64: Chapter 64 The Princess Leads the Way, a 700-Kilometer Speeding Trip

"Only I know where your Miss Jiang has been taken."

Delia's fingertips rested on the barrel of the glock 17.

Water droplets slid down her wrist, hitting the cold metal surface of the muzzle, shattering upon impact.

Li Li didn't move.

The calculation took only a split second.

Kill her, and the trail goes cold.

Don't kill her, and you're left with a ticking time bomb by your side.

Of two evils, choose the lesser.

Li Li flipped his wrist, holstering the gun at his waist.

"The bathrobe is on the rack. Get it yourself."

He backed out of the bathroom without looking back.

Delia stared at his retreating back.

In the steam-filled bathroom, a faint laugh rippled through the air.

Two minutes later.

Delia, wrapped in a white hotel bathrobe, followed Li Li out of Room 210.

Shen Jue was still leaning against the tire of the G-Wagon.

He clutched the glock 17 in his hand like a lifeline, pressing it tightly against his chest.

Seeing Li Li emerge from the hotel's back exit, Shen Jue's eyes welled up again.

Immediately after, he saw a woman following Li Li, wearing a bathrobe with wet hair.

The look of relief on Shen Jue's face froze instantly. His jaw nearly hit the floor.

"Bro… who is this?"

"Our guide."

Li Li walked to the black Land Rover Defender and pulled open the passenger door. He turned to look at Shen Jue.

"Go to the front desk and use the hotel landline. Call the police and tell them there are people from the Production Team on the second floor of the Oasis Hotel."

"And then?"

"Then find a safe place to hide and don't wander off."

Shen Jue pushed off the tire to stand up, his legs still trembling.

"What about Miss Jiang?"

"I'm going to find her."

Shen Jue opened his mouth.

He looked at Li Li's face, smeared with gunpowder smoke and blood like a ghost.

Then he looked at the woman in the bathrobe, who was stepping into the passenger seat with composure.

A thousand words were stuck in his throat, and in the end, he only managed to choke out: "Bro, your crotch isn't wet, is it?"

Li Li shot him a glance. "Get lost."

The V8 engine roared as it sped out of the alley.

Shen Jue stood there holding the gun, watching the Land Rover Defender turn the corner and vanish into the night.

He looked down at the dark wet patch on his own crotch.

He sniffled and slowly shuffled toward the hotel front desk.

The Land Rover Defender hit the empty highway. The speedometer needle slammed toward two hundred.

Delia sat in the passenger seat, her feet sprawled carelessly on the glove box.

The hem of her white bathrobe slid up to her knees, and her wet hair left a dark watermark on the leather headrest.

She turned her head. Her gaze swept over Li Li. It was very direct.

"How far have you and your Miss Jiang progressed?"

Li Li stared at the pitch-black road ahead. "Are you an intelligence agent or a gossip reporter?"

"Both." Delia pulled the collar of her bathrobe up. "Answer me."

"Contractual couple, for the show's effect."

"Then why run seven hundred kilometers to save her?"

Li Li twisted his left wrist. "The show hasn't finished airing yet."

Delia let out a scoffing laugh.

She changed her seating position, leaning sideways against the car door, facing Li Li.

"I smelled the Hotpot tonight from the back. The scent of red oil, chili, and Sichuan peppercorns—that numbing sensation pierced right through the air and into my nostrils."

She gestured with her hand. "Is it really that delicious?"

"You smelled it, you tell me."

"I guess it's delicious."

Delia spoke Arabic at a rapid speed.

"What else is good to eat in China? I stayed in the royal palace in Oman for ten years, and all I ever ate was the same stuff. Grilled meat. Dates. Saffron rice. I'm sick of it. Do you Chinese people really eat everything?"

"Pretty much."

"Is pork really delicious?"

Li Li was silent for a second. "Are you a Muslim asking me if pork is good?"

"I am a spy. Spies don't have religious beliefs, only KPIs." Delia crossed her fingers and rested them on her knees. "Besides, I don't want to be a Muslim. My mother was a Christian."

Her Arabic paused for the briefest moment on the two syllables for "my mother."

Li Li's peripheral vision swept over her. He didn't press further.

"It's delicious." Li Li answered the question about pork. "Braised pork belly, sweet and sour pork ribs, twice-cooked pork—to ensure the pig dies a worthy death, Chinese people have invented at least three hundred ways to eat it."

Delia's eyes lit up. "I want to eat it."

"Fine, when this is over, I'll treat you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Depends on your performance."

Delia suddenly went quiet. Three seconds later. "Mr. Li." "Yeah." "Back in the bathroom, did you want to kill me?"

"I thought about it."

"And now?"

"Depends on the situation."

"If you don't want to kill me then—" Delia's Arabic became very slow, enunciating every single word. "Do you want to sleep with me?"

The Land Rover Defender swerved half a lane to the right. Li Li yanked the steering wheel back. "Are you crazy?"

"I'm serious." Delia raised her hand with the old scar and pointed outside the window. "We can pull over on the side of the road. The back seat has plenty of room. I don't mind."

Li Li stared ahead. "I don't want to."

"Why?"

"Because you're a spy. Sleeping with a spy is more thrilling than sleeping in the same bed as a hand grenade, but I've had enough thrills for one night."

"Oh."

"And you're still a princess."

"Isn't that even more thrilling?"

"But a 'Taiping Princess' is a different story."

"Hmph, men are all trash."

Delia turned her head and looked out the car window. The reflection of half her face was caught on the glass. The corners of her mouth pulled down in a very slight arc.

Regret. Extremely brief, extremely shallow. In the next second, it vanished without a trace.

Li Li kept his eyes on the road the whole time. The car drove past the Al Ain city boundary marker. The navigation showed the destination: Sultanate of Oman, coast of Masirah Island. Total distance: 703 kilometers. At a speed of 200, it would take about five hours.

Li Li floored the gas pedal. "Slow down," Delia said. "There's no time—" "There is time."

Delia fished an old Nokia out of her bathrobe pocket and pressed a few buttons. The screen lit up with a line of Arabic text.

"The people responsible for transporting your Miss Jiang were arranged by me. Two women, unarmed. The goal is a safe transfer, not kidnapping."

Li Li glanced at her. "You arranged this in advance?"

"I arranged three contingency plans." Delia turned the phone screen toward Li Li. "Starting from the spy list in the royal palace, I marked you and your Miss Jiang as 'untouchable'."

"Why?" "Because of you."

Li Li twisted his left wrist. "Since when did you start keeping an eye on me?"

"When you were chatting with Fahd about structural mechanics in Arabic at the banquet." Delia crossed her legs. "A non-celebrity contestant on a Dating Reality Show from Dongda, whose Arabic was pure enough to be an anchor on Al Jazeera. I thought to myself then, this person is either an idiot or a monster."

"And the conclusion?" "Both."

Li Li didn't respond. Delia tapped the car window with her nails. "Slow down. If we see food on the road, I want to stop."

"Seven hundred kilometers. No time—" "Your Miss Jiang is very safe. My people are guarding her there. Even if you rush over, you'll have to wait until dawn to take the ferry to the island."

She tilted her head and looked at Li Li. "And as for me, in your hands, I might not live to see tomorrow."

She said this very softly. So softly that it blended with the noise of the tires crunching over gravel, making it almost impossible to hear.

Li Li's foot moved back a centimeter from the gas pedal. The speed dropped from 220 to 140. "What do you want to eat?"

Delia smiled. The collar of her bathrobe slipped down a bit, but she didn't care. "Everything."

2:17 AM. A 24-hour gas station by the Oman border highway.

Delia stood in front of the shelves clutching a bag of potato chips and two bottles of mango juice. White bathrobe paired with flip-flops, hair half-wet. Under the pale light of the gas station, she looked exactly like a patient who had climbed over the wall of a mental hospital.

The Pakistani clerk behind the counter kept his head down the whole time.

Li Li stood by the door, letting the night wind blow on him. "Let's go."

"Wait!" Delia pointed to the top of the shelf. "That one, the Chinese supermarket."

Li Li looked in the direction she was pointing. Next to the gas station was a small shop with a sign that read "Fu Man Jia · Chinese Supermarket." The Chinese characters on the sign were handwritten and crooked. The light was actually still on.

Delia rushed over. Her bathrobe billowed in the night wind.

Ten minutes later, there was a woven bag in the back seat. Inside were: a bag of Haidilao spicy Hotpot base, two packs of wide glass noodles, a jar of Lao Gan Ma, a stainless steel soup spoon, a small portable aluminum pot, three cans of luncheon meat, and a bunch of bok choy.

Delia sat in the passenger seat, clutching that bag of Hotpot base for dear life. She flipped the package over and over three times, reading the Chinese characters and the ingredient list, even though she couldn't recognize a single one.

"Beef tallow." Li Li glanced at it. "The base is beef tallow."

"Is it spicy?" "Take a bite and you'll know."

Delia hugged the Hotpot base even tighter.

The road stretched infinitely into the night. The Gobi desert of the Sultanate of Oman spread to the horizon. No streetlights. Only the high beams of the Land Rover Defender cut through the long darkness.

Delia fell asleep against the car window. Her bathrobe was wrapped tightly around her body. Her breathing was steady. She was using the Hotpot base as a pillow for her face.

Li Li held the steering wheel with one hand. His gaze swept over the passenger seat.

After Delia fell asleep, all the madness and ruthlessness faded from her face, revealing a very young, thin, and weary profile underneath.

Li Li looked away, staring at the endless darkness ahead.

The sky began to break with white light. The sea breeze poured into the half-open window, carrying a salty, fishy dampness.

The Land Rover Defender stopped on a gravel beach. The coastline was three hundred meters ahead. Waves crashed against the black rocks, splashing white foam.

Delia woke up. She rubbed her eyes. "We're here." She pointed to the corner of the coastal road.

A white Mercedes G-Wagon was parked under a crooked coconut tree. The engine was off. The doors were shut tight.

Li Li parked the Land Rover fifty meters away. He drew the glock 17 and chambered a round.

"Don't be nervous." Delia pushed the car door open, her bare feet stepping onto the gravel. She walked toward the white G-Wagon. After a dozen steps, she turned back.

"Why don't you put the gun away? It wouldn't be good if you scared your Miss Jiang."

The driver's door of the white G-Wagon opened. A woman wearing a veil jumped out. Seeing Delia, she hurried over to meet her. The two exchanged a few words in very low Arabic. The veiled woman nodded. She walked around to the back seat and opened the door.

A pair of high heels with broken heels emerged first. The hem of a red haute couture dress was covered in dust. It was wrinkled. The hair that had been carefully styled in an updo was long gone, and her long hair hung over her shoulders in a tangled mess.

Jiang Rumu was helped out of the car. She stood on the gravel beach. The morning light hit her face. Her eyes were red. Her lips were chapped. There were visible tear tracks on her cheeks. But her back was straight. She looked up. Fifty meters away, a man in a tattered black LV suit, wearing a Kevlar bulletproof vest, his face covered in gunpowder smoke and blood, was leaning against the door of a black Land Rover Defender.

The two looked at each other across fifty meters of gravel and morning mist. Jiang Rumu froze in place. Her lips moved twice. No sound came out. Tears fell. Big, heavy drops landed on her chapped lips. She didn't wipe them. She didn't hide them. She just stood there.

"Why did you come?" Her throat was hoarse. Her voice shattered into pieces in the sea breeze.

Li Li holstered the glock 17, and Delia came over to tie his hands, as agreed on the road. He walked over. The gravel crunched under his feet. Fifty meters. Forty meters. Thirty meters.

Jiang Rumu bit her lower lip hard. Ten meters. Five meters. Li Li stopped. He stood in front of Jiang Rumu. The morning light stretched their shadows long.

Li Li raised both hands. His thumb wiped away a tear on her left cheek that was about to slide into the corner of her mouth. The thin calluses on his fingertips brushed against her skin. Rough, carrying the warmth of gunpowder residue.

"Because 'Li Li is with Mu'." Li Li pulled his hand back. "I haven't finished milking the traffic from this 'couple' yet, why are you running away?"

Jiang Rumu's tears fell even harder. She punched Li Li's bulletproof vest. It didn't hurt. But Li Li looked down. On the hem of the tattered LV black suit, next to the dried red oil stain from the Hotpot base, there was a small, wet fist print.

The sea breeze carried the sound of the waves. Delia leaned against the hood of the white G-Wagon, clutching the bag of Haidilao Hotpot base she had never let go of. She watched the two of them from afar. She lowered her head and buried her face into the package of Hotpot base. She smelled it for a long time.