Before Tòumíng could take another step toward the exit, the Ice Queen's voice cut through the air like a whip crack. "Wait."
He turned, one hand still on the doorframe, his expression shifting to impatience. "What now? I have a warehouse to infiltrate and a crime boss to investigate. Time is kind of a factor here."
The Ice Queen walked toward him, her heels clicking against the marble floor, her pale blue eyes fixed on something on his chest. She reached out and touched the fabric of his shirt, the blood-soaked, bullet-riddled fabric that was still damp in places, still dark with the evidence of this morning's violence.
"One thing before you go," she said, her voice low and serious. "If you see fresh blood, and I mean fresh, wet, actively bleeding blood, you need to hide. Immediately. Don't look at it. Don't touch it. Just get out of sight."
Tòumíng blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Why? What happens if I see fresh blood?"
Before the Ice Queen could answer, a soft, stuttering voice came from behind him. "I—I can explain."
He turned to find Lù Jī standing there, her frilly white dress somehow still pristine despite the dust and grime of the building, her black hair falling across her face in a way that was almost aggressively innocent. She was twisting her fingers together nervously, her cheeks flushed pink.
"I have a—a condition," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's called Spontaneous Massacre Syndrome. SMS for short. It's really rare. Like, one-in-a-billion rare. And it's triggered by the sight of fresh blood."
Tòumíng's eyes went wide. "Spontaneous Massacre Syndrome? That's a real thing? That sounds like something a cartoon villain would have."
"It's very real," Lù Jī confirmed, nodding earnestly. "When I see fresh blood, I—I lose control. My body just... reacts. I don't remember what happens afterward. The Ice Queen has to keep me sedated for hours until it passes. It's very inconvenient."
"Oh, like a—" Tòumíng started, his brain finally catching up. "Oh. OH. OHHHHHHHHHH!"
He looked down at his own shirt. It was covered in blood. Dried blood, mostly, from this morning's fight, but there were still patches that were damp, still patches that could technically be considered fresh. His hands flew to the hem of his shirt and he started yanking it upward, desperate to get the fabric away from his body before it could trigger anything.
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! I'M COVERED IN BLOOD!"
The guards in the hallway scrambled backward, their hands raised, their faces pale with terror. One of them actually dove behind a pillar, peeking out with wide, frightened eyes.
"Sir! Sir, please calm down!" Another guard stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "It's only triggered by FRESH blood! Actively bleeding blood! Yours is dried! You're fine! She's not going to—"
Tòumíng stopped, his shirt halfway over his head, his bare torso exposed to the room. He blinked, processing the information. "Oh. Oh, okay. That's... that's good. That's really good."
He pulled his shirt back down, smoothing the fabric over his chest, and let out a long, shaky breath. "Okay. Okay, cool. So as long as I don't get shot or stabbed or otherwise actively bleed in her presence, we're good."
"Precisely," the Ice Queen said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Try not to get injured. I'd hate to lose you to my own operative."
Tòumíng waved dismissively, already heading for the door. "Welp, it's not like I'm gonna die or anything, so no problem. I'm basically immortal. I could get shot thirty more times and I'd still be standing."
He ushered Lù Jī toward the exit, gesturing for her to follow him. "Come on, Slaughter Princess. We've got a warehouse to find."
Lù Jī nodded quickly, her frilly dress swishing as she hurried after him. She glanced back at the Ice Queen, who gave her a small, approving nod, then followed Tòumíng out into the hallway.
Tòumíng waved over his shoulder at the Ice Queen, his voice carrying back through the doorway. "Thanks for the intel! And the car! And the not killing me! I'll be back later!"
The Ice Queen watched him go, her expression softening, a small smile playing at her lips. "You'd better be," she murmured to herself. "Or I'll have to come find you."
Tòumíng led Lù Jī through the lobby, past the guards who still watched them with wide, terrified eyes, and out into the parking garage where his beat-up Kawasaki was waiting. He swung his leg over the bike, settled onto the seat, and looked back at Lù Jī expectantly.
"Okay, hop on."
Lù Jī's eyes went wide. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. She looked at the bike, then at Tòumíng, then back at the bike. "I—I—on the bike? With you?"
"Yeah, that's kind of how two-person vehicles work. One person in front, one person in back. You're in back. Hop on."
"But—but that's—isn't that a bit—" She stammered, her fingers twisting together in that nervous gesture she seemed to have perfected. "Isn't that a bit... weird? I mean, I barely know you, and we're going to be—and I'll have to—and my arms will be—"
Tòumíng raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. "Why would that be weird? It's just a bike ride. You sit behind me, you hold on so you don't fall off, and we get to the warehouse. Simple logistics."
Lù Jī stared at him for a long moment, trying to find any hint of flirtation or ulterior motive in his expression. She found nothing. Just pure, unadulterated obliviousness. He genuinely didn't understand why sitting behind a stranger on a motorcycle might be considered intimate.
"I—I mean, of course," she said quickly, backpedaling. "It's completely normal. Nothing weird about it at all. I'm sorry for implying otherwise. It's just—I'm not used to—never mind. I'll just—"
She climbed onto the bike behind him, her frilly dress bunching up around her thighs, her hands hovering uncertainly in the air. "Where should I—"
"Hold onto my waist," Tòumíng said matter-of-factly. "That's what the back seat person does. Keeps you stable."
Lù Jī's blush deepened, but she complied, her arms wrapping around his torso, her hands clasping together over his stomach. She was careful not to press too close, keeping a few inches of space between them, but the position was still deeply intimate.
Tòumíng didn't notice. He was too busy adjusting his mirrors and checking the fuel gauge.
Before he could start the engine, one of the guards jogged over, holding out two small earpieces. "Sir, the Ice Queen requested you wear these. They'll guide you to the warehouse, and they'll provide real-time updates if anything changes."
Tòumíng took the earpieces, handing one to Lù Jī and fitting the other into his own ear. "Thanks. Appreciate it."
He twisted the throttle, and the Kawasaki roared to life. They pulled out of the parking garage and onto the street, the wind whipping past them, the city blurring into a wash of lights and colors.
For the first ten minutes, Lù Jī held herself stiffly, trying to maintain that careful distance. But as the bike picked up speed and the turns got sharper, she found herself pressing closer, her body molding against his back, her arms tightening around his waist. It was practical. It was necessary. It was definitely not because she wanted to be closer to him.
At a traffic light, they pulled to a stop beside a crosswalk. A young guy, maybe nineteen, around Tòumíng's age, walked past with his hands in his pockets. He glanced at them, his eyes tracking over the bike, over Lù Jī's frilly dress and flushed cheeks, over Tòumíng's casual indifference.
"Lucky bastard," the guy muttered, kicking a pebble across the pavement before crossing the road.
Tòumíng didn't hear him. The wind had carried the words away. But Lù Jī heard them, and her blush deepened even further.
A group of girls crossed the street in the opposite direction, their phones out, clearly taking photos for their social media. One of them squealed, pointing at the bike. "EEEE! You guys look SO cute together! Like, literally the cutest couple I've ever seen!"
Another girl nodded enthusiastically. "Your outfits match! It's such a vibe!"
Tòumíng's gears ground to a halt. His brain processed the words, turned them over, tried to make sense of them. Couple? Cute together? He looked down at himself blood-stained shirt, ripped jeans, duct-taped bike then glanced behind him at Lù Jī pristine white dress, black hair, blushing cheeks.
"I don't get it," he said flatly.
Lù Jī's arms tightened around his waist, and she buried her face in his back, too embarrassed to respond.
The light turned green. Tòumíng shrugged and accelerated, leaving the girls and their comments behind.
Twenty more minutes of driving brought them to the abandoned district where Tòumíng had fought Hǔtān weeks ago. The rubble had been cleared, the city had apparently gotten around to cleaning up the collapsed building. The streets were empty, industrial, the kind of place where nobody asked questions and nobody called the police.
Tòumíng parked the bike a block away from the warehouse and killed the engine. He climbed off, scanning the area with the practiced eye of someone who'd survived more ambushes than he cared to count.
"Stay on guard," he said quietly, his voice carrying a seriousness that was rare for him. "We don't know what's waiting for us."
Lù Jī nodded, her earlier shyness fading as she slipped into professional mode. She wrapped her arms around his arm, pressing close, her body language shifting from nervous to alert.
They walked toward the warehouse, Lù Jī's frilly dress looking wildly out of place in the industrial wasteland, her tiny frame making her seem even more delicate against the harsh surroundings. Tòumíng glanced down at her, then back at the warehouse, and shook his head.
"So much for a killer," he muttered under his breath.
They reached the entrance. A bouncer stood in front of the door, massive, bald, with arms like tree trunks and a face that had clearly seen more than its share of violence. He crossed his arms and glared down at them, his voice a low growl.
"Why the hell are you here? This is a private establishment. No solicitors, no tourists, no cops."
Tòumíng opened his mouth, ready to launch into his classic bullshitting routine the one that had gotten him out of dozens of situations, the one that had convinced hardened criminals he was someone important, the one that was absolutely going to work here as well.
The earpiece crackled. A voice, neutral, professional, clearly the Ice Queen's operative, cut through his thoughts. "Tell him you're with Chesqo Dong. That will get you through."
Tòumíng's face twisted with indignation. He pressed a finger to the earpiece and muttered, "I was going to do that! I literally had a whole thing planned! I was going to say I was with—"
"Just say the words, Tòumíng."
He sighed, deflating slightly, and turned back to the bouncer. "I'm with Chesqo Dong. He sent me. We have business inside."
The bouncer's eyes narrowed. He looked Tòumíng up and down, blood-stained shirt, beat-up bike, tiny girl in a frilly dress clinging to his arm. Then he looked at Lù Jī, his expression shifting from suspicion to something like recognition.
"Her too?"
"She's with me."
The bouncer studied them for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, with a grunt, he stepped aside and gestured toward the door. "Fine. Go on in. But if you cause trouble, it's your head."
Tòumíng nodded, his grin returning. He ushered Lù Jī past the bouncer, through the doorway, and into the warehouse beyond.