The taxi driver handled everything swiftly. He obediently left Qi Min's two travel bags at Dewang Tobacco Shop, noting her phone number. Qin Guan transferred payment using her new number via WeChat, then blocked and deleted the driver.
Exiting the construction site, he lingered. He needed visual confirmation—he never left things to chance.
Dawn approached as he wandered nearby, discarding items from the canvas bag piecemeal: a comb tossed into a sewer grate outside a greasy diner, a toothbrush flung into another clogged drain filled with food scraps. Who would think to test DNA here?
By 5:30 AM, the sky brightened. Workers began trickling in for breakfast. Qin Guan blended into the crowd entering a grungy alley lined with food stalls. Men in hard hats, rickshaw drivers, office workers, and even a few punk-style youths with piercings from all-night gaming filled the space. No one glanced twice at his plain black tracksuit and weary face.
"Fresh fried buns?" a vendor called.
Qin Guan ignored the offer, eavesdropping on workers discussing the morning's cement pour. Reassured, he bought two buns and soy milk for cover, then slipped into the abandoned cinema across from the site.
Perched on the second-floor balcony, he watched the construction zone. At 6:20 AM, machinery roared to life. His heart pounded as the first slurry cascaded into the pit, burying the suitcases. Only after the second pour did he exhale.
Qi Min would now "take root" in this city—a dark joke flitted through his mind as he walked away, lighter than air.
Near a rundown rental house, he tossed his gloves into a coal stove's flames. They vanished in seconds.
Hunger struck. He devoured a bowl of beef noodles at a grimy shop he'd once avoided—no cameras here. The greasy table, coarse napkins, and steaming broth transported him back to his first days in the city, wide-eyed and ravenous.
By 7 AM, he returned home via a side entrance, avoiding the vigilant old guard. A young security guard chuckled at TikTok videos, oblivious.
Showered and in fresh clothes, Qin Guan arrived at the hospital bearing breakfast—sandwiches for Little Pear, spicy trotter noodles for Auntie Feng.
"Dad!" The groggy child reached for him.
He kissed her forehead. "We'll stay with Mommy until she's better."
Auntie Feng teared up at the steaming container. "Mr. Qin, you shouldn't have…"
He smiled. Crisis contained. The stage was set.