nashuaworldcup Chapter 1412 Yunrui's Sincere Inscription: Each to Their Own Deliverance
Chapter 1412 Yunrui's Sincere Inscription: Each to Their Own Deliverance
The alternating red and blue flashes of police lights cast dappled shadows on the banquet hall walls, finally releasing the last trace of hostility from the tense standoff that had lasted for hours. The first to relax was Cangying, whose body, leaning against the stage railing, suddenly swayed, not from the pain of his wounds, but from the weightlessness that came with the sudden release of eight years of taut nerves.
He raised his still-functioning right hand, his fingertips trembling slightly as he touched his cheek—where dried bloodstains still clung, marks left by Shen Chengyu's fist, the last trace of his identity as "Assistant Zhou".
Sunlight streamed in through the broken windows of the banquet hall, landing squarely on his scarred arms.
He stared at the crisscrossing wounds on his arm, then suddenly laughed. His laughter was low and hoarse, but by the end, his eyes were slightly warm.
For eight years, more than 2,900 days and nights, he played the role of a cold-blooded accomplice every day, even in his dreams he had to be careful not to reveal his identity. Now, "Eagle" can finally stop hiding in the shell of "Assistant Zhou". This freedom is so heavy that even breathing feels unfamiliar to him.
He tried to raise his hand to wipe his eyes, but the movement aggravated the wound on his ribs, causing him to gasp in pain. He then realized that he was covered in injuries and that even standing was exhausting. His body went limp, and he slowly slid down the railing to the ground.
Gu Yunxi stood not far from him, her tightly clenched fist now loosened, her knuckles still white from the force she had exerted.
She looked down at her hands, hands that had once held experimental equipment, hands that had been chained, and hands that had just tightly gripped the life-saving pistol. The sounds of sirens, footsteps, and the groans of the wounded mingled in her ears, yet she felt an eerie silence, as if she had finally awakened from a long nightmare.
Her shoulders trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the disorientation of surviving a disaster. She only snapped back to reality when her gaze fell on the eagle that had slid to the ground. She quickly walked over and squatted down.
"Can you hold on?" Her voice was still a little tight. She reached out to support Cangying's arm, but stopped when she touched his tattered shirt—the skin under her fingertips was burning hot and sticky with bloodstains. She could clearly feel the bone outline protruding under the strips of cloth at his ribs.
The eagle looked up at her, the sharpness in his eyes softening into gentleness. He shook his head, his voice hoarse but clear: "It's nothing, just an old injury." He tried to stand up, but groaned in pain as soon as he moved. Gu Yunxi immediately reached out and pressed down on his shoulder, her touch light but firm: "Don't move, the medical staff will be here soon."
Her fingertips, slightly cool, landed on the eagle's blood-stained shoulder, like a tranquilizer.
The eagle obediently stopped what it was doing and leaned against the railing, watching her—the woman before him was no longer the disheveled figure of a prison uniform; her back was ramrod straight, and sunlight fell on the tips of her hair, casting a soft halo around it. She overlapped with the stubborn figure he had first seen in the laboratory, but with an added touch of serenity after enduring hardship. "Eight years, it was worth it."
The eagle spoke softly, saying this both to Gu Yunxi and to itself.
Suddenly, a series of hurried footsteps came from the back door of the banquet hall, and Qi Ruixiang almost stumbled in. He was covered in grass clippings and mud, obviously having run all the way from the back mountain. Sweat mixed with dust streamed down his face, forming two black streaks, and his hair was a mess, like a bird's nest.
His gaze swept wildly across the hall, then suddenly froze when it landed on Gu Yunxi, and he stood there completely still.
He was afraid he was seeing things, so he blinked hard and wiped the sweat from his face. Only when he confirmed that the figure standing by the stage was indeed Gu Yunxi did he snap back to reality.
All the panic, fear, and anxiety erupted at this moment. He didn't even have time to calm his rapid breathing. He stumbled and scrambled toward the stage.
His leather shoes made a screeching sound as they stepped on the scattered shards of glass, but he was completely oblivious. His knees slammed heavily on the steps, but he only let out a muffled groan and continued to stumble forward.
"Yunxi...Yunxi!" His voice trembled violently, with a sob in it and a tremor of disbelief.
Gu Yunxi's eyes instantly reddened when she saw his mad appearance. Her previously tense emotions completely collapsed the moment she saw her loved one.
Qi Ruixiang rushed to her, first reaching out his hand, but stopped abruptly just before touching her, his fingertips hovering in mid-air, his eyes filled with fear—he was afraid it was an illusion, afraid that he would disappear as soon as he touched her.
"It's me, Ruixiang, I'm fine." Gu Yunxi took a step forward and gently grasped his wrist. The warm touch made Qi Ruixiang completely believe her. He suddenly pulled Gu Yunxi into his arms tightly, so tightly that he almost embedded her into his body.
"I'm sorry, I'm late, I'm so sorry..." He buried his face in Gu Yunxi's neck, crying like a child, his shoulders trembling violently, all his lingering fear turning into scalding tears that soaked Gu Yunxi's clothes.
Gu Yunxi was a little breathless from his embrace, but she didn't push him away. She just raised her hand and gently patted his back, tears silently streaming down her face. "I'm fine, I'm back."
She spoke softly and repeatedly, her voice gentle yet firm. This embrace carried away Qi Ruixiang's months of anxiety and also took away all of Gu Yunxi's grievances and fears. The surrounding noise seemed to be shut out, leaving only the intertwined sobs and gasps of the two.
Frog and Tai stood in the shadows by the back door, watching this scene with complex expressions. Tai put away his sniper rifle, leaned against the door frame, and frowned slightly—he was used to the swiftness of gunfire, and this intense emotion made him uncomfortable. His fingers unconsciously traced the grooves on the gun, and his gaze drifted to the police cars outside the window to hide his unease.
The frog was more direct than him. He first scratched his head, looked at the two people hugging each other, then looked at the eagle leaning on the ground, and moved his lips as if he wanted to say something, but found that he couldn't get a word in edgewise.
They came to help Qi Ruixiang rescue people and to investigate the dark secrets of the "Nightingale" project, but the scene before them was filled with past experiences and emotions they had never participated in, making them feel like outsiders.
"Well, we're already here, we can't let this trip be in vain." Frog suddenly clapped his hands and pulled a small camera and voice recorder from his backpack—his livelihood, which he carried everywhere. He avoided the bloodstains and glass shards on the ground and walked towards the stage. The camera first focused on the ground scattered with guns and shell casings, then swept across the bullet holes on the wall and the broken crystal chandelier, muttering to himself: "Golden Triangle drug lord's den destroyed, eight years of undercover work finally revealed, the bloody deal behind the 'Nightingale' project... This material is enough for me to write for half a year."
Seeing him like this, Tai breathed a sigh of relief and quickly followed, leaning against the edge of the stage to act as a temporary bodyguard, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily—although the danger had passed, his habits over the years made it impossible for him to completely relax.
"Don't wander in recklessly, there are still wounded inside." He called out to the frog's back, his voice not loud, but with a familiar concern.
The frog turned around and grinned, raising the camera in his hand: "Don't worry, I'll only shoot footage and won't cause any trouble." When his lens swept across the eagle, he deliberately slowed down the speed—the man, covered in wounds but with clear eyes, leaned against the railing looking at the distant sunlight, his profile particularly clear in the light and shadow.
The frog didn't dare get too close, only taking a side profile picture from afar before turning to other corners of the banquet hall. He knew that behind these images lay something more precious than any "juicy scoop."