The hospital examination showed that Zhen Ai was mostly fine; she only had a minor abrasion on her ear that could be treated with some ointment.
Yan Su had an apartment in Manhattan, New York, so Owen and Zhen Ai didn't stay in a hotel but at his place.
After Zhen Ai returned home and cleaned herself up, it was already past ten at night. As she walked downstairs to the living room, she glanced at the quiet elevator—Owen still hadn't returned.
Only Yan Su was there.
He had just taken a shower; his hair was still slightly damp, and he had changed into a white cotton t-shirt and long pants, sitting under a lamp reading.
Zhen Ai poured two glasses of water, placing one beside him and taking the other to sit on the sofa opposite him, sipping slowly.
Yan Su glanced at the glass on the coffee table, then returned his attention to his book, casually asking, "Aren't you going to sleep?"
"I'm used to staying up late; I can't sleep," she replied.
Yan Su fell silent, his thoughts returning to the book.
Zhen Ai asked, "Owen hasn't been around these days. What's he busy with?"
Yan Su thought for a moment but didn't answer.
He knew.
Owen had said he wanted to look into Zhen Ai's past. When he mentioned this to Yan Su, Yan Su first looked down on Owen's professional ethics, then expressed deep skepticism about the likelihood of success. After all, witness information is highly confidential.
But, truthfully, he was a bit curious.
For instance, several unusual things had happened today.
Seeing Yan Su deep in thought, Zhen Ai assumed she was interrupting his reading and was about to get up to leave when Yan Su looked up and said, "There's something I'm very curious about."
It was rare to hear someone so typically calm express "curious."
"What is it?"
Under the light, his dark eyes seemed to absorb her: "At the scene today, how did you know it was the white wire?"
Zhen Ai had anticipated this question and wasn't surprised.
She shifted closer into the sofa, hugged her legs, and replied casually, "I've encountered a situation like that before."
He closed his book, his gaze steady on her: "So?"
Zhen Ai wasn't used to his direct stare and lowered her dark lashes, concealing any emotion in her eyes.
She never confided in anyone or engaged in small talk.
But today, on Columbia University's tree-lined path, hadn't he expressed a desire to understand her?
That statement was magical; she suddenly wanted him to know her too.
To be understood, she needed to share, right?
"That person gave me a remote control; the black and white buttons controlled the black and white wires. I begged him not to do this. He said, 'Alright, just press the white button, and it won't explode.'"
In the soft light, her face was pale, almost translucent, with no trace of fluctuation, as if she were recounting a story unrelated to her own.
"I knew he was a devil; he wouldn't tell me the correct answer, so I chose the opposite button. But obviously, he had anticipated my doubts. The result was that I pressed the black button, and it exploded."
Yan Su lowered his gaze, absently stroking the book in his hands, calmly asking, "The person who died—was that your nth agent?"
"No," Zhen Ai replied nonchalantly. "It was my mother."
Yan Su's handsome figure abruptly froze, surprise flickering in his eyes.
He looked up at her; her eyes were strikingly clear, devoid of even a hint of sorrow, as if she had become numb.
But no, he was sure she wasn't numb. When everything exceeded her capacity to bear, she instinctively withdrew, observing like a bystander, neither happy nor sad.
Watching her calm, pale face, an unfamiliar pain surged in his heart.
"I'm not sad," she said quietly. "My parents were called the most evil scientists of the century. Many believe they deserved to die and that their existence was a threat to humanity. Perhaps I wanted to kill her... After the explosion, that's what he told me."
She became lost in her memories, repeating the words from that time.
"He said, 'I told you the correct answer; why choose the wrong one? You wanted to kill her, didn't you? Truly the spawn of a devil!'"
She tilted her head, gazing into the void. "My parents were indeed bad people, no doubt."
Yan Su's expression darkened, unconsciously clenching his fists.
How cruel!
He fixed his gaze on her. "Who was he?"
Zhen Ai swirled her glass of water, thoughtful. "A person without a real identity—no one."
Yan Su paused for a moment before understanding.
In such an evil organization, contact among members would be strictly limited, and identities usually consisted of codenames. It was indeed unlikely to find any leads in a short time.
He frowned, remaining silent for a long time, wanting to ask more but stopping when he saw Zhen Ai's unusually tranquil expression.
Memories of the few times Zhen Ai had mentioned her mother replayed in his mind.
There were no descriptions of personality or appearance, no emotional expressions—only mechanical repetitions of things her mother had said, even things she might have heard as a child.
This way of recalling memories was strange and abnormal.
Did she really know her mother?
Yan Su gently lowered his eyes, feeling a vague sense of foreboding and conspiracy, but ultimately said nothing. If he couldn't solve the problem, speaking would be empty and futile.
"I'm going to sleep," Zhen Ai said, finishing her water and standing up indifferently.
Yan Su smiled slightly. "Drinking water before bed isn't good for your kidneys, and you'll wake up with puffy eyes in the morning."
Zhen Ai stood holding her empty glass, unsure whether to advance or retreat.
Yan Su looked up at her. "As an exchange, I'll tell you a story related to bombs."
Zhen Ai thought for a moment, then stepped back and sat down steadily. "Okay, that's fair."
Yan Su watched her composed demeanor as she listened to the story and smiled.
Oh heavens! He really liked her personality! Unaffected by external circumstances, occasionally reminiscing without wallowing in sadness. She didn't burden her own path or disturb others' hearts.
Yet, despite liking her demeanor, it didn't stop him from feeling a hundred percent heartache for her.
He gazed at her for a few seconds, silently picked up the glass from the coffee table, took a few sips of water, and set the cup and book down steadily. Then he leaned back into the sofa, fingers interlaced, preparing to speak seriously: "I'm ready; let's chat."
Zhen Ai: …
He continued on his own: "Actually, I encountered something similar today. Seven years ago, there was an incredible person…"
Zhen Ai looked at him seriously, her interest piqued.
She had never heard him describe anyone as "incredible."
Yan Su tapped his fingers and asked, "You've seen Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible, right?"
Zhen Ai nodded.
"That person used techniques that are almost cinematic to infiltrate the Federal Reserve Bank, evading fingerprint, retina, temperature, and gravity sensors. He even created a dozen false fire alarms, causing chaos in the bank building. In the end, he successfully stole a billion dollars."
"A billion?" Zhen Ai was taken aback. "That's impressive!"
Yan Su's gaze darkened slightly, a strange tone creeping into his voice. "Oh, so you like that kind of man?"
Zhen Ai paused for a moment, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her heart racing as she said softly, "I have no resistance to highly intelligent men."
But Yan Su, the fool, didn't grasp this. He furrowed his brows darkly—why did Zhen Ai like him? I have a higher IQ!
He composed himself and said, somewhat intentionally, "Ahem, he's my classmate with an IQ of 195."
At first, Zhen Ai didn't understand this nonsensical comment. After a few mental loops, she felt speechless. So, this guy with an IQ of 197 was indeed proud and arrogant all the time.
But Yan Su, you little fighting cock, you're only two points smarter than him—do you really have the gall to say that?
Zhen Ai shot him a gentle glare. "Get to the point."
"We're both PhD students in cryptography under Professor Hill. We didn't meet often. At that time, the central bank's system was breached several times. The police had asked us to help filter passwords. During those times, I noticed something unusual about him and suspected that those breaches were his experiments. But by the time I confirmed it, he had already run off with a billion."
What surprised Zhen Ai was that as he spoke, there was no trace of anger or regret on Yan Su's face; instead, there was a faint sense of loss.
"He vanished, but I still found his destination and hideout. When I saw him, he was strapped with explosives, and the billion was gone. I had studied bomb disposal, and that was my first time using it in a real situation..."
Zhen Ai tensed up, hugging her legs. "You were too reckless; one misstep could have killed you."
"It was in the suburbs, only a ten-minute drive; calling a bomb disposal expert would have been too late. And I really wanted to save him." There was a subtle sadness in his tone.
"In the end, it was a matter of the black and white wires in a glass box. He told me the remote was in the car and to press the black button."
Yan Su fell silent for a long time.
"I didn't analyze his mental state; I just listened to him, and the result was—"
He concluded calmly, "He died."
Zhen Ai was stunned. "Why did he do that?"
Yan Su didn't answer.
He too wanted to understand why.
The smarter someone is, the more they tend to cherish life.
But why would someone as rebellious as him choose death over revealing the billion's whereabouts?
Seeing him silent, Zhen Ai chose not to press further.
Currently, Yan Su was calm, his usual composure in place.
But she sensed his confusion and sorrow. She could tell he and that exceptionally intelligent cryptography enthusiast probably admired each other.
To personally bury someone who was like a friend, he must have felt awful inside.
Suddenly, she remembered Marie saying Yan Su had weak bones and called him a miracle. Her heart skipped a beat, and she tentatively asked, "You were actually hurt in that explosion, weren't you?"
Yan Su looked at her, his expression quite ordinary. "Oh, I was in a wheelchair for a while. But it developed a good habit of contemplation."
The pain of the past might be profound, yet he brushed it off so lightly.
Zhen Ai didn't know the specifics of what happened back then and didn't want to ask more, so she curled up on the sofa, staring blankly.
Yan Su suddenly seemed reminded and looked at her. "Have you put on ointment?"
"What ointment?"
"Then you haven't." Yan Su turned his head to the bar, where the medicine box from the hospital sat.
He frowned, casting her a disapproving glance. "You're really troublesome!"
Zhen Ai: …
In just a moment, he had moved next to her, opened the ointment, squeezed a little onto his fingertip, then looked at her, his tone commanding: "Turn your head."
Zhen Ai felt a bit shy. "I can do it myself..." But seeing his expression darken, she shut her mouth and obediently turned her head.
Yan Su leaned in, lowering his bright eyes, gently touching the opening of Zhen Ai's ear with his fingertip; it was soft, like some small animal.
After applying the ointment, he carefully smoothed it out.
The ointment felt cool as it spread across her nearly translucent ear.
Under the light, the exposed skin of her neck was delicate as porcelain, glowing faintly. Yan Su inadvertently lowered his gaze, following the elegant curve of her collarbone down; in her loose robe, there was a hint of a graceful shadow.
Suddenly, Yan Su's heart raced, and he sprang upright from the sofa.
Zhen Ai looked up at him, puzzled. "Is it done?"
Yan Su replied distinctly, "Yes, all set. You should get some rest!" With that, he darted up the stairs as if fleeing.
Zhen Ai stared at the rapidly disappearing white figure, blinking in confusion. What just happened?
Yan Su nearly fled to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. The strange heat in his body seemed to subside a bit.
He walked to the window, pulled it open, and the cool spring night breeze rushed in.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm the anxiety in his heart.
After standing for a while, he took out his phone, fingers flying over the screen, finding the number for "CIA, Agent B," and sent a text:
"Search: the child of evil!"
Ten minutes later, his phone beeped.
"Sealed." The file is sealed...