The rain outside poured relentlessly, day after day. The entire city felt like it was drowning in a giant water tank, gasping for breath. The overcast sky pressed heavily overhead, as if ready to collapse and destroy this place at any moment. The world was always uncertain—no one knew what would happen the next minute. All its past glories amounted to nothing more than… a fleeting visit.

Lu Heng reached for the pack of cigarettes on his bedside table and lit his fourth one since waking up. He peeked out through a gap in the tightly drawn blackout curtains. Looked like it’d be another day wasted in bed. How many days had it been since he last stepped out of the apartment? He couldn’t quite remember. He only wanted to die alongside the rain—inseparable, come what may.

The shrill ring of his phone interrupted the peace. He instinctively groped around the bed, found nothing, threw off the covers, and did a full sweep with monk-like sincerity. Still nothing. The blaring ringtone gnawed at his nerves. Whoever it was better pray he didn’t find the damn phone.

Three seconds after the call ended, the ringtone pierced the air again. Lu Heng scratched his head and jumped out of bed. His foot landed on something hard and cold—it was his phone, lying clueless on the floor beneath the bed.

“You calling to tell me the sky’s falling?”

“Not yet, but it might be soon. Damn, someone’s grumpy this morning,” said Li Wei, one of the very few colleagues from the police logistics department who could still have a proper conversation with Lu Heng. Most people at work avoided the guy with the temper. Li Wei, though, had some sort of masochistic persistence and always stuck around. Even now, hearing the edge in Lu Heng’s voice, he still cracked a joke.

“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. If not, piss off.” Lu Heng took a long drag from his cigarette and snubbed it out in the ashtray.

“Hey, it’s been three days. Even Baidu can’t explain your excuse for time off. The higher-ups are pissed. Do us all a favor and show your face at work today, yeah?” Li Wei tried to sound nice.

Lu Heng stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “It’s raining,” he drawled.

“Comrade Lu Heng, maybe you should just resign. You look exhausted.” Li Wei’s tone hinted at surrender.

“Come pick me up. No umbrella.” Lu Heng pulled some clothes from the closet and started dressing. He knew Li Wei well. The guy wouldn’t have called unless things were really about to blow up.

“Alright then. Fifteen minutes. I’ll be at the shop downstairs,” Li Wei said, hanging up fast before Lu Heng could change his mind.

Pulling open the curtains, Lu Heng stared at the downpour outside. “Fuck,” he muttered, dragging himself to the bathroom.

By the time he sprinted through the rain to the corner store, five minutes had already passed. No sign of Li Wei. Lu Heng started getting irritated again. He patted his pockets, hoping for a cigarette—nothing. Craving a smoke when you don’t have one feels like a thousand ants crawling through your chest. He ducked into the shop, bought a pack of Zhongnanhai and a lighter, and squatted by the entrance for a smoke.

It was a while before Li Wei finally pulled up in the department’s Jinbei van used for supply runs.

“Forty minutes. What, did you swim here?” Lu Heng climbed into the passenger seat, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“I thought I could make it. Forgot to check the traffic. Streets are a mess. My bad, my bad.” Li Wei hated how he always ended up sucking up to this grouch. But from the day Lu Heng got reassigned to logistics three years ago, Li Wei saw something in him—someone meant for bigger things. He’d stuck to that belief ever since.

“Eat yet? Got you some buns.” Seeing the still-warm buns Li Wei handed over, Lu Heng’s mood lifted a bit. He took one and bit into it.

“Thanks,” he said.

Lu Heng rarely said thank you—not even for big favors. Yet for small gestures like this, he often would. Li Wei never quite figured out why.

The constant rain had choked off half the roads in the city. By the time they reached the police logistics building, lunch hour was almost up.

As soon as they stepped into the office, Deputy Director Jiang Haosheng’s booming voice rang out behind them.

“Well, look who finally showed up. Got here just in time for lunch, huh? Not a single soul in the office all morning—what, were you all off rescuing flood victims?”

He pointed straight at Lu Heng. “You. What’s next—another family emergency? You’ve taken so many days off you’re borrowing from next year. Not that anyone here can actually punish you. Go ahead, burn it all down.”

Li Wei always thought that if Jiang put as much effort into his actual job as he did into roasting people, the man would’ve climbed much higher up the ranks by now. What a waste.

“I’m back today,” Lu Heng muttered, trying to stop the rant before it got worse.

“We all know this place is too small for someone like you. We hope you’ll return to the SWAT team soon, but until then, maybe try showing up like a normal employee? I’ve got a hundred people to manage here.”

Jiang’s mocking tone hit a nerve. Lu Heng snapped. He kicked the office chair, sending it crashing into a file cabinet. The loud bang shut Jiang up instantly.

Li Wei jumped in to smooth things over. “Come on, Director Jiang. Don’t be mad. It’s our fault. We’ll shape up. Scout’s honor.”

Jiang really had been startled by that kick. He’d seen bad tempers, but never one this wild. And unfortunately, higher-ups had told him to keep a loose rein on Lu Heng. Who the hell could manage this guy?

Jiang wanted to keep yelling but ended up swallowing his words. “Do what you want,” he muttered and stormed off.

Li Wei watched Jiang walk away, then leaned close to Lu Heng and said, “You’re off lately. Haven’t seen you at Dr. Jiang’s sessions in months, have you? I get that you hate it, but listen—Jiang wasn’t wrong about one thing. You don’t belong here. Get that stone off your chest.” He pointed to the left side of Lu Heng’s chest. “Go back.”

Lu Heng didn’t reply. He leaned against his desk and lit another cigarette. His eyes—ice cold. You could freeze to death just looking into them.