Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Afternoon sunlight spilled lazily through the penthouse’s floor-to-ceiling windows, splashing bright puddles across the floor. The air carried the scorched sweetness of over-baked biscuits—evidence of Milu’s ongoing experiments under Wei Wu’s “edible is good enough” policy—the faint sting of lemon disinfectant courtesy of Old Wei’s morning scrub-down, and a whisper of fresh ink from the financial newspapers he’d spread across the coffee table as “open-source” research.
The living-room vibe was a bizarre cocktail: a grizzled veteran slumped on the sofa scrolling his phone, a soft-cheeked girl frowning over The Apprentice Witch Life Guide, a listless office-worker melted into an armchair, and two non-human presences—Xing Dian drifting like indigo mist, Yue Fei pretending to nap in snow-white feline form.
Ding-dong!
The doorbell sliced through the domestic hush. Yun Xi’s heart jack-hammered; her body snapped taut. Them again. She stared at the entry-screen: grey uniform, cap pulled low, the dark-blue folder embossed with a tangled tower. Dream Ring Tower—its modern mask—had come back.
Milu squeaked, face draining to paper-white, guide-book wobbling in her hands. Old Wei’s head snapped up; eyes hawk-sharp, he tossed his phone aside and rose, ex-military menace coiling around him like smoke—leashed, invisible.
“Mrs. Yun Xi, Miss Milu.” The man’s voice crackled through the speaker, colder and faster than yesterday. “Please open the door. We need to complete yesterday’s Special Environmental Assessment and resolve Miss Milu’s intern safety-registration. This concerns CAMCC internal security protocols and Environmental-Monitoring-Intern guidelines. Cooperation is mandatory.”
They’d come to take her. Yun Xi’s stomach dropped. Yesterday they’d bluffed them off with incense; today the script had upgraded. Refuse? Old Wei could fight, but brawling with a “government agency” was suicide. Let Milu go? Never—she’d disappear into the Tower’s maw.
While Yun Xi’s thoughts raced, a calloused hand settled on her shoulder. Old Wei.
He flicked her a stay-calm glance, then lumbered to the door, every inch the neighbourhood bruiser. “Who’s banging at noon? Water-meter or gas-check? Stick the bill under the door!”
Outside, the uniformed man’s brows twitched—surprise erased in a blink. When Old Wei yanked the door open, the official smile was already pinned in place: three parts regret, seven parts procedure.
“Sorry to disturb, sir. CAMCC Environmental Assessment and Safety Coordination Division.” He flashed an ID card stamped with the vine-wrapped tower. “Our system flagged this unit for a supplementary Special Environmental Safety Assessment, and we need to update the safety file for Environmental-Monitoring-Intern Milu. Routine protocol, for resident and intern protection.”
Old Wei crossed his arms, blocking the doorway like a brick wall. “Environmental what? Gas leak? Formaldehyde? And what intern? My friend Yun Xi’s just hosting her little cousin for the holidays—since when is that an internship?”
“Sir, the assessment targets rare, low-level anomalies—old wiring, geological quirks, chemical traces. As for Miss Milu, she’s registered at Star Ring Environmental Tech Institute. Anyone interning outside designated zones over forty-eight hours must file dual reports with the institute and CAMCC. We only need to verify her status. Are Mrs. Yun Xi and Miss Milu home?”
Old Wei snorted. “Yeah, yeah, they’re inside!” He half-stepped aside, still hogging the frame, and bawled over his shoulder, “Yun Xi! Xiao Milu! EPA bigwigs wanna talk safety!”
Yun Xi inhaled, towed the trembling Milu to the door. She’d dressed down—T-shirt, jeans, eyes wide with manufactured bewilderment. Milu hugged her “high-precision portable detector” (disguised wand) like a life-raft.
“Mrs. Yun Xi, Miss Milu.” The officer’s gaze flicked across Yun Xi’s bracelet, the indigo orb on her shoulder, Milu’s oak-and-crystal rod. “Concerning Miss Milu’s failure to file safety reports and prolonged stay in a non-designated area, plus yesterday’s unfinished assessment—we must formally record the infraction. Per City Public Safety Regulation addendum and clause five of the Special Technical Intern Safety Agreement, she may be recalled for retraining and rating adjustment...”
Milu quivered.
Old Wei cut in, brow furrowed. “What clause? Kid stays with family a few extra days and you want to drag her back? Overkill much?”
“Sir, it’s standard risk management.” The man’s patience thinned. “Especially in zones with... faint anomalous signals.”
“Signals my foot! You’re manufacture’ trouble!” Old Wei leaned closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial growl. “Look, chief, that girl’s scared of her own shadow—can’t even work that doodad right. And Yun Xi here’s a regular office drone—sickly too.” Yun Xi coughed on cue. “Keep scaring them and you’ll be paying their therapy bills!”
The officer’s smile froze; the threat of citizen complaints was kryptonite to any agency that survived on tax money. His gaze slid past Old Wei and snagged on the white cat—Yue Fei—whose violet eyes stared back with glacier intelligence. Next, the “ambient light orb” Xing Dian: its halo too pure, too rhythmic for LED tech. Finally Yun Xi’s bracelet—jade glow warping space around it.
Yesterday the incense and damsels-in-distress act had worked. Today, with this loud-mouthed civilian blustering, the agent’s training kicked in—observe, analyse. Conclusion: everything in this apartment screamed high-grade anomaly.
His pulse quickened; smile never wavered. Strategy pivot.
“...Ahem. Mrs. Yun Xi,” he said, voice silkier, “besides Miss Milu’s paperwork, we have an urgent public-safety matter. We’d like to discuss... possible cooperation.”
He opened the folder. Infrared images showed the derelict Xinghui Amusement Park: cold blue blotches, twisted shadows, captions reading Unknown Biological Metabolite Hotspot, Structural Erosion Risk, Potential Infrasound Stressor.
“Our High-Precision Environmental Network detected concentrated bio-contamination. Likely anaerobic microbes or arthropod clusters. Metabolites are acidic, adhesive, mildly psychoactive—posing structural and psychological hazards. Standard cleanup is ineffective; we need pinpoint removal. Preliminary non-public assessments”—he let that hang—“suggest your... unique environmental-control devices”—eyes flicked to Xing Dian, Yue Fei—“could neutralise the threat.”
He closed the folder. “Currently all certified teams are deployed. CAMCC wishes to hire you as Special Environmental Safety Technical Consultant. We’ll supply data, Industrial Highest Protection Standard gear, full area lockdown, generous fee, strict confidentiality—no disruption to your personal life.”
From abduction to lucrative contract in sixty seconds.
Yun Xi gaped. Milu forgot to tremble. Even Old Wei’s brows rocketed.
The subtext was clear: they’d clocked Xing Dian and Yue Fei; they needed a mop; refusal meant Milu’s “retraining” and deeper audits for everyone else.
Yun Xi glanced at Old Wei. He lifted one brow: money first, feelers out.
She swallowed. “Consultant, you say. What’s the fee? Risk rating? Safety guarantees?”
“Fee will satisfy you,” the man purred. “Risk: controllable Class-B. Targets non-aggressive; main hazards corrosion and low-frequency noise. We provide top-tier gear and quarantine. As for Miss Milu’s registration—if you assist, we can reclassify her stay as supervised off-campus practical observation, paperwork waived.”
Yun Xi stared at the proffered business card—CAMCC seal embossed like a brand. A sugar-coated pact.
“I... need time to decide.”
“Of course.” He handed over the card. “Pollutant spread is accelerating. Please reply within twenty-four hours. We look forward to welcoming our future... environmental safety expert.”
He nodded, gaze sweeping once more over Old Wei—dismissed as harmless bulldog—then left. The screen went dark.
Old Wei clicked the deadlock. “‘Environmental Safety Expert’—sounds legit, way better than ‘Dream Ruins Sovereign’ and you can invoice them!” He slurped his half-cold milk-tea, then turned serious. “So—do we take the gig? Pay sounds fat.”
Yun Xi stirred instant coffee—extra sugar. Outside, the city hummed, orderly and blind. Beneath that surface, the Dream Ring Tower had just slid its first contract across her counter.
Her first tech-outsourcing job—wrapped in municipal jargon and scented with danger—was waiting for her signature.