Yang Lingyun left Ling Feiyi's apartment without another word.
The elevator ride down was silent, oppressive.
Gu Sheng was already waiting near the car, posture straightening as soon as he saw Yang Lingyun approach.
"Young Master?" he asked cautiously. "What happened?"
Yang Lingyun didn't slow down. "Open the trunk."
Gu Sheng frowned slightly. "The trunk?"
"Now."
The single word carried enough weight that Gu Sheng immediately moved. He walked to the rear of the car, unlocked it and lifted the trunk lid.
Inside were standard emergency supplies—first aid kit, tools and a secured black case.
Gu Sheng glanced back. "Which—"
"Gun," Yang Lingyun said.
That made Gu Sheng pause.
For the first time, confusion broke through his professional composure. "Boss… what are you planning to do?"
Yang Lingyun's expression didn't change. "Give it to me."
Gu Sheng hesitated.
It wasn't hesitation born of refusal—it was hesitation born of understanding that something had already gone wrong.
