0044 Different Definitions of Mercy

“Sorry! Bad luck for you!” Hou Rui steeled himself, raising his fist and aiming for the woman’s right temple. But before he could strike, the woman suddenly halted in her tracks.

“Tch, went the wrong way again. The design of this building’s corridors is ridiculous. Tomorrow I’ll make sure to push the staff to fix the restroom,” she muttered to herself in her nightgown, spun on her heel almost directly in front of Hou Rui, and walked back the way she’d come.

Finally, Hou Rui let out the breath he’d been holding, exhaling with utmost caution. He watched intently as the woman entered the distant restroom before relaxing his tense body and stepping out from the shallow shadow of the doorframe at 1103.

Time was short. Once the woman came out and returned to her room, he’d have nowhere to hide. Acting quickly, Hou Rui quietly turned the doorknob. As expected, it was locked. But this didn’t trouble him—he was prepared. Producing a thin piece of plastic cut from a large soda bottle, he slid it carefully into the gap of the door.

After some fiddling, he finally managed to push back the latch. Hou Rui slipped inside the room, closing the door behind him—he hadn’t even pressed his body fully against the door when faint footsteps echoed in the corridor. He waited until the woman shut her door before finally breathing easy and turning to examine the room.

It was a standard single dorm, around twenty square meters. The bathroom was directly inside the door, followed by a bed and a writing desk beside it. At the far end, by the window, was a tiny kitchen. On the bed, someone lay breathing evenly, completely unaware of the impending danger.

Hou Rui used the moonlight to confirm the sleeping figure was his target, Professor Yao Shouchun. He then moved to the kitchen, found some cling film atop the fridge, and wrapped his hands. Next, he pulled a sharp meat-cutting knife from the rack and returned to the bedside.

He drew deep breaths, again and again. Though he had shot plenty of people before, this was his first time attacking an old man with a knife as he slept. Staring at the wisps of gray hair at Professor Yao’s temples, Hou Rui hesitated each time he tried to strike.

But then, just as Hou Rui wavered, Professor Yao awoke.

“You—” The professor, still half-asleep, managed only a single word before Hou Rui gritted his teeth and stabbed. Their eyes had met; to conceal his identity, Hou Rui had no choice but to silence him.

A sharp cry burst from Yao as the knife plunged into his left chest, near the heart, but in his haste, Hou Rui’s stab had not gone deep. The scream was quickly muffled by Hou Rui’s hand. The professor thrashed violently, desperately trying to push Hou Rui away, but how could he, an elderly man, compete with Hou Rui’s youthful strength? Hou Rui pinned him down, holding firm until, after a few seconds, the room fell silent again.

Heavy breathing rang in Hou Rui’s ears—his heart felt as if it might leap from his throat. He dared not look at Professor Yao’s face again. He turned to flee, desperate to escape the crime he had just committed.

“You’re leaving already?” In the dead of night, in a room with only a corpse for company, a sudden voice nearly made Hou Rui’s legs give out beneath him.

“Who’s there?” Hou Rui leveled his bloodied knife defensively at his chest, feigning bravery as he called out. From the darkness, a figure emerged, strolling lazily into the moonlight. It was Lao Xiao, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“I knew it. Like a wild dog—only when cornered do you lash out. With a target this weak, you’re bound to make mistakes,” Lao Xiao said with disdain, glancing at the corpse on the bed.

“What are you doing here? The job’s done. Let’s get out, now!” Hou Rui whispered hoarsely, bewildered.

“I’m here to save your life.” Lao Xiao answered, but his eyes never left Professor Yao, as if admiring a work of art.

“What’s wrong with you? Haven’t you seen a corpse before?” Hou Rui was irritated by Lao Xiao’s behavior, his voice rising despite himself.

“Are you sure that’s really a corpse?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you’d better stab him again.”

There was no helping it. Hou Rui returned to the bedside. As he raised the knife once more, the supposedly dead professor suddenly began to struggle violently, hands waving frantically before Hou Rui, pleading, “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! I’ll give you whatever you want—anything!”

Faced with the desperate pleas, the blood-soaked bed, and the glaring white hair, Hou Rui hesitated again. But Lao Xiao, ever decisive, placed his hand over Hou Rui’s, guiding the blade slowly—inch by inch—deep into Professor Yao’s chest, forcing Hou Rui to watch up close as a life ebbed away.

At last, Professor Yao went still. Hou Rui watched the terror fade from his eyes, replaced first by numbness, then by a vacant stare—fixed on Hou Rui’s own face.

“All right, now we can leave.” Lao Xiao released his grip and walked to the door. Over ten minutes later, Hou Rui, like a walking corpse himself, had cleaned away the blood and discarded the cling film, then followed Lao Xiao out of the staff dorm. The campus remained shrouded in silence.

“Killing an old man weighing on your conscience?” Lao Xiao tossed him a cigarette as they sat together on the stadium bleachers.

“When it comes to survival, I’ll do what the Organization orders, whoever the target is.” Hou Rui fiddled with the cigarette, unlit.

“If only you truly believed that.” Lao Xiao took a deep drag, exhaling rings of smoke. After a pause, he continued, “This is the first and last time I’ll intervene in a situation like this. Wild Dog, from now on, live or die, it’s your own choice.”

Hou Rui knew Lao Xiao had just saved him. If not for him, and if he had left after his first attempt, Professor Yao likely would have called the police, and he’d already be in custody.

“The Organization wants agents who are focused, efficient, experienced, and utterly merciless. If you can’t meet those standards, you’re not just dooming yourself—even the target will only suffer more. Remember, the more skilled you are, the kinder you are to your mark. If that old man was doomed tonight, would you have preferred he died peacefully in his sleep, or after being stabbed again and again, writhing in agony?”

Hou Rui felt Lao Xiao’s words were twisted, but couldn’t find any rebuttal, so he remained silent.

“Wild Dog, your break is coming up, isn’t it? Be ready. This is usually when the Organization sends you out on missions. Remember what I said: you don’t have to enjoy killing, but every time you act, you must give it your full attention—or you’ll be the one who dies.”

At some point, Lao Xiao had left. Hou Rui sat there for a long while before sneaking back to his dorm around five in the morning, feigning sleep, and joining his classmates for two exams that day.

By midday, several police cars arrived on campus, and word spread that someone had been killed in the staff building—though the school quickly suppressed the news, and it caused little disruption during finals.

At last, finals were over. Some in the Photography Class Two organized a trip to Yunnan, but when asked, Hou Rui made excuses about returning home, knowing the Organization’s new orders would come soon after Lao Xiao’s warning.

A few days later, Hou Rui, covered in grease beneath a car, was adjusting the suspension when his phone chimed. He tossed aside his pliers, wiped his hands, and checked the message: “Depart within 24 hours. Destination: Sirte, Libya. Mission reward: $200,000. Codename: Boy.”

Libya? Africa? Well, at least he might see some elephants this time. He chuckled to himself and slid back under the car. After months of effort, he’d pieced together a car’s skeleton and was now selecting secondhand parts for assembly. Given twelve months, he was sure he could get it running.

That night, returning to his empty dorm from Pengcheng Driving School, Hou Rui pulled out his phone and began studying the Organization’s route and mission details.

On July 20th, just after 5 p.m., Hou Rui boarded a Lufthansa flight, spent over nine hours flying to Doha, then another four hours to the capital. Disguised as a solo traveler, he breezed through the airport.

He used the same passport as on his last trip to Seoul, going by the alias Wang Qiang. He smoothly rented a car, stored his belongings and passport in a station locker, then headed straight for the border with Libya.

Deep into the night of July 22nd, Hou Rui crouched in a thicket, eyes fixed on a nearby border checkpoint—the entry point designated by the Organization.

“Electrified wire, four armed guards, a wooden watch post, and a pickup truck with a .50 caliber machine gun.” Hou Rui whispered, mentally cataloging every detail as he considered how to slip through unnoticed.