The taxi stopped at the entrance of an old residential compound in Nanshan.

Chen Feng got out.

He'd lived in this compound for the better part of a year — back when he first arrived in Shenzhen, three years ago.

Back then, he wasn't called Chen Feng.

His name was Chen Mo.

That name had already been struck from the Longyuan Special Operations Unit roster.

He came with just one backpack.

One phone.

A stack of cash.

And a piece of paper with an address written on it.

The paper had a woman's name on it — Su Wan.

He stood at the compound entrance and lit a cigarette.

Remembering that day three years ago. Same spot.

He'd just gotten off the plane, wearing a faded white T-shirt.

Still carrying the dust of South Asia on his clothes.

He stood at the entrance, pulled out the paper, read it once more.

"Su Wan, No. XX Nanshan Avenue. Go find her. Tell her you're a distant relative. Her family needs someone to help out."

That paper was the last order his superior ever gave him.

After that order, the Longyuan comm channel went permanently dark.

He took a drag.

Smoke scattered in the morning wind.

Three years ago, that mission was supposed to be simple.

Infiltrate. Locate. Eliminate.

The target was a weapons dealer named Kun Sha. He'd been operating on the South Asia border for six years.

Longyuan sent three men.

Chen Feng was in command.

The mission went smoothly.

Locate, confirm, eliminate.

Thirty-six hours. Done start to finish.

The problem came during extraction.

After Kun Sha died, his second-in-command — the man who would later rename himself Ruan Wenfeng — ran with half of Kun Sha's ledger.

That half-ledger recorded Kun Sha's transactions with over a dozen organizations, domestic and foreign.

Including several names from inside the country.

Chen Feng received his orders — recover the ledger.

He chased for seven days.

From the South Asia border into the Golden Triangle.

In a village in the Golden Triangle, he found Ruan Wenfeng.

Firefight.

Chen Feng was wounded.

Ruan Wenfeng escaped.

The ledger was never recovered.

But before he ran, Ruan Wenfeng did one thing —

He photographed the pages with the domestic names and scattered them.

Those people panicked.

They didn't know how much Chen Feng had seen.

But they knew one thing — Chen Feng was Longyuan.

Whatever Longyuan saw, command saw.

So they made a decision:

Make sure Chen Feng never spoke again.

When Chen Feng came back from the Golden Triangle, he was immediately given a new identity.

"Retire. New name. Disappear."

His superior said it without looking at him.

"There are people who don't want what you saw coming back."

"From now on, you're not Chen Mo anymore. You're Chen Feng."

"Go to Shenzhen. Find a woman named Su Wan."

"Move into her house. Don't let anyone find you."

"Wait until we clean out the people behind you. Then we'll bring you back."

Chen Feng asked: "How long?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe a year."

"Maybe three."

"Maybe never."

He crushed the cigarette out on the trash bin.

Those days were over.

He wasn't Chen Mo anymore.

He was Chen Feng now.

But he'd been carrying the weight of that order ever since.

The first day he moved into the Su household, the first thing Su Wan said to him was:

"You're the distant relative my mom mentioned?"

"I don't need anyone around. You can stay. Just don't cause me trouble."

Chen Feng nodded.

"Okay."

That night, he slept on the living room sofa.

The sofa was hard.

Harder than any field tent he'd ever slept in.

He lay there, staring at the chandelier on the ceiling.

A small bell hung from the chandelier.

When the wind blew in, the bell would ring.

He stared at that bell. All night.

In the days that followed, he often woke up in the middle of the night.

The bell was ringing.

The wind was gentle.

Just a soft tap. Tap tap.

Like someone reminding him — you're still here.

That bell was still there now.

He'd moved rooms later — a small space partitioned off the balcony.

That cot. He slept on it for two years and ten months.

The last two months, he saved up some money delivering food and moved to the village in the city.

Su Wan never asked why he left.

He never said.

They never asked each other why.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled to the photo of the Deployment Order.

Longyuan Special Operations Unit.

That unit didn't exist anymore.

Disbanded last year.

The roster was gone. The people had scattered.

But the word "return" — to Chen Feng — had never meant going back to the same place.

He put his phone away.

Stood at the compound entrance. For a long time.

Long enough for the security guard to recognize him.

"Hey — aren't you the... food delivery guy?"

Chen Feng turned around.

The guard was an uncle-aged man in his fifties. Surname Liu.

Back when Chen Feng came home late, Uncle Liu would always keep the gate open for him.

"Uncle Liu."

"It really is you! Long time no see! Still doing deliveries?"

"No."

"So where are you working now?"

Chen Feng thought about it.

"Running a small business."

"Good! Business is good!"

Uncle Liu patted his shoulder with a smile.

"You're a steady guy. You'll make it work."

Chen Feng smiled.

"Uncle Liu — is that bell still there?"

"Bell?"

"Building 3, Apartment 502. On the balcony."

"Oh — that one! Still there. Three years of wind and it hasn't fallen."

Chen Feng nodded.

He pulled a business card out of his wallet and handed it to Uncle Liu.

"If you ever need anything, call this number."

Uncle Liu took it. Looked at it.

The card had only two words on it —

"War God Hall."

No address. No phone number.

Just those two gold-embossed characters.

Uncle Liu blinked. Opened his mouth to say something.

Chen Feng was already gone.

His figure disappearing around the street corner.

Uncle Liu looked at the card, then at the retreating figure.

Muttered to himself:

"That kid... just what does he really do..."

He tucked the card carefully into his pocket.

Then picked up the landline and called his wife.

"Old lady, you remember that food delivery guy who lived in Building 3, Apartment 502, three years ago?"

"Of course. What about him?"

"He seems to be..." Uncle Liu paused. "Never mind. Nothing."

He hung up.

Looked at the card again.

The words "War God Hall" glinted faintly under the streetlight.

He put it together with his paycheck card.

---

That night. South City Old Tea House.

Second-floor private room. Old Zhou stood by the window.

Chen Feng sat in the host seat, a cup of cold tea in front of him.

"Found him?"

"Found him."

Old Zhou handed over a file.

"Ruan Wenfeng crossed in from Cambodia last week. He's in Shenzhen now."

"He used a fake passport."

"The name is fake. The identity is fake."

"But this part is real — he's back."

Chen Feng flipped through the file.

Inside was a surveillance screenshot of Ruan Wenfeng at customs.

Wearing a black jacket. Hat pulled low.

But the build — Chen Feng recognized it instantly.

Three years.

He'd been waiting for that face for three years.

"Where."

"Nanshan."

"Specifically."

Old Zhou paused.

"He's staying — in the penthouse of the building across from the Su residence."

Chen Feng's hand stopped on the teacup.

"He knows I'll come for him."

"He knows."

"He's waiting for me."

Chen Feng picked up the cold tea and downed it in one gulp.

"Then I'll go see him."

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the sky had gone dark.

The streetlights in the old district were on, casting yellow light across the cobblestone path.

He suddenly remembered the night Kun Sha died.

Same color of light.

Same temperature of wind.

Old Zhou stood behind him. Silent.

He knew what Chen Feng was thinking.

Old Zhou had been there in that firefight three years ago.

He was the extraction man.

The car was parked two kilometers away by the river. He waited four hours.

When Chen Feng came out, his left shoulder was bleeding.

Half a ledger clutched in his hand.

"Ruan Wenfeng got away."

That was the first thing Chen Feng said in that entire mission.

And the last.

Now Ruan Wenfeng was back.

"Tomorrow morning. I'm going to see him." Chen Feng said.

"Alone?"

"Alone."

Old Zhou opened his mouth. Wanted to say something.

In the end, he said nothing.

He turned and walked out of the tea house to arrange the car for tomorrow.

Chen Feng stood alone by the window.

The streetlights were on outside.

Yellow light on the cobblestone path. Just like three years ago.

He pulled out his phone. Scrolled to Su Wan's number.

Looked at those two characters. For a moment.

Then put the phone away.

Didn't dial.

End of Chapter 5: The Truth of Three Years Ago