Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The air in the hall instantly felt heavier.

Austin finally spoke: "What are you trying to say?"

"I want to say that this city has recently seen a lot of things that shouldn't have appeared."

Abel tapped the silver tip of his cane lightly with his fingertip. "Medicine, disease, pollution, disappearances, the supply disruptions and panic brought about by war..."

Each of these things can easily make some people rich, and can also easily make others die.

You Tusol lost two men, we lost one. It's hard to say who is in more pain.

But if someone wants Tusol and Scarlet to fight each other first, and then clean up the mess from the sidelines—I'd be very unhappy.

Black Star stared at him: "You'd better really be unhappy, or I'll make you even more unhappy."

Abel finally looked at Black Star, his smile unchanged.

"Mr. Black Star, I heard that the missing Evan was on good terms with you, so I'll just take your words today as an overreaction."

He paused, then looked at Xilun again, "But this... young governor of the North District who has recently gained a great reputation, I've always wanted to meet him."

Xilun met his gaze, his expression unchanged.

"I saw him."

Abel smiled. "I heard you can handle pollution?"

The room was so quiet you could hear the crackling of the charcoal in the fireplace.

Xilun said slowly, "If you're here for a medical consultation, you can wait in line first."

Oro almost burst out laughing, but Oin's expression darkened even more.

Abel wasn't annoyed; he simply nodded, as if he had taken those words to heart.

"Very well," he said. "Since you all have clues, why don't you each investigate your own? If you do find my scarlet head, we'll give you an explanation; if you don't, please don't trespass on our territory."

Austin looked at him: "If another one of Tusol's men is lost, I won't just let you come to my door to talk."

"Me too."

Abel bowed slightly, turned and left, his heels treading lightly on the carpet as if leaving no trace.

But everyone in the hall knew that things were more complicated than before.

Scarlet wasn't feigning innocence; she was also looking for someone.

Black Star stood there for a long time, then suddenly muttered a curse.

Oin said coldly, "See? I told you long ago, this is a very deep pool. The safest way now is to seal off the western suburbs, mobilize people, search, and suppress the Scarlet faction as well."

"Are you looking for someone, or are you trying to use this as an opportunity to start a war?" Austin looked at him coldly.

"If the other side breaks the rules first, why can't we fight back?"

"The empire is at war, so supplies in the city are tight. Whoever flips the table first will be the first to be targeted and killed."

Austin's tone was calm, yet firm, "Tusor isn't some street gangster; he won't tear the whole network apart in a fit of anger."

Black Star suddenly spoke up: "So Evan wasted his time?"

"Did I say I wouldn't look?" Austin looked at him. "Your men continue the investigation, and Xilen will go with you. Oin—if you still want to interfere, do it openly. Stop sending those useless cowards behind you; it's a disgrace to Tusol."

Oin's eye twitched, but he didn't argue back, only letting out a heavy snort.

After the meeting ended, it was already getting dark.

When Xilun came downstairs, the servants were clearing away the evening tea.

Two untouched butter scones and half a pot of cold Earl Grey tea remained on the silver plate. The rain outside the window was tinged yellow by the gas streetlights. A row of wet umbrellas and coats were piled up in the porch. The whole house carried the weariness unique to a respectable family—the fire was still burning, meals still had to be eaten, and guests still had to be received, even though the wind had started to pick up outside.

As soon as he stepped out the door, someone gently knocked on the side of a black carriage.

Reiner peeked out from under the umbrella, his face half-revealed, and smiled as if it were a chance encounter.

"Governor of the Northern District, what a coincidence."

Xilun glanced at him: "Your tracking skills aren't very good."

"It's not stalking, it's waiting." Reiner raised his umbrella slightly. "Want to come up and chat for a bit?"

Xilun did not refuse.

A small lamp was lit inside the carriage, and the leather seats still smelled of tobacco and rain.

Reiner lowered the car curtain halfway and handed him a cigarette first.

Xilun didn't take it, so he lit it himself. The moment the match was struck, it sharpened the look on his face, which always had a slightly lazy smile.

"You've been eating at Tusol's quite often lately," Reiner said, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"Someone's paying, why not go?"

"That's true." Reiner chuckled. "But I still have to remind you, if Tusol and Crimson really clash this time, the happiest people won't be you, nor will they be them."

"Who could it be?"

“A lot of people.” Reiner pointed out, a cigarette between his fingers. “People waiting for coal prices to rise, people waiting for the arms trade to fall apart, people waiting for the North District parishes to be reshuffled… and of course, that includes us.”

Xilun looked at him: "So, did you come to deliver a message, or to lay a trap?"

"Either is fine," Reiner said frankly. "Whether the information is valuable or not depends on how you use it."

After he finished speaking, he took out a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it over.

"Our people saw a private hearse on Old Causeway Road in the western suburbs last night. The license plate was fake, the driver was wearing a church hat, and it eventually stopped near the Paterson Tidal Room."

What's even more interesting is that someone had their eye on the car even before Tusol did.

Xilun's eyes flickered slightly: "Who?"

Reiner's smile faded slightly.

"A tall young man, carrying a bag and a gun, moved very quickly, as if he had received very formal training."

Our men didn't get too close, but they saw his tire tracks and half a family crest buckle... If I'm not mistaken, it should be related to your teacher.

The raindrops began to patter against the car roof, growing denser.

Xilun lightly pressed his finger on the edge of the paper without saying a word.

Reiner glanced at him and lowered his voice.

"Siren, Tusol is looking for their people, Scarlet is looking for their people, and you, you'd better think carefully about who you're really looking for."

He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back.

"The message has been delivered; consider it repaying the favor from last time. Whether you believe it or not is up to you."

When Xilun got off the bus, the rain was almost like a curtain.

He opened his umbrella and walked step by step down the soaked stone steps back to his carriage.

Under the streetlights, pedestrians walked quickly. The veils on women's hats, the stiff collars of men's collars, the evening newspapers held above newsboys' heads to shield them from the rain, and the water stains running down the windows of roadside pubs were all shivering in the evening breeze.

When he returned to the mansion, Rhodes was already waiting in the hall.

"Sir, dinner has been saved for you."

He took Xilun's coat and said in a low voice, "Also, the station just delivered an evening supplement, saying that there was a thunderstorm in the western suburbs last night, and some people witnessed what looked like an extraordinary battle taking place in the direction of the old embankment. When the patrol team arrived, they only saw half of the collapsed embankment and charred railway tracks."

Xilun paused in his tracks.

Rod added, "Also, there's still no new news from Saiwei, but the doorman said that someone from the ocean pier left a message."

If you receive any news about Mr. Lund recently, it's best not to rush to the beach.

"Where are the others?"

"He left after saying that, and the gatekeeper didn't stop him."

Xilun looked up and gazed towards the door.

……

The night was shrouded in darkness by the rain, and the wind in the north was blowing westward along the chimneys and streets, as if it were trying to carry all the coal dust of the city to the sea.

Lund took the piece of paper with the words "Old Causeway" written on it and slowly clenched it.

"I'm skipping dinner," he said. "I'll take the map to the study."

The wind swept in from the open sea, carrying the smells of coal smoke, fish, and rust from old sheet metal soaked in sea fog, making the crane booms creak and groan high above.

The sky was low and dark at dusk, like a lead plate about to be folded down, and even the few steam streetlights by the dock looked yellow and dirty.

Lund stood in front of the iron fence outside Pier 7 and looked up at the half-collapsed sign.

"Closed zone, no unauthorized personnel allowed."

Beneath the sign, the old red paint had peeled off in pieces, revealing dark brown rust underneath, like blood that had congealed for many years.

"You arrived faster than I expected."

A hoarse female voice came from behind.

Lund turned his head and saw Sarah, holding an old black umbrella, getting off the steam car by the roadside.

She still looked as capable as ever, in a gray trench coat, ankle boots, and carrying a hard leather briefcase. Only the corners of her eyes were deeper than before, as if the sea breezes of the ocean-going docks over the years had carved several cuts into them.

"You only wrote about Pier Seven in your letter," Lund said. "I thought you would continue to avoid me."

Sarah glanced at him: "Why would I avoid you?"

"You understand."

“I know a lot of things,” Sarah said, walking to the fence and pulling out a bunch of keys. “For example, your face, which looks like you haven’t slept well for many days, and the fact that you’re standing here, already cursing your father in your heart—I know all of that.”

Lund didn't say anything.

Sarah inserted the key into the iron gate, and with a click, the lock opened.

She didn't go in immediately as she pushed the door open, but instead turned her head to look at him: "Before you go in, let me ask you something. Are you here to look for clues, or to find a dead body?"

Is there a difference?

"Yes," Sarah said calmly. "People looking for clues can back out, but people looking for dead bodies generally don't want to back out."

Lund smiled, but it was a faint smile: "Then I'm probably both."

Sarah paused for two seconds before stepping through the iron gate first.

Inside is an old loading and unloading area that has been abandoned for many years. The railway tracks are embedded in the ground, with half of them exposed and the other half buried by sea mud and weeds.

The brick walls of the cold storage in the distance were blackened by the rain, looking like a dead beast crouching by the sea.

The wind grew colder as you went further in, and it blew through the empty racks and chains with a thin, long metallic sound.

Lund followed behind her, his pace slow, but his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.

"You said in your letter that someone has died here recently," he asked.

“They’re not dead, they’re missing,” Sarah said. “Three people, night shift loaders. The guard said they went into cold storage room number three and never came out. The door was locked from the inside out. When it was opened the next day, it was empty, with only water on the floor.”

"seawater?"

"Smells like it, but doesn't feel like it." Sarah glanced at him. "Slippery, cold, and with a hint of... indescribable fishy sweetness."

Lund's eyes darkened slightly.

They walked to a half-collapsed guardhouse, where an old man, wrapped in a thick woolen coat, with a white beard and swollen eye bags, was sitting, staring blankly at a thermos.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up, squinted for several seconds, and then seemed to recognize Lund.

"Is it that child?" The old man's voice trembled. "He's grown so much..."

Lund stopped. "You've seen me before?"

"Ten years ago," the old man said with a smirk, "when you were pushed onto the patrol car, you cried until your voice was hoarse, and you even kicked the glass with your heel, trying to run back... I can't forget it no matter how hard I try."

Lund's fingers slowly clenched.

Sarah placed her briefcase on the broken table, unlocked it, took out a rusty tin box, and pushed it in front of Lund.

"It was fished out of the cold storage room number three a couple of days ago," she said. "It wasn't retrieved from the sea; it was pulled out of a ditch. The lock on top was broken, but the contents were still inside."

Lund stared at the metal box without moving.

"Open it and take a look," Sarah said.

The old man chimed in from the side, "It's your dad's stuff."

The wind seeped in from all sides of the pavilion, causing the kerosene lamp on the table to sway gently.

Lund reached out and opened the tin box.

There were no guns or any secrets inside, just a few small, miscellaneous items.

A pharmacy receipt softened by water, a roll of old tape, a hardened mint, a spare pair of glasses, and a stack of neatly folded pieces of paper.

The handwriting on the top sheet of paper was terrible, and the ink had smudged halfway through, but it was still legible.

"Lund coughed badly on Wednesday. Remember to heat up some milk when you get home and don't let him get caught in the rain again."

Lund's gaze suddenly stopped.

He flipped to another page.

"Don't forget to pay the fees for Violet School next month. Don't stop the marksmanship class yet; he says he won't learn it, but he'll get angry if you actually stop."

The third one.

"The shoulder seam of the new school uniform is too narrow. He's growing fast, so it needs to be altered to be an inch bigger."

The fourth one.

"Keep dry towels in the car, on the right side of the back seat, because Lund gets cold easily."

The guard booth was eerily quiet for a moment.

Lund looked at the pieces of paper, and felt a slight prick in his chest, though no blood flowed, a dull ache remained.

"What are you trying to prove by showing me this?" he asked in a low voice. "That he can keep accounts, buy medicine, and pretend to be a good father?"

Sarah stared at him: "You really think this is an act?"

"Isn't that right?" Lund raised his eyes, a cold glint in them. "After that night ten years ago, everyone only told me one thing—your father is dead. How he died, they wouldn't say. Why he died, they wouldn't say. What he did before, they wouldn't say. Every single one of you kept your mouths shut tighter than iron gates, and then you put this in my hands—"

He held up the few sheets of paper that had been soaked in water, his knuckles turning white from the tension.

"Does this mean someone who wouldn't even tell me the truth actually cares about me all along?"

The old man coughed and cautiously interjected, "That night... it wasn't that I didn't want to tell you, it's just that your mother wouldn't let me. She said you're still young, and it wouldn't do you any good to know."

"No benefit?" Lund looked at him. "I lived like an idiot for ten years, thinking everyone I met might know how my father died. Is that a benefit?"

Sarah suddenly raised her hand and slammed it on the table with a bang.

"That's enough!"

Lund stared at her.

Sarah's face was cold:

"You can hate him, and you can hate us for keeping it from you, but don't put on this act of being the most wronged person here."

Do you know what he was muttering as he rushed back onto the bridge that night?

Lund didn't say anything.

Sarah said, enunciating each word clearly, "What he said was, 'Don't let that kid turn back.'"

The old man whispered beside him, "Your dad usually doesn't seem like a capable person. He's polite to everyone, never talks back when scolded, and has a temper as soft as a damp cotton ball. But that night was different."

He raised his cloudy eyes and looked at the old railway track outside, which gleamed in the sea breeze through the rain.

"That night, something came out from the other side of the bridge. It was very big and very dark. It stood in the rain like a tower."

We were all weak in the knees, your dad was shaking, he almost dropped the knife... but then he glanced back at the patrol car you were in, and suddenly smiled.

Lund's Adam's apple bobbed slightly.

"What kind of laugh?" he asked.

The old man was silent for a moment: "It didn't look good, like he was forcing it out through gritted teeth. But he just smiled, then picked up the knife and walked forward, cursing as he went."

"What are you cursing about?"

The old man thought for a moment, then said softly, "He cursed, 'I'm terrified of you, terrified to death... but you're not getting through.'"

Only the sound of the wind remained in the pavilion.

Sarah closed the metal box again and picked up her briefcase: "The truth you want isn't in my mouth, it's inside."

She looked deeper into the cold storage.

"The tide is high tonight, and the strange noises have started again. The old maintenance line under the No. 3 cold storage unit leads to the bottom of the old access bridge."

Your father's blood, the knife that broke that night, and everything we've refused to touch all these years—it's all down there.

Lund folded the papers and slowly stuffed them back into the tin box.

"You knew all along, didn't you?" he asked.

"I know half of it," Sarah said. "I want to see the other half today too."

"Aren't you afraid?"

Sarah scoffed, "What's the use of being afraid? Your dad was terrified back then, but he still made it to the top, didn't he?"

Lund looked at her and suddenly asked, "Then what exactly is he chopping at?"

Sarah remained silent for a long time before whispering, "If I said that the thing standing in the rain that day was like a god... would you believe me?"

Lund's gaze slowly turned cold.

"I don't believe in God," he said.

"Then go and see what exactly your father chopped down back then."