The blizzard arrived at midnight.
Xia Xiaoman stumbled through the docks, her figure swallowed by the monstrous shadows of shipping containers. Behind her, the roar of an engine shattered the silence as a black Maybach plowed through the snow, skidding to a halt in front of her.
Li Moting stepped out without a coat, his white shirt soaked translucent by the snow, the bandage on his left shoulder seeping blood. The moment he grabbed Xia Xiaoman, they both crashed into a snowdrift.
"Are you insane?" he snarled, gripping her shoulders. "Su Yuan's people have been tailing you this whole time!"
Snowflakes settled on Xia Xiaoman's lashes, melting into teardrops. "And you?" Her voice broke. "You knew that necklace would make me a target, yet you pushed me onto that stage anyway... Li Moting, did you even calculate how to hate me with such precision?"
His breath hitched.
The snow fell harder. Suddenly, Li Moting tore open his collar, revealing a barcode branded beneath his collarbone—**"MN-07-01."**
"This is what I hate," he said, pressing her hand against the mark. "They turned me into a weapon, and you... you're the only one who ever made me feel pain."
Beneath her palm, his heartbeat was dangerously fast. In the distance, police sirens wailed. Li Moting shoved her away abruptly: "Go! Take the path behind Warehouse 7—"
A bullet grazed past his ear, sparking against a container. Su Yuan's voice crackled over a loudspeaker: *"How touching. But test subjects weren't meant to have feelings."*
Li Moting staggered, shielding Xia Xiaoman as blood trickled from his lips—the red wine had been poisoned. Collapsing to his knees, he pressed a key into her hand: "The... basement..."
Xia Xiaoman reached for him, but Lin Qiao yanked her back. As darkness swallowed him, Li Moting's lips formed one last silent plea:
**"Remember me."**