Hidden Assassin 259

It was hard to describe the feeling.

When she woke up, it was already around three in the afternoon. The bedding was soft, the room warm and comfortable. Vaguely, she remembered someone placing something by her pillow, then gently lifting her leg, which was exposed outside the covers, and pulling the blanket over her.

After doing all this, the person went to the inside and pulled the curtains closed, picked up the bathrobe lying on the floor and put it in the bathroom. Before leaving, the not-so-tall figure, vaguely, was Jia Ming.

The low blood pressure problem had been with her for a long time. These hazy images took a long time to turn into concrete signals in her mind. She lay there quietly, smiling softly. After a while, she propped herself up and sat up, the bedding sliding down from her silk-like skin until her entire naked upper body was exposed to the air. Only then did she gently pull the covers back up, looking towards the bathroom, her cheeks puffed up slightly in anger.

This jerk… her own clothes were already in the bathroom after showering, and now he even took the bathrobe, clearly wanting her to run around without clothes on. She laughed at Jia Ming’s prank, feeling both angry and annoyed. However, of course, no one would see her now, so what did it matter if she wasn’t wearing clothes. Just as she was about to lift the covers and get out of bed, she noticed the things Jia Ming had left by the bed. At that moment, she realized it was her own flower-crazy brain that had overcomplicated things.

Stacked neatly, a complete set of winter clothes, from head to toe, was placed next to her. She didn’t know when, but the boy, who had also spent the night in the car, had already gotten up and found these things in this relatively unfamiliar town, arranging everything she needed for her and then quietly disappearing…

The room was quiet. Suddenly, she felt soft, warm, like those perfect days when her mother was still alive, a feeling she hadn’t had since her mother passed away…

************************************************

Wearing her clothes and shoes, the woman stood in front of the dressing mirror. Her upper body was clad in a light grey winter coat with a yellow thermal fleece lining, and a large hood draped over the back, looking very warm. Her lower body was in simple brown trousers and warm sneakers, the entire outfit designed to wrap her up tightly. It was a completely American utilitarian style, not emphasizing her slender figure. Her relatively tall stature among Chinese people didn’t stand out in America, only her relatively quiet and beautiful face had some room to show off… This was her opinion of herself. She struck a few poses in front of the mirror,

This Jia Ming was good in every way. It’s just that his taste… was just average…

With this resentment in her heart, she went to knock on Jia Ming’s door, but after waiting for a long time, there was no movement at all. Pouting, she turned and went downstairs, only to find that Jia Ming was already sitting at the coffee table downstairs, chatting happily with the black youth named Mike. Seeing her come down, he stood up and waved.

“You finally woke up. Mike has been waiting for you here. I called for food for you, and it will be here soon.”

“Hmm.” She smiled and sat down in Jia Ming’s seat. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Uh, about… things about China. I heard… Miss Zhang, you’re a teacher?”

As soon as Ya Han came, Mike became a little nervous talking to her. Ya Han answered casually, and the black young man’s speech became fluent again. After a while, Jia Ming came over with a tray and placed the food in front of Ya Han. Then he sat down beside her.

“What were you talking about?”

“Just what we were talking about.”

Jia Ming’s eyes widened: “No, you’re interested in that too?”

“Interested in what? Weren’t you talking about China?”

“Uh…” Jia Ming was stunned for a moment, then the two men at either end of the table looked at each other and smiled. “Yes, yes… it’s that, we were just saying that you’re a teacher, hehe…”

It was basically the same as Mike’s question, but their laughter was really weird. Ya Han had only been polite to the black young man, but now, because of Jia Ming, she took another look at him. Her eyes darted between the two men, then she lowered her head and ate. “I don’t care what you guys are saying… being all mysterious…”

Perhaps because the topic had been too sensitive, now that Ya Han was here, it wasn’t very appropriate to continue. Jia Ming’s personality was inherently aloof, especially since Mike’s attention was now on Ya Han. He didn’t want to find more topics to talk about, and simply turned to look at the snowy scenery outside the window. It turned out that those black-skinned races who invented rap were quite talkative. Mike casually found a few topics, and Ya Han, feeling Jia Ming’s gaze sweep across her face, occasionally raised her head to make a perfunctory reply, and the conversation at the table continued. While eating, however, she was also feeling a little depressed. According to this guy named Mike, if he took Jia Ming out to play and see the town, wouldn’t she have to face this light bulb all day? She was thinking about finding some excuse to stay in the room with Jia Ming alone, when a wind chime sounded from the doorway. The white policeman she had seen that morning walked in, greeted Mike, and then sat down next to him with a glass of wine.

“Hi, Viren, off work?”

“Yeah, been busy all morning.” He hadn’t looked at Ya Han and Jia Ming very closely in the morning, but now sitting across from them, he couldn’t help but look at Ya Han a few times. Then he said absentmindedly, “Did you see the news?”

“What?” Mike shrugged. “I’ve been busy all morning, what news?”

“New York was really exciting last night. There was almost the biggest shootout ever. They blocked off three streets in Manhattan, then a near-hour car chase. A sports car ran wild through the entire city, then drove straight through the Washington Bridge, zzzz… Mike, can you believe that someone could drive over 150 kilometers per hour in this weather in New York?”

Perhaps it was because it also caught Ya Han’s attention, he spoke about the matter with an excited tone. Sure enough, Ya Han raised her head and exchanged a nervous look with Jia Ming. In her field of vision, Jia Ming’s eyes widened, looking like an absolutely harmless curious baby, waiting for the policeman to continue telling the story. Mike also opened his mouth wide: “Impossible, only God can do something like that. The car would have been destroyed and he would have been killed!”

—

“Then he’s God.” Viren shrugged. “He was followed by an unknown number of enemies, but that car not only successfully escaped from New York, but also shot down a helicopter. It happened in the woods twenty kilometers south. We’ve already found the car wreckage and the helicopter wreckage on the side of the road. The FBI from New York is still in those woods, maybe the driver has already escaped… We’re…”

As he spoke, his gaze turned questioningly towards Jia Ming and Ya Han. They looked at each other, and Jia Ming said, “No, you don’t think it was us?”

“Uh, well, you…”

“Come on, Viren, they’re my friends.” The black man protested angrily. “Although they’ve had some trouble… do they look like they could drive a car in New York? Do you think so?”

Ya Han’s appearance was absolutely gentle and beautiful, lovable, not looking like someone who would do bad things. As for Jia Ming, he gave off the feeling of being a perfect expression of a concept: This guy couldn’t accomplish anything. Viren looked at them both, then laughed. “Haha, if it were you, I’d advise you not to let the FBI helicopter people shoot at you, haha…”

“Hmm.” Jia Ming nodded seriously. “As long as you don’t pull out your gun, I promise I’ll only take out those FBI agents.”

The group laughed together. A moment later, the black man asked, “What’s going on anyway? Mafia shootout?”

“Don’t know yet.” Viren shook his head. “I’m just a small-time cop, how would I know that much? But the usual mafia shootouts don’t have this kind of scale, and this is New York, not Chicago in the 1920s and 30s. We say in the police station, it’s either the Colombian drug lords or the Chinese Triads. Those drug lords definitely have that kind of money and they’re stupid, but I don’t think this is the Triad’s style, they like to do things in the dark.”

They talked about the matter for a while, and the wind chime in the small motel rang again. This time, three tall young black men came in, and as soon as they saw Viren and Mike sitting there, the one at the front frowned and walked over. The two over there immediately stood up.

“Hey, Mike, what a surprise, you’re back. So can I interpret this to mean… we can finally settle things between us.” He stopped by the table, his arms crossed, his tall, strong physique very imposing. His eyes couldn’t help but look at the two outsiders, lingering on Ya Han’s face for a few seconds. But there was no hint of goodwill in his tone.

“Don’t cause trouble, Gamore.” Viren lightly patted the table. “You and Mike’s business is just because of Jessica. Now Jessica is neither with you nor with Mike, is your business still not over?”

“This has nothing to do with Jessica, it’s a matter between men.” Gamore said. “We need to settle things, are you going to get involved? Viren? As a police officer?”

“If you like.” Viren didn’t back down.

“Ok.” The tall Gamore nodded, standing by the table, looking like a godfather, pointing his finger at Mike. “You’re a coward.” Jia Ming turned his head to the side, boredly pouting.

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