The routine of the bunker was a weapon.
Light at 06:00. Congee at 06:15. Code until 18:00. Lu Sheng was a ghost who appeared only to check the ledgers or to move more money. He didn't speak unless it was a directive. He didn't touch me again.
By the third day, the silence was louder than the server fans.
I sat at the workstation, my eyes burning. I wasn't just stealing money anymore; I was mapping the Qin Group's ghost network. I found something tucked into the metadata of an offshore account: a series of encrypted images.
They weren't bank codes. They were surveillance photos of a high-end apartment in the capital. My breath hitched.
The woman in the photos was older, elegant, sitting on a balcony. She looked like Lu Sheng.
The heavy door hissed open. I didn't minimize the window in time.
Lu Sheng walked in, but something was off. His usual mechanical stride was gone. He was leaning slightly to the left, and his white shirt was stained with a dark, spreading bloom of crimson at the side of his waist.
He saw the screen. Then he saw me seeing him.
"Close it," he rasped. His voice wasn't the "Living Yama's" silk anymore. It was raw.
I didn't move. My hands were frozen on the keyboard. "You're bleeding."
"I told you to close the window, Lin Xiao." He stumbled, his hand catching the edge of the kitchen counter. The glass of water he reached for shattered on the floor.
I stood up, my chair screeching against the concrete. "Who is she? The woman in the files?"
Lu Sheng's eyes flashed a sudden, violent heat that I hadn't seen before. He moved faster than I thought a wounded man could, closing the distance and pinning me against the workstation.
He didn't use a gun. He used his weight. I could smell the metallic tang of blood and the scent of cold rain.
"That information wasn't part of the ledger," he hissed, his face inches from mine. His breathing was shallow, ragged. "If you touch those files again, I'll bury you in this mountain."
"They're tracking her, aren't they?" I pushed against his chest. My hands came away wet. "The people you're stealing from. They know who she is. That's why you're doing this. You're not 'securing an asset.' You're buying her life."
Lu Sheng's grip tightened on my shoulders, his fingers digging into my skin. For the first time, the mask of the professional was gone. I saw the desperation underneath the jagged edge of a man who was losing a game he thought he controlled.
"Shut up," he whispered.
He slumped. His forehead dropped onto my shoulder, his entire weight falling against me. The "Living Yama" had just collapsed into the arms of his prisoner.
The workstation beeped. A red notification flashed on the secondary monitor.
[EXTERNAL PROTOCOL DETECTED: SIGNAL SOURCE UNKNOWN]
Someone had found the bunker's ghost-map. Lu Sheng was unconscious, bleeding out on my school blazer, and the world was knocking on the door.
I looked at the "Exit" command on the screen. I could let the signal through. I could end this. I could be free.
I looked down at the man who had stolen my life. His blood was warm, soaking through my clothes, grounding me to the reality that if he died, I was just a girl in a box with a billion dollars and no way out.
I didn't hit 'Exit.' I grabbed the first-aid kit under the desk.
"You're a debt I can't afford to settle yet," I muttered, and I started to cut away his shirt.