Under the night sky, the city was ablaze with lights, neon signs flickering everywhere. Thanks to the invention of electric lights, humans have finally broken free from dependence on daylight, ushering in a vibrant nightlife.
Let me ask you something: what's the most iconic part of modern Chinese nightlife? And don't give me that look—it's not what you're thinking. Sure, that thing is more popular after dark, but if we're talking about the absolute, undisputed king of nighttime activities in China, it has to be—public square dancing!
No one knows whether viral songs created the square dance craze, or if the square dance market spawned all those viral songs. Either way, in Jiping City, the square dancing crowd—mostly Chinese aunties, but really folks of all ages and genders—has gotten pretty sophisticated. Director Morrow is one of them. Not just one of them, but actually kind of a local celebrity.
As far as Director Morrow is concerned, square dancing is good for your health and a great way to make new friends—what's not to like? Especially since she secretly indulged in a few too many slices of Vital Essence meat lately, she figures she could use some exercise. By the time the dance wraps up, it's already nine-thirty at night. The crowd trickles away, and Director Morrow packs up to head home.
No matter how dazzling the city lights, there are always dark corners. Director Morrow's route home from the square takes her through a pitch-black residential area. But she's not the timid type. For one, the neighborhood's pretty safe; for another, Director Morrow herself isn't exactly a helpless damsel.
Her father, Quentin Yang, served in the military—he's seen real combat. He doesn't brag about it, but everyone in the family knows he used to be a bodyguard for some bigwig, and his skills are legit. Quentin always said the best protection is teaching your kids how to protect themselves, so he passed down a ton of know-how. Director Morrow's brother didn't pick up much, but Susan sure did. Plus, she's always been tough, even as a kid, so petty crooks don't dare mess with her. Professional thugs might be a different story, but street punks? She's never been scared.
But tonight, as Director Morrow walks through the dark neighborhood, something feels off. She can't put her finger on it, but there's just this nagging sense that something's wrong. Like there's something out there—something dangerous—lurking in the shadows.
Director Morrow stops in her tracks, on high alert, scanning all around. Nothing weird jumps out at her. In fact, there's a night market hawking snacks at the end of the alley. The alley's dark, sure, but there are a few people walking ahead and behind—judging by their clothes and posture, they look like ordinary folks, not troublemakers.
Director Morrow relaxes, shakes her head, and laughs at herself—guess she's just being paranoid. She's no martial arts master from a TV drama; it's not like she has some sixth sense or anything. But just as she's thinking that, she hears the sound of quick footsteps—right behind her!
"Who's there?" She spins around, only to see a calico cat sneaking up to a trash bin. As soon as the cat notices Director Morrow's movement, it bolts straight into the bin's opening.
"Ha, seriously, just a greedy cat." Director Morrow chuckled and shook her head, dismissing her silly worries.
But just then, a racket broke out inside the trash bin—cat yowls, scuffling, and the sounds of a fight, like something about the same size as the cat was brawling with it.
"Heh, first come, first served—works the same in any world." Director Morrow couldn't help but laugh, but then frowned, because the cat's cries quickly turned shrill and miserable. It didn't sound like two alley cats fighting over food. Another passerby even stopped, listening for a moment, and muttered, "That's a bit much, isn't it? Sounds like someone's slaughtering a chicken."
Staring at that trash bin, Director Morrow couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Something weird was going on.
Director Morrow hesitated, wondering if she should go check it out, when suddenly her phone chimed. She picked it up—it was a call from work. Normally, nobody from work would call after hours—unless something had happened.
"Hello, this is Director Morrow. Who's calling?"
"Director Morrow, it's Monkey. You need to come to the department right away—something's happened!" The caller sounded pretty shaken.
Director Morrow frowned. "What happened?"
"It's a pregnant woman—her case is really unusual. I can't explain over the phone; you'll understand when you get here. Oh, and the police are involved too. They've already shown up."
The police? Sounds serious. "I'm on my way."