Chapter 12: Recruitment

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

Mu Yu rubbed his eyes, looking at Liu Hui with a half-asleep expression, his face still bearing the red mark left by his sleeve. It wasn’t that he couldn’t endure, he was just too tired—since waking that morning, it had been a narrow escape from death, and in the afternoon, he’d dragged Mo Yan through half the hospital. Even an iron man would’ve collapsed by now! Mu Yu justified himself silently.

Liu Hui gave Mu Yu a curious glance, wondering what odd behavior he’d fallen into now—one moment embarrassed, the next brimming with confidence. If it weren’t for the fact that nothing from Headquarters had ever gone wrong in decades, Liu Hui would have insisted on retesting him. But in the end, he only opened his mouth, said nothing, and gestured toward the half-open door.

“There, they’re calling you in.”

“…Me?”

Mu Yu was a bit baffled. He and Mo Yan were hardly acquaintances—barely twenty-four hours since they first met. After surviving such an ordeal, shouldn’t Mo Yan be confiding in friends or family, not seeking him out?

“Yes, go on in.”

Liu Hui stepped aside, watching Mu Yu sneak into the room, unable to suppress a chuckle before hurrying off himself. Though the incident was over, much remained to be done; resettlement and monitoring needed arranging, all falling to Liu Hui. That Headquarters had allowed him this much time to wait for Mo Yan to awaken was a special dispensation.

Inside, the room was unlit and shrouded in darkness. The only illumination came from a grand advertisement board outside the window, where a clumsy cow performed a ridiculous dance. The quarantine was gradually lifting, power was being restored, but with so few people back, most streetlights and billboards still flickered on according to their programming—yet the usual bustle was gone.

Mo Yan turned his head, seeing Mu Yu sitting meekly on the caregiver’s chair, posture straight and proper, rivaling a preschooler. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong? Why so obedient, did they give you a hard time?”

“Damn, you’re alive? I saw you lying there so still—I thought you were… sacrificed…”

Mu Yu exclaimed, but seeing Mo Yan’s face darken, he quickly changed his words, feeling a little guilty.

But Mo Yan’s expression only soured further.

“Sorry, boss, you know what I’m like… I—”

Mu Yu’s cautious explanation was interrupted as Mo Yan gave a helpless smile and struggled to sit up. Mu Yu, not understanding the reason for the smile, still hurried to help, supporting Mo Yan into a comfortable position.

“No need to call me ‘boss’—just Mo Yan is fine. No need to be so formal, you saved my life.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I couldn’t just leave you lying there, could I? Even if it were a dog, covered in blood, I’d have—”

Realizing he’d put his foot in his mouth again, Mu Yu stopped abruptly, glancing awkwardly at Mo Yan. But Mo Yan didn’t appear angry, as if accustomed to it, merely rubbing his brow in exasperation.

The atmosphere grew awkward, leaving Mu Yu wishing he could slap himself for his loose tongue.

“The incident… it was you who resolved it, wasn’t it?”

Just as Mu Yu was racking his brain for something to ease the tension, Mo Yan spoke, his tone casual, as if chatting about nothing more significant than a meal.

Mu Yu tensed, glancing up to meet Mo Yan’s unblinking gaze before looking away.

“Boss, why would you think that? You’d already passed out—no way I’d dare stay. Of course I dragged you out.”

He kept his tone light, waving his hands as if the whole thing were a joke.

It wasn’t that Mu Yu didn’t trust Mo Yan; after all, based on Mo Yan’s conduct in the hospital, Mu Yu would have had no qualms telling him even the color of his underwear. But even Mu Yu himself hadn’t figured out what happened—prepared to die, and yet he’d awoken on the hard pavement of the parking lot, unscathed. Were it not for his torn patient gown and the blood splattered everywhere, he’d have thought it all a nightmare. The devastated parking lot told him otherwise—it had been hell on earth.

The problem was, by his own logic, he should at best be paralyzed, confined to a bed for life, every need attended by others. Yet here he was, chatting with Mo Yan, while Mo Yan lay pale as a vampire.

“You don’t need to lie. According to my uniform’s records, I lost consciousness at 21 minutes. But Teacher Liu saw you dragging me out at 35 minutes. The elevator isn’t far from the exit—given your stamina, you’d need less than a minute. So what did you do with the other ten minutes?”

Mu Yu looked at Mo Yan in shock. This man, so weak he needed help to sit up, still had that sharp, persistent glint in his eyes, just as when they first met.

Uncomfortable under that gaze, Mu Yu looked away.

“I was scared out of my wits—I swear I did nothing. Boss, why do you think otherwise?”

Mo Yan sighed, laboriously raising his hand to withdraw a small black object from his shirt—not even the size of a finger.

Yes, Mo Yan was still wearing his original clothes. It wasn’t that supplies were so short there weren’t enough hospital gowns; it was that his clothing contained various monitoring devices, the data from which only Mo Yan could access. Anyone else touching such equipment without high-level clearance or Mo Yan’s supervision would be committing a crime.

“This is a micro camera, hidden in my collar. Are you sure you want to keep lying?”

“Boss! I was wrong! I was momentarily blinded! I’m a law-abiding citizen, loyal at heart to the party and the people!”

Mu Yu surrendered instantly, his expression collapsing. There was no point arguing; he’d planned to deny everything and disappear without a trace. Now, escape was futile—he’d be lucky not to end up behind bars.

“I’m joking,” Mo Yan said, amused by Mu Yu’s dejected look, tossing the black object aside.

“What?”

Mu Yu stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Enough with that face—go turn the light on.”

A little embarrassed himself, Mo Yan waved him off, and Mu Yu, after shooting him a resentful look and cursing his fate, obediently got up to switch on the light.

With the warm glow filling the room, Mu Yu saw that the “camera” was only a black button—utterly ordinary.

So that’s how it is, Mu Yu thought indignantly. Who'd have guessed that Mo Yan, with his refined looks, could lie so shamelessly! Still, he dutifully returned to massage Mo Yan’s shoulders, looking the picture of humility.

After all, now that his lies had been exposed, his fate was in Mo Yan’s hands. If he didn’t bow his head now, then when?

Would he rather wait until he was singing laments behind bars?

As Mu Yu endured in the name of his future freedom, he failed to notice the sly, fox-like smile curling on Mo Yan’s lips.

“Enough, enough—at this rate, you’ll ruin my shoulders,” Mo Yan said with mock disdain, prompting Mu Yu to return to his chair, though in his heart he was cursing Mo Yan a hundred, a thousand times over.

“So, boss…”

“There’s no ‘so.’ Just tell me, is the incident truly resolved?”

Mu Yu, still confused, answered honestly, “It’s resolved.”

“Good.”

Mo Yan’s response was brief, signaling he’d heard.

“That’s enough, then.”

Mu Yu couldn’t guess Mo Yan’s intent, so he probed, “You’re not going to ask how I did it?”

“Would you tell the truth if I asked?”

Mo Yan closed his eyes, fatigued by the prolonged conversation.

“As long as it’s resolved, nothing else matters. Whatever you saw or know, you can’t tell anyone. Consider it how I repay my debt to you.”

After a pause, Mu Yu asked softly, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll blab?”

“Would you?”

Mo Yan replied with a question of his own.

Indeed, some things must never see the light of day—best left to rot quietly in the heart, fading from everyone’s memory.

“Oh, right—would you like to join us?”

Mo Yan looked at the contemplative Mu Yu and suddenly asked.

“What?” Mu Yu was taken aback. Moments ago, he’d been a hair’s breadth from prison, and now he was being invited to join the force?

He hadn’t forgotten the credentials Mo Yan had shown him, so he ventured, “As a police officer?”

“No, as an investigator.”

Mo Yan shook his head, his voice sincere.

“I can’t share specifics unless you join and sign the non-disclosure agreement. But our main duty is handling things like what happened today. I think you have great potential. If you agree, I can make a special recommendation.”

Mu Yu’s first impulse was to refuse—good grief, he’d nearly lost his life today. Doing this every day would burn through nine lives in no time.

“No need to answer right away. Take some time to think it over.”

Mo Yan could see Mu Yu’s reluctance and reassured him. The offer was partly on a whim, but he meant it; surviving and resolving the root cause in a first incident like this demonstrated real promise. If Mu Yu truly didn’t want to join, he’d simply have him sign a confidentiality agreement and provide a generous compensation—after all, they were an official organization, not so desperate for manpower as to press-gang recruits.

Ultimately, Mu Yu gave no answer—just nodded and stepped out of the room. Fear was part of it, but more than that, it was the unknown that gave him pause.

As a child, Mu Yu had dreamed of secret teams battling monsters around the world. Now, with that dream come true and an invitation from the head of the investigation unit, he found himself afraid.

He sensed that accepting would mean life would never be the same, that everything would veer into the unknown. Perhaps it was cowardice, but the words of agreement caught in his throat.

Did he really have the courage to abandon two decades of his life and embrace the unknown wonders of the world?

Mu Yu didn’t know. All he knew was that the price for discovering the world’s wonders was often blood, flesh, even life.

He’d been lucky this time, surviving by chance. But what about next time? Or the time after?

Unconsciously, Mu Yu wandered to the balcony, only to find his old spot already occupied. A slender figure leaned on the railing, shoulders trembling. In her hand, something silver gleamed in the light.

It looked familiar, but Mu Yu didn’t approach, watching from afar.

Soon, the hospital entrance grew noisy again—the last batch of wounded had been found and rushed in.

The woman suddenly lifted her head, her delicate face streaked with tears and her eyes red and swollen. Spotting Mu Yu, she hurriedly wiped her eyes and, head lowered, brushed past him, hurrying downstairs.

Mu Yu stood there, lost in thought.

Then he turned, re-entered the hospital room, and scratched his head at Mo Yan’s astonished gaze.

“Does the job come with health insurance and a pension?”