The music in the bar pounded hard enough to numb the eardrums.
Lights flickered, warping silhouettes, casting every face in a haze of danger and desire.

Jiang Zhilin sat at the counter, absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his glass with a fingertip,
his gaze drifting—almost unintentionally—toward the man not far away.

Shen Yanxing.

He wasn’t sure when it began,
but tracking that man’s every move had already become a habit carved into instinct.

At first, it was merely suspicion—
he simply found the man too unusual, too out of place in a bar like this.

But now—
even he couldn’t explain why his eyes kept being drawn back to him.

Jiang Zhilin frowned, clicking his tongue softly.

“Back again, huh?”

The bartender slid a fresh drink toward him, tone tinted with playful mockery.

Jiang Zhilin’s lips curved.
“What, do regulars need a permit now?”

With a light chuckle, the bartender said nothing more and turned away to continue working.

Jiang Zhilin lifted his glass and took a small sip, his gaze still quietly fixed on the man behind the bar.

Shen Yanxing remained the same—cold, composed, every movement smooth and precise, as if calculated down to the smallest detail, leaving not a trace of unnecessary emotion.

If there was anyone in this world who could stay that clear-headed amid all this neon-soaked chaos, it would be Shen Yanxing.

Yet Jiang Zhilin knew—no one was truly flawless.

Just like tonight.

He had noticed it—an extremely subtle instant, barely enough to catch, yet stiffer than usual.

——Was he injured?

His fingertips paused against the glass.

There were no obvious signs.
Shen Yanxing’s attire was as tidy as always; sleeves neatly fitted, collar buttoned all the way up, and even his steps were steady and measured.

But moments ago, while mixing a drink, his fingers had clearly trembled when he gripped the bottle.

Only for a second—quickly concealed—something an average person would never notice.

Jiang Zhilin, however, did.

For a bartender, steady hands were basic.
Shen Yanxing’s movements had always been as precise as a machine, but just now—

He straightened slightly, eyes fixed on the hand holding the bottle.

Was it his wrist? Or his arm?

Such a small detail, yet it stirred a faint, inexplicable unease inside him.

This wasn’t what you’d expect from a regular nightclub worker — it wasn’t even a “normal” injury.

He took a sip of his drink, then decided to test him.

“Shen, what’s going on tonight?”

Shen Yanxing lifted his eyes, gaze cool, voice completely even.
“What?”

“Your hand is injured?”

Shen Yanxing lowered his head and glanced at the faint reddish mark on his hand, his voice light as he said,
“Hit the edge of a table by accident.”

Jiang Zhilin raised a brow, lazily swirling the drink in his hand.
“Really? Doesn’t look like it.”

“Then what do you think?”

His tone remained calm — even carried a hint of casual amusement.

Jiang Zhilin stared at him, expression unreadable.

He didn’t believe it.

That kind of light answer sounded far more like a cover-up.

And he realized he was… sulking.

He frowned, feeling the reaction was ridiculous.

When had he become this nosy?

—Shen Yanxing getting injured… what did that have to do with him?

Yet his body was more honest than his mind.

Without even realizing it, he had begun watching the man’s movements, judging his condition,
and that tiny moment of stiffness earlier had sparked an instinctive sense that
something wasn’t right.

He finished the drink in his glass, trying to steady himself.

Just then, a sudden commotion rose from the entrance of the bar.

A few drunk customers suddenly got into an argument.
One of them abruptly raised his arm, and the glass bottle smashed against the table, shards scattering in every direction.

The room fell into brief chaos; people instinctively leaned back, and the security staff was just about to move in—

But Shen Yanxing was faster.

He circled out from behind the bar, and with a clean, precise movement, pinned one of the agitated customers with his elbow.
His other hand clamped down on the man’s wrist with exacting control; a slight twist, and the shard in the man’s hand slipped powerless to the floor.

That was not a move an ordinary person should be able to make.

Jiang Zhilin sat up straight without thinking, his gaze locked on that steady hand gripping the man’s wrist.

—He knew that kind of technique all too well.

Back at police academy combat training, he had seen it before—quick, accurate, controlled, wasting not even a hint of extra strength.

That wasn’t the skillset of a simple nightclub employee, nor even someone who merely worked out.

Just who exactly was Shen Yanxing?

In only a matter of seconds, the chaos settled; the troublemaker was escorted away, and the bar returned to its usual noise and bustle.

Returning to the counter, Shen Yanxing lowered his eyes and brushed away the fine glass dust stuck to his fingertips, movements steady and composed as always—

—as if nothing that happened just now was worth mentioning.

Jiang Zhilin narrowed his eyes, slowly swirling the liquid in his glass, as though digesting what he’d just seen.

Should he ask directly?

No—he knew the other man wouldn’t answer easily, and might even become more guarded.

At that moment, the bartender walked over from the other side of the counter, casually tossing a bar towel over his shoulder.
Watching the troublemaker being dragged out, he spoke with a helpless tone:
“Drunks like that show up every week. It’s annoying as hell.”

“In a place like this, fights are normal, aren’t they?”

Jiang Zhilin replied casually, though his gaze drifted—almost imperceptibly—toward Shen Yanxing.
“But—Shen’s skills are a bit too practiced for handling something like that, don’t you think?”

The bartender heard that and let out a small laugh, playful in tone:
“Of course. Our bar has its own rules, you know.”

Jiang Zhilin raised a brow.
“Rules?”

“Nothing much—just that everyone working here needs a bit of survival ability.
If something really happens in a place like this, what else could we do?”

He shrugged.
“But yeah, Shen’s different. Even when he first came here, he was way quicker than the average person.
Pretty sure he learned… something before.”

“…Learned something before?”

Jiang Zhilin stared at Shen Yanxing behind the counter, absent-mindedly rubbing the rim of his glass, lost in thought.

—Who exactly was this man?

He was definitely not just an ordinary bartender—that much was almost certain.

But was his curiosity really because of the mission?

A sudden wave of irritation rose inside him… he frowned, deciding to shift his focus instead of dwelling on pointless thoughts.

“Hey, come here for a sec.”

He lifted his glass and waved to a server on the other end of the bar.

It was a young man who had only started working not long ago.
When he saw Jiang Zhilin speaking to him, his eyes lit up slightly with excitement.

“What’s up? Want to order something?”

“Just chatting.”

Jiang Zhilin leaned against the counter, intentionally redirecting his attention elsewhere.

“How long have you been working here?”

“About half a year, I guess. I’m getting used to it.”

“Then you should know most of the regulars pretty well, right?”

“More or less. But some people here are really mysterious, like Shen—”

Mid-sentence, the young server suddenly paused, as if he had accidentally said too much, then gave an awkward laugh.

“Uh, never mind, it’s nothing.”

Jiang Zhilin froze for a moment, his brows tightening ever so slightly.

He had only been trying to make small talk, yet somehow the topic still circled back to Shen Yanxing.

This time, it wasn’t intentional—but that name seemed to surface on its own every time.

A wave of irritation rose in him.

“Fuck.”

He muttered under his breath, feeling that tonight’s drink suddenly tasted like nothing.

To him, Shen Yanxing was supposed to be nothing more than a suspicious figure—an unsolved mystery.
But now—why was he subconsciously paying attention to him?

This wasn’t a good sign.

Yet he couldn’t convince himself to ignore it completely.

No matter how he tried to shift his focus, no matter how he attempted to chat with others or turn his mind back to the mission, his gaze kept drifting back to that man.

—And that was what annoyed him the most.

It didn’t feel like professional instinct, nor simple curiosity.

Not wanting to think any further—at least, not right now.

Getting up decisively, he stretched lazily as if trying to shake off those annoying thoughts, then casually placed a few bills on the counter.

“Alright, that’s it for tonight.”

With his usual nonchalance, he turned away as if nothing had happened.

But when he reached the exit, he still couldn’t stop himself from looking back toward the bar.

Shen Yanxing was lowering his head, quietly polishing a glass, his profile appearing cold and unreadable beneath the dim light.

Jiang Zhilin took a deep breath and strode out of the bar.

This time, he really needed to stop.