Shen Qinghuan’s finger hovered over the encrypted transmitter’s activation key, trembling slightly. The secret room was dark. Only the cold light from the equipment screen outlined the profile of her face. Lu Chenzhou stood in the shadows of a corner, his back pressed against the wall, a muscle at the corner of his left eye twitching imperceptibly. He held a metal pen he had casually taken from the table, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. He had unconsciously twisted the cap loose three times, then tightened it three times. “The signal channel is a one-way burst type,” Shen Qinghuan’s voice was very low, carrying a breathy quality, as if afraid of disturbing something. “It will last three minutes at most. Three minutes later, regardless of success or failure, this place will be marked.” Lu Chenzhou didn’t move. But in the shadows, his gaze had already swept over the entire room like a scalpel: the camera directly facing Shen Qinghuan, the encryptor with its cooling vents beginning to overheat, the palm-sized ventilation grate in the ceiling, the heavy solid wood door, and that inconspicuous backup power outlet beside the door. His brain instantly completed an assessment—Weapons: metal stand, tangled data cables, overheated equipment casing; Obstacles: tables, chairs, cable piles; Escape routes: the door (most likely deadbolted), ventilation shaft (size unknown); Threat source: unknown, but would certainly arrive within thirty seconds of the signal being sent. A green light lit up. On the screen, the data stream began to scroll, the small icons representing external connections turning green one by one. She adjusted the microphone’s position and looked into the camera. That face, always graced with a gentle smile, was now taut, showing a solemnity that bordered on the tragic. “Regarding the death of my elder brother, Shen Yan, and its connection to the political assassination case seven years ago…” Her voice had just been converted into encrypted data packets by the equipment— The data stream indicator bar on the screen suddenly shuddered violently. It wasn’t a lag; it was as if choked by an invisible hand. The green icons collectively turned red and went dark in less than half a second. All external connection indicators disconnected. Immediately after, a blood-red error box exploded in the center of the screen: 「Connection Interrupted. Error Code: 0xFFFFFFFF」. A high-frequency electrical hum drilled out from the encrypted transmitter, sharp and piercing. A faint smell of something scorched began to permeate the air. Under the reflected red light of the screen, all color instantly drained from Shen Qinghuan’s face. Her lips remained shaped for speech, but the sound caught in her throat, turning into a short, sharp gasp. Lu Chenzhou moved. Not towards Shen Qinghuan, nor towards the equipment. His body shot from the corner like a compressed spring, lunging towards the heavy metal equipment stand on the left side of the room—one he had calculated from his first glance: three paces away, low center of gravity, with a non-slip rubber grip. His hand had just grasped the cold metal pole— A very faint *click* came from the door lock. Not the turn of a key. It was the subtle sound of an internal relay tripping when an electronic lock is forcibly unlocked by an abnormal command. Against the backdrop of the suddenly dead-silent room and the piercing electrical hum, the sound was amplified infinitely. A figure wearing the Shen residence’s standard dark blue security uniform flashed inside. The movement was so fast it left an afterimage. As the person entered, their right hand simultaneously flicked out a dark gray thin cord from their waist—not a rope, but a tactical garrote woven from some high-strength fiber, with a metal buckle at the end. The target was clear. Straight for Shen Qinghuan, still frozen in her chair. Lu Chenzhou didn’t aim for the head—the angle wasn’t right, and the other wore a helmet. He aimed for the elbow joint of the assailant’s right arm, the one holding the cord. The metal pole sliced through the air, carrying the full weight and momentum of his body, smashing down hard! The attacker reacted with lightning speed. In the instant before the stand could connect, the right arm jerked back, the body twisting sideways. The stand grazed the outside of the forearm and smashed into the edge of the nearby equipment table. A dull thud. Metal deformed. The equipment table wobbled, the camera on it crashing to the floor, its lens shattering. But the blow interrupted the strangulation attempt. The thin cord flew past Shen Qinghuan’s neck, the metal buckle scraping a bloody line across her collarbone. Lu Chenzhou didn’t pause. The moment the stand missed its mark Lu Chenzhou retreated, using the metal stand to block. The dagger struck the stand, sending sparks flying. The disparity in strength was immediately apparent—the attacker's arm felt like forged iron, jolting Lu Chenzhou's hand numb. The stand was pressed downward, bending under the force. Lu Chenzhou let go, abandoning the stand, and rolled to the right. The attacker's dagger chased after him, its tip grazing the fabric at his side, piercing through the material. Lu Chenzhou could feel the cold edge of the blade skimming over his skin. He rolled to the other side of the equipment console, pushed himself up with one hand, and with the other grabbed a tangled mass of data cables from the table. The cables were thick CAT6A Ethernet lines with tough outer sheaths. He swung the cable, lassoing it toward the attacker's knife-wielding wrist. The attacker blocked. The cable wrapped around his forearm. Lu Chenzhou yanked it taut. The cable bit into his own palm, a searing pain. But the attacker was also pulled off balance, staggering. The distance between them instantly closed to less than half a meter. Now. Lu Chenzhou's left hand—the one that had been empty all along—shot out like a viper. Not to attack, but to grab at the right sleeve cuff of the attacker's uniform. His target wasn't the arm, but the dark blue sleeve patch sewn onto the cuff, and the slightly raised point beneath it. *Rip—* The sound of fabric tearing. The sleeve patch, along with the unusually firmly sewn black button beneath it, was ripped off by brute force. The sensation of snapping threads transmitted through his fingertips. The button was heavier than a normal one, its edges subtly angular, pressing painfully into his palm. The attacker's movements froze for half a second. Not anger, more like a kind of outraged brutality. His right arm jerked back violently, while his left foot lifted, delivering a vicious side kick that slammed hard into Lu Chenzhou's abdomen. Lu Chenzhou grunted. Agony exploded in his abdominal cavity like a bomb. A momentary sense of suffocation. His stomach churned. He was kicked flying backward, crashing into the equipment console. A dull pain bloomed in his back where bone met metal. The button and half of the sleeve patch in his hand almost slipped free. He clenched them tight. The attacker did not pursue. He glanced at his torn sleeve, then at Shen Qinghuan curled in the corner, trembling as she tried to get up, and finally his gaze landed on Lu Chenzhou's face. The eyes behind the mask narrowed slightly. He turned. Charged toward the concealed ventilation shaft at the rear of the secret room—the backup pipe Lu Chenzhou had noticed earlier but had no time to seal. The attacker slammed his shoulder hard against the grate. The metal grate deformed and fell off. Dust and debris showered down. Without the slightest hesitation, the attacker slithered into the pitch-black opening like a snake. The grating sound of a body scraping against metal walls echoed from within the pipe, rapidly fading into the distance. Lu Chenzhou braced himself against the edge of the equipment console, slowly straightening up. The intense pain in his abdomen made his vision darken. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to breathe. Every inhalation felt like a knife twisting in his gut. Cold sweat seeped from his temples, trickling down. He opened his palm. Lying in his palm were the black, specially-made button and half of the dark blue sleeve patch. The torn edges of the patch were jagged, but the pattern embroidered with dark gold thread—a thorny bramble—remained partially intact. The thorns intertwined, sharp and distinct, exuding a cold, refined air. The button was matte, slightly smaller than a one-yuan coin, with a slightly concave circular imprint at its center. Within the imprint were extremely fine, raised patterns. Lu Chenzhou rubbed it with his thumb. It felt cold, hard. The secret room was in disarray. The equipment console was askew. The camera with its shattered screen lay on the floor. The encrypted transmitter was still emitting a dying hum of electric current, the smell of scorching growing stronger. In the corner, Shen Qinghuan finally struggled to sit up, leaning against the wall, hugging her own shoulders, trembling violently. On her neck, the bloody line scraped by the metal buckle was beading with blood, starkly vivid against her pale skin. She lifted her head and looked at Lu Chenzhou. Her eyes were wide open, pupils still holding the residue of mortal terror. But when she saw the button in Lu Chenzhou's hand, something sharper replaced the fear—a cold, grim recognition of a certain emblem. Hurried footsteps sounded from outside the secret room. More than one person. The footsteps stopped at the door. The *beep* of the electronic lock being opened with Then, he stepped inside, his tone steady, carrying a professional calm: "Monitoring center showed abnormal current fluctuations and signal interruption in this secret room. I brought technical personnel for an inspection." He walked over to the still-smoking encrypted transmitter, leaned down to look, and shook his head. "An old encrypted device overloaded and burned out, probably caused a short circuit and tripped the breaker. Truly... too dangerous." He turned to Shen Qinghuan, his voice softening slightly, "Miss Qinghuan, are you alright? Were you frightened by the short circuit?" Shen Qinghuan's lips trembled. She looked at Gu Zhixing, then at Lu Chenzhou, her fingers unconsciously digging into the skin of her own arm. Lu Chenzhou slowly straightened up. The sharp pain in his abdomen was still a stark reminder of the force of that kick earlier. But there was no expression on his face. He loosened the fist he had been clenching tightly, opened his palm, and extended it in front of Gu Zhixing. In his palm, a black button and half of a thorn-patterned armband lay quietly amidst sweat and a small amount of bloodstains. "Mr. Gu." Lu Chenzhou's voice was flat, even somewhat hoarse, but each word was as clear as an ice spike hitting the ground. "Since when has the security detail of the Shen residence been issued military-grade custom buttons and privately customized armbands like these?" The concern and surprise on Gu Zhixing's face receded slowly like a tide. Replacing it was a deep, almost scrutinizing calm. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes narrowing slightly behind the lenses. "Mr. Lu," he said, his tone still steady, "I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean. This could be something the assailant brought in from outside..." "This button is a custom accessory for 'Black Shield' Private Security Company," Lu Chenzhou interrupted him, his pace not fast, but each word like a nail. "Specifically for black ops requiring concealed identities. The material is titanium alloy coated in matte black, with their laser anti-counterfeiting logo stamped in the central depression. Last year's 'fire' case at the West Suburb warehouse, the fire department found an identical button when clearing the scene. It wasn't taken seriously at the time. But I saw it later in the archived scene photos." He paused, letting each word sink in. "As for this thorn pattern..." He raised his other hand, tapping the dark golden pattern on the armband with a fingertip. "If I'm not mistaken, it belongs to your rarely-seen 'special assistant,' Chen—" It was at that moment that Shen Qinghuan, supporting herself against the wall, slowly stood up. Her legs were still shaking, but her spine was ramrod straight. She walked to a position half a step behind Lu Chenzhou and stopped. One hand grabbed the fabric of his shirt at his back, her fingertips icy, a faint tremor transmitted through the shirt. But she raised her head, looking at Gu Zhixing. Though her voice trembled, it was exceptionally clear, like a thin blade slicing through the congealed air: "It was him... it was Chen Mo." She swallowed, the dark red strangulation mark on her neck shifting slightly with the movement. "When he choked me, I smelled... the same cedar-scented cologne on his hands as you wear, Mr. Gu." As her words fell, the air in the secret room abruptly grew heavy. The last trace of warmth vanished from Gu Zhixing's face. He no longer looked at Shen Qinghuan, but stared directly at Lu Chenzhou. Those eyes, always hidden behind lenses, appearing gentle and rational, now held a cold, almost tangible sense of pressure. The two "technical personnel" behind him silently adjusted their stances, toolboxes placed at their feet, hands hanging at their sides—a posture ready to draw guns or engage in combat at any moment. "Miss Shen, Mr. Lu." Gu Zhixing spoke slowly, each word as if weighing its own significance. "Some words, once spoken, require bearing the corresponding risks. Especially those... that endanger one's own safety." He took a step forward. His leather shoes stepped on the old carpet without a sound, but Lu Chenzhou felt Shen Qinghuan's hand gripping his shirt tighten fiercely. "Risk?" Lu Chenzhou repeated the word, the corner of his mouth pulling into an extremely faint, utterly humorless arc. "From the moment you attempted to silence a witness, the risk was already laid out on the table, Mr. Gu." His open right hand remained extended, the black button reflecting cold light in his palm. "The material evidence is here. The witness is here. Guess which one the police will look at first?" Outside the window, police sirens abruptly drew near. Not one vehicle. At least two or three police cars were "Guess, are they here to help you handle the 'misunderstanding,' or to investigate 'attempted murder'?" Gu Zhixing did not answer. He turned and made an extremely subtle gesture to the two "technicians." The two immediately retreated, picked up their toolboxes, and withdrew into the shadows outside the secret room door, but their gazes remained locked on the interior. Then he turned back, his gaze falling on Lu Chenzhou's face. "Mr. Lu," his voice lowered, no longer the steady, businesslike tone, but carrying a metallic, grating quality, "you are an intelligent man. An intelligent man should know that in some games, if you flip the table, no one gets to play." He paused, his gaze sweeping over Shen Qinghuan's pale face, "Especially... those who are already standing on the edge of a cliff." This was a threat. Naked, undisguised. Shen Qinghuan's breathing quickened again. Lu Chenzhou could feel the trembling of her body, transmitted through the fabric of their clothes. But he did not move, only slowly clenched his right hand, the edges of the button pressing into his palm. "Is Mr. Gu reminding me that Miss Shen's safety now hangs by a thread?" Lu Chenzhou said. "What a coincidence, I was just about to remind you—once a charge of attempted murder is filed, it's no longer something that can be hushed up within the Shen residence. The police will retrieve all surveillance footage, interrogate every security guard, and examine every communication record." He took half a step forward, closing the distance between him and Gu Zhixing. "Guess, where is Chen Mo right now? Can the scent of cedar on him be washed off? Can the traces in the ventilation ducts be wiped clean? And..." He raised his left hand and pointed to his own ribcage. "The injury here, a forensic examination can determine it was caused by a knee strike. The attacker's height, force habits, combat style—the criminal investigation technology division can perform a complete action reconstruction." Lu Chenzhou's voice was flat, as if stating facts. "Mr. Gu, what you brought aren't 'technicians,' they're remedial measures after a failed silencing attempt. But now, the window for remedy has closed." Gu Zhixing looked at him in silence. A few seconds. Against the backdrop of police sirens, these seconds stretched infinitely long. Lu Chenzhou could hear the dull ache beneath his ribs, could hear Shen Qinghuan's suppressed breathing, could hear the almost inaudible rhythm of Gu Zhixing's fingertips lightly tapping against his trouser seam. Then, Gu Zhixing smiled. It wasn't a gentle smile, nor an angry one. It was a cold, almost appreciative smile. "Mr. Lu," he said, "I admit, today's matter... was not handled cleanly enough." He raised a hand to adjust his suit cuff, his movements elegant as if preparing for a speech. "But you must understand, some lines, once crossed, cannot be returned from. Miss Shen today identified Chen Mo, identified the cologne I use—very good. Then from this moment on, her safety is no longer an internal matter of the Shen residence, but rather..." He paused, his gaze behind the lenses like two ice picks, "...but rather a question of whether she can live to see tomorrow's sun." Shen Qinghuan's body trembled violently. Lu Chenzhou shifted sideways, completely shielding her behind him. "Is Mr. Gu threatening a protected witness right in front of me?" he said. "No," Gu Zhixing shook his head. "I am stating a fact. Mr. Lu, you cannot protect her. The police cannot protect her either. As long as Miss Shen insists on speaking those 'unspeakable' words, then no matter where she is, under whose guardianship, danger will follow like a shadow." He leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower, low enough that only the three of them could hear. "Unless, she learns to be silent." At that moment, heavy knocking came from downstairs. Not a doorbell. It was the dull thud of fists pounding on the solid wood door, once, twice, thrice. Accompanied by a muffled yet authoritative shout from a loudspeaker: "Police! Open the door! Cooperate with the investigation!" Gu Zhixing straightened up, his expression returning to that formulaic calm. He adjusted his tie and turned to walk towards the door. Reaching the doorway, he stopped, glanced back at Lu Chenzhou. "Mr. Lu, Miss Shen," he said, "I hope you... make a wise choice." With that, he pushed the door open and left. The two "technicians" followed closely behind. The secret room door slowly closed, isolating the inside and outside into two separate worlds. But the knocking and shouting of the police still penetrated the door, thudding "He just..." she began, her voice hoarse. "He was just saying, even if the police came, they would..." "I know," Lu Chenzhou interrupted her. He walked to the equipment console, pulled a length of cable from the tangle of data wires, and quickly wrapped the black button tightly before stuffing it into an inner pocket. His movements were deft, but the pain from his ribs made cold sweat bead on his temples. "Miss Shen," he turned around and looked at her. "You have two choices now. First, wait for the police to come in and repeat everything you just told me—the physical evidence, the eyewitness testimony, Gu Zhixing's threats—tell them all. But just as Gu Zhixing said, from that moment on, your safety will no longer be guaranteed. The Shen residence won't protect you. Gu Zhixing will use every resource at his disposal to make you 'shut up,' or even 'Black Shield' Company might get involved." Shen Qinghuan's lips trembled. "Second," Lu Chenzhou continued, "you can change your story now. Tell the police everything was a misunderstanding—you didn't get a good look at the attacker, the cologne was something you smelled because you were too stressed, the button and sleeve insignia were things you accidentally dropped here earlier. Then, I'll find a way to get you out of the Shen residence and find a place for you to hide for a while. But the price is—what happened today will never see the truth." He paused, looking into her eyes. "Which one?" The knocking downstairs grew heavier; the shouting now carried a warning tone. Although the secret room's door was closed, they could hear hurried footsteps in the corridor outside—Shen residence security personnel gathering, the housekeeper giving low-voiced instructions, Gu Zhixing's calm, unreadable responses. Shen Qinghuan lowered her head, looking at her scraped elbow. The blood had dried, the edges forming dark red scabs. She raised her hand and touched the ligature marks on her neck; her body shuddered again when her fingertips made contact with the skin. A few seconds later, she looked up. "I choose the first one," she said, her voice no longer trembling but carrying a cold, resolute hardness. "I've been silent for too long. I was silent when my brother died. I was silent when I was locked up here. But now..." She looked at Lu Chenzhou, her eyes red-rimmed but sharp. "They wanted to kill me. Just now, right in this room. If I shut up now, I'll spend the rest of my life living in fear, waiting for them to come for me again someday." She took a deep breath and straightened her back. "I'm going to tell them. Everything." Lu Chenzhou looked at her and nodded. "Alright," he said. "Then from this moment on, you cannot leave my sight for a single step. I must be present when the police question you. If Gu Zhixing or anyone from the Shen residence approaches you, you must tell me immediately. Understood?" "Understood." The sound of the main door opening came from downstairs. The heavy hinges turned, followed by a wave of indistinct noise. Footsteps poured in, mixed with the static crackle of police radios, authoritative inquiries, and the housekeeper's hurried attempts at explanation. Lu Chenzhou walked to the secret room door, his hand on the handle. He didn't pull it open immediately but glanced back at Shen Qinghuan. "One final confirmation," he said. "No regrets?" Shen Qinghuan shook her head. "No regrets." Lu Chenzhou pulled the door open. The corridor was already full of people. Four uniformed police officers stood at the front, hands resting on their equipment belts. Gu Zhixing and the housekeeper stood to one side, their expressions calm. Several security personnel stood further back, their eyes alert. The moment the door opened, everyone's gaze snapped toward them. Lu Chenzhou stepped aside, letting Shen Qinghuan walk out. She stood beside him, her back very straight, the ligature marks on her neck exposed to everyone's view. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms, but her face showed no expression. The lead officer stepped forward. His gaze swept over the two of them before finally settling on the marks on Shen Qinghuan's neck. "We're from the Municipal Bureau's Criminal Investigation Division," he said, showing his badge. "We received a report of illegal intrusion and assault at the Shen residence. Which one of you is Miss Shen Qinghuan?" "I am," Shen Qinghuan said. The officer's gaze shifted to Lu Chenzhou. "And this gentleman is?" "Lu Chenzhou," he said. "Miss Shen's temporary security consultant. Also a witness to and the person who stopped the assault just now." The officer nodded Gu Zhixing stood in the shadows, his gaze calm behind his gold-rimmed glasses, resting on Shen Qinghuan's face. He didn't speak, merely lifting his chin slightly as if waiting for something. The officer's brows furrowed. "Identity? Do you know the assailant?" Shen Qinghuan took a deep breath. "He is Gu..."