At six in the morning, the old district of Binhai City had not fully awakened.
Lin Xi stood at the door of 'Old Zhou Auto Repair,' looking at the mottled rust on the rolling shutter. She had only slept three hours last night — which was enough for her. Three years of training had taught her how to restore her strength under any conditions, even if it meant leaning against a wall for a nap, she could enter deep sleep within thirty seconds.
At this moment, her mind was as sharp as a freshly sharpened blade.
The shutter hadn't opened yet. She was early.
Lin Xi didn't knock, didn't call, and didn't loiter at the door. She simply leaned against the wall by the door, hands in her coat pockets, quietly waiting. A neighbor taking out the trash early glanced at her, and she nodded slightly, like a normal, somewhat shy working girl.
At 6:20, a worn-out electric scooter entered the alley. Old Zhou got off the scooter, carrying a thermos and a bag of buns. He froze for a moment when he saw Lin Xi.
"So early?"
"Used to it."
Old Zhou muttered something, took out his keys, and opened the rolling shutter. The iron door clanged as it went up, revealing the dim repair workshop inside. Two cars were lifted on stands, a hoist, tools and parts scattered on the floor, and the wall calendar still showing last month.
"Have you eaten?" Old Zhou handed her a bun.
"I've eaten," Lin Xi said. Actually, she hadn't.
"Alright then, take a look first." Old Zhou took a bite of his bun and mumbled, "That used car yesterday, I thought about it all night, found a crack in the intake manifold, but the engine still has a strange noise. If you really know your stuff, help me listen."
He didn't really expect Lin Xi to solve the problem. A woman in her twenties, even if she knew some car repair theory, how much hands-on experience could she have? Old Zhou thought her insight yesterday was pure luck. Maybe she had worked in another repair shop before and memorized a few common fault detection methods.
He did need help, but what he needed was someone who could do the dirty, exhausting work, not someone giving orders.
Lin Xi walked over to the used car. It was an older model that had run 150,000 kilometers, and the engine compartment was covered in oil sludge and dust. Just by hearing it start yesterday, she had already judged that the intake manifold was leaking and the spark plugs were aging. But Old Zhou said there was still a strange noise.
She bent down and pressed her ear close to the engine compartment.
Old Zhou watched her from the side, thinking to himself that her demeanor actually looked quite convincing. Then he heard Lin Xi say a sentence.
"Start it up."
Old Zhou stubbed out his cigarette, climbed into the driver's seat, and turned the key. The engine roared to life, producing a dull echo in the repair shop. There was indeed a certain discordant vibration in that sound, like a person's breathing with phlegm.
Lin Xi listened for three seconds.
"Turn it off."
Old Zhou turned off the engine and poked his head out. Lin Xi had already opened the hood, her fingers moving quickly over the various parts of the engine. Her movements didn't resemble those of a mechanic, but rather a surgeon performing a palpation—precise, calm, without any superfluous actions.
"Timing chain," she said.
"What?"
"The timing chain has stretched. The intake manifold crack is repaired, the spark plugs are replaced, but the wear on the timing chain has caused valve timing deviations. It's not noticeable at low speeds, but will start making noise when the RPM exceeds two thousand."
Old Zhou frowned. The timing chain was indeed something he hadn't checked. The engine structure of this car was complex; checking the timing chain would require dismantling half the engine, at least two days of labor. He found it troublesome and had put it off.
"How can you be sure?"
"You can tell by the sound. After the chain stretches, the abnormal noise frequency has a 1:2 relationship with the crankshaft speed, and a 1:1 relationship with the camshaft. When you revved the throttle just now, the noise frequency was completely synchronized with the camshaft speed."
After saying this, Lin Xi realized she had said too much. An ordinary female mechanic wouldn't have such precise mechanical knowledge. She corrected her tone and added, "I learned it from a master back home; he specialized in repairing these old cars."
Old Zhou didn't respond. He walked around the car, shone a flashlight on the side of the engine, and remained silent for a long time.
Then he lifted his head, looking at Lin Xi with a completely different expression.
"You tell me how to fix it."
"Remove the front cover, replace the chain and guides, and also change the tensioner. This set has run for 150,000 kilometers, about at the end of its service life."
"How long will it take?"
"If done by one person, six hours.
Old Zhou glanced at his watch. It was six forty in the morning. If what Lin Xi said was true, this car could be fixed before noon. He had previously estimated that it would take two days of work.
"Alright," Old Zhou said, taking a set of wrenches from the tool wall and tossing it to Lin Xi. "You do it. I'll watch."
Lin Xi caught the wrench, saying nothing more.
Over the next half hour, Old Zhou witnessed the most incredible scene in his twenty years of work.
Lin Xi's movements were like those of a precise machine. She didn't need to repeatedly check the positions of bolts like ordinary mechanics, she didn't need to rummage through a pile of tools to find the right wrench, and she didn't need to pause to think about the next step. Her hands reached out and hit exactly the bolt that needed disassembly; her eyes swept over the engine compartment and could judge the condition of each component.
Removing the engine cover. Thirty seconds.
Disconnecting the battery's negative terminal. Five seconds.
Removing the alternator belt and tensioner. Two minutes.
Removing the crankshaft pulley. Forty seconds.
Removing the timing chain front cover. Three minutes.
Every movement was clean and precise, with no hesitation and no unnecessary force. She applied just the right amount of power — not so much as to damage components, not so little that the bolts couldn't be turned. The bolts she removed were arranged neatly on the ground in order, lined up like soldiers waiting for inspection.
Old Zhou stood nearby, the smoke in his mouth long extinguished, ignoring the ashes that had fallen onto the floor.
He had been repairing cars for twenty years, had seen the best technicians, and had taken on more than a dozen apprentices. But he had never seen anyone like her. It wasn't about speed — speed was one thing — but about her almost instinctive precision. She wasn't "fixing" the car; she was "reading" it. Every component was under her control, and every disassembly was calculated in advance.
Forty minutes later, the timing chain was exposed before their eyes.
Lin Xi used her fingers to flick the chain, and the chain's looseness was even more severe than she had estimated. The guide rail already showed obvious signs of wear, and the tensioner's hydraulic pressure was insufficient.
"Look." She turned sideways, letting Old Zhou see clearly.
Old Zhou leaned over and shined a flashlight on it. The chain's gap was indeed beyond the normal range, stretched by at least three to four millimeters. The plastic layer on the guide rail had worn through, exposing the metal base underneath. If it continued running like this, the chain could skip teeth at any time, causing the valves and pistons to collide—that would be the end of the engine.
"It really is." Old Zhou's voice carried a complex emotion, a mix of admiration and something indescribable. "Where did you learn that before?"
"A small place, you wouldn't know even if I told you." Lin Xi didn't look up and started disassembling the chain guide rail.
Old Zhou knew she didn't want to say, so he didn't ask further. He turned and grabbed a new timing chain kit from the shelf, handing it to Lin Xi.
"Use this. It's original, the stock I had before."
Lin Xi took it and checked the part numbers and batch code. Original parts, not aftermarket. Old Zhou may be tough with his words, but he never skimped on materials.
Installation is more technically demanding than removal. Installing the timing chain requires precise alignment with the crankshaft and camshaft positions; being off by a tooth would cause the engine to malfunction. Lin Xi marked the crankshaft pulley and camshaft pulley, then used special tools to fix the positions and began installing the new chain.
Her fingers moved nimbly within the cramped engine bay, like a snake swimming in water. She knew the torque for every bolt by feel—no torque wrench needed. This was a combination of talent and countless hours of training.
Two hours later, the new timing chain was installed. Lin Xi reassembled the front cover, crankshaft pulley, alternator belt, and tensioner pulley, and reconnected the battery's negative terminal.
"Start it." she said.
Old Zhou sat in the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine roared to life, sounding much cleaner than before. The irritating abnormal noise disappeared, replaced by a low, steady rumble. Old Zhou pressed the accelerator a few times, revving from idle to four thousand RPMs and back to idle, with the engine responding smoothly and crisply.
He turned off the engine, got out of the car, and looked at Lin Xi.
"Your name is Lin Xi?"
"Yes."
"Starting today, you'll work here. Five thousand a month, lunch included, with a year-end bonus."
"Yesterday you said four thousand."
"I was blind yesterday." Old Zhou pulled out five hundred yuan from his pocket and handed it to her. "This is today's pay. It's not a daily wage, it's a greeting gift."
Lin Xi looked at the five hundred yuan, hesitated for a moment, then took it.
She needed the money. Not because she was greedy, but because she needed to survive in this city. Rent, food, transportation, information—everything required money. She still owed five hundred thousand US dollars for Song Pa's surgery. Although he said, "You can owe it," in this world, every penny owed must eventually be repaid.
Moreover, she couldn't take on "grey" jobs that made money too fast. Her top priority right now was to stay under the radar. A female mechanic living in a slum wouldn't attract any extra attention. That was exactly what she wanted.
"Thank you, Boss Zhou," she said.
"Don't call me boss, call me Old Zhou." Old Zhou waved his hand. "Familiarize yourself with the environment first. You know where all the tools are. Work when there's something to do, rest when there isn't. Oh, and—"
He pulled a set of keys from his work jacket pocket and tossed them to Lin Xi.
"The shop door. If you come early in the future, unlock it yourself. I can tell you're dependable."
Lin Xi caught the keys, the metallic touch feeling slightly cool in her palm.
This key signified trust. Old Zhou didn't know her, didn't know her past, didn't know who she was, yet he gave her the key to the shop. This kind of trust was rare in this city.
"Okay," she said.
Old Zhou lit another cigarette, leaned against the doorframe, and watched Lin Xi wipe each tool clean and put it back in its place. There was a kind of seasoned scrutiny in his gaze unique to old hands in the trade.
"Xiao Xi," he suddenly spoke, "you're not an ordinary person, are you?"
Lin Xi's hand paused for a moment—just a fraction of a second—then returned to normal. She hung the wrench back on the wall, turned around, her expression calm.
"What do you mean?"
"I've been around in society for many years and seen a lot of people," Old Zhou took a drag on his cigarette and slowly exhaled. "Your eyes, your hands, the way you do things—it doesn't look like something you learned in a repair shop. More like... you've been in the military."
Lin Xi was silent for three seconds.
"I was in the army for two years," she said, "border defense unit, repairing military vehicles."
This answer was half-true and half-false. She had indeed been at the border, but not as a soldier; she was there on missions. And she did repair vehicles, but it was a survival skill in extreme conditions, not her regular job.
Old Zhou nodded, seeming to accept the explanation. "Border duty is tough. No wonder."
He didn't ask further. In this city, everyone had a past they didn't want to discuss. He had his own as well.
"By the way," Old Zhou pointed to the alley across the street, "that mahjong parlor across the way, don't go there. The people inside aren't clean."
Lin Xi followed his finger and looked over. The rolling shutter of the mahjong parlor was half-open, and inside came the sounds of tiles clashing and noisy chatter. Through the glass window, she could see Liu Dayong sitting by the window, with a stack of small change in front of him.
"Got it," she said.
Old Zhou gave a few more reminders about the shop and left on his electric scooter. Lin Xi was left alone in the repair room.
She stood in front of the tool wall, holding the new key in her hand, her gaze passing through the open rolling shutter, resting on the mahjong parlor across the alley.
Liu Dayong was playing cards, holding a cigarette in his mouth, squinting, with the focused expression of a gambler. He didn't know he was being watched. He didn't know that the woman he had betrayed three years ago was now standing fifty meters away, across an alley, quietly watching him.
Lin Xi put the keys into her pocket and turned to walk back into the depths of the repair shop.
She took out the old watch she had brought from the Songpa Clinic and checked the time. Nine o'clock in the morning. Liu Dayong usually stayed in the mahjong hall until two in the morning. She had seventeen hours to prepare.
But not today. Today, she was Lin Xi the repair shop worker, an ordinary girl who had just found a job. She had to act normal—learn things, work, chat with Lao Zhou, greet the neighbors. She had to make everyone remember this new face, remember that she was harmless, inconspicuous, and not worth noticing.
Then, when night fell, when the streetlights in the old city went out one by one, when everyone was asleep—
She would become someone else.
Lin Xi pushed the tool cart to the wall and started organizing parts on the shelves. Her movements were slow and meticulous, like an apprentice just getting familiar with the environment. But if someone watched her hands closely, they would notice that every part she touched was placed neatly, labels facing out, sorted by specification.
It was a soldier's habit. Also, a killer's habit.
At noon, Lao Zhou brought back a packed lunch—braised pork, stir-fried vegetables, and a fried egg. He put the lunch in front of Lin Xi and sat on the stool beside her, nibbling on a bun.
"You're too thin," he said, "eat more."
Lin Xi looked at the lunch in front of her and was silent for a moment.
"Thank you."
She started eating, neither too fast nor too slow, chewing each bite carefully. Lao Zhou smoked beside her, occasionally sharing a few tips about the shop's business. He said young people nowadays are unwilling to do greasy work like car repairs, complaining it's tiring, dirty, and low-paying. He said his daughter Xiaomin was in high school, her grades were poor, she played on her phone all day, and gave him a lot of worry.
"Her mother passed away early," Lao Zhou's voice suddenly grew low, "I raised her on my own. Now she's in her rebellious phase and won't listen to anything."
Lin Xi did not speak. She didn't know how to respond to this kind of topic. There were no parents, no family, no one in her life she could call 'relatives.' The only person somewhat close to this concept, 'Old Dad,' was someone who treated her as an experiment subject.
'Girls going through a rebellious phase is normal,' she finally said.
Old Zhou smiled, and there was a bitter gentleness in that smile. 'Yes. She will understand when she grows up.'
In the afternoon, business at the shop was slow. Old Zhou took on a tire repair job, and Lin Xi watched from the side, occasionally handing him tools. She deliberately slowed herself down, making herself look like a slightly clumsy beginner.
Old Zhou didn't notice. Or rather, he chose not to notice.
By six in the evening, the sky darkened. The streetlights in the old neighborhood came on, casting a dim yellow light that made the alley hazy. Lin Xi helped Old Zhou close the shop, put the tools back in place, and lock the shutter door.
'Come at eight tomorrow morning,' Old Zhou said as he got on his electric bike, 'go home early and rest.'
'Okay.'
After Old Zhou left, Lin Xi stood in the alley, watching his figure disappear around the street corner. Then she turned around, her gaze falling back in the direction of the mahjong parlor.
Liu Dayong was still inside. Through the glass window, she could see his profile. Three years had left marks on his face—he had gained weight, his under-eye bags had grown, and his hair had thinned considerably. But his habits hadn't changed. Every night from nine to two in the morning, without fail.
Lin Xi withdrew her gaze and walked back along the alley to her rented apartment.
When she went upstairs, Old Mrs. Wang happened to be taking out the trash.
'Xiao Lin, did you find a job today?'
'Yes, at the repair shop by the alley.'
"What about Lao Zhou?" Old Madam Wang nodded, "Lao Zhou is a good person, but his life has been hard. His wife passed away early, raising a child alone isn't easy. You work well there, he won't treat you unfairly."
"I know."
Lin Xi went upstairs, entered her room, and closed the door.
The room was very dark. Since the window had been sealed, she needed to turn on the light even during the day. She didn't turn on the light, but stood in the darkness, facing the wall covered with photos.
Her eyes gradually adjusted to the dark, and thirteen faces emerged one by one.
Her gaze stopped at the photo on the bottom row.
Liu Dayong. "Hyena."
She reached out, her fingertips touching the surface of the photo, stroking it lightly. The person's image in the photo was blurry in the dark, but her memory was as clear as if it happened yesterday.
Three years ago, Binhai Port. Liu Dayong was patrolling around the dock and saw her sneak in, using his walkie-talkie to notify the ambush team. Thirty seconds later, the lights went on, and bullets flew.
Thirty seconds. Her entire fate was changed by those thirty seconds.
Lin Xi moved her fingers away from the photo and let her hands hang by her sides.
She stood in the darkness for a long time.
Then she walked to the bed, lay down, and closed her eyes.
Tonight, she needed to rest. Tomorrow, she needed to go to work like a normal person, fix cars, chat with Lao Zhou, eat that boxed meal.
But she knew, that day wasn't far off.
When her roots were firmly planted in this city, when her face became part of the old district, when she was ready for everything—
Liu Dayong would die.
Then the second one. The third one. The fourth one.
Until every face on this wall had been crossed out with red pen.
Until Ah Gui stood in front of her.
Until "Old Dad" sat in the wheelchair, tilted his head up to look at her, and called out the name he hadn't spoken for a long time—
"Jing Zhe."
Lin Xi opened her eyes in the darkness, staring at the cracks in the ceiling.
"Jingzhe is already dead," she whispered.
Then she turned over and closed her eyes.
Outside the window, the nightlife of Binhai City was just beginning. Neon lights flickered in the distance, and the sound of traffic flowed like a river that never stops. At the very bottom of this city, in this fifteen-square-meter rental room, a nonexistent person was waiting.
Waiting for dawn.
Waiting for nightfall.
Waiting for the moment that belonged to her.