Chapter 8: "Too Many Movies"

After thanking Auntie Wan and closing the door, Ye Chenghuan's expression darkened. He ignored the elegant furnishings, shaking several tiny objects from his sleeve. Picking up a dragonfly-shaped device, his eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

Bionic listening device. Special agent grade. 600Hz frequency. 10km range.

These weren't available on the black market. As he recalled the three pursuing Toyotas, Lin Peishan's name lingered on his lips. This woman was clearly entangled in dangerous waters, yet remained oblivious. Whoever wanted her silenced commanded terrifying resources.

Pupils contracting to needlepoints, he listened at the door before slipping into the twilight. Shadows swallowed him as he circled the villa thrice in breaths.

The setting sun stained the BMW 760Li's windows amber. On the coastal highway, three silver SUVs materialized in the rearview. Ye maintained speed until the lead Toyota closed in. At the tunnel's mouth, he stomped brakes and spun the wheel.

Tires shrieked. The BMW pirouetted twenty meters as the Toyota plunged through guardrails into the sea.

The second Toyota came head-on. Twin engines roared like colliding beasts. At collision's brink, Ye's cigarette glinted as he swerved. Sparks flew. The Toyota flipped into the waves.

Abandoned factory. Yellow rapeseed fields rippled under BMW's dust cloud. Five black-clad figures emerged from the last Toyota, blades glinting.

"Where's the woman?" rasped the gunman.

Ye stepped into his space. "Who sent you?"

The gun clicked futilely - Ye's finger jammed the trigger. A twist. A crack. The muzzle kissed the gunman's teeth.

"Say goodbye."

Bang.

Brains painted the asphalt. Before the echo faded, four throats crunched under Ye's fingers. Seven words. Seven deaths.

Gasoline hissed. A flicked cigarette birthed hellfire. Flames sculpted Ye's profile into a wrathful deity.

Back at Victoria Manor, Auntie Wan's knock found Ye feigning sleep. "Dinner's ready."

The dining hall's crystal chandeliers illuminated Lin's untouched consommé. Ye devoured garlic-dipped pancakes noisily.

"Eat something," he mumbled through mouthfuls. "For me?"

Lin's jade fingers whitened on the tablecloth. When his foot hit the mahogany, she snapped: "Remove that!"

"Darling, you should really specify which part—"

A single tear traced her cheek before she fled. Auntie Wan sighed, "You've done it now. I've never seen her cry."

In the living room, BBC news flickered: "...vehicle explosions near coastal factory...no survivors..." Ye lounged deeper into Italian leather, the fire's afterglow still dancing in his pupils.