Chapter 247

Chapter 247: Reward

Yu Sheng stared as Bai Li Qing and Hunter greeted each other. The air went strangely still, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

He lasted about three seconds.

“Wait. I have a question!” he blurted.

Bai Li Qing turned to look at him.

“Hunter calls you Director?” Yu Sheng stared at the young-looking woman who didn’t even seem older than him. “Their squad went missing in the fairy tale seventy years ago—and you’re their Director?”

Bai Li Qing blinked. And maybe it was just his imagination, but Yu Sheng thought he saw the faintest hint of a victorious smile at her lips.

“That’s right,” she said, calm with a trace of teasing. “I’ve been in this position for a hundred years.”

“…How old are you?!” Yu Sheng blurted.

Bai Li Qing didn’t answer. She only gave him that almost-smile again, clearly enjoying his pain and clearly having no intention of rescuing him.

Yu Sheng gradually came to his senses and realized something he probably should’ve realized earlier: the Bai Li sisters weren’t normal. And the woman standing in front of him—one of the Borderland’s five great councilors, the one who controlled the entire Special Operations Bureau—likely couldn’t be considered purely human anymore.

Was it a special ability? A bloodline? Some kind of transformation from dealing with the otherworld and its entities?

Too many possibilities flooded his mind at once. He could’ve spun five different versions of the plot on the spot—minimum forty episodes, plus two bonus episodes—and none of them would get him an answer by asking directly.

So he didn’t push.

He spread his hands, and as he did, another detail finally clicked into place.

Back at the Special Operations Bureau, Bai Li Qing always called Second Squad Captain Song Cheng “Little Song.” It hadn’t sounded like a superior talking to a subordinate. It had sounded like an elder calling a junior—the kind of junior she’d taught personally. Yet Song Cheng was in his forties and looked nearly a generation older than Bai Li Qing.

“I really didn’t expect that,” Yu Sheng said, half sighing. “No wonder when you told me about what happened at the Orphanage back then and that coming-of-age plan, you always sounded like you’d lived it. You kept slipping into a tone like you were there.”

“You didn’t ask,” Bai Li Qing said lightly. Something wistful crossed her expression for an instant. “Yeah. That was a long time ago…”

She turned her head, looking at Hunter standing under the cloud-dark sky.

After a long while, she lowered her gaze as if searching for something on her person. Then she stepped forward and faced Hunter directly.

“When I saw you off back then,” she said slowly, “I said I would award you at the celebration banquet after the kids escaped safely.”

Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

“It’s many years late,” she continued, “but today really is a day to celebrate. Do you mind if there’s only one medal?”

Hunter didn’t speak. He simply straightened.

Even though he was nothing more than a battered set of hunter’s garb floating in midair, in that moment he stood as proud and upright as any soldier.

There was no stage. No flowers. No applause. No commanding officer. No comrades. It might have been the simplest award ceremony in the Special Operations Bureau’s history.

And yet, somehow, the simplicity felt deliberate—as if both of them had chosen it without needing to say so.

Bai Li Qing’s mouth curved into a faint smile as she carefully pinned a medal onto Hunter’s chest. A short sword and wreath were stamped into its surface, catching the firelight.

Fireworks rose, shrieking sharply as they burst, like the crack of Hunter firing a gun.

A huge ring of flame bloomed across the night curtain, spreading crown-like firelight across the entire sky.

The glow washed over Bai Li Qing’s face and spilled over Hunter, lighting the quiet patch of ground for a heartbeat.

Squirrel flinched at the booming sound, hunching her neck—but she still stared up, delighted. “Wow! So spectacular! This is even more spectacular than the earlier fireworks!”

Yu Sheng looked up too and muttered, “Of course it’s spectacular. That was a cruise missile.”

More fireworks shot up. In the middle of them, a sneaky fox tail launched itself skyward as well. The explosion made even the cloud layer ripple—thankfully, Yu Sheng was still controlling the clouds. Otherwise, if an overexcited nine-tailed fox fired two fox-carrot missiles into the sky, she might actually blow daytime back out.

Irene’s voice rang in Yu Sheng’s head. “Hey, hey, Yu Sheng—where’d you go? Silly Fox is going wild! She’s launching tail after tail into the sky, and there’s a whole bunch of human pups cheering her on!”

“It’s fine,” Yu Sheng replied, relaxed. “Let her have fun. I’ll be back in a bit. Anyway, tonight’s food is on the Special Operations Bureau. She can eat as much as she wants and fire as much as she wants.”

“You’ve got nerve being this relaxed!” Irene yelled. “She went to eat barbecue and the two people grilling can’t keep up with her! Just now she chewed through two metal skewers! And she’s stealing charcoal—red-hot charcoal, drenched in chili oil and wrapped with pork belly—”

Yu Sheng: “…”

Foxy was that fired up, huh?

He brushed Irene off with a few quick words, then turned to Hunter. “Want to come to the Plaza with us? Little Red Riding Hood and the others are still waiting to see you.”

Hunter hesitated. “The way we look now might scare the little kids who haven’t been exposed to the Black Forest yet.”

Yu Sheng laughed. “Now you’re overthinking. Are those normal kids? They’ve seen everything. Six-year-olds here dare to hang themselves on cruise missiles and fly into the sky. Come on. Let’s go.”

Hunter hesitated again. In the end, he stepped toward Yu Sheng.

Yu Sheng glanced at Bai Li Qing.

“…Fine,” she said, raising her hands in surrender. “Just so we’re clear, if it gets awkward, that’s not my fault.”

So they returned to the Plaza.

At the bonfire’s hottest blaze, Little Red Riding Hood saw Hunter and Squirrel—and whatever she’d been holding in her chest all night finally loosened.

It might have been the happiest moment of her evening.

Kids of all sizes rushed in. Some greeted Hunter, some peppered him with wildly random questions, and some simply hugged the floating, empty clothes as if they were hugging a person. Many of them were probably just curious—curious what, if anything, was “holding” the clothes up from inside.

But there was no fear. No recoil.

The tall figure, supported by twelve noble souls, even seemed a little lost.

Squirrel bounced from head to shoulder to head, thrilled beyond words. Clearly, she would be friends with everyone here within the hour.

Yu Sheng watched, satisfied.

Then he noticed something else: even beside such a lively bonfire, there was still a pocket of clear tranquility.

Within ten meters of Bai Li Qing, it was dead quiet. Only a few Special Operations Bureau personnel lingered nearby, faces stiff as if they were ready to deliver a work report at any second.

When Yu Sheng wandered over, Bai Li Qing said flatly, “I told you. But you wouldn’t believe me.”

Yu Sheng looked around and spread his hands, half laughing and half at a loss. “All right. I’ve seen it now. But how do you even do that?”

“Maybe my usual work style really does have some impact,” Bai Li Qing sighed. “But the bigger problem isn’t that.”

Yu Sheng raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Imagine a senior boss stationed in the same unit for a hundred years,” Bai Li Qing said. “She knows every department and every person. She knows everything you’ve done since the day you walked through the door—every mistake you’ve made. Your strengths, your weaknesses, your flaws, your talents. All of it watched and recorded, every moment, all the way until you retire.”

She paused, eyes steady.

“Then the next newcomer comes in and goes through the exact same experience. Until everyone treats it as one of the countless weird things in that building—a rules horror story they pass down like an inheritance from generation to generation.”

As she spoke, Bai Li Qing pointed at herself.

“…And that’s what you get.”

Yu Sheng had no words.

Bai Li Qing didn’t seem bothered. She dragged over a chair from the open ground—one that looked like it had been stolen from a castle banquet hall—sat down, and waved at the tense Bureau staff hovering nearby.

“All right,” she said. “Go do what you need to do. You don’t have to report to me here.”

They scattered as if granted a pardon.

Yu Sheng watched, weirdly moved. “You’re surprisingly chill about it.”

“I don’t mind,” Bai Li Qing said casually. “It improves the Special Operations Bureau’s efficiency to a certain degree, so I don’t plan to change it. The Bureau is a very special place. I need it to stay efficient and precise at all times. If they don’t fear me, then what many people have to face will be far worse.”

Yu Sheng didn’t argue. He dragged over another chair and sat beside her, and the two of them watched the Great Bonfire burn.

Nearby, the three Irenes were setting off small fireworks they’d begged from some unknown little kid.

Foxy had stolen a skewer from the grill and gnawed on it until her mouth shone with grease.

Squirrel was animatedly telling Princess Rapunzel about her heroic battle in the Black Forest against the shadow of Anka Aila—one bold storyteller, one fearless listener.

And Mermaid was still providing background music. That mouth of hers could make almost any sound. Right now, she sounded like a passionate orchestra. No one knew what she was so fired up about, but she was fired up.

It was nice.