Chapter 9: The Hidden Thread
1021 Words
Three days passed in relative calm. Zhao Feng remained in custody, silent and bruised. The rescued girls had begun giving statements, and Yuyan spent hours piecing together their stories like a broken mirror—one shard at a time.
But there was one name that kept surfacing in whispers, like a ghost hiding in plain sight:
"Madame Lin."
“She’s not real,” one girl had insisted, voice shaking. “Just a name they used when they were angry. When someone was disobedient.”
Another survivor murmured, “She picks the girls. The high-value ones. Sometimes she visits. Always in white. Smells like lilies.”
Yuyan had heard the name before—but never from this close to the source.
So she sat in the evidence room late into the night, flipping through surveillance photos, receipts, emails. Strings on her board pointed in every direction, but one thread kept tightening: every operation they’d touched was connected to a seemingly clean luxury escort agency downtown. Elegant branding. Expensive website. No complaints. No paper trail.
And at the top of their license registry: Lin Corporation.
Zihan stood behind her, holding two cups of instant ramen.
“You’ve been at this for six hours,” he said, setting one down beside her. “Even vigilantes need food.”
“I’m close,” Yuyan said, not looking up.
“I can see that.” He studied the board. “Who's the woman in the white coat?”
“Not sure yet. The rescued girls called her ‘Madame Lin.’ But no official records. No images.”
Zihan leaned in. “What if she’s not just a manager? What if she owns the supply line?”
Yuyan paused, eyes narrowing. “That would mean we’re not chasing dealers anymore. We’re chasing the architect.”
He nodded. “Exactly. And someone that powerful won’t be rattled by one busted warehouse.”
She looked over at him—rumpled hoodie, tired eyes, but sharp, fully present.
“You’re better at this than you think,” she said softly.
Zihan gave a lazy grin. “You just like it when I say smart things.”
She smiled. “Maybe.”
Then, quieter: “I feel different when you’re here. Not just... safer. But more human.”
Zihan’s smile faded to something gentler. “You are human, Yuyan. You don’t always have to be the blade.”
A pause.
She turned slightly. “And what are you?”
He thought for a second, then said, “Maybe just the person who reminds you you’re allowed to want something more than justice.”
Their eyes locked. That same pull, that same steady hum in the air. But before the moment could fully spark—
Her phone buzzed.
She grabbed it quickly. Her expression sharpened.
“What is it?” Zihan asked.
“A new lead.”
---
An hour later, they were parked in front of a rooftop restaurant in Chaoyang—one that required black cards and bodyguards just to make a reservation. But they weren’t here to eat.
Yuyan had received a tip that a woman matching “Madame Lin’s” description would be attending a private fashion gala held above the restaurant.
The event wasn’t listed on any public schedule. No names. No photos allowed. Just whispers and silk gowns.
They couldn’t get in as cops.
But as Zihan buttoned up his tuxedo and Yuyan slid into a backless midnight-blue dress, he grinned.
“I like this version of undercover.”
She shot him a look. “Focus.”
“Very focused.”
Security let them through without question—Zihan’s reputation still bought more access than most badges could.
Inside, everything sparkled. Crystal chandeliers, violin music, soft laughter. Models floated past like ghosts in high heels. And in the center of the room, talking to a group of foreign investors, was a woman dressed entirely in white.
Hair sleek. Posture perfect. And her perfume—floral. Lilies.
“That’s her,” Yuyan murmured.
Zihan sipped champagne. “She looks like someone who doesn’t lose sleep.”
“She’s the key.”
They split up, circling like sharks around the edge of the party. Yuyan moved closer to the backroom doors, trying to find a security code or earpiece frequency. Zihan went to intercept a waiter, pretending to tip him generously while glancing at the guest list on the tablet he carried.
“Got it,” he whispered. “Name’s Lin Ruo. CEO of Lin Corporation. Lives in Shanghai, but has property all over Asia. And she’s hosting this event.”
Yuyan’s voice crackled through the comm. “She’s not just running the ring. She is the ring.”
Zihan watched Madame Lin as she moved through the crowd. Every person she passed gave her space, reverence. Like a queen among pawns.
Then she stopped.
And looked directly at him.
Zihan froze.
She smiled slightly. It wasn’t warm. It was calculating.
She walked over.
“You’re new,” she said, voice velvet-smooth.
He forced a grin. “I tend to find the good parties.”
“And yet you stand alone.”
“I’m waiting for someone.”
She tilted her head. “Someone important?”
Zihan nodded. “Very.”
From across the room, Yuyan watched, tense.
Madame Lin stepped a bit closer. “Do tell her… to be careful. Pretty things don’t last long in this world.”
Then she turned—and walked away.
Zihan exhaled slowly.
Yuyan joined him seconds later. “What did she say?”
“That she knows we’re here. Or at least suspects.”
“We need to move fast.”
As they left the gala, back into the cool Beijing night, Yuyan gripped his arm tighter than usual.
Zihan looked at her. “You okay?”
“She’s more dangerous than I thought. And we’re closer than ever.”
He nodded. “Then we hit her before she hits us.”
She glanced up at him, eyes steady.
“And no matter what happens,” she said, “we stay in this together.”
Zihan smiled.
“Always.”
- Writer
