The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, falling across my messy bed. I woke up groggy, my head pounding as if hit by a hammer. Thinking back to last night, my cheeks flushed for no reason, the memory feeling both alluring and absurd—like a vivid yet impossible dream. Every movement and expression of Wang Zifang in that dream felt so real, her touch and gaze lingering on my skin, yet reason whispered that it might have been nothing more than an illusion.
I forced myself to sit up, rubbing my temples. My clothes were slightly disheveled; several shirt buttons had been undone. A complex wave of emotion washed over me. I hurriedly adjusted my shirt, trying to erase last night from my mind. Looking around, the room seemed normal, unchanged. I comforted myself—perhaps it really had been just a dream.
I went about my usual morning routine, washed up, and left for the office, hoping that busy work would drive away the lingering unease.
Not long after arriving, my phone rang urgently. The caller ID showed Fang Zhiguo. My heart skipped a beat—an ominous feeling crept up.
"Hello, Fang Zhiguo. What's wrong?" I tried to sound calm.
His voice, through the earpiece, carried unprecedented seriousness and urgency. "Kawashima Fukuichiro and Kawashima Yuko have already boarded the earliest flight to Japan. By our assessment, not taking you along constitutes a mission failure for them—but this spy organization never gives up so easily. You met with Kawashima Yuko for coffee yesterday. What exactly did you talk about? Did anything unusual happen?"
My hand trembled slightly as I held the phone. Last night's events flashed in my mind. I hesitated, then decided to hide the "dream-like" experience. "We just talked about recent movies, Shanghai's weather—nothing special. She didn't mention Japan, and the coffee seemed normal. After that, we parted ways, and I went home. Everything seemed ordinary."
Fang Zhiguo paused, sensing my unease. "Are you sure you're not leaving anything out? Every detail could affect the entire situation."
I clenched my teeth and forced myself to speak steadily: "Really, nothing unusual. I sensed her intent, but I didn't notice anything abnormal."
After hanging up, a heavy weight settled on my chest. I knew I had concealed critical information, but I could not bring myself to reveal last night's strange experience. Still, I understood that the sudden departure of the Kawashimas was far from simple; the spy organization could have more dangerous plans underway.
The whole morning, I sat at my desk, mind elsewhere. The lines of code blurred before my eyes; concentration was impossible. My brother noticed and leaned over: "Fage, what's wrong? You look pale. Not feeling well?"
I forced a smile. "I'm fine. Maybe just didn't sleep well." He gave me a skeptical glance but didn't push further.
During lunch, I sat alone in the break area, the coffee long gone cold. I replayed every detail of my meeting with Wang Zifang: her gaze, her words, searching for any clue I might have missed. Suddenly, I remembered her eyes had seemed momentarily distant, like she was contemplating something important, and that faint, almost imperceptible sadness in her smile—strange at the time, but now it hinted at something deeper.
Just then, my phone received a text from an unknown number: "Farewell, if not seen again."
My heart sank. I had a sense it was from Wang Zifang, and maybe last night wasn't merely a dream.
Another notification followed: "I'm downstairs. You and Liu Yu come down immediately." It was Fang Zhiguo.
I quickly called my brother, and we rushed downstairs. A black Passat was parked with hazard lights on. Fang Zhiguo rolled down the window: "Get in."
When we opened the rear doors, a familiar short-haired young man was in the passenger seat. I tried to place him.
He turned to me: "Hello, we've met before."
"Oh, you're the short-haired guy from Nanjing Road, buying oden last time," I replied.
Fang Zhiguo spoke: "This is my colleague, Qin Xiao. Consider him half of our team. He's a tech genius. The situation is urgent. Hand your phones to him."
Qin Xiao took our phones, fingers flying across the screens, eyes sharp and focused. It was as if every byte of data was under his control. Soon, his brows furrowed. "As expected, your phones were implanted with a tracking Trojan. It's a high-level custom variant—ordinary security software cannot detect it."
My brother's eyes widened. "Damn! They really don't spare any method—even phones!"
Fang Zhiguo's voice was steady, calm yet serious: "Sherry's phone was also compromised. The so-called 'winning popup' was a lure. They used her excitement and my brother's impulsiveness to draw you out of the house."
A heavy realization hit me. The strange sensations and dream-like state I experienced last night were likely a trap. But how? Everything seemed normal when I returned home… except that "dream."
"Fang Zhiguo," I hesitated, then decided to confess. "Something strange happened after I got home."
He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "What happened?"
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm: "After I got home, I felt a sudden, intense dizziness. Then I entered a half-conscious, half-dream state. In that state… Wang Zifang appeared. She… she did some… unusual things."
My brother jumped, hitting his head on the car roof. "What?! That dream of yours is insane! Wang Zifang actually appeared in your room? Your imagination is wild!"
I glared at him. "Stop joking! I'm serious! It felt too real to be a dream!"
Fang Zhiguo and Qin Xiao exchanged a serious glance. Qin Xiao whispered: "Forget-me-not potion."
Fang Zhiguo nodded, tone grave: "Yes. Forget-me-not potion."
We were baffled. My brother rubbed his throbbing head. "Forget-me-not potion? Sounds like something out of a martial arts novel."
Fang Zhiguo explained slowly: "It's a sedative used by the Japanese Special Operations. First used by Kawashima Yoshiko. It puts a person into deep hypnosis, fully controlled, with no resistance. After the effect wears off, victims usually have no memory—like nothing happened. That's why Yoshiko gave it the romantic name, 'Forget-me-not.'"
Qin Xiao added: "She used it to extract intelligence from countless targets. Its formula is top secret—rarely known outside Japanese Special Forces. Even we in the National Security Bureau had only heard of it before."
I shivered, recalling the uncontrollable dizziness and dream-like sensations from last night. It wasn't a dream—it was the potion's effect.
"But… if it was the Forget-me-not potion, why do I remember anything?" I asked.
Fang Zhiguo pondered: "It may relate to your special physiology. Your genetic mutation not only grants immunity to the EASV virus but may also alter how certain drugs affect you. The potion worked partially, but it didn't erase your memory."
My brother whistled: "Wow! Fage, even Japanese Special Forces drugs can't touch you!"
I ignored his teasing, my unease growing. "Then… what exactly did they do to me?"
Fang Zhiguo's eyes darkened: "That's what we need to find out. Kawashima Fukuichiro and Yuko have left China, but we found nothing suspicious in their luggage. No one saw Wang Zifang or other suspects entering your building. They may have obtained what they wanted through other means."
Qin Xiao nodded: "We need to review last night's surveillance footage of your residential complex, see if anything unusual occurred."
The car drove into my neighborhood, parking outside the property office. We went straight to the monitoring room. The property manager, aware of our arrival, led us inside.
Qin Xiao sat at the monitors, fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard, pulling up footage from last night. We gathered around the screens, examining every frame closely.