Chapter 4: Rescue and Shock (3)
At the last moment, Wu Tao's face pressed against the rear window. He roared outside, slammed the glass a few times—another figure squeezed in beside him, raising something black and pointing it inside—
"Get down!"
Old Yang's urgent shout cracked, and he shoved my head down hard! An instant later, a deafening crack—the rear window shattered.
As Wu Tao reached in to grab me, the car had already completed its turn and shot away.
The three people in the backseat tumbled into a heap.
My left ear was ringing—I couldn't hear anything. I'd fallen into the footwell of the back seat, dazed for a few seconds before I managed to prop my eyes open and look at the others.
They hadn't hit the target...
Everyone was alive.
I leaned my head against the door, unconsciously tried to raise my hand to push myself up, but my arm flopped uselessly like a wet noodle.
Night wind poured in through the shattered window, whistling. Old Yang's hair was plastered across his face. He and another passenger suddenly scrambled to press down on my shoulders.
Only then did I feel the pain—searing, blinding pain.
I looked down. A large patch of my shirt was soaked dark.
So they had hit me after all...
That was my last thought leaving Northern Myanmar.
5.
"And that's the entire sequence of events."
In a conference room at the Cang City Public Security Bureau, the curtains drawn, Councilor Yang of the Sino-Myanmar Chinese Commerce Association cradled a white porcelain teacup, taking shaky sips of hot water, still rattled.
"The president of our association asked me to go at the last minute. I don't even know how many layers of connections they went through to reach me—I just happened to be at the border that day. That Wu Tao character, his background in Myanmar is filthy—he's involved in everything. But President Song said they'd already negotiated with Wu Tao's side, he was willing to release her. Going in, the risk should've been manageable."
"Nobody expected that bastard to suddenly learn something that made him flip right at the end. Good thing I brought my own men, or I would've been done for in Ho Pang too. Honestly—who'd have thought those Myanmar locals had guns? Is that little girl... going to make it?"
His hand trembled slightly. He drank a few more sips of water.
"She's just a young woman. Why go to such lengths... this kind of relentless pursuit..."
The two officers across from him closed their notebooks, exchanged a glance, and tactfully sidestepped his question. They thanked him for his assistance, advised him to rest well, and suggested he avoid going back to Myanmar for the time being.
After escorting Old Yang and his employees out of the bureau, a plainclothes detective tucked his notebook under his arm, crossed the courtyard planted with cypresses and banyan trees, and strode into the Criminal Investigation and Narcotics Division offices.
He pushed through a door just as a wadded paper ball flew at him. The young officer tilted his head to dodge it, his features bright and mocking: "Old Dog Chen, missed again!"
Jeers erupted from the corner.
He kept walking without slowing, heading for the adjoining suite. A colleague called after him while pulling on a uniform: "Wei Shu! Got a field call—where are you going?"
"Partnering with Old Chen. I'm off shift." He flicked the document folder in his hand, flashed a grin: "Dad's got other business to attend to!"
Another paper ball flew. He caught it handily and shut the door.
The captain's office was thick with smoke. Wei Shu fanned the air with a document folder. The man behind the desk looked up—strong nose, long brows, sharp eyes almost slashing up to his temples—face etched with fatigue. He waved Wei Shu over.
"Ah, Xiao Wei, come here. The armed police hospital sent this over this morning, read it to me. I've been staring at surveillance footage all night looking for suspect leads—my brain's about to give out."
He tossed a sheaf of printed documents onto the desk.
Wei Shu knew the team had been busy lately—their captain was juggling multiple cases, falling behind was par for the course. He picked up the papers and read through them carefully.
The captain chewed his cigarette and mused: "The bullet passed through below the scapular fossa, fractured a rib head and part of the flat bone. If Councilor Yang hadn't shoved her down, it would've hit the heart."
He scratched his head and let out a long sigh. "Lucky to be alive."
Wei Shu skimmed the material and summarized the key points for his captain:
"Besides the penetrating shoulder wound, she's got malaria, a contusion on the back of her head, bacterial infections, malnutrition, wound inflammation—oh, four teeth were pulled, but the chamber of commerce paid for dental implants. Other than that, there might be intracranial bleeding—they need to go to the provincial hospital for further examination."
"What's her name again?"
Wei Shu looked up earnestly. "Elyse. Captain Zhou, her name is Elyse."
"Right, this Elyse. Anything else?"
The young officer added:
"Severe post-traumatic stress disorder."
Captain Zhou took another drag, smoked the cigarette down to the filter, and crushed it into the ashtray. He stood up exhaling clouds of smoke, haphazardly shrugging on a shoulder holster and throwing on a jacket.
"Let's go. We'll visit the hospital one more time. The provincial people should be coming down today."
Another mouthful of smoke blew into Wei Shu's face. The young man held his breath without expression, keeping pace with his captain's long strides.
"Quickly. This case probably won't be ours much longer."
Wei Shu didn't quite follow: "Then why go? We've already asked everything we need to ask!"
Captain Zhou glanced back with a hint of a smile, his jaw stubbled with blue-black bristles pointing at the air:
"A young woman gets trafficked, survives half a year in Northern Myanmar on her own, doesn't get involved in online fraud, prostitution, or drug running, and even breaks out single-handedly! I've been in criminal investigation for over a decade and never seen anything like it. Aren't you curious?"
Wei Shu paused, then hurried after him into the vehicle, heading toward Hospital 233.
Because the case involved transnational trafficking and a cross-border shooting, the patient had been placed in a private room, available for ongoing questioning as needed. Down a quiet corridor, the second-to-last room was hers.
When Captain Zhou brought Wei Shu in, the doctor was just stepping out with a nurse, who was carrying a small tray with a syringe.
Wei Shu asked about her condition. The doctor said: "We've given her a sedative. Her emotional state is manageable right now, but don't question her too long—she still needs rest."
Captain Zhou pushed the door open and walked in.
And met, without any warning, a pair of dark, hollow eyes. Wei Shu, following close behind, started—the girl was leaning against the headboard, staring fixedly at the doorway as though she'd been waiting for someone.
From those eyes he thought he caught a glimmer of appraisal, but he wasn't sure, because her gaze was utterly still—almost inorganically calm.
Wei Shu said nothing. Captain Zhou pulled over a visitor's chair and sat down first. He smiled, trying to make his voice sound gentle:
"Were you waiting for someone?"
It had been many days since Elyse's shoulder surgery. Her wounds had all been treated; her left shoulder and arm were immobilized in a triangular sling, bent slightly at her side. She was very thin, the hospital gown draped over her like it hung on a wire frame.
White gauze wrapped around her neck—that was the laceration there, also infected. Her underlying health was poor; wounds were healing slowly.
The girl who had suffered so much sat in her hospital bed, her eyes tracking Captain Zhou's movements—only her eyes moved.
For some reason, Wei Shu felt her shoulders relax. She exhaled, as though something crushing had been pressing down on her, and she'd forgotten to breathe normally.
Her response came slightly delayed, soft: "Yes."
"Who?"
Elyse's eyes reflected their outlines. She opened her mouth, and Wei Shu thought she'd say something like: a family member, a friend.
But she said: "The Charlie Group's people."
Captain Zhou straightened imperceptibly.
Elyse added, almost airily: "Black Moses's people."
Wei Shu blinked, rapidly searching his memory for anything related to "Black Moses"—and came up blank. He darted a glance at his captain. Zhou Mi looked equally perplexed.
Elyse stared fixedly at them. She rarely blinked. Her whole being was like a battered, pale porcelain vessel, dangerously taut—always about to shatter, not quite shattered yet.
A sort of lifeless, contradictory stillness.
After a moment, she shifted her gaze downward, looking at her right hand resting on her knee.
She offered no further answer to questions about "Black Moses," as if that earlier statement had been nothing more than the murmur of a deranged mind.
Her bangs had grown long. When she lowered her head, they fell forward, sometimes covering her eyes. A young woman, alone, shoulders slightly hunched—looking rather pitiful.
The two officers exchanged a glance and decided to change tack.
"Miss... Elyse, did you contact your family to come get you? Or to look after you for a while?"
Wei Shu broke the silence first.
Elyse looked down through her lashes. This time she answered every question—just with shocking content: "My father told me to go die."
6.