"You're here?" Mr. Liang let his hands fall to his sides, speaking in a soft, even tone.
"That's right. We're here."
"You shouldn't have come."
"I've been looking for you for the past six months."
The man speaking was a bespectacled middle-aged man with a scholarly, well-mannered air. He wore a sharp suit and had a work badge clipped to his chest that read [Nation Special Security]. Four younger men in plain clothes stood behind him—tall, muscular, and clearly armed under their jackets.
"Julian Ziliang, stop running. Come with me." The middle-aged man sighed. "Look at you now—you've aged so much. Half a year of hiding, changing your name, living in the shadows… and yet that Techmaster is still out there, free as ever."
Mr. Liang lowered his head, silent.
The man's words pressed down on him like a weight on his spine.
He looked even more hunched than before.
"But if I do nothing… wouldn't Alin resent me? Wouldn't Scarlet hate me? I wasn't a good father. And I wasn't a good pilot."
The four young officers stepped forward, ready to move in and restrain him, but the middle-aged man lifted a hand and signaled for them to stop.
Mr. Liang wouldn't run. He couldn't.
Even if he somehow broke through all five of them, there were more people waiting outside. He couldn't escape even with wings.
"Alin won't hate you, Ziliang. It's only if you keep clinging to the past that he'd be hurt. As for Scarlet…" The man's expression grew complicated. He didn't continue—he only sighed.
Mr. Liang lifted his head slightly, looking up at the sky, now clearing after the rain. Tears slipped down from the sour sting in his nose, and his tightly clenched fists slowly loosened.
"Shawn Wang… how did you find me?"
"You weren't watching the Knox Rally? Your face got caught on camera." Shawn Wang pushed up his glasses helplessly. "We've been secretly monitoring every major competition for the past six months and never found a trace of you. Who would've thought you'd show up at a small beginner-level event like the Knox Rally?"
His eyes swept around the place, noting signs that Mr. Liang wasn't living alone. He raised a brow. "Oh? Took in an apprentice?"
"Not an apprentice. Just a stubborn little brat and a simple-minded Mecha Girl." Mr. Liang brushed at his wrinkled apron and let out a tired laugh. "Didn't expect that one little trip to watch a race would get me caught. Talk about bad luck."
"Stop thinking about revenge. Come back with us." Shawn Wang stepped closer, patting his shoulder. "You'll be fed, sheltered, and you can still watch the races. Most importantly—you'll be safe. Those people can't reach you where I am."
"How long will they keep me locked up?"
"If you hadn't run, seven or eight years. But since you ran for half a year… probably thirty to forty."
"How's that any different from being dead?"
Shawn Wang chuckled. "Hey, at least I can still play cards with you."
Outside the recycling yard, sirens echoed faintly.
The four young officers placed tense hands on their waists.
Mr. Liang knew he had nowhere to run. Pressing his lips together, he looked at his old friend and said solemnly, "I'll go with you. But before that… let me leave a letter for those two kids."
"Alright. Half an hour enough?"
"More than enough."
Mr. Liang wrote the letter in ten minutes and placed it under the shark plush on the Stella Table. Then he walked into the kitchen, simmered the fish soup as he always did, and covered the pot. At last, he gathered all the yard's keys and documents into a box and set it beside the plush toy.
He removed his apron, washed his hands, and walked steadily back to Shawn Wang.
"Let's go."
Two officers stepped forward and cuffed his wrists.
At the Recycling Yard entrance—
Mr. Liang turned back. The wind lifted the gray strands across his forehead. His eyes swept over the yard's sign, then the small wooden cabin at its center. He drew in a deep breath, as if trying to memorize this place one last time… then he turned away and got into the police car.
...
At dusk, a truck pulled up outside Conscience Recycling Yard.
Derek Su and Stella jumped down—one carrying a suitcase, the other holding two big fish.
"Where do you want the ice cream unloaded?" the driver asked, pinching his nose.
"Uh… just leave them at the entrance…" Derek Su replied blankly, almost mechanical.
A thousand tubs of ice cream. He had endured that freezing sweetness and heavy aroma the entire ride. One tub wasn't so bad—but a thousand packed together, with him and Stella wedged between them? Torture.
Only Stella enjoyed every second.
On the way from the market to the yard, she had already eaten more than a dozen.
"Master, you really bought me a thousand ice creams!" Stella hugged several tubs without minding the cold, her eyes curved in sheer delight. "I really am the happiest Mecha Girl in the world!"
"I don't care whether you're happy or not," Derek Su rolled his eyes. "You're taking all that ice cream to the warehouse yourself."
"No problem, Master!"
Stella thumped her chest proudly. "Leave it to me!" Then she picked out a few large, full tubs and shoved them into Derek Su's arms. "These are for Grandpa Liang! I picked the best ones—big, sweet, super fresh!"
"And how exactly do you know they're sweet?" Derek Su eyed her sideways.
"Oho~ that's the intuition of the Ice Cream Queen Mecha Girl~"
Derek Su: "…"
He wasn't sure whether Mr. Liang even liked ice cream, but it was Stella's thoughtfulness that mattered. So he carried the tubs and the two fish toward the cabin.
"Huh? Why aren't the lights on?"
Normally, the cabin lights were always on at this hour.
Every night when he and Stella returned from training, that warm, gentle glow brought him a quiet sense of peace. Today, without it, a cold unease stirred in his chest.
"Mr. Liang, we're back!"
"Mr. Liang?!"
The cabin remained silent.
A chill gripped Derek Su. He rushed forward.
Mr. Liang had heart problems—whenever he felt unwell, he'd take medicine right away. And back then, Derek had always been around to help with anything, even emergency aid.
But during competitions, he simply couldn't keep watch over him.
Pushing the door open, the faint aroma of fish soup still lingered. The furniture was exactly as he remembered—simple, neat, spotless. The entire cabin was small enough to take in at a glance, yet Mr. Liang was nowhere.
He burst into the kitchen—empty. On the stove sat the pot Mr. Liang used for fish soup, still warm to the touch.
Mr. Liang wasn't home.
But it was already so late—where could he have gone?
"Master! Grandpa Liang! The Knox Champion Mecha Girl is back!!" Stella called brightly as she rushed in.
Using her absurd speed, she had deployed and made just three trips with the trunk to move all the ice cream to the warehouse.
But when she saw Derek Su's pale face, her cheerful steps slowed. She looked around, puzzled.
"Master… why aren't the lights on? And where did Grandpa Liang go?"