Chapter 50: Bitter Swallow ·8

It was a summer night in 2022, and even at three-thirty in the morning, the ground was still scorching hot.

Meng Duimo woke from the heat to find himself curled up on a sycamore tree in the neighborhood.

The sparrow’s tiny bones hadn’t been fully digested, faintly prodding his belly.

He had no complaints about these unconscious jaunts away from home. He scratched the back of his head with the tip of his tail, yawned expansively, and prepared to head back.

In the next instant, a fierce gust of wind battered him. The emerald green snake, which had been sheltering from the heat in a high tree hollow, was yanked out like a length of sheep’s gut.

Meng Duimo’s breath caught. As he concealed his form, a strange sense of familiarity washed over him.

The laughing falcon’s tail feathers were long and elegant, but its body was slender—less than half a meter tall.

The nearly one-meter-long emerald green snake was still deep in slumber when its neck bone snapped with a faint crack, sending a flock of birds exploding into startled flight.

Before the ornate forest serpent could slip away unnoticed, the laughing falcon’s gaze locked onto him.

Its eyes burned with a raptor’s bloodlust, mingled with the scrutinizing intensity unique to humans.

The silver-and-black lin snake reared up, hissing sharply.

He had already spotted the silver ring dangling from the falcon’s ankle.

Clearly, the other was appraising his own neck ring in return.

The emerald green snake had long terrorized these woods, but now it lay gutted, its vivid red blood dripping in rivulets.

The flower hawk stared at Meng Duimo, impassively pecking at its fresh kill.

Its petite frame looked so innocent and pitiable—it should have been the green snake’s meal.

The reversal of predator and prey created a bizarre scene, one that Meng Duimo found oddly admirable.

Brother, nice moves.

You look like you’re enjoying that meal.

The next day at work, they crossed paths in the temporary task force.

Prosecutor Lin was a procurator dispatched from the Provincial Hall to oversee special cases at the city Procuratorate.

Word was he’d finished his doctorate young, carrying the air of an old-school scholar—nothing like the typical bureaucrat.

The leader was once again lecturing on the key investigative points of Xingqing City’s April 11 Major Smuggling Case. Most of the script was one Meng Duimo had slaved over through the night; after countless revisions, he could practically recite it in the leader’s exact cadence inside his head.

His post-transformation senses made his sense of smell acutely sharp. He caught the faint whiff of cigarette smoke on the cuffs of the person in front of him, the mint candy being snuck by someone in the back row, and… the falcon scent clinging to Prosecutor Lin.

It was a piercing sharpness, like a gale slicing through sycamore leaves.

To a snake’s heat-sensing pits, other humans registered as mildly warm presences, but Prosecutor Lin burned especially hot.

The man’s normal body temperature had to be around 104 degrees Fahrenheit.

As Meng Duimo mentally rehearsed the script’s transitional phrasing, his mind wandered: if Prosecutor Lin had a fever, brushing against his skin would probably feel like getting scorched.

The new workload crashed over them like a collapsing warehouse shelf. Once the leader departed, hundreds of cargo manifests and scanned documents began pouring in. There was far too much case material to verify; people murmured details back and forth, turning the stuffy, air-conditioned room oppressively tense.

Lin Shanyan was tasked with confirming the cross-border shipments. When he approached Meng Duimo with a stack of files, his gaze lingered.

“Have we met before?”

“In the Drug Manufacturing Case,” Meng Duimo replied. “You were doubling as the high-altitude spotter, and you saved my hide once. Yesterday… we crossed paths right when you were having dinner.”

Lin Shanyan seemed pleased with the tactful phrasing.

In truth, it wasn’t just these two encounters. Thanks to OAC, they’d collaborated on several cases.

The reason they weren’t better acquainted? Pure instinct.

Vampire love stories stayed confined to the movies—no human ever befriended a loaf of whole wheat bread.

The room buzzed with background chatter. As Meng Duimo met his eyes, he glimpsed the faintest crimson flecks in those human pupils.

“Your hunting form is beautiful,” he said. “Especially the instant you rip open the chest cavity.”

Lin Shanyan’s expression flickered. He glanced around with his peripheral vision to ensure no one had overheard, then frowned. “You some kind of freak?”

Meng Duimo replied evenly, “There are countless snake species out there. Cannibalism among them isn’t exactly headline news—no need for species loyalty.”

Ignoring the primal biological alarm bells, the young man leaned in closer. “Actually, you should keep your distance from me.”

Your kind’s on my menu, too.

They were so close that their cool breaths mingled and intertwined.

“Add me on WeChat?” Meng Duimo suggested.

Lin Shanyan let out a chuckle.

“Sure. If I’m ever short on groceries at home, I can invite you over to check out the kitchen.”

The case had begun when customs seized a shipment of smuggled luxury goods, including leather handbags and belts.

But the deeper they dug, the murkier it got—far beyond their initial expectations.

There were only a few crocodile and rhino skin products, but a staggering number of rare snakes had been slaughtered and trafficked.

Live golden pythons and the like were even being traded as mystical symbols of wealth, concealed amid other categories of merchandise.

The criminal police had to take over massive stacks of case files and conduct on-site interviews, while both provincial and municipal procuratorates dispatched personnel to untangle the intricate web of connections with Myanmar and Thailand.

Lin Shanyan pulled two all-nighters, combing through millions of words until he unearthed a single thread—a tiny line of fine print that hinted at irregularities beyond the scope of the official investigation plan.

Xingqing City produced nearly seventy percent of the nation’s plush toys, with wholesale markets dotting every street corner. Brand owners and online shop owners frequently dropped by to haggle over bulk orders.

Meng Duimo still had two witness statements left to complete, but he handed them off to a colleague and accompanied Lin Shanyan to the city’s largest toy wholesale market to follow up on the lead.

The weather was sweltering. Lin Shanyan wore a plain white cotton T-shirt. When he spotted Meng Duimo, his eyebrows twitched.

The man had traded his usual look for a full suit—tie and leather shoes included, even in thirty-six-degree heat.

If nothing else, it was a striking change from the scruffy cop. He suddenly carried an air of sharp elegance and refined poise.

Meng Duimo knew he was being stared at. He adjusted his tie with two fingers.

“Got to look the part of a businessman.”

Lin Shanyan gave a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No need to dress like some young lord slumming it incognito.”

Pretending to be there for a major bulk deal, the two men chatted with a few shop owners about market rates before doubling back to the second shop, where they’d haggled earlier. They let out a breath of relief and moved to place an order.

The shop owner was naturally thrilled. She was just about to pull out a contract when Meng Duimo cut in. “We should probably inspect the stock in your warehouse first.”

“These in the shop are well-made, solid materials. But I’m worried those dozens of truckloads in back might be hit or miss—could ruin my company’s reputation if they’re junk.”

“No problem at all. Come take a look,” the shop owner said casually. “Let me tell you, all the hundreds of shops around here share one big central warehouse. I’ve peeked at other folks’ goods plenty of times.”

“Either the stitching’s a total mess, or the stuffing’s laced with filth. If you’re not convinced, I’ll grab some scissors. Pick any two at random, and I’ll cut them open right there to show you the workmanship inside.”

They followed her to the massive warehouse next to the wholesale market.

They’d barely stepped inside when bread vans and small trucks began streaming out, all loaded to the brim with crates of packed plush toys.

Both men tensed, exchanging a loaded glance.

Lin Shanyan immediately messaged the task force, arranging for officers to intercept those vehicles—and to bring drug-sniffing dogs.

Meng Duimo toyed with his lighter and asked the boss offhandedly, “How’s business been these past few years, miss?”

“Domestic market’s not what it used to be, but overseas orders have picked up a lot,” she replied. “The shops next door are weird, though. Dead quiet usually—no customers even coming to check samples. But their monthly shipments are several times mine. No idea where they get their connections.”

She eyed Lin Shanyan and Meng Duimo appraisingly, then said forthrightly, “You two bosses—if your custom order’s big enough, I might not beat their prices, but I can guarantee quality goods. This plush toy business is murky these days. Plenty of folks stuffing teddy bears with waste rags and scraps.”

“Sounds good. After we check the warehouse, I’ll have a meeting with my company. Even if this deal falls through, I’ll send some other suppliers your way.”

The moment they entered the warehouse, the vibrant bustle of the market vanished, replaced by the dank chill of dust and shadows.

Every storage bay was locked tight, the lights dim and flickering. The atmosphere clashed sharply with the cheerful allure toys usually evoked.

Feather Descendants had an uncanny sensitivity to snakes, often sharper than the serpents themselves.

Lin Shanyan trailed behind the other two, ostensibly scrolling on his phone and even sending a few voice messages to a nonexistent girlfriend. In reality, he stayed close to the warehouse doors, probing each one.

He could clearly sense that many snakes were hidden nearby—both by their aura and the primal tension of a predator in proximity.

Some warehouse doors stood wide open, workers hustling to load goods.

The shop owner halted, her tone tinged with envy. “Brother Jia landed another big order?”

“You bet. Been loading since yesterday—three shifts and still not done.”

The worker knew her and greeted her warmly. “You know how it is—most shops max out at a dozen trucks. Brother Jia’s like he struck it rich this month. Thirty-plus trucks.”

The shop owner huffed in mock anger. “Then he better treat the neighbors to a few feasts! Next mahjong game, I’ll clean him out!”

Meng Duimo thought to himself, Of course he’s dumping stock in a hurry. With the police cracking down this hard, delay any longer and he’ll lose his entire investment.

Pretending interest in the shipment, he ran his hand along the crates.

The moment he sensed the faint presence of pythons, the man whipped around, his face twisting with a mix of reluctance and fury.

Lin Shanyan gave a slight nod and hastened to call for backup.

This case was proving even thornier than anticipated.

That very afternoon, the entire Central Warehouse was sealed off for a full inventory sweep, the barking of police dogs echoing through every corner.

Thousands upon thousands of contraband snakes lay hidden inside plush toys, poised for shipment to every corner of the world.

OAC hadn’t anticipated the case escalating to this degree. They urgently dispatched six officers as special investigators to comb through the serpents, checking for any humans whose neck rings had been illegally removed.

Outside the warehouse, the night hung heavy as ink; inside, harsh lights blazed relentlessly.

Countless teddy bears and fluffy lambs had their exteriors sliced open, exposing the little snakes within—some still locked in deep hibernation, others gasping their last feeble breaths.

Meng Duimo exchanged a few words with OAC’s colleagues before grabbing bags of late-night snacks and heading to the temporary command post to find Prosecutor Lin.

This was a massive undertaking, the kind that had even the bureau’s police dogs twitching their noses in excitement from the scent alone.

“Prosecutor Lin, how about some skewers to tide you over before you dive back in?”

He pushed open the door, only to hear the faint rhythm of steady breathing.

The young man lay asleep at the table, surrounded by towering stacks of reports.

His eyelashes draped over his eyes like delicate wings, his face a fragile pallor of cold ivory, as if fashioned from porcelain that might shatter at the slightest touch.

Meng Duimo stood there for several seconds, grilled quails in hand, and felt his appetite sharpen noticeably.

Lin Shanyan opened his eyes, traces of exhaustion lingering in their depths.

“Something you need?”

“Nah, just brought some drinks and snacks.” Meng Duimo tilted his head. “Prosecutor Lin, you’re easy on the eyes. You single?”

Lin Shanyan accepted the energy drink and downed nearly half the bottle in one go, then brushed the droplet from his lips with the back of his hand.

“Single. And?”

The man shrugged.

“Good to know. I’ve been wondering if I should ask you out.”