Siheyuan came through and sent Jia Zhang to prison

The unusual calm surroundings during this period was unsettling. Chu Fei felt that beneath the surface of this tranquility lay a whirlpool, making him even more uncertain than when tensions were high. He felt like a piece of wood being lifted by the current, suspended in mid-air, unsure of what to do with his hands and feet. Even Ma Ran, the only person he could exchange glances or coded messages with, had become completely silent these past few days.

No matter how busy or chaotic things were before, Ma Ran would always find an excuse to linger a little longer at his desk while delivering documents, or to casually touch them with her fingertips as she handed them over, or to blink rapidly when she looked up—those coded signals that only they understood were like sparks in the dark night, providing a much-needed respite in this nerve-wracking place. After all, staying here felt like walking on a tightrope every day, with fog ahead and pursuers behind, the pressure so intense it could crush one's bones. Having a silent support for each other offered a tiny bit of peace of mind.

But these past two days, Ma Ran seemed like a different person. When they met in the corridor, her head was bowed low, her eyes darting around, as if he were some kind of monster, refusing even a glance. Chu Fei wasn't stupid; the more he thought about it, the more something seemed off—Ma Ran had always been a composed person, unlikely to lose her composure even in the face of a collapsing mountain. She would never be so distraught unless something incredibly serious had happened. He leaned against the mottled wall, gazing at the smog-covered sky in the distance, his knuckles unconsciously tapping the seam of his trousers, his mind racing: he had to find a way, even if it was just to confirm her safety, otherwise his heart would remain uneasy.

In fact, Chu Fei's intuition was absolutely right; Ma Ran dared not contact anyone now.

You see, she was once the youngest deputy team leader in the group. Back then, with her extraordinary courage and skillful abilities, she rose step by step to become a trusted confidante of her superiors. There was almost no core secret of the group that she didn't know. The safe's combination, the contact information for external lines, the code names of the undercover agents... she could recite those secrets written in encrypted documents with her eyes closed.

But everything changed after she risked her life to save Kong Xiangbin. She thought she had preserved a crucial clue, but Kong Xiangbin was quietly "disposed of" as soon as he was taken to the safe house, leaving not even a complete body. Ma Ran still couldn't understand why her superiors hadn't intervened—according to the rules, everyone involved in this matter should have been accountable. Yet she was still standing there, like a chess piece forgotten in the corner of a chessboard, knowing she had long lost trust, yet not completely abandoned, teetering on the edge of being given up on, each second feeling like waiting for a falling knife.

If someone observed closely, they would notice that there were always a few "idle people" loitering around her—a strange face always sitting at the table diagonally opposite her in the cafeteria, a cleaning lady always "coincidentally" going up or down the stairs at the same time as her in the hallway, and even when she went to the market, a man pushing a bicycle would follow her at a distance. Ma Ran came from a special agent training camp, where she was first in all subjects, and even got a perfect score in tracking and counter-tracking. She could see through these clumsy surveillance methods with a glance.

But she said nothing and did nothing. At this point, saying anything was superfluous, and resistance was futile; it would only hasten the fall of the knife.

No one knew that Ma Ran harbored a huge thought in her heart, a thought she dared not even delve into. That thought, like a poisonous seed, quietly sprouted when she discovered a signature she knew all too well on Kong Xiangbin's "execution order"—if even her most trusted superior had... then wouldn't all her years of perseverance, all that she had risked her life to protect, have become a joke?

The idea was too bold, too subversive; she dared not speak of it, or even think about it any further. Once she understood it, it would mean that everything she had previously believed without question was wrong, and all the blood she had shed and the wounds she had suffered were like slaps to her face. She could only clench her fists, letting her nails dig into her palms, using the pain to force herself not to touch that abyss.

Ma Ran stood by the office building window, watching the flow of people below, his brow slightly furrowed. Since returning from his last mission, he had been transferred to a leisurely department, where he had almost nothing to do except organize some unimportant documents. This made him wonder—what went wrong? He decided to find an opportunity to meet with his current supervisor and ask for clarification.

As he was pondering, his communicator vibrated slightly in his pocket. He glanced at the message; it was an address from his superior, instructing him to meet at the "Listening Wind Teahouse" in the south of the city. Ma Ran tidied himself up, then quietly left the office building and headed towards the teahouse.

In the shadows of the street corner, two men in plain clothes kept staring at his back. Seeing Ma Ran enter the teahouse, one of them couldn't help but click his tongue: "Why are you coming to this teahouse again? Always so secretive, I wonder what brings you together so often."

The other man leaned against the wall, pulled a cigarette case from his pocket, and shook out two cigarettes: "Alright, we've already checked this teahouse. It's just an ordinary place to drink tea, nothing fishy. Let's just wait outside. Going in will only cause trouble—have we forgotten the rules?"

The two men exchanged a glance, lit cigarettes, and leaned against the wall to smoke. This teahouse had a strange rule: smoking was strictly prohibited. It was said that a high-ranking official, unaware of the rules, had smoked there before and was soon punished; afterwards, no one dared to do so again. Naturally, they didn't dare break the rule and could only wait outside, glancing towards the teahouse entrance every now and then.

Ma Ran walked into Tingfeng Teahouse with practiced ease, passed through the bustling lobby, and went straight to the innermost private room on the second floor. Pushing open the door, he found the room empty except for a set of freshly brewed Longjing tea on the table, steaming gently. He sat down at the table, his fingers groping under it for a moment, and sure enough, he found a folded piece of paper on the inside of the table leg.

Unfold the note; it contained only one line of delicate handwriting: "Remember to keep quiet recently."

After reading it, Ma Ran's gaze darkened. He clutched the note in his hand, picked up the teacup on the table, and dipped the note into the warm tea. The note quickly soaked through and dissolved, turning into a blurry pulp. This was the secret hideout he and his superiors had agreed upon; every instruction was hidden in a pre-arranged location.

It seemed that his superiors wanted him to maintain the status quo and remain in this sinecure. Although Ma Ran had some doubts, he didn't think about it anymore—there was always a reason for his superiors' arrangements, and he just needed to follow them.

Ma Ran picked up his teacup and slowly sipped his tea. He had plenty of time now; he spent the whole day sitting at work anyway, so there seemed to be no difference between sitting here in the teahouse, drinking tea and basking in the sun. But the word "quiet" was like a pebble thrown into water, creating a faint ripple in his heart—perhaps, beneath the calm, something was quietly brewing.