The filing cabinet in the corner at the end of the corridor was older than the others around it. Its dark gray metal surface was covered with fine rust spots, like frozen tear tracks. The humidity control system seemed to have failed here; the air carried an inescapable musty smell, mixed with the pungent scent of mothballs. Lu Chenzhou walked over, the gunshot wound in his left leg tugging at his nerves with every step. He crouched down, his knees emitting a faint *crack*. The metal archive box numbered "97-Jue-003" lay on the very bottom shelf. Its size was smaller than the standard specification, like a scaled-down coffin. The surface of the box bore no label, only the laser-etched number, which felt slightly raised to the touch. Zhou Zhengping stood two paces away, his back to him, his ear pressed against the wall, listening. "The sound of a logistics cart... still in the east wing. You have five minutes, at most." Lu Chenzhou didn't respond. He took an electronic decoder from his pocket—a palm-sized black cube, its edges already worn. He inserted the probe at the end of the connecting cable into the lock's keyhole. The screen lit up with a faint blue glow. He entered the initial password Zhou Zhengping had given him: six zeros. The screen flashed "ERROR." The second time, he entered the first six digits of Gu Zhiyuan's police badge number. Still an error. The musty smell in the air grew heavier. "Or what?" Lu Chenzhou suddenly asked, his voice very low. Zhou Zhengping was silent for two seconds. "Or... try your partner's death anniversary." Lu Chenzhou's fingers froze mid-air. The corner of his left eye began to twitch. Once. Twice. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, the musty odor rushing straight into his nostrils. Then he opened his eyes and pressed six numbers on the decoder's keypad: 3, 1, 0, 5, 9, 7. *Beep—* A series of fine mechanical whirring sounds came from inside the lock cylinder, like bones reassembling. The lid of the box popped open a crack. Lu Chenzhou lifted the lid. There were no files inside, only a kraft paper document pouch. Its opening was sealed with red sealing wax, stamped with a clear seal pattern: a sword piercing through a file. Below the seal was a handwritten signature—Gu Zhiyuan. The handwriting was fierce, the final stroke almost tearing through the paper. He picked up the document pouch. It was light. But the moment his fingertips touched the paper bag, the distant sound of a cart's wheels grinding over the concrete floor—a low *rumble*—came from afar, growing closer. "Go." Zhou Zhengping had already pulled open the emergency exit door. A gust of wind carrying the smell of rust rushed in. Lu Chenzhou stuffed the document pouch into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, placing it against his chest. The edge of the paper bag pressed against his ribs, an unreal hardness. He stood up, his left leg buckling, nearly causing him to kneel. He steadied himself by bracing a hand against the filing cabinet. The metal shelf wobbled slightly, emitting a dull *hum*. The two of them ducked into the emergency stairwell. The door closed behind them, locking that "tomb" and all its secrets back into the darkness. The stairwell was lit only by the eerie green glow of the emergency exit signs, illuminating the spiraling concrete steps leading down. Zhou Zhengping walked ahead, his footsteps light, almost inaudible. Lu Chenzhou followed, each step falling within the shadows. "Once we're out," Zhou Zhengping stopped at a corner, looked back at him, the enamel tea cup in his hand turning a full circle, "go straight to the courthouse. This afternoon at two, Courtroom Three, final sentencing." Lu Chenzhou nodded. He touched the document pouch inside his pocket. "This..." "That's your ticket," Zhou Zhengping cut him off, his voice echoing in the empty stairwell. "And your knife. But remember when you use it—a knife can kill, but it can also cut the hand that holds it." The sound of the cart seemed to have reached just outside the door, then stopped. Zhou Zhengping said no more, turning and quickening his pace. Lu Chenzhou followed. The document pouch against his chest thumped against his heart with every step. He remembered seven years ago, in a similarly dim passageway, someone had handed him a document and said, sign this, and your sister can live. He had signed. That pen had felt heavy, heavy as a branding iron. And today, this light piece of paper in his embrace might be able After speaking, he took a step back, and the fire door slowly closed. Just before the gap sealed completely, Lu Chenzhou heard his final words: “In court, be careful of Gu Zhixing. A cornered dog will do more than just jump over a wall.” The lock clicked shut with a definitive sound. Lu Chenzhou stood in the sunlight for a full three seconds. Then he raised his hand and hailed a taxi that happened to be passing by. *** City Intermediate People's Court, Third Trial Chamber. 1:50 PM. Lu Chenzhou sat in the defendant's seat, wearing the dark gray suit Qin Wangshu had prepared for him—it fit him too perfectly, the fabric crisp, the cuffs landing exactly at his wrist bones. His fingers unconsciously stroked the smooth wooden edge of the table, once, then again. The tabletop bore fine scratches, marks of anxiety left by countless others who had sat there before him. The air was stagnant. The central air conditioning vent emitted a low, continuous hum, like the breathing of some giant beast. The public gallery was full. In the front row on the left, Qin Wangshu and Zhao Tieshan sat side by side, with an empty seat between them. Qin Wangshu sat with her back ramrod straight, her gaze fixed ahead, but Lu Chenzhou saw her hand resting on her knee, her index finger tapping unconsciously—a habit of hers when deep in thought. Zhao Tieshan appeared more relaxed, leaning back slightly, idly turning a faded old police badge over and over in his hand. On the right, Shen Moqing sat alone in the front row. He wore a navy blue Chinese-style jacket, his left hand resting on the armrest, the jade thumb ring on his thumb gleaming softly under the overhead lights. He rubbed the ring slowly, steadily. Gu Zhixing sat one row behind him, next to a sharply dressed middle-aged lawyer. Gu Zhixing was adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses, pushing the frame with his fingertip, then pushing it again. In the back rows were several media outlets permitted to enter, their camera lenses like black eyes aimed at the center of the courtroom. The sound of the court clerk typing on a keyboard clicked away, crisp, rhythmic, like a countdown. Lu Chenzhou withdrew his gaze and looked at the kraft paper file folder on the table before him. The wax seal was intact, Gu Zhiyuan's signature glaring across it. He had not opened it. Some blades are sharpest before they are drawn. "All rise—" The bailiff's voice boomed, cutting through the stagnant air. The side door to the judges' bench opened, and three judges filed in. The leader was a female judge around fifty years old, her expression stern, her judicial robe solemn. She walked to the center of the bench, stood still, and swept her gaze across the room. "Please be seated." A rustling sound of people sitting down filled the room. The female judge sat down, picked up the gavel, and gave it a light tap. *Thump.* The sound was crisp, authoritative, echoing in the silent courtroom. "This court is now in session. The Criminal Trial Chamber of the City Intermediate People's Court will now publicly pronounce judgment in the case of the prosecution's charges against the defendant, Lu Chenzhou, for the crime of intentional homicide." The female judge's voice was steady, without inflection. "First, the prosecutor will make the final statement." A prosecutor rose from the prosecution's table and read through the key points of the indictment in a monotone, as if reciting an outdated newspaper. Lu Chenzhou listened, his fingers ceasing their stroking. The twitch in the corner of his left eye started again, this time lasting five beats. The prosecutor sat down. "Defendant Lu Chenzhou," the female judge looked over, "do you wish to make a final statement?" Lu Chenzhou stood up. The suit's cuff brushed against the table with a faint *shush*. He spoke, his voice clear but half a tone lower than usual. "Presiding Judge, I have no new statement. I maintain only one point: the confession from seven years ago is a forgery. I have never killed anyone." He sat down. His knee bumped against the table leg with a dull thud. The female judge nodded and was about to speak— "Presiding Judge." A man stood up from the right side of the public gallery, behind Gu Zhixing. It was the well-dressed middle-aged lawyer beside him. He held a document in his hand, his voice not loud but each word enunciated precisely. "We request to submit a new piece of evidence before the collegial panel begins its deliberations." The court recessed for ten minutes. Those ten minutes felt like ten years. The air congealed, each second striking Lu Chenzhou's eardrums with a heavy echo. Sitting in the defendant's dock, he could hear the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins. The twitch at the corner of his left eye started again, a subtle, uncontrollable tremor. He closed his eyes, pressing his thumb hard against his temple until the knuckle turned white. Qin Wangshu did not move, remaining in her seat. But Lu Chenzhou could feel her gaze, like a taut string, tied to his back. Shen Moqing rose and left his seat. The sound of leather shoes on the marble floor, neither hurried nor slow, faded away behind a side door. Zhao Tieshan bent over, picked up the fallen police badge, wiped it with his sleeve, clenched it in his palm, his knuckles turning blue. Ten minutes were up. The bailiff pushed open the heavy wooden door. The female judge returned to her seat, her black robes solemn. The court clerk stood: "All rise." A rustling wave of sound. Lu Chenzhou stood up, his knees somewhat stiff. He saw that on the bench, the copy of "Dr. Wang's Notes" had been moved aside, replaced by a thick, bound stack of judgment documents. The female judge put on her glasses and began to read aloud. The lengthy case number, party information, summary of litigation proceedings… Legal provisions washed over the courtroom like a cold tide, word by word. Lu Chenzhou's breathing became very light. He stared at the judge's lips, at the pages in her hand, at the faint light that glimmered at the edges of the paper as she turned them. Time stretched out. The cold air from the air conditioning poured down the back of his neck. Someone in the public gallery coughed softly. Cameras in the media area were already raised, their lenses darkly trained on the bench. Finally. The female judge's voice paused as she turned a page. She lifted her head, her gaze sweeping across the courtroom, finally landing on Lu Chenzhou's face. "This court holds," her voice was clear, steady, carrying the courtroom's unique, unquestionable authority, "that the facts alleged by the public prosecution in charging the defendant Lu Chenzhou with intentional homicide are unclear, and the evidence is insufficient." Lu Chenzhou's breath caught for a beat. "Regarding the guilty confession made by the defendant Lu Chenzhou on April 12, 2015," the judge continued reading, "upon examination, the process of obtaining this confession contained significant procedural flaws, and it contradicts the objective evidence in the case in ways that cannot be reasonably explained. Furthermore, the chain of key material evidence in this case is broken, lacking unique, exclusive evidence pointing to the defendant." With each sentence she read, the massive stone that had weighed on Lu Chenzhou's chest for seven years loosened a fraction. "Regarding the new evidence and cross-examination opinions submitted in court by the defense counsel and the defendant," the judge's gaze shifted to the copy of the group photo and the meeting minutes, "after deliberation by the collegial panel, the relevance and probative value of the related evidence are confirmed. Regarding the copy of 'Dr. Wang's Notes' submitted in court by the prosecution, due to doubts about its authenticity, it is not admitted." A suppressed intake of breath came from the public gallery. The judge turned to the final page. "In summary, in accordance with the provisions of Article 200, Item 3 of the Criminal Procedure Law of the People's Republic of China, the judgment is as follows—" The courtroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Lu Chenzhou stood ramrod straight. He could feel his own heartbeat, heavy, slow, thudding against his ribs. The edges of his vision darkened slightly, but he stared fixedly at the judge's lips. The female judge raised her eyes and declared clearly: "The defendant, Lu Chenzhou, is not guilty." *Thud.* The gavel fell. The crisp impact exploded in the silent courtroom, its reverberations lingering. In that instant, Lu Chenzhou could hear nothing. The gasps erupting from the public gallery, the applause, the clamor of shifting chairs, the sudden burst of shutter clicks and flashes from the media section—all sounds faded into a blurred background noise. Only those two words reverberated endlessly in the depths of his ears. *Not guilty.* He stood where he was, unmoving. No expression showed on his face. Only the hand hanging at his side trembled slightly, fingertips quivering uncontrollably. The judge began announcing the subsequent procedures. Lu Chenzhou didn't catch them. He saw the bailiff approach and open the partition of the defendant's dock. The movement was light, yet it felt like pushing open an iron door rusted shut for seven years. He stepped forward and walked out. His feet landed on the marble floor—real, steady. He turned and looked toward the public gallery. Qin Wangshu had already stood up. She was looking at him, lips pressed tightly together, eyes slightly reddened, but no tears on her face. She simply looked at him and gave a single, firm nod. Zhao Tieshan turned his face away, raising a hand to roughly wipe at the corner of his eye. Shen Moqing had returned to his seat at some point, sitting quietly, no expression on his face. Only the jade thumb ring on his finger glimmered under the lights with a cold, dark green luster. Gu Zhixing stood up, adjusting the front of his suit. He glanced at Lu Chenzhou across the crowd. The look behind his glasses was calm, so calm it resembled a deep, bottomless pool of stagnant water. Then he turned and, surrounded by his lawyers and assistants, swiftly left through a side door. The media reporters surged forward like a tide, microphones and recording pens nearly jabbing into Lu Chenzhou's face. Questions rained down: "Mr. Lu, how do you feel at this moment?" "Seven years of wrongful imprisonment—what are your plans for pursuing accountability next?" "What do you have to say regarding Deputy Director Gu Zhixing?" Lu Chenzhou raised a hand, pushing aside the nearest microphone. His movement was steady, his voice hoarse but clear: "Everything shall be based on the court's verdict. I have no comment on other questions." Escorted by bailiffs, he made his way through the surging crowd toward the courtroom exit. The heavy wooden door closed behind him, muffling most of the noise. The corridor was much emptier. Only a few scattered reporters had chased out, held back by bailiffs a few steps away. Lu Chenzhou stopped, taking a deep breath. The air in the corridor carried the scent of dust and old wood, mixed with distant, faint clamor. He unclenched the fist he had been holding tightly—his palm was damp with cold sweat. Footsteps approached from the side. Shen Moqing walked over unhurriedly, pausing slightly as he passed by. "Congratulations." Shen Moqing's voice was low, audible only to the two of them. His tone was calm, even carrying a faint, icy hint of amusement. "The game has only just begun." He did not linger. After speaking, he continued forward. The jade thumb ring brushed against his suit pants, emitting a faint rustling sound, then disappeared around the corner of the corridor. Lu Chenzhou remained where he was, not looking back. He stared in the direction Shen Moqing had vanished, his eyes devoid of any warmth. Another set of footsteps approached. Qin Wangshu walked to his side and stopped. She didn't look him in the eye, instead quickly scanning their surroundings to confirm no reporters were nearby. Then she pulled a car key from her trench coat pocket and pressed it into Lu Chenzhou's hand. The metal key felt cold against his palm. "The car is in B2, Zone D." Qin Wangshu spoke rapidly, her voice kept low. "It's a clean car." The air in the courtroom was as solid as a physical object. The ten-minute recess stretched into an agonizing eternity. Lu Chenzhou sat in the defendant's dock, able to hear every single tick of the second hand on his wristwatch: *tick, tick, tick*, as if counting down to some final end. The shirt on his back was soaked through with cold sweat, clinging to his skin, icy and clammy. He did not wipe it away. He merely placed his hands flat on the table, fingertips pressing hard against the cold, artificial wood grain until his knuckles turned white. In the gallery on the right, Shen Moqing sat upright, a statue carved from jade. The emerald thumb ring on his finger no longer spun; it rested quietly against the base of his thumb, a deep, somber green. His gaze cut through the crowd and landed on Lu Chenzhou, devoid of emotion, more like an assessment of a piece of merchandise about to be handed over. On the left, Qin Wangshu leaned forward slightly, her hands clasped tightly on her knees, knuckles white. Zhao Tieshan stood slightly behind and to her side, hands in his pockets, his sharp eyes sweeping the room before finally fixing on the back of Lu Chenzhou's head. His jaw tightened, as if he were gritting his teeth. Gu Zhixing and his lawyer huddled on the other side. The lawyer kept dabbing his temples with a tissue, while Gu Zhixing turned his face, lips moving rapidly as he whispered instructions to his lawyer, his eyes brimming with uncontainable anxiety and a last, desperate shred of hope. "All rise." The bailiff's voice boomed through the stagnant air. Everyone rose as if pulled by strings. A side door opened, and three judges filed in, returning to the bench. The lead judge, a woman, had a composed expression and held the document that would decide fate in her hands. She sat down, her gaze sweeping the courtroom. Silence fell, breaths held deliberately light. "After deliberation by the collegial panel, this court finds…" The female judge's steady voice began reciting the lengthy reasoning for the judgment. Legal terms, evidence numbers, cross-examination opinions… these words flowed through the air. Lu Chenzhou heard them, each syllable clear, yet it felt as if a thick pane of glass separated him from their meaning. His eyes fixed on the last page of the judgment document in the judge's hand, on the few lines of the final verdict, handwritten there. Sunlight slanted in from the high windows, illuminating a corner of the page and countless specks of golden dust dancing in the air. Time stretched, then compressed. Finally, the judge reached the last part. Her voice paused for a fraction of a second, and the air in the courtroom seemed to tighten along with it. "… The facts as alleged by the public prosecution, that the defendant Lu Chenzhou committed the crime of intentional homicide, are unclear, and the evidence is insufficient. The alleged crime cannot be established." A wave of heavily suppressed commotion rippled through the gallery, instantly swallowed by an even deeper silence. The judge raised her eyes, her gaze steady as a scale, resting firmly on Lu Chenzhou's face. "The judgment is as follows: Defendant Lu Chenzhou is not guilty." *Thump!* The gavel fell. The sound was crisp, short, echoing and exploding in the absolute silence, its reverberations transforming into a tangible pressure that weighed on every heart. A moment of vacuum. Then, a torrent of sound burst through the floodgates. A choked sob, a woman's voice, rose from the back of the gallery, no longer able to be contained. In the media section, camera flashes erupted into a silver-white wave, the rapid clicking of shutters like a sudden downpour. Some people stood up; some instinctively began to clap, only to be silenced by the bailiff's stern glare. A buzzing tide of discussion began to spread. Lu Chenzhou stood. His body swayed almost imperceptibly, as if struck head-on by the words "not guilty." He closed his eyes. In his nostrils was the smell of old wood, dust, printer ink, and the wool of sun-warmed uniforms. No scent of rust. No pungent sting of disinfectant. None of the cold, suffocating despair that had risen in his throat every waking moment of those seven years of deep night. He opened his eyes. A cold, clear light shone in their depths, like the surface of a lake frozen solid after a blizzard. He turned towards the bench and gave the female judge a perfectly standard, slight nod of acknowledgment. Then, he turned away. He did not look at a single face in the gallery—not Shen Moqing's deep, pond-like stare, nor Qin Wangshu's complex, inscrutable gaze, nor Gu Zhixing's suddenly ashen face. At the bailiff's gesture, he The two groups met at the intersection of the T-shaped corridor. Neither side paused. The distance closed rapidly, they passed each other. Just as their clothes almost brushed, Shen Moqing tilted his head slightly, his lips barely moving, a cold breath with a sandalwood base note drifted past. "Congratulations." The voice was so low it was like a whisper, audible only to the two of them. Lu Chenzhou's steps showed not the slightest hesitation, his gaze fixed forward, the line of his profile taut. "The game has only just begun." Shen Moqing finished speaking, already half a step past him. Lu Chenzhou spoke, his voice equally low, yet each word clear, like an ice pick striking: "Mr. Shen, the game in the courtroom is over." He paused slightly, letting each word sink, "The one between us hasn't started yet." Shen Moqing's forward step, almost imperceptibly, hit a momentary hitch, nearly impossible to detect. He didn't turn back, nor did he speak again, leading his two subordinates towards the brightly lit exit at the other end of the corridor, his back swiftly swallowed by the interplay of light and shadow. Lu Chenzhou continued forward. At the end of the corridor, the door leading to the courthouse lobby stood wide open. Outside, a surge of human voices, footsteps, and bailiffs' shouts maintaining order blended into a chaotic wave of sound that rushed towards him. The floor by the doorway was cut by the fierce outdoor sunlight into a dazzling patch of light, so bright it felt somewhat unreal. He stopped within the shadow of the doorway. A woman's hand reached from the side, pressing something cold and hard into his palm. Car keys. The sharp metal edges pressed against his skin. Qin Wangshu had appeared beside him, unnoticed. She didn't look at him, her eyes fixed on the clamoring crowd outside, the line of her profile tightly drawn. "Car's in B2, Zone D. Black Volkswagen, license plate ending 347." Her words came quickly, her voice dry, as if reciting a procedure. "Clean car. Full tank. There are clothes and cash in the trunk." Lu Chenzhou clenched the keys, the chill of the metal seeping into his palm. "What's the price?" Qin Wangshu turned her head sharply. There were faint red threads in the whites of her eyes, her chin was set, her gaze holding something almost resolute. "Living." She spat out two words, paused, then continued, her voice lower and heavier, "Live well. And then... do what you must." Having said that, she no longer looked at him, turned, and walked quickly towards a passage on the other side of the lobby, her figure swiftly swallowed by the tide of people. Lu Chenzhou stood where he was, the keys pressing deep imprints into his palm. He lifted his foot, stepped out of the shadow, and onto the fiercely bright patch of sunlight in the doorway. Warmth. An unmediated, real warmth enveloped his ankles, rapidly spreading upward. He descended the granite steps. The media reporters, like sharks smelling blood, surged forward to surround him. Long lenses and microphones were almost shoved in his face, the flashing lights blinding. Countless questions rained down in a cacophony: "Mr. Lu! How do you feel now?" "Seven years of wrongful imprisonment overturned, will you pursue accountability?" "What did you just say to Shen Moqing?" Lu Chenzhou remained silent, his arm fending off the microphones practically pressed against his mouth, pushing through the crowded throng, heading determinedly towards the entrance to the underground parking garage. Camera flashes behind him linked into continuous bursts of silvery-white light, the shutter clicks unceasing, like a silent send-off, or the opening of another hunt. B2 level, Zone D. A black, utterly inconspicuous Volkswagen sedan sat quietly parked. He pressed the key, the car lights flashed twice. Pulling open the door and sitting inside, the car felt new, filled with the mixed scent of leather and cleaning agents. The dashboard lit up in the dim light, a pale blue backlight, the fuel gauge needle steady at the far end. He inserted the key, turned it to the right. The engine started with a low, smooth sound, stirring a dull echo in the enclosed garage. He shifted into D, released the handbrake. The car body gave a slight tremor, slowly gliding out of the parking space. Ahead was an upward slope, the exit a bright white rectangle—the daylight of the outside world. The wheels rolled over a speed bump, a minor jolt. The car climbed the slope, drove out of the garage, and plunged back into the searing, dazzling afternoon sunlight. The streets were packed with traffic, pedestrians hurried along, traffic lights changed rhythmically. The world was noisy yet orderly, as if everything that had just happened in that solemn Seven years. Over two thousand five hundred days and nights. The iron bars of the cramped cell window, the searing pain of the interrogation lamp on his face, the trembling handwriting on the confession form he could barely recognize as his own, and in the hospital corridor, that red light above the operating room door that remained lit for an agonizingly long time... Countless fragmented images churned and collided in his mind, finally settling slowly, sinking to the deepest layer of consciousness, cooling, solidifying, turning into something hard, dark, and heavy, like magma deep within the earth's crust that had never erupted. He stepped on the accelerator. The car picked up speed, smoothly merging into the middle lane. In the rearview mirror, the solemn gray building of the courthouse gradually receded, shrank, and was finally completely blocked and disappeared by the forest of skyscrapers. He didn't know where to go now. The key Qin Wangshu had given him had a small label with an address, which should be a safe temporary place to stay. But he didn't want to go there now. He needed this movement, this aimless forward motion, needed to feel this almost luxurious freedom of the steering wheel in his hands, the road extending beneath him. Red light. He slowed to a stop behind a line of cars. His fingers tapped lightly, unconsciously, on the steering wheel. *Tap, tap, tap.* On the passenger seat, the kraft paper file lay quietly. The deep red wax seal was intact, the three characters 'Gu Zhiyuan' still glaring. He hadn't opened it. Not now. Some truths needed the right moment to become sharp enough weapons. The light turned green. He released the brake, following the traffic forward. The phone in his pocket vibrated, the buzz particularly clear inside the enclosed cabin. He took it out. The screen displayed a completely unfamiliar local number. He answered, put it to his ear. There was no sound on the other end, only steady, faint breathing transmitted through the current. Three seconds. Five seconds. *Click.* The call ended. Lu Chenzhou stared at the screen; the call log only showed that string of numbers. His thumb hovered over the call-back button, paused for a moment, then finally locked the screen and tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat. The car continued forward. Three minutes later, the phone vibrated again. This time it was a text message. The screen lit up with just one line of text, from another unknown number: **"Rearview mirror. Gray Buick. Don't stop, don't look back, keep driving."** Lu Chenzhou looked up into the interior rearview mirror. In the traffic, an inconspicuous gray Buick minivan was following steadily, two cars behind, directly in his line. The driver wore a baseball cap, the brim pulled low. The passenger seat was empty. He withdrew his gaze, gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles whitening slightly. The car's speed didn't change, still moving steadily within the flow of traffic. Ahead at the intersection, turning right led to the main road to the suburbs, going straight led into the congested city center. The navigation screen was dark; he hadn't set a destination. The gray Buick was still following, the distance maintained with precise professionalism. Lu Chenzhou signaled right. The tires crossed the solid white line, turning into the right lane. In the rearview mirror, the gray Buick signaled almost simultaneously, changing lanes, still maintaining a distance of two cars. He stepped on the accelerator, the car's speed increased, weaving through the traffic. The Buick followed closely, like a shadow. A fork in the road appeared ahead; one led to the highway entrance, the other continued around the city. Lu Chenzhou jerked the steering wheel, the car body swung lightly, cutting into the leftmost lane, heading straight for the highway entrance. The tires squealed faintly against the road. In the rearview mirror, the gray Buick showed no hesitation, also accelerating and changing lanes, clinging tightly. The ETC lane barrier lifted. The black Volkswagen entered the highway, its speed instantly jumping to one hundred and twenty. The engine roared, the scenery outside the windows flew past. The gray Buick charged through the toll booth right behind him, the distance closing to just one car. Lu Chenzhou stared at the road ahead, his eyes cold.