Legacy of Shadows

The October downpour had turned Xishan Cemetery into a muddy disaster. Fresh yellow earth mixed with torrents of rainwater, cascading thunderously down the steps of the burial path. The air reeked of bitter damp earth and the fishy stench of burning joss paper. Zhou Ze passed away two days ago. Today was his burial. Lu Yuan (Luna) stood by the main path, holding a broad black umbrella. She wore a long black patent-leather trench coat tightly cinched at the waist, left half-open to reveal a form-fitting, blood-red dress underneath. Raindrops slid rapidly down the glossy black leather, making that vivid, intoxicating red look dangerously mesmerizing. Her long brown curls fluttered in the wind as she stood motionless in the rain on towering stilettos, her expression a mask of cold indifference. Zhou Ze, Luna’s assistant, had sacrificed his life to save hers. Grateful for his loyalty, the Boss made an exception, putting Lu Yuan in full charge of the funeral. The Boss himself never showed his face. Old foxes like the Boss valued the balance of syndicate power above all else. Just two days prior, the gang's Young Boss—the Boss’s biological son—had plotted an assassination against Lu Yuan. Though the Boss knew every detail, he only issued his son a minor slap on the wrist to prevent any single faction from growing too strong. Aside from declaring a truce, he handed over one of his son's underground casinos and a gambling den to Lu Yuan as compensation. The message was loud and clear: the feud ended here, and Lu Yuan was forbidden from taking it further. Standing behind Lu Yuan were ten syndicate enforcers in black suits and dark sunglasses, their waists bulging under their jackets, completely blocking the entrance to the burial path. "Luna, the funeral arrangements are wrapped up. The rain is getting heavier; we should head back," the lead enforcer bowed his head, making his request respectfully and cautiously. Lu Yuan didn't even turn her head as rainwater dripped off the edge of her black umbrella. "You guys head out," her voice was quiet, yet carried an undeniable pressure. "I want to be alone for a while." "But... the Young Boss has been acting unpredictable lately. He's furious about losing the casino and the den as compensation. It might not be safe around here..." "Get lost," Lu Yuan spat out the words coldly. The subordinates shuddered, not daring to utter another word. They bowed and quickly retreated down the mountain, piling into a fleet of black sedans and driving off. The entire mountain peak instantly grew dead quiet, leaving only the relentless drumming of heavy rain against the umbrella. Lu Yuan reached into the inner pocket of her trench coat and pulled out a greasy, blackened, palm-sized wooden box. With a snap of her fingernail, she opened the soft brass latch. Inside lay a yellow memo folded into a neat square, softened by the ambient moisture. Scrawled across the paper was a single, crooked sentence: I left a memento for you. Lu Yuan stared at those eight words for two seconds before letting out a dry, bitter laugh. With a quick squeeze of her fingers, she crumpled the note into a tight ball. "Zhou Ze, you're dead and gone, and you're still playing games with me?" she muttered under her breath. Her chest felt constricted, as if crushed under a wet weight. On the day of the ambush, the Young Boss had sent over a dozen gunmen to corner her at the abandoned pier. In that dead end, it was Zhou Ze who instinctively threw himself in front of her, taking three heavy rounds to his torso. With his final breath, he reached into his sleeve and fired a high-altitude signal flare into the storm. The crimson flare tore through the night sky, summoning the Boss's backup helicopter, allowing Lu Yuan to escape unscathed through a hail of gunfire. But Zhou Ze never left that freezing pier. Zhou Ze had been a complete fool. In his eyes, she was just a fragile woman forced to cling to the Boss for survival—someone weak and in need of protection. Until his last breath, he tried to persuade her to walk away from the syndicate. He didn't just shield her from bullets with his body; he used his last breath to bring her a lifeline. She owed Zhou Ze a life. Lu Yuan tilted the brim of her umbrella upward, her sharp gaze piercing through the heavy veil of rain to land on a fresh grave dozens of meters away. In front of the headstone that had been vacant moments ago, a young man in a black plastic raincoat had appeared out of nowhere. He was crouching before Zhou Ze's damp earthen mound. He had just lit a stack of joss paper when the flames were extinguished with a sharp hiss by the driving rain, leaving only grey ash floating in a muddy puddle. The man stood up, reaching up to pull down his hood. The freezing rain battered his face, soaking his dark hair and plastering it across his forehead. He raised the back of his hand, aggressively wiping the water from his face to reveal a rugged, defiant set of features. He tossed the raincoat aside. Underneath was a crisp, dark blue police uniform—broad shoulders, narrow waist, his spine as straight as a spear. The Inspector rank insignia on his shoulders was drenched, and the silver police badge pinned to his chest faced Lu Yuan directly, flashing with a lethal, blinding glare! Lu Yuan's fingers tightened around the handle of her umbrella, the leather of her gloves creaking softly. "Damn it..." Lu Yuan's eyelids twitched as she cursed under her breath. "Zhou Ze, you call this a memento? You left a damn cop for your boss?!" The young officer standing before the grave was none other than Shaoqing. His eyes were bloodshot, crisscrossed with crimson veins. From the pocket of his police trousers, he pulled out a small wooden box identical to Lu Yuan's. Inside was no drug ledger, nor the address of his brother's killer—only a neatly folded yellow memo reading: I left a memento for you. Shaoqing gripped the note tightly, the knuckles of his hand turning stark white. Zhou Ze was his elder brother. One had taken their father's surname, the other their mother's. No one on the outside ever suspected they shared the same blood. Among tactical officers, it was tradition to leave behind a final note before high-risk operations. This box had been mailed to his anti-narcotics dorm right after Zhou Ze died in the line of duty. He knew his brother had spent years embedded as a low-level muscle in the underworld, only to die in what was reported as a gang feud. "Brother... what the hell did you leave me?" Shaoqing stared at Zhou Ze's black-and-white photo on the tombstone, his voice hoarse and raw. Suddenly, as if sensing a presence, his ear twitched and he whipped his head around! His eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, filled with wild, untamed tenacity as they looked straight onto Lu Yuan standing by the road. Lu Yuan stood tall in the rain, her black patent-leather coat and blood-red dress striking a vivid contrast against the murky storm. She raised her umbrella slightly, revealing a breathtakingly cold face, meeting Shaoqing's glare with absolute arrogance. The moment Shaoqing's eyes met hers, his entire frame went rigid. The woman standing before him—draped in leather and red silk, holding a black umbrella with that freezing, aristocratic disdain—carried the unmistakable scent of blood and ruthless calculation. Shaoqing recognized that face immediately. She was the adopted daughter brought into the fold two years ago by the head of the Golden Triangle smuggling syndicate, the ruthless "Luna" whom the entire underworld feared: Lu Yuan! Shaoqing looked down at the wooden box in his hand, then back up at Lu Yuan in the distance. The pieces shattered and clicked together inside his head like a thunderclap! "Brother... your memento... is her!" Shaoqing gritted his teeth, every muscle in his body flexing tight. He took a heavy step forward, his combat boots sinking into the mud, his right hand instinctively reaching behind his waist toward his steel handcuffs. Taking this woman down wouldn't just avenge his brother; it would rip the entire cartel apart from the top down! A memento? This was a walking, breathing First-Class Merit that his brother had traded his life to hand him! In the distance, Lu Yuan watched the young anti-narcotics cop storming toward her like a rabid wolf, and the corner of her lips curved into a dangerous slant. The red dress beneath her trench coat fluttered against the wind. Her smile was icy, laced with provocative playfulness. "Zhou Ze..." Lu Yuan whispered, staring at the crumpled note in her hand. "You really handed me one hell of a problem."