The rhythmic thump of boots grew louder, stopping abruptly just outside the yard's splintered wooden gate. A heavy fist slammed against the wood, rattling it in its frame. Daodao, startled, dropped the muddy jade with a soft thud and let out a low, rumbling growl, turning his stout body to face the unseen intruders.
He Zhenting’s expression, usually a mask of stern authority, tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. He moved with sudden speed, kicking the carved stone further under a gnarled jujube tree where its muddy green hue blended with the shadowed earth. Before he could turn back, the gate burst inward, splintering off its hinges with a loud crack.
Three men in crisp, dark uniforms of the People’s Security Bureau stood framed in the doorway, their gazes sweeping over the dirt floor. The central figure, a man with sharp cheekbones and a pencil-thin mustache, held a rolled-up document in one hand. “He Zhenting,” he stated, his voice flat and official. “We have received a tip regarding contraband being harbored on these premises. We are here to conduct a search.”
Yunya felt a prickle of unease. Contraband? Her mind flashed to the chemical drum, the smugglers, and now, the jade. Daodao, sensing her distress, let out another snarl, his fur bristling.
He Zhenting stepped forward, his posture rigid. “Investigator Wen. This is my private residence. On what grounds do you enter without due process?”
Wen unfurled the document with a snap. “Due process has been observed. A search warrant, signed by the Bureau Chief himself, for the residence of He Zhenting, concerning relics suspected to be pillaged state property. Move aside.” His eyes flicked to Yunya, then to the spot where Daodao guarded the base of the jujube tree. The badger, however, remained impassive, as if merely taking a nap by the roots.
One of the men, a burly guard with a scar above his brow, took a step toward the tree. “What’s under there, Team Leader He?”
The jade lay exposed. Her carefully cultivated calm frayed at the edges; this was no petty squabble over work points, but the full weight of legal authority.
Before the officer could reach the tree, He Zhenting moved. He didn't block them or argue further. Instead, he spun on his heel, his hand shooting out to grasp Yunya’s wrist. The suddenness of his movement, the firm grip, pulled her off balance. She stumbled forward, colliding with his chest. His other hand went to her back, holding her surprisingly close.
“Wait!” He Zhenting’s voice cut through the air. “Investigator Wen, there is no looted state property here. Only… personal effects. A simple misunderstanding.”
He pulled her even closer, a sharp edge in his gaze that Yunya had never seen before—cold, desperate, and calculated. His gaze locked with hers, and in that split second, she saw it – a silent command, a plea for complicity. Then, without another warning, his head dipped.
His lips met hers, firm and dry. It was not a gentle kiss, but a calculated press meant to mislead the onlookers. Her chin tilted under his thumb, the smell of sun-baked earth and lye soap rising between them. He pulled back after a brief beat, his grip remaining steady against her collarbone while he leveled his gaze at the doorway.
“You see, Investigator,” He Zhenting said, adopting a raspy tenderness completely foreign to his usual demeanor. “This isn’t contraband. This… this is a betrothal gift. A small, personal token for my fiancée, Dai Yunya. A family heirloom, if you will. A fake, of course. For display only. I wouldn’t dare purchase something truly valuable in these times.” He managed a sheepish half-smile, a performance delivered with unflinching ease.
He leaned down, muttering in a low whisper meant for her ear, pitched just loud enough for the guards to track. “My love, did you drop your jade trinket again? So careless.” Then, louder, “Daodao, retrieve your mistress’s bauble.”
Daodao, as if on cue, waddled out from under the tree, the jade now firmly back in his jaws. He trotted over, looking up at Yunya expectantly. She reached down, her hand trembling slightly as she took the heavy, muddy green stone from the badger. It felt cool and smooth against her palm. She forced a sweet, innocent smile, her cheeks flushing, hoping to sell the lie. “Oh, my darling Zhenting, you know how clumsy I am. Thank you, Daodao.”
Wen’s gaze shifted between the jade in Yunya’s hand, her flushed cheeks, and He Zhenting. The scarred guard started to speak, but Wen raised a flat palm. “A fake heirloom, He Zhenting? It appears rather authentic. And this betrothal seems quite sudden.”
He Zhenting pulled her flush against his ribs. “Affection develops quickly in the fields. We settled the matter only recently. As for authenticity, examine it yourself. It’s a cheap replica, passed down by my grandmother.” He lifted the piece from Yunya’s fingers and passed it to the lead investigator.
Wen took the heavy carving, his brow furrowed as he turned it over. He rubbed a thumb over the grime, revealing a vibrant, almost luminescent green beneath. His eyes, however, were not focused on its aesthetics. They were scanning for something else. A faint, almost imperceptible etching near the base. A symbol.
Wen lifted the green slab toward the twilight. “This is no reproduction. This is piece number five from the provincial museum convoy routed through here last month.” He fixed his gaze on He Zhenting. “The reports about black-market traffickers near the border line—you were the one sending those dispatches.”
He Zhenting’s stern mask slipped slightly, replaced by a flicker of grim satisfaction. “I gathered what evidence I could,” He Zhenting replied, his chin raised. “The county desk took weeks to respond. This parcel was uncovered right here.” He nodded toward the rocky bluff towering behind the enclosure. “The gang poisoned the canal ditch to divert workers away. They hollowed out the limestone base to hide their crates.”
The puzzle pieces snapped together in Yunya's thoughts. The spilled drums, the midnight shovels, the persistent schemes to drive her off the knoll—the thieves needed an empty hillside to hollow out their stash. And Captain He, who grumbled about her laziness while slipping her malt confections, had been tracking their shovels the entire time.
Her goal, which had been so simple—to nap in peace—now felt impossibly distant. If her crag was a vault, then her peaceful slumber was contingent on these smugglers being busted. She wasn't just a reluctant occupant; she was a critical, albeit accidental, piece in a much larger, far more dangerous game.
Wen passed the relic back to He Zhenting, inclining his head. “We take this to county headquarters at dawn. Keep the perimeter locked down until the squad arrives.”
Just as He Zhenting was about to reply, a voice, smooth and falsely jovial, drifted from the half-broken courtyard gate. Accountant Liu Guang stood there, a wide, unsettling smile on his face, his small eyes glinting in the twilight. “Congratulations on the engagement, Captain; it’d be a shame if there was a mining accident on the crag tonight.”