Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Her courage was greater than he imagined...

When Song Yu came out of the stairwell, the people in the lobby were already thinning out, and Ji Wen was nowhere to be seen.

Only then did she realize that Ji Wen had actually called her several times earlier, but her phone had been continuously busy.

Ji Wen’s last message was sending her the flight information. When Song Yu saw it, she thought, “Oh no, the departure time is very soon.” She hurriedly rushed out of the theater, breaking through the barrage of hungry drones from major media, and hailed an aerial taxi.

But, as expected, the traffic was congested, and severely so. Song Yu opened the satellite flight map to check the traffic; the high-altitude lanes were a solid deep red, completely blocked. On the radio channel, the announcer was vividly describing the assault at the theater tonight in an almost shocking tone.

“According to the police, the assailant was shot dead on the spot. The deceased suspect, Lin, aged 37, has been confirmed as a wanted fugitive with severe antisocial tendencies. So far, this incident has resulted in 2 security guards dead, 1 critically injured, and 7 lightly injured.”

“Since the beginning of this year, multiple street shootings have occurred on S Star, causing the deaths of hundreds of innocent citizens, while the police have taken no effective action. This has shocked and worried us all. Does this sudden violent incident once again expose the negligence of the current governor Liang Yan’s administration, with weak policing? As the key election period approaches and only one year remains in Liang Yan’s term, can he still be successfully re-elected...”

Song Yu felt annoyed and immediately turned off the news channel. Judging by the current traffic, she was certain she would not arrive at the airport on time. So she opened the flight rescheduling system.

Unfortunately, there was more bad news.

Tonight’s flights were fully booked.

Obviously, Song Yu wasn’t the only one sensing the undercurrents on S Star. Everyone wanted to catch the last boat and escape the storm.

Helpless, she looked out the window. On the high-altitude lane, the city’s starlight lay beneath her feet; the lights melted on the matte glass, turning into shimmering neon.

Song Yu thought again, although S Star was dangerous, its night view was beautiful. Perhaps precisely because of the mixed crowds of all walks of life here, it had a vitality even greater than the capital star.

She finally changed her destination to a nearby hotel and rescheduled her flight to the next day.

Of course, she couldn’t sleep. Too many things were on her mind. Tossing and turning until late into the night, Song Yu still felt no sleepiness.

She had no choice but to get out of bed and open the chip to roughly edit the footage.

The audio was terrible, but the camera movement was not bad. The long take could be made smoother... Work was truly a cure-all; once she got into the zone, Song Yu became extremely focused, throwing all unrelated matters out of her mind.

Until the concert segment ended, that nightmare scene appeared again. The assailant rushed onto the stage and shot the bassist. Then the screen spun, wobbling — it was Song Yu adjusting the camera amid the chaos.

She froze.

Everything was filmed so vividly, full of the roughness and hallucination-like quality of handheld filming. Song Yu felt instantly pulled back to the scene. Those terrifying memories, the fear of facing death, all surged back into her mind.

At that time, she had been completely scared silly, acting purely on instinct, her body seemingly out of control.

Now, coming to her senses, she felt a lingering fear: How had she not been afraid of dying then, still holding the camera in front of a desperate man?

But suddenly —

Song Yu shuddered, certain she had seen something.

At the same moment the assailant rushed the stage, in the corner of the frame, a man in a security uniform shot his security companion and locked the theater door.

Song Yu rewound the video and froze on this scene.It turned out the assailant was not acting alone.

This was a coordinated group operation.

With inside and outside cooperation, no wonder the attack went so smoothly.

Song Yu recalled the broadcast: “This incident has caused 2 security guards dead, 1 critically injured, and 7 lightly injured...”

She zoomed in on the footage, trying to see the face of the fake security guard clearly.

Unfortunately, he always had his back to the camera, so she lowered her gaze to look for new clues.

She saw the fake security guard’s hand.

There was a shadow deep on the wrist — it seemed to be a tattoo.

She zoomed in further. Although the resolution was low, she barely made out the tattoo’s pattern.

Song Yu froze once again.

Suddenly, she remembered another scene.

When the rescue team arrived, one staff member, while lifting the medical cabin, moved clumsily and accidentally tore his glove, exposing his wrist. His companion immediately scolded him, and he quickly pulled out a spare glove.

That man’s wrist also had a tattoo — the exact same pattern.

At the time, they had acted carefully, so no one noticed this detail.

But Song Yu had already been suspicious of them, so she caught this moment clearly.

Now, connecting these two scenes, a terrifying thought surged in Song Yu’s mind:

There was no assassination at all.

The killers and the rescuers were actually the same group of people.

This was a well-directed and acted play.

Holding this thought, Song Yu rewound and watched the video repeatedly. All the suspicious points surfaced one by one.

The assailant was obviously an antisocial madman, so why was there not a single audience member killed? The lead singer Yang Yichuan was completely unharmed — only scared.

— Because the lead singer was the duke’s son. They didn’t want the matter to escalate.

Why did the rescue arrive so promptly, breaking in right after the assailant was shot?

— Because they had planned everything in advance.

Looking back, the so-called “rescue team” never introduced their identities. They deliberately wore fully equipped protective suits to mislead the audience into thinking they were official forces. But at that moment, everyone was too terrified to question it.

However, the “rescue team” was unfamiliar with actual rescue procedures. They did not verify anyone’s identity but hurried to clear the audience and send them home.

Perhaps this was the group’s real purpose: to clean up the scene and cover the traces.

After realizing all this, Song Yu still sat at the edge of the bed, feeling waves of chill inside.

The reflective floor-to-ceiling window clearly showed her bleak expression. Her lips were colorless, extremely solemn.

She realized how dangerous her current situation was.Because the thief cries “stop thief,” the key to this play was to leave no witnesses.

There would definitely be no surveillance footage. The audience on site were all ordinary people—perhaps their identities had been deliberately screened—so when the incident happened, everyone was too shocked to react. Even if questioned later by real police, nothing useful would come out.

Everything was supposed to be flawless.

Yet, she became the only variable.

No one would have expected that a small female director would have the guts to hide under the stage and film everything.

The fatal evidence, the huge secret—right now it was hidden inside the small chip in her hand.

Song Yu felt sweat on her palms and a dry mouth. She wanted to pour herself a glass of water to calm down but inexplicably turned on the news instead.

The latest headline was no longer about the terror attack but about a “sudden fire at the attack site.”

Just minutes ago, due to old and faulty wiring in the theater corridor and operational mistakes made by police during their inspection, a fire broke out, causing 2 staff deaths and 7 serious injuries.

The comments below were full of mockery toward the S Star police:

“No way, that’s so incompetent, they cause a fire while investigating a case?”

“Is the police force going to have to compensate the theater?”

Song Yu broke out in a cold sweat watching this and even felt short of breath.

The corridor.

That was exactly where she had just called Li Cong.

Why did the fire happen there?

What did it mean?

Had those people discovered the camera under the stage—had they suspected her?

Impossible. It must be a coincidence.

Song Yu thought. When she took the chip, she had inserted a spare one as well. There were no obvious loopholes, so suspicion wouldn’t come easily.

But what if they really found out?

These people were desperate fugitives—conniving, ruthless, and unscrupulous.

Burning the crime scene was obviously to destroy evidence. But they were bold enough to openly pin the blame for the fire on...

This completely cut off Song Yu’s thoughts of calling the police.

If anyone knew she still had this footage,

death would be the only thing waiting for her.

Time rewound to a few hours earlier.

Chi Yan was in the safe house outside the theater when he saw that suspicious camera.

His first reaction was to want to laugh. Hearing was not as good as seeing—this broken machine was surprisingly big, clumsy, and heavy. No wonder that woman was so upset about it.His subordinate reported to him: “Young Master Yang wanted to film a documentary and outsourced it to a filming team from Capital Star. Later, something happened internally, so they switched people today. The on-site director is Chen Songyu, and her assistant is Ji Wen. We’ve already checked their identities—no suspicious points.”

Another person whispered, “Chen Songyu? Isn’t she quite famous? I think I’ve seen her movies before?”

His words were cut off by a shove from a companion, signaling him not to speak recklessly in front of Mr. Chi.

But Chi Yan didn’t mind.

Chen Songyu, he thought, so that was her name.

His tongue slowly curled upward from his lower jaw, silently chewing on those three characters like savoring a lingering mint.

He turned to Xu Yang and asked, “Where’s the chip?”

The subordinate handed over the chip, respectfully saying, “Mr. Chi, the content has already been reviewed. It’s just raw footage.”

Xu Yang echoed, “Just two women. They probably got scared when they heard the gunshots and hastily dropped the camera to hide.”

If he hadn’t seen Miss Chen in the stairwell, Chi Yan might have believed that.

But at this moment, he neither confirmed nor denied, only gave a lazy smile: “Play it.”

The contents of the chip were projected into midair. A chaotic mess of footage, reels quickly switching. Nowadays, people had little patience for long videos, especially these thugs. Even sped up, they quickly got dizzy watching.

Only Chi Yan kept staring at the projection, silently smirking.

The video ended quickly.

Yet he said nothing, just smoked quietly on the side. His handsome face faded in and out of the smoke.

Gradually, everyone felt the oppressive silence. They exchanged cautious glances, signaling each other carefully.

Finally, Xu Yang forced himself to speak up: “Chi, is there a problem?”

Chi Yan gave him a sidelong glance, smiled faintly, then suddenly slapped him hard—

“Smack.”

The force was huge, merciless.

Xu Yang was knocked sideways, blood trickling from his mouth, his face swelling.

Chi Yan sneered, “This is only a backup chip.”

His voice was soft.

Yet this was like casually dropping a time bomb.

The more casually said, the darker and more terrifying it was.

Like the last volcanic ash spreading across the sky before eruption. Everyone stood frozen, faces extremely grave.

From that short sentence, they realized the seriousness: if anything was really recorded as evidence and exposed, they were all finished.

“So what if it’s a woman?” Chi Yan said slowly, “The reason I’ve survived to this day is that I never underestimate anyone.”

“What we’re doing tonight is a deadly serious matter. So everyone standing here, I consider you brothers.”

There were five people standing in this safe house besides Chi Yan.A cold gaze slowly fell on each terrified face, like an invisible knife hanging over their heads.

“Brothers make mistakes, what should we do?”

In the silence, a man with a small mustache trembled and stepped forward, then fell to his knees with a thud.

“Mr. Chi, I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes and said despairingly, “I was responsible for verifying the audience identities. I didn’t know Young Master Yang was making a documentary...”

Chi Yan lowered his head to look at him and said softly, “Accept your punishment.”

The man’s face turned pale as paper, his whole body shaking.

But he still slowly stood up, gritting his teeth: “Mr. Chi, please take care of my sister.”

Chi Yan: “Alright.”

A gunshot rang out.

Blood slowly poured from his chest, winding like a bright red stream, staining everyone’s shoes.

But no one dared to plead for him.

A moment later, Xu Yang whispered, “Chi, what should we do with these two women? We can’t yet confirm who has the chip, but Ji Wen has already left Star S, and Chen Songyu failed to leave.”

Chi Yan: “Send people to the Capital Airport and seize all of Ji Wen’s luggage. Be thorough.”

Xu Yang: “Understood. And the other one? She’s checked into the Langting Hotel. Should we bring her over tonight?”

“Tomorrow,” Chi Yan said indifferently.

He lowered his head and lit a cigarette.

In the swirling smoke, a cold smile slowly appeared on his face.

He still didn’t know what exactly she had filmed, or why she went to such lengths to swap that chip.

It’s either a guilty conscience or simply instinct and coincidence.

But, no matter what...

Chen Songyu.

No woman had ever dared to pull such a stunt right under his nose.

Her courage was even greater than he had imagined.

He could feel his spirit extremely aroused at this moment.

His body temperature rose, adrenaline surged wildly. He was eager to see her again.

But he wasn’t in a hurry. He’d let her have another good dream.

After all... she couldn’t escape his grasp.