Wu Letian stared intently at Zhong Sheng’s hand. Even though he was fairly certain the stubborn old man wouldn’t actually pull the trigger, who could say for sure until the gun was lowered?

  What if it misfired?

  “I came back this time to make a name for myself, not to die!”

  Before joining the Aerospace Investigation Bureau, he had always been a top student, excelling in every exam. When he was recruited into the Bureau, he had passed every selection round—no easier than a pilot’s training program—before finally becoming an agent. He had a knack for tests.

  But today’s test was undoubtedly one of life and death. The person questioning him was a mentor and friend over the past few years—not quite a father, but more than one in many ways. Yet if he answered wrong, it could cost him his life.

  Knowing Zhong Sheng well, he understood that the old man wouldn’t ask something straightforward like names, dates, or places. If Zhong Sheng suspected him, he would definitely ask about deeply personal and subjective experiences.

  “Listen carefully. First question.”

  Wu Letian braced himself.

  “During your previous investigations, have you ever seen or heard of a white man named Jude Belling?”

  Zhong Sheng was increasingly convinced that this man had chosen his Chinese name on purpose.

  Just moments ago, when he went to shut the office door, he discovered that at some point, this so-called Zhu Baiju had somehow silently pried off the Aerospace Investigation Bureau logo from the doorway. Now the door looked bare, which only made him angrier.

  So he figured he’d try his luck. Maybe Wu Letian had encountered the man? If the person before him really was Wu Letian.

  “What kind of question is that?” Wu Letian hadn’t expected such a curveball to start with. His mind raced. “Is this a question where he wants a truthful answer, or is he testing my reaction?”

  Seeing that Wu Letian didn’t respond immediately, Zhong Sheng added, “Relax. Just answer. No tricks.”

  Judging from Wu Letian’s initial reaction, Zhong Sheng actually grew more confident in his identity. This kid always overthinks things. I’ve given him similar questions before—ones that looked simple but were really tests of how he thinks.

  “Well, to be honest, no. I have no impression of that person whatsoever,” Wu Letian answered plainly.

  “Alright. That one’s a pass. But it won’t be that easy from here on.”

  “Got it.”

  “When you were doing special training in New York, there was that one time you came back to China midway. We stayed up late talking in a teahouse. I enjoyed it. You, on the other hand, eventually couldn’t help yelling that we should order alcohol...” Zhong Sheng paused. “What topics did we talk about that night?”

  Wu Letian couldn’t help but smile wryly. Old people really are like paintings—fixed in their frames. So predictable.

  He chuckled. “Old Master Zhong, first of all, I never came back to China during training. So your premise is flawed. Secondly, if we had had that kind of evening, I’d wish it were tonight. I promise, I’d drink tea with you until we’re both tipsy.”

  Zhong Sheng seemed pleased and pressed on, “Don’t dodge the question. What would we have talked about?”

  “Work, of course. Cases, cases, and more cases. If you were feeling playful, maybe you’d try setting me up with someone... Oh, and I’m sure we’d have griped about Ning Buwei, Director Ning—”

  At that, Zhong Sheng abruptly interrupted him. “Don’t say another word!”

  Wu Letian stopped, startled, and looked at Zhong Sheng with a rising sense of unease.

  But Zhong Sheng didn’t take any further drastic action. He sighed and tried to calm himself, biting his upper lip. “Don’t mention him. Don’t mention him...”

  Wu Letian was confused. Did Zhong Sheng mean don’t mention him during this questioning, or don’t mention him even in our hypothetical teahouse chat?

  Either way, he chose to comply.

  “Alright. So... was my answer acceptable?”

  “I’ll let that one slide... but it’s going to get tougher.”

  “Bring it on.”

  “Tell me in detail—why did I choose you as my successor? Which case made you stand out?”

  This old man is trying to bait me again... Wu Letian shook his head.

  Still, this was a question he knew like the back of his hand.

  “Isn’t it because Master Zhong here has the eye of a talent scout? You turned a scrawny colt like me into a thoroughbred...” That was one of his go-to lines when flattering Zhong Sheng.

  As expected, Zhong Sheng’s eyes lit up at the compliment.

  Wu Letian noted the reaction and decided to go all in to dispel the old man’s doubts once and for all. “As for the case, it has to be the attempted aircraft crash.”

  He watched Zhong Sheng closely as he spoke.

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  “Go on,” Zhong Sheng said neutrally, but he finally lowered the gun.

  “I forget the exact year...” Wu Letian decided to intentionally make a small mistake. Otherwise, it might seem too rehearsed. These days, with tech like disguises and AI, perfectly mimicking someone was becoming easier.

  Sure enough, Zhong Sheng didn’t mind and gestured for him to continue.

  “But I clearly remember the airline and route. It was a direct Gitana Air flight from New Delhi to Moscow. I had just wrapped up a case in India and was heading to Moscow for an internal exchange conference. In first class, I sensed something was off between the head flight attendant and the co-pilot. After the plane leveled off, the co-pilot kept coming out and exchanging glances with her. Something was clearly brewing between them. I started thinking—how do I alert the captain? Hopefully, he’d attended our training program...”

  Wu Letian laid out the case methodically. He highlighted a key point: the Bureau regularly trained key personnel in the aerospace industry to boost their security awareness.

  “Eventually, I seized an opportunity. When the flight attendant went into the cockpit to deliver meals, I used my first-class passenger status to request one of their crew meals, swapping mine with theirs. This way, there were duplicate meals...”

  Zhong Sheng interrupted: “How did you convince them to switch meals?”

  “Easy. I was a first-class passenger, making a reasonable request. I also said I’d never tasted a crew meal and wanted to try it.”

  A textbook response. Wu Letian had answered this many times over the years.

  “Good. Go on.”

  “Fortunately, the captain realized something was wrong after receiving the food. When the co-pilot went to the restroom, the captain locked him out of the cockpit and made an emergency landing at a nearby airport.”

  “Alright, wrap it up.”

  “Sure. To prevent both pilots from being poisoned, they’re supposed to eat different meals. Our training emphasizes that if the captain sees similar meals for both pilots, something’s wrong.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because the crew would never make such a basic mistake. They’d get fined. If such a ‘mistake’ happens, it must be a deliberate signal—usually from us.”

  “Is this method foolproof?”

  “There are flaws, but honestly, I don’t know how to improve it further.”

  “Fine. After the emergency landing, did the investigation confirm the co-pilot and attendant were up to something?”

  “Yes. They were romantically involved but from different castes, and their families disapproved. They planned a double suicide. But they weren’t just going to die—they wanted to take everyone on the plane with them. The co-pilot’s plan was to lock the captain out and crash the plane into the Himalayas...”

  “Good, good...” Zhong Sheng said “good” twice in a row, clearly satisfied.

  Wu Letian let out a sigh of relief. “So... do I pass now?”

  Unexpectedly, Zhong Sheng’s brief smile faded. He took a deep breath and said solemnly, “One last question. That case in Okinawa three years ago—what’s your take? I want a very detailed answer.”

  Wu Letian was dumbfounded. This was the hardest question he had ever encountered in his twenty-some years of life — a question of life and death.

  Ever since he heard his colleagues downstairs by Baggage Carousel 11 mention the case from three years ago, he had been turning it over in his mind, trying desperately to recall, but could not for the life of him remember any earth-shattering incident from that time.

  All along, he had a nagging feeling that this matter would come up again eventually — he just didn’t expect it to appear now, as the final question that determined whether he lived or died.

  But three years ago, he hadn’t even set foot in any of those East Asian countries! Thanks to old man Zhong, he had spent nearly the entire year in Central and South America, entangled in cases involving drug lords and guerrillas. He’d nearly lost his life more than once, though he had also enjoyed a fateful encounter with a fiery samba dancer on a beach in Rio. It had been a memorable year for him, but for the Aerospace Investigation Bureau, it was just another ordinary one.

  If that was the case, why was everyone so obsessed with what happened three years ago? Had something occurred that he had never been told about? If so, Zhong Sheng should know — then why was he asking as if he didn’t?

  Compared to the trap hidden in the New York question earlier — the one about returning to China midway — this question from Zhong Sheng was sincere. Wu could tell at a glance.

  Whatever happened in Okinawa must have been real.

  What Zhong Sheng was asking about was an objective event, and he expected a subjective opinion based on it.

  But if Wu didn’t even know what had actually happened, how could he construct an argument from thin air?

  He looked at Zhong Sheng, hesitant and guilty. “I’m sorry, sir. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t remember.”

  Zhong Sheng suddenly exploded in fury: “You little bastard! I dare you to repeat that answer!”

  Suddenly, a spark of inspiration flashed through Wu Letian’s mind. He asked, hopefully, “Sir, please don’t be angry — is it possible that while I was training in New York, the Bureau declassified some cases? I wasn’t around, so I never got the details...”

  Like many organizations, the Aerospace Investigation Bureau also waited to declassify certain sensitive or top-secret cases after some time.

  “What nonsense! Utter rubbish! Have you lost all sense of basic common sense? That case needs declassification? Even a blind man could see it!”

  “Sir, is there another possibility? Maybe I was injured while on a mission that year, and it just so happened that the event occurred while I was bedridden? So I never paid attention to it?”

  “You dare make excuses again? Believe it or not, I’ll shoot you right now!”

  Wu Letian was thoroughly frightened, and his confusion reached a climax. He stared hard into Zhong Sheng’s eyes, trying to find even the slightest clue — just what exactly had happened in Okinawa three years ago? Why was everyone so concerned about it, yet unwilling to speak openly?

  But all he saw in Zhong Sheng’s eyes was fury — raging flames, with a faint glimmer of hope being extinguished in their depths.

  His heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure whether he should repeat his answer.

  So, he lowered his eyes and fell silent.

  That silence said it all — or rather, at that moment, silence was the same as admission.

  Suddenly, Zhong Sheng planted his hands on the table and leapt over it with surprising agility, delivering a flying kick straight into Wu Letian’s chest. In that instant, he didn’t look like a man about to retire, but like a legendary field agent in his prime.

  Caught off guard, Wu Letian was sent stumbling backward. He quickly adjusted his posture to avoid falling. By the time he came to his senses, he was already half-kneeling at the doorway, right knee supporting his weight, left foot straining for balance. A burning pain radiated from his chest, searing through skin and bone straight into his heart. The sudden shift in momentum left him completely off rhythm in the confrontation.

  His mind was blank — this was the first time in his entire career as an agent that he had experienced such a moment.

  When he finally looked up, he saw a black muzzle aimed straight at the bridge of his nose — precise, unwavering, and merciless.

  Behind the gun stood Zhong Sheng’s cold, expressionless face.

  No — not just cold.

  At that moment, Zhong Sheng was closer to the doorway, more exposed to the faint morning light filtering through the glass corridor.

  Looking up at him from below, Wu Letian was suddenly overwhelmed with sorrow. He had never seen the old man look so aged — even more so than when he had first entered the room.

  Or perhaps “aged” was no longer the right word. It was a look of utter despair — like a candle flickering in the wind.

  At that moment, Wu Letian no longer even cared about his own fate. Instead, he was consumed by a deep sadness for Zhong Sheng.

  A tear slipped silently down his cheek and hit the floor without a sound.

  He didn’t know if Zhong Sheng had seen it. He didn’t know if the tear would make any difference. He wasn’t trying to win sympathy — he just couldn’t hold it back.

  “Am I really not Wu Letian? Then who am I, really? Who can give me the answer?”

  Zhong Sheng remained unmoved. He was retiring tomorrow. He didn’t want to leave behind any regrets.

  “Let’s finish this today.”

  The gunshot rang out.