"How did you know I was at the State University?" Xu Le asked, his head lowered.
Li Wei, oblivious to his companion's somber tone, grinned and replied, "You joined the repair shop. Word got around. I figured it wouldn't cause much trouble, but since it's something you worked so hard to make, I thought you should know."
No trouble? Really?Xu Le asked himself, but found no clear answer.The stun baton had incorporated some military-standard techniques. If the police decided to dig deeper, would it eventually lead to him—and worse, to Uncle Feng? Would they uncover his deserter status?
He should have been angry at Li Wei for losing the baton—he'd warned him repeatedly not to—but looking at Li Wei's exhausted yet contented face, Xu Le's resentment softened. He'd heard the orphans had been fighting over turf the past month. Maybe they were all just worn out.
Military-grade weapons leaking into the black market wasn't uncommon. The baton, hidden inside a crystal-scroll casing, was cleverly concealed. It shouldn't attract too much attention—at least that's what Xu Le told himself. He patted Li Wei's shoulder and said seriously, "Just pretend you never saw it. But still, like I've always told you—quit thinking about fighting all the time. Sooner or later, you'll need to find a real job."
"A real job? In Donglin? Have you seen what those students were yelling about during the protest today? Unemployment's hit thirty percent, and that's not even counting the older folks laid off after the collapse of the Crystal Mining Consortium." Li Wei tousled his messy golden curls, his voice firm. "I want to make something of myself. I'm not living off government welfare my whole life."
"Protest?" Xu Le was taken aback.Political unrest was rare in Donglin District. The last major event had been the incident on Clocktower Street. He hadn't expected students to be out marching instead of studying.
"A lot of people went just to watch. Word is, the Veterans' Association organized it," Li Wei said, shifting the heavy stack of books in his arms and heading toward the street. "Apparently, something went wrong with the capital ring's election. The opposition claims fraud. They're calling for a federation-wide protest."
"Oh." Xu Le gave a half-hearted response, weighed down by his own concerns.
He and Li Wei—orphans both—had no interest in politics. They kept their distance, wary and uninvolved. Yes, inequality ran deep in the Federation: the seven great houses enjoyed a life far better than the common folk. And yes, oppression often wore the mask of law and justice. But what did that have to do with them? They were born into injustice. It was their norm. Rage didn't come easy.
Back at the repair shop on Fourth Street, Orchid Avenue, Xu Le hesitated before telling Uncle Feng—the shop owner—about the baton being intercepted by the police. To his surprise, the older man showed no concern at all, as if confident that his identity as a fugitive military mechanic would never be exposed.
And for a while, he was right.In the following days, aside from the uproar over the nationwide protests, nothing of note happened in Donglin. The use of military-grade weapons in gang disputes was far from unusual. It was background noise in a society like theirs. No high-ranking official would bother looking into a small-time repair shop.
Yet Xu Le remained cautious. A nagging unease lingered, like a shadow he couldn't shake. That baton—now in police hands—might still come back to haunt him. He didn't know how serious the trouble might be, but it prompted him to resume training in the old movement routine. He returned to the mines, practicing among stray cats, dancing that stiff, awkward dance again and again.
One day, drenched in sweat, he heard Uncle Feng scoff from the doorway, "Didn't you always say that individual strength is useless in the face of metal and machinery?"
Xu Le kept his eyes shut, focusing on every twitch of muscle, every tremble in his body, trying to understand their purpose. His voice was strained as he replied, "I still believe that. But if the police really come for us and you don't have the money to outfit me with a mech… not that I'd use one even if you did… what other choice do I have, except to get stronger?"
"You're still worried about that baton?" Feng frowned. He didn't understand why the boy was so cautious by nature. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. "Don't forget the chip in your neck. Under the First Charter, if the police wanted you arrested, where would you even run? Become a refugee in Bermuda? Flee to the Empire and be branded a traitor?"
The Federation's surveillance network theoretically left no room for criminal activity to go unnoticed.But Xu Le wasn't flustered. He replied with quiet confidence, "The gangs are still here. You're still alive, and you're a military deserter. I trust you've got a way out."
"What a bold claim. If anyone could remove their tracking chip without alerting the surveillance net, they'd win a Nebula Prize." Feng's smile turned a little mocking. "You just turned sixteen last week. How is it that you're even more paranoid than an old man like me? It's absurd."
Xu Le shot back, "Don't forget those rotten teeth of yours. You went through all that trouble for new dental records just so the military and government wouldn't catch you. And you still have the nerve to mock me for being cautious?"
Feng shook his head, chuckling without argument.
The days passed in quiet monotony. Even Xu Le began to feel like he was overreacting.
Neither he nor Feng realized that somewhere else in the city, someone else was also troubled by that very same baton.
Deputy Commissioner Bao Longtao of the Second Police Division had seen his influence steadily decline ever since the embarrassing incident involving the Governor's Office months ago.
"Filing a report just to requisition a piece of evidence? And the approval takes two months?" Bao stared at the vacuum-sealed metal shaft on his desk, laughing bitterly. A year ago, a man of his rank wouldn't have needed to jump through such hoops.
The thought stoked his simmering resentment toward those damned orphans. If not for what happened on Clocktower Street, his transfer request would've been approved by now. He wouldn't be sitting here ignored by the capital ring's powerful families.
Still, Bao had refrained from taking action against them. He couldn't shake the image of that night—the face under the cap. What if that really was a federal agent?
He slipped on gloves, took the baton from the bag, and squinted at the delicate electric core inside. Could it be the same kind of weapon the agent had carried?
Military tech showing up on the black market wasn't rare, but it was expensive. Could a group of street orphans really afford something like this?
After a long moment of silence, Bao made up his mind. He would look into it. Not personally, of course—he wasn't that reckless. But he wanted to confirm whether a federal agent had truly entered Hexi Province.
He still had contacts in the capital ring—friends in the research institutes. They might help.Filling out the outer envelope with a recipient address, Bao instructed his assistant to mail the baton to the Identification Department at Institute 17, Shanglin District.
This fallen deputy commissioner had no idea that his small, cautious move would soon ripple outward—changing the future of the entire Federation.