“Congratulations on the engagement, Captain; it’d be a shame if there was a mining accident on the crag tonight.” Liu Guang’s mouth broadened, a yellow fissure across his sallow cheeks. He Zhenting’s hand instinctively tightened around the jade relic, his knuckles white. Inspector Wen’s gaze sharpened, a silent acknowledgment passing between the state agents. The courtyard air hung stale with overturned loam and copper. “The crag is under brigade protection, Accountant Liu,” He Zhenting muttered, stripped of his usual bark. “Any interference will be met with the full force of the law.” Liu Guang merely chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. “Safeguards, indeed. A curious thing, these ‘orders.’ Sometimes, they arrive too late. Accidents, you see, have a way of happening, especially on unstable ground. Good night, Captain He. Enjoy your… engagement.” With a final, knowing look at Yunya, Liu Guang turned and melted into the growing darkness, his cloth soles making almost no sound over the grit. The moment Liu Guang melted through the gate, He Zhenting pivoted toward Yunya, his breath catching short. “You heard him. This isn’t a game, Yunya. You are a target.” “But I thought—” “You thought *nothing*,” he cut her off, his voice raw. “This isn’t about some minor brigade dispute. This is deeper, darker. They kill. They have before. And I won’t let them touch you.” He gripped her shoulders, his touch firm but not painful. “You stay inside. In my room. Under no circumstances are you to leave until the squad arrives at dawn.” “Captain He, with all due respect,” Wen interjected, “she’s a witness, and now, your betrothed. Her safety matters, but penning her in—” “Is the only way,” He Zhenting snarled, his eyes still fixed on Yunya. “I lost someone once, Wen. A comrade who took a strike meant for me. Because I underestimated them. I won’t make that mistake again.” Yunya watched the twitch in his shoulder muscles. He Zhenting’s face was contorted by a memory, a flash of anguish that briefly eclipsed his usual sternness. His collar pulled aside just enough to show the puckered, discolored flesh near his collarbone—a violent furrow running deep beneath the homespun cotton. He Zhenting took Yunya’s arm. “Come. There’s no discussion.” He led her firmly into his small, spartan room, the only one in the courtyard with a sturdy, iron-barred window. The room contained little more than a narrow cot, a wooden chest, and a single, chipped ceramic basin. Daodao, sensing the shift in mood, let out a low growl from his spot by Yunya’s leg. “Daodao stays with me,” Yunya said, her voice surprisingly steady. He Zhenting hesitated, then nodded. The badger was a formidable, if furry, deterrent. He pushed Yunya gently inside, then swung the heavy wooden door shut. The click of the lock was sharp, final. The scrape of his boots faded across the threshold, followed by murmurs with Wen, until only the crickets rasped. Yunya stood in the darkness, letting her eyes adjust. The room smelled faintly of dust and something masculine, like dried ink and faint woodsmoke. Daodao nudged her hand, his little nose sniffing at the door. Her sweet smile, usually reserved for her most calculated moves, flickered across her lips. “Locked, are we, Daodao?” she murmured. “He thinks a simple lock can hold a former city clerk who had to pick the municipal archives after the key went missing *twice* in a single month?” She ran a hand along the doorframe, her fingers tracing the rough-hewn wood. The lock, a basic latch mechanism common in rural homes, was a joke. Yunya had spent years working with antiquated filing systems, jammed drawers, and doors that refused to open without a bit of ‘persuasion.’ She knelt, pulling a thin, rusted hairpin from her neatly braided hair. Her movements were precise, economical. She inserted the pin into the keyhole, feeling for the tumblers. A soft click, then another. Less than thirty seconds had passed. The lock yielded with a faint thud. “Alright, Daodao,” Yunya whispered, pushing the door open just a crack. “Time for a walk.” The night air was cool on her face as she slipped out, Daodao waddling silently beside her. He Zhenting was nowhere in sight, the lane abandoned to the whistle of the night watch. Yunya knew exactly where she was going. The East Fields. And she knew exactly who she needed to find. Rong Xueli. She found Xueli huddled by the communal well, her normally meticulous clothing rumpled, her face blotchy with angry red hives. Xueli coughed, a wet, rattling sound. Her eyes, usually sharp with ambition, were dull and swollen. She looked utterly miserable, a stark contrast to her usual preening self. Yunya’s smile softened, becoming genuinely sympathetic. “Oh, Xueli,” she said, her voice a gentle murmur. “You look dreadful. Are you still suffering from that rash?” Xueli flinched, then glared. “It’s none of your business, Dai Yunya! Go back to your lazy naps! You cursed me, didn’t you? This is all your fault!” Yunya tilted her head, her smile unwavering. “My fault? Xueli, dear, I warned you about the East Fields. I truly did. Yet you scrambled so hard for those transit vouchers, didn’t you? That’s why you snapped up my ditch-digging chore.” She paused, letting the words sink in, then leaned closer, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “But I have something to tell you, something I only just pieced together. Those tickets… the ones they’re offering for field work? They’re fakes.” Xueli’s eyes, despite their swelling, widened infinitesimally. “Fakes? What are you talking about?” “I overheard something,” Yunya continued, leaning forward. “About the authentic departure papers. The red-stamped transit permits that actually send you home, not just to a gravel pit down south. They aren’t handed out for hoeing mud. They’re locked away by an official with access to every roster.” She paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “I heard they’re in Accountant Liu Guang’s office. He’s always been the one handling all the official documents, hasn’t he? And he’s so cunning. He’d never let genuine permits leave his sight. He keeps them locked up tight until the buyer pays.” Distrust and frantic hope flickered across Xueli’s puffy features. The hives seemed to pulse with her internal struggle. To be offered a shortcut, a way out, after weeks of excruciating labor and suffering… it was almost too good to be true. But Yunya’s sweet, sincere expression was utterly disarming. Yunya looked like she was genuinely trying to help, sharing a secret for Xueli’s benefit. “His office?” Xueli whispered, her voice hoarse. “But… it’s locked.” “A small lock for a smart girl like you, Xueli,” Yunya replied, a gentle encouragement in her tone. “If you want to board a train home before winter, this is your opening. Otherwise, you’ll keep blistering in that sulfur ditch for nothing.” She nodded toward Xueli’s spotted wrists. Xueli’s mouth pressed flat. The thought of rotting in the dirt while city life marched on without her drew her upright. She would take the real papers herself. “You’re right,” Xueli rasped, pushing herself up, her limbs aching. “I’ll show them. I’ll show *everyone*.” She hobbled toward the dark brigade office, her pace quickening as she crossed the ditch. Yunya watched her go, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. Daodao chuffed softly, nuzzling her hand. They waited. The village gong chimed twice in the distance. Then, a faint *click* echoed from the administrative building. A gasp. And then, a blinding flash. Not a single light, but a rapid succession of brilliant flares, like firecrackers exploding underground. The entire East Field flared white, exposing the collapsed timber frame and yawning trench mouth where the stony hill met the blighted soil.

Unlocking the Trap