The first task from Director Song didn't arrive as a file. It arrived as a dead silence on the street below.
Thirty days was a lie. The Ministry wasn't giving us time to rest; they were giving us time to work. At 3:00 AM, the hotel's internal phone rang once. I didn't answer it. I watched the signal bounce through three different spoofing servers before letting it drop.
"They're testing the response time," I said, leaning back in the desk chair.
Lu Sheng was sitting in an armchair by the window, his silhouette dark against the city's lightless skyline. He had discarded the robe for a clean black tactical shirt. He didn't look like he'd been stitched together six hours ago. He looked like a statue.
"They want to know if you're sleeping," Lu Sheng said. "Or if you're actually as paranoid as you claim."
"I'm not paranoid. I'm visible."
I turned the screen toward him. I had intercepted the Ministry's perimeter feed. On the corner of the block, three black sedans were being replaced by delivery vans. A change of guard, but with a different signature.
"Those aren't Song's men," I noted, my fingers tapping a rhythm on the desk. "The gait is wrong. Too heavy on the heels. Tactical boots, not standard issue."
Lu Sheng stood up and walked to the window, keeping to the side of the heavy drapes. He looked down for three seconds, then stepped back.
"Qin Group," he said. The edge in his voice was cold, almost clinical. "Song didn't clear the block. He opened a hole. He wants to see if I can protect you without a gun, or if he'll have to step in and 'rescue' you himself."
"He's trying to force my hand," I said. "If I feel unsafe, I'll give him the key for protection."
"And if you don't?"
"Then I'm dead, and he tries to brute-force the encryption anyway."
Lu Sheng looked at me. He didn't reach for me. He didn't loom. He stood five feet away, his hands loosely at his sides. The respect wasn't in his words; it was in the fact that he was waiting for my assessment before he acted.
"The Ministry thinks this is a siege," I said, my voice dropping an octave. "They're wrong. This is an invitation."
"Explain."
"I'm going to let them in." I turned back to the laptop, my fingers moving with a precision that bordered on the mechanical. "Not the front door. Not the elevator. I'm opening the service relay in the basement. I want the Qin Group to think they've found a ghost-path."
"You're using yourself as bait," Lu Sheng said. It wasn't a question.
"I'm using us as a filter. If we take them out inside the hotel, the Ministry has to clean up the mess under the consultant agreement. If we stay quiet, Song wins. If we're too loud, the Qin Group wins."
I hit the final key. The hotel's secondary security grid flickered a simulated brownout.
"You have ten minutes until they reach the service lift, Lu Sheng. I've disabled the floor sensors. You wanted to know what I'm worth? I just gave you the most dangerous five-star playground in H City. Don't let them touch the door."
Lu Sheng didn't insult me. He simply checked the magazine of a suppressed handgun he'd pulled from the hotel safe a weapon the Ministry had "missed" during the sweep.
"Ten minutes," he repeated.
He didn't look back as he stepped out into the hallway. He moved with a silent, fluid grace that ignored the pain in his side. He wasn't my captor anymore. He was the barrier I had placed between myself and the world I had just invited into the room.