Qin Shoujiang went blind and retired. Everyone thought he was finished.
Only the ragdoll cat he took in seemed a little strange.
It wrote in his palm with its paw: “The water is poisoned.”
It knocked his leg aside as a bullet came flying: “Three o'clock.”
In a burning building, it brought him a detonator, its amber eyes reflecting the face of his enemy.
When his enemies surrounded the house and all hope seemed lost, the cat leapt onto his bloodstained shoulder.
This time, with the bloody tip of its paw, it traced something on the floor that wasn't an order anymore,
but a name, the name of someone who should have died three years ago.
“The traitor in Operation Night Owl is your brother.”
Qin Shoujiang's empty eyes “looked” toward the cat on his shoulder.
“Who are you, really?”
The cat didn't answer. It only rubbed its head gently against the scar on his jaw.
Then, in an extremely halting, hoarse breath of a human girl, it whispered in his ear:
“Take me... home.”
