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墨書 Inktalez
A few days later, Li Mu's communicator rang out in the quiet of the morning. When the screen lit up, he glanced at it and saw a message notification from Mao Ba: "The money has been processed. Meet at Biyu Bridge at 5 PM today."
Li Mu stared at the lines of text, his brow slightly furrowed, a wave of confusion washing over him. According to past practice, the payment would usually be transferred directly to his anonymous overseas account within a few business days after the mission was completed—quickly and efficiently, with no need for a face-to-face meeting. But today, he was being asked to go to Biyu Bridge in person? This arrangement clearly contradicted Mao Ba's usual style; this cautious intermediary had suddenly changed the routine, suggesting something unusual was afoot.
His gaze deepened as a sense of vigilance began to rise within him. He recalled every previous mission handover where Mao Ba had always remained in the shadows, fully aware of the identities and movements of the assassins but never revealing himself. Now he was being asked to meet under the bridge—was Mao Ba planning to show himself and deliver the money personally? The thought struck Li Mu as particularly strange; Mao Ba was not someone who would easily alter arrangements, and such a shift must have hidden implications.
He pressed the communication button and dialed Mao Ba's number, keeping his tone calm but laced with inquiry: "Mao Ba, why do we need to meet under the bridge this time? This doesn’t seem like your style."
On the other end came a cold electronic voice, mechanical and devoid of emotional nuance, as if it were a pre-recorded message: "Meet at Biyu Bridge at 5 PM today. Just be there on time." The tone was short and decisive, as if he did not wish to elaborate further, carrying an implicit urgency.
Li Mu frowned slightly and pressed for more information: "Why such a sudden change in plans? Are you going to show yourself, or is there another arrangement?"
There was a brief silence on the line before Mao Ba’s voice returned, still calm yet distant: "Just be at Biyu Bridge on time. You will receive your money. No more questions."
Listening to that indifferent tone, Li Mu felt an unsettling anxiety rising from within. Mao Ba's reaction and demeanor were unusually cold, even somewhat dismissive, which left him perplexed. Previous notifications had been brief but never carried this kind of authoritative command. He wanted to press for more details, but all he got was the sound of the call disconnecting, leaving him in silence. That indifferent response sealed all his questions within an eerie void.
He held his communicator quietly, staring at the lines of text on the screen for a long time without speaking. Biyu Bridge was located on the outskirts of the city; it was typically desolate and sparsely populated—a perfect spot for handling shady dealings but also an ideal place for ambushes. Mao Ba's behavior and words made this handover all the more intriguing. This arrangement was certainly not coincidental; perhaps meeting under the bridge involved more than just exchanging money. Li Mu’s mind raced through various possibilities as his alertness grew stronger. He knew that such changes undoubtedly concealed risks, but since his counterpart had made it clear that they wanted to meet, he could not easily refuse.
Li Mu set down his communicator and stood by the window of his large residence, gazing at the overcast morning sky. The day was dim; a slight breeze carried a chill, and the streets outside appeared deserted and tranquil, as if the entire city were brewing a silent storm. After pondering for a moment, his expression turned steely and resolute. Whether this meeting was a trap or a test, he needed to investigate it personally; it concerned not only a payment but also his own safety and trust.
Taking a deep breath to calm his underlying unease, he turned back into the room to prepare for today’s meeting. He understood that in this treacherous underground world, any hint of relaxation could lead to deadly consequences.
Driving a discreet black sedan, Li Mu smoothly navigated through the spacious roads of Mist Shadow District. The streets were lined with upscale residential buildings; each structure was meticulously designed, radiating a cold yet elegant glow. The glass facades reflected soft lighting that complemented the tidy streets perfectly. Mist Shadow District was Shadow City’s most advanced high-end residential area, boasting various state-of-the-art technological facilities—from automated security robots patrolling to smart public amenities—showcasing both its prosperity and orderliness.
Luxurious leisure clubs occasionally lined the streets, and stylish cafes bathed in warm light through their floor-to-ceiling windows. Groups of well-dressed elites engaged in hushed conversations, exuding an air of sophistication. Everything around radiated a stark modernity, making it hard to associate the Mist Shadow District's affluence with violence and darkness.
As Li Mu drove, his brow furrowed tightly, his mind racing with unease. Mao Ba had instructed him to personally collect his payment under the Biyu Bridge, a peculiar arrangement that left him puzzled. Over the years, Li Mu and Mao Ba had developed a tacit trust; they rarely spoke much but had never encountered any barriers between them. They would occasionally share jokes, and there was never any cause for offense. Yet today’s sudden change raised questions—did it signify some underlying threat?
He pondered this as his fingers unconsciously tapped lightly on the steering wheel, doubts swirling in his mind like mist that refused to dissipate. The world of assassins was known for its cold ruthlessness; betrayal and conspiracy could strike at any moment, a truth Li Mu understood all too well. Yet because of this, he found himself questioning whether Mao Ba might suddenly turn against him—after all, even partners who worked seamlessly together could exhibit such unusual behavior, warranting caution. A flicker of hope remained in his heart, but he would not let his guard down easily.
The lights and shadows of the Mist Shadow District gradually receded behind him as he drove toward the district's boundary—the junction between Mist Shadow District and Mistwood lay ahead, with Biyu Bridge quietly spanning before him. From a distance, Li Mu could already see the broad yet understated bridge illuminated by lights that failed to penetrate the surrounding darkness of Mistwood. The forest loomed ominously in the night, creating a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the Mist Shadow District.
Taking a deep breath, Li Mu fixed his gaze on the distant bridge. No matter what this meeting entailed, he would investigate it personally and prepare for whatever storm might come.
His vehicle rolled slowly along the riverbank road, tires crunching softly against the concrete surface as vibrations coursed through the car. The speed was deliberately slow, as if prolonging an approach to an unknown fate. The tall trees lining the roadside grew denser, and the light around him dimmed until he reached beneath the bridge where darkness seemed to engulf everything.
Here, beneath Biyu Bridge, thick steel-reinforced concrete blocked out external light. The darkness hung heavily like a dense fog, pressing down on the surroundings and rendering the space eerily silent. Only the sound of flowing water could be heard nearby—the river lapping against the banks in varying tones as if whispering secrets into the stillness of night. Occasionally, a frog croaked before fading back into the endless night.
Li Mu pressed down on the brake pedal, bringing his car to a stop beneath the bridge. He glanced around at his surroundings; there was no sign of life here—only desolation surrounded him. The beams from his headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating a small patch of ground ahead. The stark contrast made the darkness beneath the bridge feel even more profound; dust clung to concrete pillars and surfaces illuminated by light while cool dampness filled the air as if this space could be swallowed by shadows at any moment.
Li Mu sat quietly in the driver's seat, fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel as he stared ahead in silence. In past missions, he had faced handovers with ease; however, this time unease lingered in his chest like an unwelcome guest. Taking a deep breath, he suppressed his anxiety and slowly reached into his coat for his gun. His fingertips brushed against cold steel—a sensation that brought an inexplicable sense of reassurance. This weapon was his most reliable companion between life and death; its icy touch reminded him that regardless of circumstances, it was only this gun that represented true power he could rely on.
He waited silently, eyes sharp and alert as he listened to the sound of flowing water while remaining acutely aware of potential dangers lurking beyond his headlights' reach. He was ready to confront any unforeseen variables; no matter what this meeting signified, he would face it with unwavering composure.
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