After a few days, Lian Ye got his phone back.
It felt almost unfamiliar in his hand, like he was holding a version of himself he didn't fully trust anymore. He unlocked the screen, and the flood hit him instantly—photos, notes, messages, timestamps—
Some memories sat sharp and focused.
Some felt like they'd been scrubbed clean.
Some felt like they happened to a stranger with his face.
His time in the city?
It didn't stitch together right.
Like a story retold by someone who only skimmed the summary.
He scrolled slower. His reflection hovered faintly on the screen, eyes tired but alert.
Every swipe felt like he was auditing his life.
A part of him wanted answers.
A part of him didn't care enough to look for them.
But all of him understood one thing:
Something in him was shifting.
Quietly.
Deliberately.
Without asking for permission.
---
Then he heard a knock. The knock broke his focus as he looked straight at the door then with a low voice "Come in." Hei Zhen showed up like he always did—too polite, too calculated, too observant.
"You've been… distracted," Hei said, watching him.
Lian Ye didn't look up from his phone.
"Maybe."
Hei stepped closer, as if trying to read the air around him.
"Anything you want to talk about?"
"No."
Short. Clean. Honest.
Hei tried again, softer this time.
"I'm just trying to help."
Lian Ye finally raised his eyes. His expression wasn't hostile—it was calm to the point of discomfort, but forced out a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Captain i'm fine I was just a bit distracted that's all"
Hei Zhen smiled, because smiling was safer than showing that hehadn't reached his desired purpose.
"Then… what do you want me to do?, I can ask the informant faction for anything related if you don't mind...or you can look for them yourself..." He paused "answers." He added.
"I'll think about it."
Lian ye said it because it ended the conversation, not because he cared.
And that was what bothered Hei Zhen the most.
---
A few minutes late after hei Zhen had left, Lian ye tried to focus on his phone once again but then, a soft knock hit the door.
Lian Ye set his phone down, walked over, and opened it.
A neatly folded uniform sat on the floor.
Black fabric. Silver linings. Crisp, fresh, untouched.
Placed on top of it:
the bullet.
The same one he'd turned in after waking up.
For a moment, everything inside him just… stopped.
Not in shock.
Not in fear.
More like a system freezing to process a new input.
He crouched slowly, stared at the bullet, and felt something settle in his chest—
a calmness that didn't feel normal, didn't feel human, didn't feel like him.
Just quiet.
Cold.
Still.
He didn't know what the uniform meant.
He didn't know who it was originally for.
He didn't know why the bullet came back.
But he understood one thing perfectly:
This wasn't random.
This was an invitation.
Or a warning.
Or both.
And something deep inside him… answered.