Morning light shone through the thin gaps in Mei Ling's blinds, waking her up. The city was already alive, but she lay still, eyes on the ceiling.
Her phone vibrated lightly. She flinched, then reached for it.
No new messages appeared, only the time on the screen. The photo from last night lingered in her thoughts.
Mei Ling sat up and pulled the blanket aside. The room felt smaller, as if the walls had closed in overnight.
Rubbing her face, she forced herself to breathe. Fear wouldn't help her. It never had.
She got out of bed quickly, showered, dressed, and tied her hair up in a bun.
Her clothes were simple, nothing to draw attention.
She grabbed her bag and checked it once more, though she had already done so. Notebook, pen, phone, press ID, all there.
She slid her phone into the side pocket of her bag for easy reach, just in case.
Outside, the street was alive. Cars moved slowly through traffic, while vendors arranged their stands. Office workers walked by, each one with a cup of coffee in their hands.
Mei Ling kept to herself but took notice of everything.
She hated the feeling that someone unseen was following her. Still, she kept walking.
Today mattered, a lot.
She had an interview scheduled for today. Her boss had mentioned him casually a few days ago.
"A big time lawyer, with a clean reputation. One who knew too much about the district security for someone who claimed to be neutral." He had told her.
That had caught her attention.
Also, she had other work to do: investigating the mafia and the sender of the anonymous text.
She stood across the street from the law firm, checking her notes one last time.
She checked the address again.
Correct.
Flipping to the page with his name written in bold ink, she took a deep breath, and stepped across the street.
The glass entrance doors reflected the morning sun. As she moved forward, someone stepped out, and they almost collided. Her shoulders brushed his coat.
"Oh, sorry," she said quickly, and glanced up.
"No problem," he replied, calmly.
He was tall, taller than she expected.
His dark suit was neat, but not flashy, and his coat hung open.
Something about him seemed oddly familiar. She thought; No, it can't be the stranger from that night.
She had barely seen his face in the dim hideout, and the mask he had on the following day, had hidden his face.
She shook her head slightly, forcing herself to focus. Her mind was playing tricks. This was just a stranger stepping into a doorway. Nothing more.
"Excuse me. I'm looking for someone," she said, stepping aside.
He stepped fully into the doorway, holding it open. "Who are you looking for?" he asked.
She flipped through her notebook quickly. "Mr… Lian Chen Fàn," she said slowly, checking the name, making sure it was right.
He watched her for a moment, then nodded.
"That would be me,"
She looked up quickly. "You are Mr. Chen?"
"Yes. Lian Chen Fàn," he said without any hesitation.
She felt relieved.
"Good," she said, then corrected herself. "I mean, it's a relief to meet you here."
"I was just stepping out for coffee, but we can talk now if you like," he said.
"I don't want to trouble you," she said.
"It is fine. You are here for work," he replied.
She nodded. "My name's Mei Ling Lù. I'm a criminal journalist."
"I know who you are," he said.
She paused. "You do?"
"I have read some of your articles. You cover crime and public safety," he answered.
She gripped her notebook tighter.
"I try my best. I heard you know about the rising insecurity here," she said.
He gestured inside. "Shall we talk indoors?"
She nodded, and followed him.
The law firm was quiet and clean, with polished tiles, and plain walls.
At the receptionist desk, she stood, bowed slightly, and returned to her desk.
"Please," he said, opening a door to a small meeting room. "Have a seat."
Mei Ling smiled, and took a seat across from him, placing her bag at her feet. She opened her notebook, clicking her pen.
"Thank you for having me. I know lawyers usually avoid sensitive topics,"
"Some do, but staying silent can be dangerous," he replied.
She looked up. "That is an interesting way to put it,"
He met her eyes. "People notice when the law stays silent,"
"Have you noticed anything unusual in the district?" she asked.
He leaned back, hands folded.
"Fear. People avoid some streets, shops close early, and guards work longer hours," he answered.
"Because of gangs?" she asked, her legs crossed together.
"Because of power. Gangs are just tools," he said.
She paused.
"Can you explain?"
"There are groups who don't want chaos, but control. Chaos only helps until control is set," he explained, carefully.
A chill ran through her, though he spoke calmly.
"Are they organized crime?" she asked, flipping to a new page.
"Some are. Some hide in businesses, and the others behind influence," he admitted, leaning back slightly.
"Can you name them?" she pressed, trying to stay calm.
He shook his head. "Not without evidence. Besides providing evidence can be dangerous," he said firmly.
She nodded. "I understand," she said quietly.
She did. That was the problem.
"Have you been contacted about this?" she asked, leaning forward.
"Yes," he said, without hesitation.
Her grip on the pen tightened. "By who?" she asked sharply.
"By those who never want this issue to remain hidden," he said.
"And how did you respond ?"
"I told them the law, they didn't like it," he answered.
She studied him carefully.
"You speak like someone who has been in danger," she said.
Has he been in danger, or is he the danger?
He didn't answer.
She noticed the way he watched her, as if reading what she didn't say aloud.
"You are cautious," he said.
"As a journalist covering crimes, I've to be," she replied, quickly.
"Good. But caution can become isolation," he warned.
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You work alone,"
She stiffened. "You do not know that," she shot back, turning to her notes.
"I can guess," he said, confidently.
She didn't reply, it was useless.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
She cleared her throat, and asked, "May I record this?"
He nodded and said, "Sure. Go ahead."
She turned on her recorder. "Do you think the district will get worse?"
"Yes," he replied flatly.
"When?"
"Soon,"
She asked, curious, "What should people do to protect themselves?"
"Pay close attention, and choose your allies carefully," he said as a matter of fact.
She looked up at him. "You speak as if things will escalate,"
"I believe they will," he said coldly, and leaned back to his chair.
"And why are you so sure? Why don't you seem afraid?"
He speaks as though he has an informant in these mafia syndicates.
Lian Chen remained silent. Mei ling tore her gaze from him, back to her book.
The interview went longer than she expected, and time passed quickly.
Finally, she closed her notebook, uncrossed her legs and said, "Thank you, Mr Chen. This was helpful."
He nodded with a faint smile.
"You are welcome," he said, then added, "Mei Ling… take care. The city has more shadows than it shows."
Her heart skipped a beat.
"I will try," she said softly.
She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. At the door, she hesitated and turned.
"Mr Chen?" she called out.
"Yes?"
"Why agree to this interview?"
He thought a moment, then replied, "The truth needs witnesses and you seem to pay attention,"
She nodded and left.
Outside, the city noise returned. She walked down the steps and glanced back. He stood near the glass doors, watching the street.
She felt curiosity inside her. She didn't understand it, nor did she intend to.
She turned and walked away.
Behind the glass, Lian Chen watched her disappear into the crowd.
It wasn't coincidence, it was all planned.
Now, he had to choose: prove his worth to his father, or protect her from him.