Jin Xueli was in a terrible predicament.
Her pistol had just run out of bullets.
The hammer... if she hit someone with all her might, the most it would do—the day after her obituary appeared in the paper—was maybe make her target go buy a pain relief patch.
Call the police? Out of the question. The man had already drawn his gun, slow and deliberate. With the barrel staring her down, did she really have time to finish dialing 911?
Even jumping was out. She was standing in the center of the rooftop, too far from the edge. If she made a sudden break for it, she'd just be giving the man moving target practice.
'What do I do?'
After a frantic second or two, Jin Xueli was out of ideas. Her mouth fell open, and she asked blankly, "Huh? Who's Jin Xueli?"
The man watched her silently, the gun in his hand unmoving.
