They did not talk much on the walk back.
The clinic disappeared behind a row of shipping containers and parked trucks, swallowed by the industrial district like it had always belonged there. Lian kept her pace steady, eyes forward, senses wide open. Kai stayed close now. No need for distance once the visit was done.
“Dr Huang is scared,” Kai said eventually.
“Scared people still hurt others,” Lian replied.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
They cut through a wet alley that smelled like rust and old water. A noodle shop at the corner was just opening, steam fogging the windows. Normal life moving along. It always felt strange seeing it continue.
Back at their temporary apartment, Kai locked the door and drew the curtains before dropping his bag. Lian set her phone and keys on the table in the same precise place she always did. Ritual mattered. It gave the illusion of control.
Kai opened his laptop and started pulling files from the air. “The clinic network is better protected than the hospital,” he said. “Not military grade but not public health either.”
“Who is paying for that,” Lian asked.
“Same foundation,” he replied. “But through a private contractor.”
She leaned against the counter. “LSK does not like fingerprints.”
“No,” Kai said. “They like gloves.”
He worked in silence for a few minutes, fingers moving fast. Lian poured water into two chipped glasses and handed him one. He nodded thanks without looking up.
“Look at this,” he said finally.
She stepped closer. “What am I looking at.”
“Supply transfer schedules,” he said. “From the clinic to other locations.”
“Other clinics.”
“And private residences,” Kai added.
She straightened. “Doctors.”
“Researchers,” he said. “Some listed as consultants.”
“Names.”
He hesitated. “One of them is familiar.”
Her jaw tightened. “Say it.”
“It is not him,” Kai said quickly. “Not the doctor. But someone from his department.”
She exhaled slowly. “So the circle is widening.”
“Yes,” Kai said. “Which means this is not just about him.”
“It never is,” she replied.
Kai scrolled further. “These transfers are small. Easy to hide. But frequent.”
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“Testing,” Lian said.
“Or distribution,” he replied.
She rubbed her temple. “We need to know what is being moved.”
“I am working on that,” Kai said. “But they scrub identifiers well.”
“Then we do it the old way.”
He glanced up. “You want eyes.”
“I want hands,” she said. “Someone to touch it.”
Kai frowned. “That is risky.”
“So is everything else,” she said.
He leaned back. “We could tail one of the consultants.”
“Which one.”
He highlighted a name. “This one makes weekly trips. Same time. Same route.”
“Routine gets people killed,” Lian said.
Kai smiled faintly. “You taught me that.”
They waited until night fell. Hong Kong lit itself up like it always did. Neon and headlights and rain reflecting everything back twice.
They followed the consultant from a distance. Middle aged man. Expensive watch. Nervous habits. He checked his phone too often.
“He knows he is carrying something important,” Kai murmured into his mic.
“He also knows he is protected,” Lian replied.
The man entered a parking garage beneath a residential tower. No security booth. No cameras that mattered.
“He lives alone,” Kai said after a quick check. “Divorced. No kids.”
“Good,” Lian said. “Less collateral.”
They waited until he reached his floor. Lian moved first. Silent. Efficient. The door opened without a sound.
Inside smelled like disinfectant and reheated food. The man barely had time to gasp before Lian had him pinned against the wall.
“Quiet,” she said calmly. “We are not here to hurt you.”
“That depends,” Kai added from the doorway, “on how honest you are.”
The man nodded frantically.
They sat him down at his small dining table. Lian kept one hand on his shoulder. Not threatening. Just present.
“What are you moving,” she asked.
“Samples,” he said. “Just samples.”
“Of what,” Kai asked.
“Experimental compounds,” the man replied. “Regenerative treatments.”
“For who,” Lian said.
He swallowed. “I do not know names. Only numbers.”
“Where do they go,” Kai asked.
“To the clinic,” he said. “Then sometimes elsewhere.”
“Where,” Lian repeated.
He hesitated.
Her grip tightened slightly. “You are not protecting anyone,” she said. “You are just delaying.”
“Private labs,” he blurted. “Offshore. Some local.”
Kai leaned forward. “Do you know what they do with them.”
The man shook his head. “I just follow protocol.”
“Protocol is not a shield,” Lian said quietly.
She released him and stepped back. “Show us.”
He opened a cabinet beneath the sink. Inside was a small insulated case. Medical grade.
Kai took it carefully. “This is what you risk your career for.”
The man looked away. “They said it would help people.”
“They always do,” Lian said.
They left him unharmed. Shaken but alive.
Back outside, Kai exhaled. “We need to test this.”
“Yes,” Lian said. “Carefully.”
They returned to the apartment. Kai set up a makeshift analysis station. Not perfect. Enough to know what they were dealing with.
“This is not a treatment,” he said after a while. “It alters immune response.”
“To what end,” Lian asked.
“Controlled susceptibility,” he said. “You can decide who gets sick. Who does not.”
She went still. “That fits.”
Kai nodded. “It is scalable.”
“Everything is,” she said.
They sat with that for a moment.
“This is bigger than one clinic,” Kai said.
“Yes,” Lian replied. “But today we pulled a thread.”
“And it did not snap,” he said.
She allowed herself a small smile. “Not yet.”
