"I am no death-sworn soldier. Have you got the wrong man? I may not be able to do anything to you, but you have no right to demand anything of me either. Don't forget — until your second-in-command is released, you won't be setting off those explosives so easily!"

"That much you've got right." The man was entirely at ease, the look of a man certain of victory. "But I can play with your woman, can't I? If you don't do as I say, believe me, I'll start this very moment."

"You ..." Wei Zhao stared at the man with bloodshot eyes, fire all but bursting from them. "Don't push a man past bearing!"

"I'm pushing you. So what? What are you going to do about it, hmm? What can you do?" The man watched Wei Zhao with the face of a scoundrel. "If you want to die, hurry up and die. I said we were playing a suicide game — you're the one who failed to understand. Who else is there to blame? Had I known, I'd have spun out a few more pointless words for you. On the count of three, take off your shirt, stand before me, and drive the knife into your heart. Otherwise, don't blame me for touching your girlfriend."

"Mmm — mmm —" This time Feng Xiaoxiao was truly frantic. Whatever Wei Zhao's original intent, the situation had plainly slipped from its rails. The man clearly meant to put Wei Zhao to death, and if Wei Zhao really did as he was told, what road to life could there be?

With a knife driven into the heart, how could a man live? How could Feng Xiaoxiao stand by and watch Wei Zhao do such a foolish thing?

Yet she could not utter a single word; only meaningless muffled sounds would come.

Wei Zhao drew a deep breath, lifted his head to the man, and asked with a grave expression, "If I do as you say, will you let Xiaoxiao go? Not touch her?"

"I will. I may not be a good man, but my credit is sound enough." The man nodded.

"If Uncle Feng releases your second-in-command on his end, will you let Xiaoxiao go, let her leave unharmed?" Wei Zhao asked.

"Naturally." The man said, "If your people truly release the second-in-command, then the moment he is out of danger he will contact me, and I will release Xiaoxiao. Rest assured — we may be a terrorist organization, but we do keep our word. Yes is yes, no is no."

"Good. In that case, I accept your terms." Wei Zhao drew a deep breath, cast Feng Xiaoxiao a glance of tragic resolve, and a bleak smile crossed the corner of his mouth. "Xiaoxiao, take care of yourself."

"Mmm — mmm —" Feng Xiaoxiao grew frantic, struggling with all her strength to work the towel out of her mouth — but how could that be something she could spit out by her own effort?

Wei Zhao smiled and nodded to Feng Xiaoxiao, then began to undo the buttons of his shirt. "The shirt has to come off? Can't it go in through the cloth?"

"Take it off! I have to see the position of the heart clearly." The man plainly did not trust Wei Zhao, afraid he might play some trick.

Wei Zhao said no more, but went on unbuttoning, until the last button came loose. He pulled off the shirt, baring powerful, well-built arms.

"Well, well — I hadn't noticed. Quite the muscles on you. Looks as though I guessed right: you really are police, or one of the Mysterious Investigation Bureau." The man sounded rather pleased with himself. "How could an ordinary man have pectorals and abs like that?"

"Hmph." Wei Zhao gave a noncommittal grunt, said nothing further, and tossed the shirt onto the ground.

"Good. You seem obedient enough. Now pick up the long knife in front of you and settle it yourself." The man nodded in satisfaction.

Wei Zhao said nothing either, but silently picked up the long knife from the ground and held it in his hand, as though examining how sharp it was.

"Come closer. Kill yourself in front of me." The man ordered.

Holding the long knife, Wei Zhao obediently stepped closer.

"That will do. Now raise the knife and drive it into your own heart." The man commanded.

"Remember your promise." Wei Zhao looked at the man, then looked at Feng Xiaoxiao.

"Don't you worry about that. Hurry it up, don't dawdle — be careful I don't change my mind." A bloodthirsty gleam came into the man's eyes. "Don't wait until our second-in-command is out of danger only to find that I've chosen to blow the two of you up together."

Wei Zhao nodded, raised the long knife, and the tip of the blade was aimed exactly at the place where his heart was.

"Wait — let me see a little more clearly." The man gestured for Wei Zhao not to act rashly; he wanted to check whether the spot beneath the blade was indeed the heart.

"I can still tell where my own heart is," Wei Zhao said mildly.

"Mm, good, that's the place." The man nodded in satisfaction.

"Mmm —" Feng Xiaoxiao was truly frantic now. She had never imagined that Wei Zhao would really choose suicide.

Why would Wei Zhao do this? No. Absolutely not. She was not worth so much from him. In that instant tears burst from Feng Xiaoxiao's eyes. She was a girl who did not easily weep, yet in this moment the bitterness in her heart was more than she could master, and the tears came.

She was a person who was going to die anyway — how was she worth such a thing from Wei Zhao? And besides, her purpose in being with Wei Zhao from the very beginning had not been pure; she had approached him with thoughts of revenge. She was a person who deserved punishment, and yet she had dragged Wei Zhao down to suffer alongside her.

No. Absolutely not.

But from Feng Xiaoxiao's mouth there came only meaningless sounds — not one complete word could she form.

"What a moving scene." The man looked at Feng Xiaoxiao's grief-stricken face, and the smile at the corner of his mouth deepened. "All right, boy, you may begin."

Wei Zhao nodded, raised the long knife, aimed it at his heart, and abruptly drove it in.

The long knife did not pause. It passed through Wei Zhao's chest and emerged from his back — just as the man had said: Wei Zhao had run himself clean through, a chill piercing him from end to end.

No! Feng Xiaoxiao screamed within her heart.

Could this, too, be a stratagem of Wei Zhao's? In her despair Feng Xiaoxiao had to comfort herself: perhaps this was a trick of his, and the instant the blade entered his body he would strike.

But when she saw the long knife pass through Wei Zhao's body, her despair was complete. Wei Zhao had truly done it. He had truly chosen suicide.

What was the use, and what the need?

"Mmm — mmm —" Feng Xiaoxiao wanted to cry out, to stop him, to run over and hold Wei Zhao — but she was powerless, watching with her own eyes as the one she loved took his own life before her for her sake. Feng Xiaoxiao's grief was beyond all enduring.