The low hum of fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a dim, yellowish glow over the small police station. The place smelled of stale coffee and ink, a mix of exhaustion and paperwork that never seemed to end. A few officers sat at their desks, flipping through reports, their expressions blank from long hours of routine cases.
Hua Rong stood in front of a desk, her fingers clenched tightly around her phone. Her face was set, frustration clear in her narrowed eyes. She tapped the screen with controlled urgency, turning it toward the officer sitting across from her.
"He's the one," she said, her voice firm as she pointed at the grainy image on her phone. "He's been watching Lady Hua Yuxi—the woman who works in the cafeteria."
The officer, a man in his late forties with a tired face and graying hair, leaned forward, squinting at the screen. His uniform was wrinkled, his badge slightly dulled from wear. He looked as if he had heard too many complaints like this before, his patience worn thin from long shifts.
"Did you take this secretly?" he asked, his voice neutral.
Hua Rong huffed, shifting to her feet. "Obviously. Now I want you to do something before it's too late."
Before the officer could respond, the heavy sound of boots against the tiled floor signaled the arrival of another policeman. This one was younger, taller, with sharp features and neatly combed black hair. His uniform was crisp, the buttons polished, exuding the kind of presence that demanded attention. His name tag read Officer Wen.
He stopped beside his colleague, arms crossed as he glanced at the phone screen. "Do you have proof?"
Hua Rong frowned. "What proof?"
"Proof that he harassed that woman."
Her frustration flared. "He hasn't yet, but he will! I know it."
Officer Wen studied her, his expression unreadable. "And how do you know that?"
She let out a sharp breath. "Because I've seen him! He comes every single day, sits in the same corner, stares at her the whole time, and keeps bringing her up in conversations with the staff. He doesn't even try to be subtle about it! You think that's normal?"
The older officer sighed, rubbing his temples. "Listen, kid. There are plenty of men who visit the same place every day. Maybe they like the food. Maybe they find the atmosphere comfortable. And yeah, they talk about women—it happens everywhere. That doesn't mean every single one of them is a threat. You're making assumptions."
Hua Rong clenched her fists. "It's not an assumption! I can see it in his eyes. It's only a matter of time before he does something, and when he does, you'll regret not listening to me."
Officer Wen didn't waver. "Has he done anything inappropriate so far?"
Hua Rong laughed, but there was no humor in it—only disbelief and frustration. "You people are insane."
The older officer sighed, shifting in his chair. "Hey, kid. Do your parents even know you're here?"
She didn't answer.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the police station, the cold night air biting at her skin as she stepped outside.
She wasn't wrong.
She knew she wasn't wrong.
.....
The evening air was crisp, the sky painted in soft hues of orange and pink as the sun dipped toward the horizon. A light breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass across the institution grounds, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the archery range.
Hua Rong arrived earlier than usual, her mind still reeling from the frustration at the police station. She had stormed out, fuming at their incompetence, but as she walked through the familiar gates of the institution, the tension in her shoulders began to ease. This place, though restrictive, had become oddly familiar. It was a battlefield, but at least here, she understood the rules.
As she turned a corner, she spotted Xu Lingwei approaching from the other side of the courtyard. Unlike his usual lazy demeanor, he looked composed, dressed in a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants, his hair slightly tousled from the wind. The setting sun cast a glow on his features, making him look almost ethereal.
She stepped closer just as he noticed her, his gaze steady. "Hey," he said, his voice holding a strange finality. "I thought about it."
Hua Rong blinked. "Thought about what?"
He exhaled and looked her directly in the eyes. "I'll do it."
For a second, her mind went blank. The lingering frustration, the exhaustion from the day—all of it vanished in an instant.
"Really? You will?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper before excitement took over. She let out a laugh, jumping in place before throwing her arms around him in a spontaneous hug.
Xu Lingwei stiffened, clearly caught off guard, before gently pulling her away. "But," he added quickly, avoiding her gaze, "you have to submit the application for me."
Hua Rong barely registered his words, still grinning like a child. "Fine! Done! I'll handle everything."
He cleared his throat, still not meeting her eyes. "And… there are a few other things you'll need to manage too."
She waved a hand dismissively. "I'll take care of it all."
Finally, she tilted her head at him, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "So… won't you practice?"
Xu Lingwei hesitated for a moment before nodding. "That's why I came early."
Hua Rong stepped back, crossing her arms. "Then start."
His lips twitched. "What about you?"
"What about me?" she echoed.
"Are you just going to stand there and watch?"
She smirked. "Yes."
Xu Lingwei arched a brow. "Won't you get bored?"
She tilted her head, studying him before answering without hesitation, "No. I love watching your beautiful face. I could stare at it forever."
Her voice was casual, almost teasing, but the words hit their mark. Xu Lingwei's posture stiffened, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. He quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Tch, whatever."
Without another word, he turned and strode toward the archery range.
As he positioned himself on the platform, Hua Rong leaned against a nearby pillar, her arms folded as she watched intently.
Then, she started the music.
His movements were slow at first, each step deliberate, and controlled. The beat picked up, and so did his rhythm. The wind played with the fabric of his shirt as he moved, his body following the pulse of the melody with an effortless grace. Each turn, each precise motion, was executed with a sharpness that spoke of muscle memory and rigorous practice.
Despite the calm expression on his face, there was a fire in the way he danced—a controlled storm within him. His feet barely made a sound against the wooden platform, his balance unwavering as he shifted into a complex sequence of steps.
Hua Rong found herself mesmerized.
She had seen him practice before, but there was something different about today. Maybe it was the determination in his movements, or maybe it was the setting sun casting long shadows behind him, making his figure seem larger than life.
And maybe… just maybe… it was the fact that this was the first time he was dancing for something other than himself.
He was dancing for a purpose.
For a moment, Hua Rong forgot about the man at the police station, the frustration, the unfairness of the world.
She just watched.