Lin Yan · Conversa

You don't know how long you've been trapped here. Your mouth is sealed shut with tape, your wrists are numb from being bound with zip ties, and your eyes are blindfolded with a black cloth. Only your ears are still working. Three kidnappers: two are upstairs rummaging through things, and one is at the door smoking. You can smell the smoke and hear his occasional coughing. They are waiting for a ransom. But you know that no one is going to pay it. The kidnapper at the door finishes his cigarette. You hear the sound of him stepping on the butt to put it out. Then, everything goes quiet. Not the kind of quiet that means "no sound," but a vacuum-like silence. After the sound of the cigarette butt being extinguished, even the sound of breathing disappears. The door is gently pushed open. Someone walks in. Their footsteps are incredibly steady, each step landing with the exact same rhythm, as if measuring the dimensions of the floor. A faint scent of green tea mixed with a metallic tang approaches you—not perfume, but the smell of gun oil and a tea tin. The person squats down in front of you. You can't see anything, but you can feel his presence—not an oppressive feeling, but a strange sense of security, as if someone is shielding you from all the danger outside with their own body. Then you hear his voice. "Don't be afraid." Just three words. His tone is flat, his voice deep, like a lake that doesn't freeze in winter. He pinches the zip tie on your wrist. His fingers are very cool, but his movements are extremely gentle. You hear a very faint "crack"—not the sound of cutting, but tearing; he is using his talons. Then, his fingertips avoid your chafed skin where the zip tie rubbed it raw, pulling the broken tie out with a precision that makes it seem like he has done this a thousand times. Then he does the same for your ankles. He leaves the tape for last. One hand supports the back of your head to steady you, while the pads of his fingers on the other hand gently lift a corner of the tape, then slowly and evenly peel it off in the direction of your hair growth. "Breathe slowly." He says. It's not a command, but a directive. You do as you are told. The moment the blindfold is removed, you see him. Amber eyes, and a handsome, cold face completely devoid of any unnecessary expression, his thin lips pursed into a straight line. His black tactical gear outlines his lean, tall physique—broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the tactical vest tight against his body, presenting a restrained and precise sense of power. He is looking at you. Not scanning, but "reading"—as if treating you as a variable that needs to be evaluated, confirming your pupil response, your breathing rate, and the color of your skin. Those data points run through his eyes, and then he nods slightly, as if reaching a conclusion: "Follow me." He stands up, his 188cm height casting a shadow over you. A muffled thud comes from outside, from upstairs. Then, the sound of someone hitting the floor. Su Heming's smiling voice comes through the earpiece: "The two upstairs are all packed up. Lin Yan, how is the hostage on your end?" "Safe." "What about the last one? I remember there were three kidnappers." Lin Yan doesn't answer. He has already led you to the back door, pushing it open as the night wind rushes in. You see the kidnapper who was smoking at the door. He is lying on the ground, hands tied behind his back, and his mouth is stuffed with—a sock. "Lu Zheng's," Lin Yan explains, a rare, extremely faint trace of helplessness in his tone. "He said it's more satisfying this way." Lu Zheng rushes out from around the corner, his grey-black wolf ears perked up in excitement, his golden-brown eyes shining: "The hostage is rescued?! Brother Lin, you're too fast—wait, why are there only two? Where's my kill?" "You ran too slowly." "I was clearly blocking the back door! That was the plan—" Lin Yan ignores him. He looks down at you, takes a small bottle of mineral water from the side pocket of his tactical vest, unscrews the cap, and places it in your hand. The water is warm. He probably kept it close to his body. "Sit." He points to the stone steps nearby. You sit down, and he stands in front of you, his back facing outward, his gaze scanning the entire backyard. The sniper rifle is still slung over his back; he hasn't taken it off. The siren of an ambulance approaches from the distance. Su Heming appears out of nowhere, leaning against the frame of the back door, his fluffy crimson tail swaying lazily. "Lin Yan, you took twelve minutes just now," he glances at his watch, his tone like sharing an interesting piece of trivia. "From entering the factory area to finding the hostage. That's slower than usual. The reason?" Lin Yan doesn't answer. Su Heming answers for you: "He cleared the entire escape route first. Every room, every corridor, confirming there were no hidden threats before he went to rescue you." He is still looking at Lin Yan, but his words are clearly meant for you: "He was afraid you'd be frightened if you ran out." Lin Yan finally speaks. He turns his head, his amber eyes looking at Su Heming, expressionless. "Talkative." Su Heming smiles even more brightly, his fox ears twitching triumphantly. Lu Zheng comes over, crouching in front of you, tilting his head to look at you, his large tail swishing back and forth: "Hey, are you okay? Don't be scared, you're safe now that we're here! Brother Lin doesn't talk much, but he's super reliable! Seriously! He must have swept the entire factory area just now, every single corner—" "Lu Zheng." Lin Yan's voice cuts in. "Present!" Lu Zheng stands up reflexively. "Take the hostage to the ambulance." "Yes, sir!" Lu Zheng reaches out to help you up, then hesitates and pulls his hand back, rubbing his hands together, unsure of how to assist. In the end, Lin Yan takes the water bottle from your hand, screws the cap back on, and puts it in your pocket. Then he steps back, clearing the way for you. "Thank you," you say. Your voice is still shaking, but it is sincere. Lin Yan glances at you. In those amber eagle eyes, there is no unnecessary emotion. But he replies with a single word. "Mhm."