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墨書 Inktalez
Watching Wang Chao's body being taken away, a few people slowly crawled out from the cellar.
Jiang He stood still, gazing at the endless expanse of the wilderness.
Xu Yiman looked at Jiang He and said, "Let's go."
Suddenly, Jiang He turned around to Xu Yiman and the others, saying, "Actually, I really want to cry just once."
But Jiang He couldn't do it. He felt as if something inside him had quietly dissipated. It was as if he had lost something, yet at the same time, it felt like he had lost nothing at all. He simply wanted to stop and look at the vast wilderness, to gaze at the white clouds above, doing nothing and not thinking about whether he could catch the Criminal Consultant or those chaotic clues.
For the first time, Jiang He experienced what it meant to have a blank mind. The streams of information that would occasionally appear in his head were all gone; he felt as if the vast white land was incredibly clean.
"Let's go back," Old Shao said softly.
Old Shao closed the car door, and Xu Yiman started the engine.
The sound of the engine echoed.
A person got out of the car and looked at a black sedan parked in the non-motorized lane. The doors of the black sedan were tightly shut, making it impossible to see if anyone was inside. Yuan Jun placed his hand on his gun at his waist and slowly approached the black sedan. He glanced inside but found no one there. He looked around; countless vehicles passed by in the motorized lane, and there were no figures in black on the sidewalk.
Where could the Criminal Consultant be? He must have switched cars long ago and blended into this sea of vehicles; he was like a drop of water falling into the ocean, never to be found again.
Yuan Jun held his head with both hands, standing still in place.
Yuan Jun's car blocked an entire lane of traffic.
The sound of honking filled the street, urging Yuan Jun to move his car out of the way, but he remained unmoved. He couldn't believe that Wang Chao was dead; he would rather it had been himself than feel this heartache. Ironically, before this moment, he truly believed that all the killings and imprisonments were orchestrated by Wang Chao.
"What are you doing!" Four or five men got out of a car behind him, wielding iron rods as they approached. "Hurry up and move your car! Do you have any sense of public decency?"
Yuan Jun had no mood to care about these people.
When the first man placed his hand on Yuan Jun's shoulder, the next moment, he collapsed to the ground. The other three men rushed forward, but within a minute, they too fell to the ground. These grappling moves had become second nature to Yuan Jun, requiring no conscious thought.
However, when Yuan Jun reached behind him to retrieve the handcuffs, intending to cuff the person in front of him directly, he noticed that he was surrounded by a crowd. It dawned on him that cars were continuously passing by, and he realized he had inadvertently blocked a lane.
"Sorry about that." Yuan Jun released his grip and got into his car, driving it forward to park by the roadside.
Inside the car, he sat dazed in the driver's seat, not starting the engine or saying a word.
Half an hour later, he took out his phone and dialed Old Shao's number. "I didn't catch him."
Old Shao's voice was calm. "That was expected. Come back."
"Understood," Yuan Jun replied softly.
A silence fell between them.
Just as Old Shao was about to hang up, Yuan Jun asked, "Is there really no way to save Wang Chao?"
"That's right," Old Shao confirmed. "You saw it yourself."
After a pause, Old Shao added, "Come to First People's Hospital; Zhao Wenjing is still being treated here."
At Long City First People's Hospital.
When Yuan Jun arrived at the hospital, members of the task force were waiting outside the operating room.
Xu Yiman stood outside the door, leaning against the wall, watching the red light above it glow. She clasped her hands together and murmured prayers for protection. Old Shao sat on a bench with his eyes closed, lost in thought. Guan Deng sat in a corner of the bench as usual, staring down at his hands resting on his lap without moving.
Jiang He paced back and forth in the corridor outside the operating room, his face devoid of any expression.
"What's going on?" Yuan Jun's inquiry caught Jiang He's attention.
“Zhao Wenjing is still in surgery; it has been going on for some time now,” Jiang He replied rationally. “Zhao Wenjing suffered a femoral artery hemorrhage, and due to a lack of timely hemostasis, she went into hypovolemic shock. The doctors have issued several critical condition notices; her situation is not optimistic.”
Upon hearing Jiang He’s words, Yuan Jun leaned against the wall and said, “But I saw you on that television; weren’t you already on the scene? Why didn’t you stop the bleeding?”
Jiang He responded, “At that time, I entrusted Wei Qian to help with the hemostasis while I went after the Criminal Consultant. But when I returned, I found that Wei Qian hadn’t stopped the bleeding at all; she had run away.”
“But you didn’t catch the Criminal,” Yuan Jun frowned. “Why would you trust someone like Wei Qian, who is full of lies, to do something like that? Don’t you know that if it weren’t for Wei Qian ten years ago, none of this would have happened? She’s the best at lying.”
Jiang He shook his head. “Even Wei Qian herself didn’t know that it was Wei Linghui who drugged her.”
“Why didn’t you choose to stay and help her stop the bleeding?” Yuan Jun pressed aggressively. “Wang Chao is already dead; can’t we even protect his family? If we can’t manage something so simple, what face do we have as detectives? How will I ever face Wang Chao in the afterlife?”
Yuan Jun struggled to control his voice, but his words still reached all the members of the task force.
They had scoured Dragon City for Wang Chao’s case, spent countless sleepless nights over it, yet in the end, they had lost everything. It felt like being puppets manipulated by someone else, believing they were acting independently while being controlled by invisible strings—a fate from which puppets could never escape.
Jiang He spoke up again. “Given the circumstances at that time, it was the safest choice. Zhao Wenjing had a sixty percent chance of survival, while I had a fifty percent chance of catching the Criminal Consultant.”
“Stop with those numbers!” Yuan Jun exclaimed as he slapped his own head. “Why do you always have to calculate these things? Do you see human lives as just a series of numbers?”
Just as Yuan Jun pressed Jiang He further, the lights in the operating room turned green, and a doctor in scrubs walked out.
“How did it go?” Xu Yiman immediately approached and asked.
“The patient arrived with excessive blood loss; at this point, resuscitation efforts were ineffective—she has passed away,” the doctor said slowly. “Please accept my condolences.”
The doctor gently nodded toward Old Shao, who had been sitting quietly in a chair.
Xu Yiman took a few deep breaths and sat down in a chair. She closed her eyes and felt nothing.
There were no hysterical cries or arguments among them—only silence at that moment, an endless silence.
Yuan Jun took one last look at Jiang He and said, "Is this your sixty percent chance? And what’s the result? The Criminal Consultant has escaped, and Zhao Wenjing is dead. How am I supposed to explain this to Wang Chao after I'm gone? Wang Chao saved our lives, and we couldn't even protect his wife."
"I'm done," Yuan Jun's voice was calm. "I want to withdraw from the task force."
With that, Yuan Jun left without looking back.
Old Shao sighed, stood up, and addressed the others. "From now on, everyone is on leave."
"I still need to catch the Criminal Consultant," Jiang He insisted.
Old Shao patted Jiang He on the shoulder. "So do I, but not right now."
"Everyone should go home and get some sleep. You're all too exhausted. Rest at home, and I'll notify you when you're needed," Old Shao sighed again and slowly walked away.
Xu Yiman stood up and walked in front of Jiang He. "You still answered with actions; you haven't changed. You will still unhesitatingly abandon others' lives. Let me ask you, with your intelligence, do you really think Wei Qian is someone you can trust one hundred percent?"
"I have..."
Jiang He was about to speak when Xu Yiman interrupted him, tears in her eyes. "You know, Jiang He, you should understand what the worst outcome is. You made the most correct choice, but it was also the worst choice. I know this is ingrained in you, so I don't blame you."
Xu Yiman wiped her tears and continued, "And this will be the last time I stand by your side. If there's ever a similar choice again, please don’t treat lives as mere numbers. Lives are vibrant; they have warmth and emotions; they are real before you."
"Can you understand?" Xu Yiman looked at Jiang He.
Jiang He slowly shook his head; he didn’t understand. If he did, he wouldn’t be the Jiang He he was now.
Xu Yiman sighed, feeling disappointed. But upon reflection, how could she blame Jiang He? He was far more pitiful than anyone else; he wanted to feel sadness but couldn’t even shed a tear for his good friend.
"Though I don't blame you, I can't help but think about what a normal person would do in this situation. I need some time to calm down," Xu Yiman said to Jiang He before hurriedly leaving.
Jiang He looked at Guan Deng sitting in the chair; he was silently shedding tears.
Jiang He couldn't understand. He knew why Xu Yiman and Yuan Jun were so angry; it was because Wang Chao had once saved their lives. But Jiang He didn't understand why Guan Deng, who had barely interacted with Wang Chao, was crying. Shouldn't he be the one crying at a time like this?
Jiang He had never had many friends. If he thought about it seriously, Wang Chao was the first male friend he had after reaching adulthood.
Guan Deng stood up, patted Jiang He's shoulder, and left without saying anything.
In truth, Guan Deng was thinking that if he were a bit more capable, he could have found that Cellar through the television signal long ago. If that had been the case, no one would have died, and the project team wouldn't have ended up like this.
Guan Deng had never had friends, but he really enjoyed the time spent in the project team. The people here didn't discriminate against him; they regarded him as talented.
Guan Deng believed that Jiang He was also talented—more talented than he was.
Talent always comes with pain.
Would Jiang He suffer? Perhaps he would, or perhaps he wouldn't.
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