The Message Behind the Blood

The Message Behind the Blood

The morning sun filtered through the pale curtains of the Jiang apartment, spilling light across the polished floor. Jiang Yeming was already awake, dressed in a plain black T-shirt and sweatpants, standing in the kitchen as he stirred congee over a gentle flame. A plate of pickled vegetables and steamed buns rested beside it. The silence of the early hour was calming, almost deceptive.

Feng Xuelan had stepped out early to join a friend for a morning walk, and Lan Yueran, as usual, had retreated to her office after a quiet breakfast, immersed in files she refused to let anyone else touch. The house felt too still, but Yeming didn't mind. He finished cleaning the dishes, mopped the living room floor, and straightened the small bookshelf beside the television.

Once everything was in order, he changed into a clean shirt, grabbed the small black file Uncle Qiao had given him, and slipped out of the house without a sound.

---

The hospital's air was still heavy with antiseptic, and the fluorescent lights hummed with a dull buzz. Jiang Yeming made his way past the front desk with silent confidence. The nurses, remembering his face from previous visits, didn't stop him. He moved toward the ICU and paused at the glass door where the woman from the night of the accident lay.

She was awake now. Her face bore signs of bruising and stress, and her arms were dotted with fading needle marks and gauze. She flinched slightly when she saw him, eyes wide with the unmistakable tinge of fear—and something else.

Recognition.

He stepped inside quietly and pulled the chair to her bedside. He didn't speak at first, just looked at her—his eyes calm but unreadable.

"You came," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"You're conscious. That's what matters," Yeming said, voice cool and clipped.

She licked her lips nervously. "Why are you here?"

"To ask questions," he said plainly. "You can choose to lie, stay silent, or tell me the truth. But either way, I'll know."

She turned her face slightly, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. I swear. They forced me."

"Who?" Yeming leaned forward slightly. "And what exactly were you supposed to do?"

Her fingers twisted the edge of her blanket. "They told me… just to pass the message. Not to cause real harm."

"You aimed for my wife."

"No!" she cried quickly. "No… I didn't. I was told just to follow her and scare her. The car… that wasn't supposed to happen. I lost control. I was scared. They said if I failed, they'd come after me again."

Yeming didn't blink. "Who are 'they'?"

She shook her head slowly, tears welling. "Please… I… they'll kill me if I talk."

"You're already in danger," he said, voice like steel. "That's why you're in here. Tell me, and maybe I can help."

She studied him again, surprised by his composure. Most people would have come in screaming, demanding, trembling with rage. But Jiang Yeming's expression hadn't changed since he entered.

"Why… why aren't you angry?" she finally asked.

"I don't waste emotion on threats," he said flatly. "I end them."

Her lips parted slightly, eyes flickering with something close to disbelief. After a long pause, she nodded.

"My name… is Qiao Ning," she said, barely above a whisper. "I used to work in a small logistics firm. Just a normal person. But… my younger brother got into trouble. Gambling. Drinking. He owed a lot of money."

"And they came after you instead?" Yeming asked.

"Yes. They… took me. Locked me in a basement. I don't even know where. I think it was near the west docks. They tortured me. Cut off my contact with everyone. I thought I would die there."

"Then why release you?"

"They said they'd make me useful. Give me a task. A way to pay back the debt. They'd been watching you. They knew you weren't just some househusband. Said you were the son of a man who owed them more than money. They said if I passed a warning, maybe your father would cooperate."

Yeming's eyes sharpened. "What warning?"

Qiao Ning looked at her lap, then back at him. "Tell your father to accept the property transfer they proposed. Sign the deal, no negotiation. Or next time… it won't just be a scare. It'll be you. Or your wife."

He leaned back in the chair. His face remained calm, but a storm was gathering beneath the surface.

"What gang?" he asked.

She hesitated, then answered, "They called themselves the Red Fang. The leader's name is Mo Heng. He rarely shows his face, but the others mentioned him with fear. Said he used to work with powerful families. Then they cut him off. Now he's building something bigger, and he needs your father's property to finish it."

Jiang Yeming nodded slowly.

"Where?"

"I… I heard them mention a warehouse. District 9 industrial zone. Near the river. They meet there sometimes."

Silence hung between them for a moment.

"Why didn't you run?" Yeming asked.

"Run where?" she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. "My parents are gone. My brother disappeared. I have nothing. I was just… surviving."

He stood.

"You've done what you were forced to. If they come after you again, they'll have to go through me."

She looked up, eyes filled with confusion. "Why are you helping me?"

"I'm not," he said without emotion. "I just don't like being used. And you were a tool they picked. I'm taking the tool away."

Qiao Ning stared after him, stunned, as he walked quietly toward the door.

"Jiang Yeming…" she called.

He turned slightly.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice trembling. "For everything."

He didn't respond. Didn't nod. Didn't forgive. Just walked out of the room, leaving her alone with her guilt and a faint sense of something she hadn't felt in years.

Hope.