The apartment was quiet, lit only by a single dim lamp, which cast shadows on the walls.
Mei Ling sat on the edge of the couch, tracing the stitched lines with her fingers, again like earlier.
Her mind was filled with thoughts.
She couldn't stop thinking about all that happened this night, the night that brought her here. She was tired but could not sleep.
The streets, the footsteps following her, the men in black, all kept playing in her mind.
A few hours ago, she had been at The Sentinel Press, surrounded by files and computer screens. The newsroom was quiet except for the keyboard clicks and the noises of printers. She stayed long after her colleagues left. Her focus remained steady despite tiredness.
Tonight, she was not chasing just any story; she was following the rising mafia activity in District 12.
Her assignment was clear: study recent intelligence reports, track patterns in reported crimes, review coded messages from police channels, and spot any new syndicate movements. She went over every file multiple times, watching surveillance clips and putting together fragments of conversations from recordings.
Everything mattered: how a man's coat hung, the angle of a briefcase exchange, or the way someone glanced around before walking away.
This is why I became a journalist, to reveal the truth: no matter how dangerous, she thought.
By the time she packed her bag, it was already late at night. The office was dark and silent, and the city outside seemed half-asleep. Mei Ling left the building quickly, barely noticing how empty the streets were.
She remembered seeing them first.
A few rough-looking men stood at the corner of the street, talking in low voices.
Their clothes were simple and worn out, and the way they looked around made her uneasy. Something about them felt wrong.
She had seen everything clearly and kept it in her mind like an evidence: their movements, their gestures, their attempts to look tough.
To her, every person involved in anything suspicious was a suspect.
Then she heard it. Footsteps behind her.
Her pulse quickened as she pressed herself against a wall. Every nerve in her body was alert.
Who's following me? she thought.
But she had no time to think, so her hand tightened on her bag strap.
She walked further, she couldn't afford getting killed.
No! Her investigation must go on.
She had to stay calm, even as fear curled through her chest like fire.
Stay silent. Move slowly. Don't look back, she told herself.
The footsteps approached, slowly. Mei Ling's heart hammered against her chest, yet she forced herself to stay still.
She weighed her options: run and risk being seen, freeze and risk being caught, or grab something to defend herself. Her eyes scanned the ground for discarded objects, an escape route, anything.
Yet she found nothing.
She had never thought about how much her life would be at risk after she began her investigations. These criminals would hunt her down until they kill her.
She knew her life was at risk, not even the streets she had always passed home were safe anymore.
So she walked a bit further, hiding in the shadows. Thankfully, the streets were not as bright as usual.
A shadow fell across the street, stretching toward her hiding spot. She swallowed hard as her stomach turned.
Her mind flashed back to every report she had written, every late night interview, every coded message she had solved. None of it had prepared her for this, the feeling of being hunted.
She pressed her back against the cold walls, listening as the footsteps slowed, then started again.
If they find me, it is over, she thought, as sweat trickled down the side of her forehead. This is what happens when you get too curious.
She knew every shadow, every footstep, was a clue, and also a threat.
Minutes passed. She stayed frozen, fully observant. The footsteps finally passed and faded. She felt relief, but her fears still lingered. They were still out there. Watching.
I can't let them catch me. I have to finish this story.
Her fingers were trembling as she clutched her bag. She had to remind herself this was why she had chosen this job: to expose corruption, to bring light to dark corners, to survive and tell the truth.
A part of her begged to do something else, yet another part reminded her of the years she had spent studying criminology and investigative journalism.
So she never changed career paths.
She had walked from the street toward the alley, moving carefully. Her pulse had not even settled when another movement caught her eye.
Across the wet street, under the dim light of the street lamps, she saw them, the men in black.
They stood perfectly still, with briefcases held carefully, and phones moving quietly.
This was the world she had been chasing, the story she had always wanted to see. Up close, it was even more dangerous than she had imagined.
Before she could move, a shadow came from the darkness. The stranger stepped between her and the men.
Mei Ling had not expected rescue, but now survival seemed possible.
He gestured for her to follow, his presence commanding yet calm. After much hesitation, she obeyed.
Her mind still raced, as she remembered her unfortunate experience.
Now, sitting in the safe apartment the stranger had provided; she let herself breathe slowly, focusing on the present.
She was away from the streets, away from danger, but the memory of the night stayed with her.
The night's events kept replaying in her mind, each moment more vivid than the last, and every detail impossible to ignore. She felt the weight of everything she had seen pressing down on her, reminding her that danger could appear when she least expected it.
It had taught her one thing: she was not invincible, no matter how skilled or careful. Sometimes survival meant relying on others, even when trust felt impossible.
But is this stranger worth relying on?
She thought.
Her eyes closed briefly. Sleep was just a few breaths away, yet she could not forget. The city outside would never rest, and neither could she.