We're Going Home

"We're going home."

Back then, I knew that as long as I followed that figure, I would never lose my way or come to harm.

—Years later, Heidi Tang.

The gunfire went on without pause. Every sound carried the intent to take a fragile human life, and now it boiled through the half-collapsed factory like a string of firecrackers.

Heidi, who would later grow into a great beauty, was still just a little girl then. She had spent the whole day on edge, the whole night terrified, exhausted and hungry in an environment full of danger. The gunfire was almost deafening. Not far from her, chunks of cement and wall plaster were constantly being blasted off by sweeping bullets. Held tightly by her mother and hidden in a blind spot from the shooting, the little girl trembled all over and cried softly.

Within that limited field of view, Jiaming stood at the edge of the corridor, two submachine guns aimed downstairs and at the bend in the stairwell, firing with precise, cold efficiency. Several high-wattage halogen lamps in the factory had already been shattered, leaving most of the place in darkness. Yet his shooting was as precise as a machine's. The slightest sound from anywhere would be met, the next instant, by bullets flying unerringly toward it.

On the other side, Tang Jingyao's remaining men felt as though they were going mad. One person—just one person—had suppressed them so completely that none of them dared move. The factory was almost entirely dark, yet the other side's eyes seemed sharper than an owl's. Anyone who dared leave the cover of debris or dirt mounds would usually be finished the very next moment. Even if someone slipped through, the moment they fired in that direction, they would immediately receive return fire. The other side was a sharpshooter, but they certainly weren't.

Knowing their boss was dead, many of them only wanted to hide. Some wanted to throw grenades, but their opponent was on a corridor more than ten meters above them. One man took the risk, but before he could throw his grenade after pulling the pin, his exposed hiding place gave him away and his arm was shot through. He and the two companions beside him were blown to pieces. Another man panicked and threw one in the wrong place, injuring one of his own men. After that, no one dared use them again.

Forget it, forget it. Just leave. Let that monster go...

By then, that profound sense of helplessness had taken hold of most of them. Their boss might have wanted to build a Chinese Mafia, but in truth, how could these people compare? Most had been street thugs, recruited after passing relatively strict tests. They picked up guns and thought they were desperadoes, but inside, they were still bullies who feared the strong and preyed on the weak. Even the few retired special forces soldiers like Chen Junbin had mostly had their will worn down by money. Even if they still retained their old skills, a mere handful of them were no match for Peiluojia's highest-ranked assassin.

"Clear. Walk four steps along the wall. That's a blind spot..."

"Clear. Follow me and turn left. Hide by the corner..."

"Clear. Come downstairs with me. Keep three steps away..."

"Heidi, don't cry. It's okay..."

In the dim light, that figure remained steady and composed in the little girl's tear-filled eyes. Turning, shifting position, firing—fresh magazines flew up from his side as empty ones fell. Before the old magazine even hit the ground, the new one had already locked into the grip. Everything was impossibly quick and smooth. He seemed not to be fighting at all, but merely dancing. Every now and then, he even turned back to comfort her gently.

When they reached the second-floor passageway, the wall on this side had already been blasted down. Jiaming said calmly, "I need you to hold Heidi and jump down from here. Can you do it?"

Marilyn nodded. Kicking off her high heels, she jumped out with Heidi in her arms without another word. It was a full three meters down, and rubble from the collapsed wall lay below, making the landing difficult to judge. When they hit the ground, Heidi clearly heard her mother let out a muffled groan. Then Jiaming jumped down as well.

"Find a car in that shed over there, and we'll be safe. Move fast."

He held both guns as he covered their retreat, but no one inside dared come out for the moment. When they reached the carport, Jiaming spotted an Audi 100 with the license plate 000035 and immediately recognized it as Tang Jingyao's car—the man upstairs who was already dead. In 1995, official cars basically all used this model, and traffic police wouldn't even dare deal with violations from license plates within the first hundred numbers. As they approached, Marilyn had intended to sit in the driver's seat, but Jiaming casually pulled out two wires and connected them. The car started at once, so she simply carried Heidi into the back seat. Still, Jiaming was so small that the sight of him driving was genuinely comical.

The car roared to life and shot onto the highway at an astonishing speed. Thinking back on the night, none of the three spoke. Jiaming had nothing to talk about, Marilyn looked somewhat dazed, and Heidi merely sat in her mother's arms, watching Jiaming's profile from the front. As he drove, he removed the disguise from his face and took off his suit, basically returning to the appearance of an elementary school student. Before long, they passed the stretch of road where the sports car had fallen into the ravine. The police had blocked off half the road, with several cars pulled over for inspection. A traffic officer waved at them ahead, but Jiaming couldn't be bothered. He stepped on the gas and charged straight through.

"Did you twist your ankle?"

Seeing Marilyn turned sideways and rubbing her ankle in the rearview mirror, that was the only question Jiaming asked in the car. Marilyn nodded. "Mm."

By the time the car returned to Jianghai City, it was probably past ten at night. The main streets were still crowded, but everywhere else had basically fallen quiet. They stopped on an empty stretch of road, wiped away fingerprints from a few places, and all three got out.

"I'll carry Heidi."

With the suit containing the disguise tools in one hand, Jiaming saw Marilyn limping and took the sleepy little girl from her. A moment later, she lay on Jiaming's back and fell peacefully asleep, while Marilyn, now wearing only stockings on her feet, walked slowly beside him.

The streetlights were dim, and the night wind rippled through the quiet streets. They looked just like a family of three...

By the time they returned to the second-floor room in the apartment complex, it was already eleven at night. After laying the sleeping Heidi down in the small side bedroom, Jiaming had Marilyn take off her torn stockings and wash her feet, then helped treat her ankle, which had swollen up like a steamed bun.

The two sat on the edge of the bed in the bedroom. Marilyn supported herself with both hands behind her, her white teeth biting down on her lower lip, tears filling her eyes as Jiaming held her injured foot and roughly worked it over with a bottle of medicine.

He was doing it on purpose. He definitely was...

After a long while, Marilyn finally said, "Do you... still want to scold me?"

"I already did." Jiaming spoke flatly as he kneaded the swollen spot hard. "Are you still thinking about him?"

Marilyn raised her head. After a long time, she finally said quietly, "There's a flower called dodder. It has to rely on trees to survive. I used to think I was that kind of person—that if I left that man, I definitely wouldn't be able to live on... But now I realize that what I wanted wasn't that man, but the feeling of being in love. I don't think I hate him for having another wife, and I don't hate him for deceiving me. What I hate... is that I gave so much, yet got nothing in return and was left with nothing..."

"Heidi was left behind." Jiaming glanced at her. "So you mean you've forgotten him."

"Yes." Marilyn lifted her face with a smile, only for the pain in her foot to twist her expression. She shot the obviously vindictive little boy a glare. "I used to think I loved him so much. For him, I read Chinese novels, ate Chinese food, became passionate about everything Chinese. I even followed what those books described, staying home all day and rarely going out, being a proper, well-behaved woman. But now I've realized that after seeing him clearly, I could let go so quickly. Ten years, just like that, all let go..."

By the time she finished, tears were streaming down her face. It was impossible to tell whether they were from grief or from the pain Jiaming was deliberately causing. "From now on, I think Heidi will be my only concern. I'll raise her until she gets married, until she no longer needs me at all..."

"No, find a good man and get married again. How old were you when you gave birth to Heidi?"

"When I gave birth to Heidi... I remember it clearly. It was the day after my eighteenth birthday..."

Jiaming rolled his eyes. No wonder her father had opposed the two of them. Pregnant at seventeen, giving birth at eighteen—if any child of his dared do that in the future, he would beat them to death. But he only said, "Twenty-eight? You're still very young. There are plenty of men out there. Becoming a widow for Tang Jingyao, you big-breasted, brainless..."

"But doesn't China place great importance on chastity? A woman who's had a child, no one would want her anymore... Ah—"

For a moment, Jiaming nearly wanted to strangle this woman, who had a devilish body but the pure heart of a young Jiangnan maiden. She had wanted to kill herself over Tang Jingyao, and now she could still say something like that. It was already rare enough for him to comfort someone—how had he ended up comforting her? "Please! You're American! An American who did drugs at twelve, slept with men at fourteen, got pregnant at seventeen, and gave birth at eighteen! Aren't you people supposed to treat sleeping with someone like an everyday occurrence? Don't ruin America's beautiful image in my mind, okay?"

"But... I think Chinese ideas like that are beautiful..."

"Face reality. There aren't horse-drawn carriages driving through China's streets, and we aren't living in thatched huts!" Jiaming's shoulders slumped, and then he sighed. "You big-breasted, brainless woman. Women are meant to be used. As long as they feel good to touch and good to fuck, that's enough. Who would want a layer of membrane in the way that they still had to work hard to break?"

He had once entertained all kinds of wild thoughts, but because of his identity as an assassin, he had to keep everything inside. He couldn't have feelings or expectations. After being reborn, he had also needed to maintain the identity of a child. Saying those strange words now made him feel rather good. After all, the woman before him was probably already used to his adult-like way of thinking, and she basically had neither the ability nor the motive to threaten his current situation.

Marilyn's face reddened. The two fell silent for a long while before Jiaming said, "Mm, I already called your father. Someone will probably come pick you up and take you back within a week."

"Mm." Marilyn seemed to be thinking about something and nodded absentmindedly. After a while, the swelling in her ankle finally began to subside. Jiaming was about to let go when Marilyn said, "Gu... Jiaming..."

"Mm?"

"I mean..." She raised her head and smiled. "You're actually an adult, aren't you? I mean, mentally, you seem like one."

"My situation is complicated, but you won't be wrong if you treat me as an adult like yourself."

"But you look like a child..."

"I know everything an adult should know, and I know everything an adult shouldn't know. Is that enough?"

"Then, if... if I took off all my clothes in front of you right now, would you look down on me? Would you think I'm promiscuous?"

"Uh?"

Jiaming opened his mouth wide and froze there, unable to say a word for a long time.

.