Chapter 31 – Red Silk and Shadow Knives
In the heart of City A's underground black market—Sector G—hidden behind a curtain of red silk and incense smoke, a woman in a slit cheongsam hummed an old opera tune as she cleaned a pair of curved knives.
"You're late," she said, not turning.
A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, lean, and gloved. His mask gleamed in the dim light.
"I wasn't sure you'd still be here," he said.
The woman smiled without humor. "People always come back to me when the world starts bleeding."
He tossed a thumb drive onto the table. "I need your contacts. Every informant inside Bai Corp. And I need them silent."
She picked up the drive, examined it. "Encrypted, dangerous, and likely to explode if mishandled. You always bring me gifts like this."
"This one contains a name," he replied, eyes dark behind the mask. "Qiao Lan."
The woman laughed softly. "Ah… the canary in the cage. You spooked her."
"She led them to me."
"She's not stupid," the woman replied, twirling a knife. "You underestimated Bai Xueqing."
His voice dropped. "No. I tested her. She hasn't changed."
"She has," the woman said, slowly standing. "She's stronger. Colder. And now… she has him."
The masked man stiffened. "Mo Chen."
"Her shadow general," the woman said mockingly. "Loyal, brilliant, obsessively in love with her. Always has been."
"Then I'll cut off her shadow."
She stopped, suddenly serious. "Careful. The last man who tried lost a city."
---
Meanwhile, Mo Chen walked down the corridors of Bai Corp's weapons research floor. Lin Nuo caught up to him with a tablet in hand.
"We tracked the last known burner phone used to contact Qiao Lan. Pings from Sector G."
Mo Chen's jaw tightened. "That rat's burrowing deeper."
"And he's making friends," Lin added. "The Knife Widow's name popped up."
Mo Chen's eyes flashed.
"I'll go," he said. "Alone."
"You sure that's smart?"
"No," Mo Chen admitted, a rare grin spreading. "But it'll be satisfying."
---
That night, deep within Sector G's silk-curtained maze, Mo Chen stepped through smoke and whispers.
Across the room, the Knife Widow looked up from her tea.
"Well," she said, smiling slyly, "if it isn't the shadow himself."
And from the back, the masked man watched—silent, waiting, gloved hands twitching toward the twin blades hidden under his coat.