemblance to PD, or Dissociative Identity Disorder. (To be continued...)
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