Chapter 53 – The Man in the Mirror
~480 words
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The drive back from the warehouse was unusually quiet.
Xueqing sat in the backseat, arms crossed, her mind replaying the events in perfect, painful detail—the red laser, the whisper of a silencer, the cold glint of gloves under moonlight.
The man hadn't missed her on purpose.
He was sending a message.
Mo Chen sat beside her, one arm resting on the seatback, the other scrolling through footage from the drone Lin Nuo had deployed. His jaw was clenched so tightly, the muscles near his temple pulsed.
"We underestimated him," he finally said.
Xueqing didn't respond.
"He could've killed you," he added, voice low.
She looked at him. "But he didn't. Why?"
"Because he's not ready to end the game," Mo Chen replied. "He's playing it the way a snake does. Slow. Intentional."
"Then let's make him choke on his own venom."
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Back at her penthouse, Xueqing showered and changed into a silk robe. The adrenaline had faded, but her mind stayed sharp.
As she passed by her bedroom mirror, she stopped.
There was something about her reflection tonight. Not the tired eyes or the faint bruise on her collarbone from where Mo Chen tackled her. No, it was something deeper—something old.
In the reflection, for just a second, she didn't see the woman who'd built a company or survived betrayal. She saw the warrior girl from her past life, the one who stood atop palace walls, commanding armies in silence.
"Still chasing ghosts?" a voice said.
Mo Chen stood in the doorway, holding two glasses of wine.
She gave him a look. "It's not ghosts I'm chasing."
He handed her a glass. "Then tell me what you saw in the mirror."
She took a sip before answering. "A version of me that would've killed that man tonight. No questions. No hesitation."
"And what stopped you?"
She looked at him, eyes steady. "This life."
Mo Chen smiled faintly. "It's not weakness to choose a different path."
"It is," she said, "if the enemy doesn't."
---
Later, she sat at her desk, pulling up files on Lu Yiran. Mo Chen stood behind her, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder.
"I want to know who he is," she said. "The gloved man. I want name, age, blood type, and the brand of his cologne."
Mo Chen chuckled. "I'll find out what cologne he wore at his mother's funeral."
"Good."
"But in exchange," he said, voice dipping, "you sleep for at least four hours tonight."
She turned in her chair. "Are you negotiating with me now?"
"I'm not negotiating," he said, leaning down, his face inches from hers. "I'm demanding."
Their eyes locked.
"I'll consider it," she whispered.
---
Outside her building, the gloved man sat in a black car, watching the window light go out.
He smiled.
The game had begun.