Chapter 27

Nian Qi’s ears perked up slightly, and he lifted his gaze. Soon enough, there was the sound of keys being inserted into the lock at the entrance, and the door opened—it was indeed Ruan Qing. She hurriedly kicked off her shoes and rushed straight to the sofa, where she began rummaging through a storage box full of clothes.

With her head nearly buried in the box, she said, “Zhao Hao has a black T-shirt, no prints, but there’s a metal tag on the lower left hem!” Ruan Qing glanced up and, sure enough, through the floor-to-ceiling window, she saw that exact T-shirt hanging on the balcony to dry.

She stood up straight. “And he also has a black cap with some letters on it…” She turned her head, and there was the hat hanging on the coat rack by the entrance—she had rushed in so quickly earlier that she hadn’t noticed it.

Nian Qi already had a bad feeling, but he thought it was impossible for her to have figured it out. She couldn’t have known. He tried to keep a calm demeanor, but Ruan Qing felt the veins at her temples throbbing. Without saying anything, she unlocked her phone, pulled up the video, and shoved it in front of Nian Qi’s face. “Is this you?”

With just one glance, he knew it was indeed him. He took the phone from Ruan Qing’s hand to look more closely. He was aware by now that smartphones could record photos and videos, but he had been very cautious at the time—there hadn’t been anyone around. He examined the footage carefully and suddenly felt something was off.

“Where was this filmed?” he asked, frowning at Ruan Qing. Since learning to use a smartphone, he had also picked up taking photos and videos, storing a few things he’d captured during his free time in the gallery. But this angle didn’t seem like it was shot from someone’s apartment in the residential building.

Ruan Qing didn’t answer. She rubbed her temples, paced in a small circle, and then turned back to face Nian Qi. “So, it’s you?”

Nian Qi froze, unable to deny it any longer, and had to admit, “Yes.”

Ruan Qing stared at him and asked, “What are you doing outside in the middle of the night?” The surveillance footage had timestamps, showing that Nian Qi had been sneaking out almost every night after she’d fallen asleep. She hadn’t noticed at all.

Nian Qi hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I was just checking out the surroundings…”

Who checks out the surroundings at night? No, if he was doing it at night, he must have already scoped out the area during the day. So, why do it at night as well? What kind of habit was this? Or… was it some occupational hazard?

They locked eyes for a moment.

Ruan Qing said, “Wait here.” She turned and went into the bedroom. Nian Qi heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, and he could guess what she was doing. Sure enough, Ruan Qing emerged, carrying the long knife she had hidden on top of the wardrobe, and slammed it onto the coffee table.

She sat down confidently on the corner of the coffee table, crossing her legs with an air of authority. “Come, sit. Let’s have a chat.”

Nian Qi sat on the sofa, keeping his eyes down and his posture composed.

“We’ve known each other for about a week now, and we’re not strangers anymore. There’s something I haven’t brought up, but let’s clear the air today,” Ruan Qing said, crossing her arms and adopting a business negotiation stance. “When I asked you before what you did for a living, you brushed me off, saying you were just a laborer. I thought, given that you came from an old world to a new one, it was like starting life from scratch. The past wasn’t important; the future was. There was no need to dig into it. So, I didn’t press you on it anymore.”

“But now, I think it’s necessary to get to the bottom of this.”

She pointed at the long knife on the coffee table. “You claim to be a laborer. But when I first met you, you were dressed in black, like a night prowler, with your face covered and holding a knife that had blood on it. From that, I can guess the kind of ‘labor’ you do—it must involve fighting and killing, right?”

Nian Qi thought her assessment wasn’t wrong, so he nodded. “Yes.”

Ruan Qing pressed on. “Then be honest with me—no more dodging the question. What exactly do you do?”

Nian Qi pursed his lips but remained silent.

“A profession that involves fighting and killing… If you were a law enforcer, a Jinyiwei, an imperial guard, part of the Six Gates, a bodyguard from an escort agency, or even a household guard, you wouldn’t have any reason not to tell me, right?” She began listing each on her fingers. “But since you’re not saying, that means you’re not in any of these legitimate lines of work. You’re in a shady profession, aren’t you?”

She was sharp-minded, and it was time to come clean. Nian Qi had been in this world for exactly a week, living with Ruan Qing day and night during that time. They shared a home: she gave him money to spend, and he cooked for her. She had seen the scar on his waist, and he had seen her in shorts. To Ruan Qing, they were already quite familiar with each other. But for Nian Qi, despite not being bound by marriage, their closeness felt more intimate than any ordinary relationship.

He genuinely wanted to marry Ruan Qing. Although he couldn’t offer the traditional formalities at the moment, he felt it was time to show some sincerity and honesty. Yet, the field he worked in was rather unorthodox—even in the martial world, it attracted suspicion. Ruan Qing, being a law-abiding citizen, might not be able to accept it if he told her the truth. That’s why he hesitated to speak up.

Ruan Qing began guessing. “A notorious bandit?”

Nian Qi quickly denied it. “No.”

“A thief?”

“Petty theft doesn’t suit me.”

Ruan Qing studied his handsome face, hesitating for a moment. “…A lecherous bandit?” If he was being hunted for that, he would’ve deserved it.

Nian Qi hadn’t expected her imagination to go that far and was momentarily at a loss for words. “Stop guessing,” he said helplessly, then quickly straightened up and solemnly assured her, “I’ve never done anything dishonorable.”

Ruan Qing pursed her lips and nodded, indicating she believed him. Whenever she dressed a little provocatively, Nian Qi would avoid looking directly at her, behaving like a strict gentleman. Given his looks and physique, Ruan Qing would have flirted with him already if he didn’t act so traditional. But she hadn’t dared, worried about scaring off this old-fashioned guy.

However, all of this was just her way of probing. She had long had a guess about what Nian Qi’s occupation was in the past.

“You’re an assassin, aren’t you?” She locked eyes with him and voiced the suspicion she had been holding in for a while.

Nian Qi froze. He averted his gaze for a moment before looking back at her. “You’ve known all along?”

“Ha!” Ruan Qing sat up straight, placing both hands on her knees as she admitted it.

Nian Qi was baffled. “How did you figure it out?”

“There were too many clues!” Ruan Qing explained, “The night clothing, the mask, the long knife with blood on it, the fact that you have no family—most likely an orphan—and then there’s your name, Nian Qi.”

Nian Qi was puzzled. “What’s wrong with being called Nian Qi?”

Ruan Qing rolled her eyes. “Nian Qi literally means ‘Twenty-Seven.’ That’s not a name; it’s a number. It was too obvious. From the start, I thought you were an assassin.”

Nian Qi couldn’t wrap his head around it. Yes, his name was indeed a number, but how could a law-abiding citizen like Ruan Qing deduce his identity from that?

Nian Qi had only been in this world for a short time, so he was unaware of just how significant the information gap between him and Ruan Qing was. The Yanwang Hall, where he came from, collected orphans and trained them as assassins, giving them numbers instead of names, since many of them wouldn’t survive long enough to retire and lead normal lives. It was a secretive, brutal existence that outsiders had no way of understanding. How could someone outside Yanwang Hall figure out the whole picture just from a number like “Nian Qi”?

But to Ruan Qing, all these elements surrounding Nian Qi were like a cliché from countless novels—so common they almost felt overused. His face practically had “killer” written on one side and “assassin” on the other. She didn’t know the exact details yet, which is why she wanted to clarify: “Are you the kind who takes on jobs as a business, accepting money to kill targets? Or are you part of an organization, just waiting to be sent out on assignments to eliminate whoever they tell you to?”

Nian Qi was familiar with the latter type as well. The people who had been chasing him before he crossed over were exactly that kind. But what did she mean by “just waiting around with nothing to do until sent out to kill someone”?

Ruan Qing’s eyes bore into him, waiting for an answer. Nian Qi replied honestly, “The first kind.”

“Wow~” Ruan Qing’s response was casual, almost amused. Over the past few days, Nian Qi had learned many things, and suddenly he understood why Ruan Qing could talk about “assassins” and “killing” so nonchalantly, even with a hint of excitement—it was because these concepts were distant from her. In this peaceful, prosperous world, the life of licking blood from the blade and narrowly escaping death was abstract, like scenes from a TV drama or an electronic novel on her phone. That’s why, when he had tried to solicit business on the street a few days ago, people looked at him as if he were insane. For these future people, notions of revenge, bloodshed, and assassination were things from a far-off, bygone era.

In this world, an assassin was destined to be out of work. Nian Qi felt an indescribable sense of melancholy and couldn’t help but lose himself in thought for a moment.

Suddenly, Ruan Qing waved a hand in front of his eyes to bring him back to reality. “Come on, change clothes and follow me downstairs.”

Nian Qi was puzzled. “What?”

Although he didn’t know what Ruan Qing was planning, he obediently went to the bathroom, changed clothes, and followed her out the door. While they were waiting for the elevator, Ruan Qing said, “This is partly my fault. There’s just so much you need to learn, and I forgot to teach you this.”

“What is it?” Nian Qi asked.

Just then, the elevator doors opened to reveal an empty cabin. Ruan Qing walked in, and Nian Qi followed. She pointed upward. “That.”

Nian Qi had noticed the thing in the corner of the elevator ceiling several times but never knew what it was. There were many things in this world he didn’t understand, so he hadn’t paid much attention to it.

Ruan Qing explained, “It’s a camera.”

The term was familiar. Nian Qi recalled it and took out his phone, pointing at the front and rear lenses. “Aren’t these also called cameras?”

“Yes, because they’re the same kind of device,” Ruan Qing said.

If that thing was also a camera, didn’t it mean…? Nian Qi suddenly raised his head to stare at it. If he thought of the camera as an eye, it would be able to see the entire elevator interior from that angle.

The elevator soon reached the ground floor, and Ruan Qing led him out. As they walked through the lobby, she didn’t say a word, just casually pointed at a spot on the ceiling.

Nian Qi’s gaze followed her gesture and saw something there, different in shape from the one in the elevator. As they exited the building, Ruan Qing’s finger quickly pointed at a lamppost outside. Along the way, she kept pointing left and right, indicating various things as they walked. When they finally reached the community fence, she pointed upward again, and then, for emphasis, made a dramatic “please look” gesture with both hands.

Nian Qi looked up—there were cameras mounted on the fence at regular intervals, silently watching everything, day and night. He vividly remembered seeing similar objects scattered around many places outside the community, in both familiar and obscure corners. A cold sweat broke out on the man from ancient times as he realized that, despite the broad daylight, it felt like countless eyes were fixed on his back. In this world, there was simply no place to hide.

Ruan Qing then took him to the property management office for a quick look at the surveillance room. He saw an entire wall of small “televisions,” each showing familiar places from around the community. On closer inspection, they were indeed different spots within the residential area. A security guard sat there, monitoring the screens.

“Actually, the guard didn’t even notice you. You were too quick. Do you know why you were discovered?” Ruan Qing explained. “Did you see that device on the fence, spaced between the cameras? It’s not the same—it’s a far-infrared monitoring sensor.”

“Our eyes can’t see it, but it detects movement,” she continued. “When you kept jumping over the wall, it detected you and triggered an alarm multiple times. That’s when the security guard reviewed the surveillance footage and slowed it down to find the clip.”

Nian Qi’s forehead was now drenched in sweat. The dense network of cameras was already overwhelming, but he hadn’t expected there to be even more sophisticated devices monitoring his every move. The real-life lesson was effective, and Ruan Qing was pleased with the results. She gestured for him to follow and headed back home, with Nian Qi quickly falling in line.

Back at the apartment, the seasoned assassin from ancient times sat obediently, ready to be reprimanded.

“This wasn’t entirely your fault,” Ruan Qing began, first reflecting on her own shortcomings. “I should have given you a heads-up about all this much earlier.”

Then, with one hand on her hip, she continued in a tone that was half-serious and half-mocking, “You know, I had it all planned out. I thought, once I’m done with my current project, I’d take a vacation, sort out your situation, teach you everything you need to know, drive you around to see the sights. But some people just can’t wait, can they? Sneaking out in the middle of the night while others are asleep.”

Nian Qi sat quietly, his eyes fixed downward, not daring to meet her gaze.