The Game

“Just an ordinary marble.” Wen Yiqian laughed without holding back.

He took a phone out of his pocket. This was the real trigger.

Earlier, he had kept the marble visible in one hand, letting everyone fix their attention on it. The actual detonator had been in his other hand, working the phone inside his pocket the whole time.

“Damn it! Are you messing with me?”

Monkey had always run hot. Being played like this pushed him over the edge. He lunged forward and seized a hostage.

“Aren’t you here to negotiate? I’ll kill one first and see how you explain that!” He pressed the gun against the hostage’s temple, murder in his eyes, finger moving toward the trigger.

“I’d advise against that,” Wen Yiqian said, his voice drifting in calmly from the doorway. “Or you’ll all die in here.”

“You think I scared easy?” Monkey’s neck stiffened, a vein pulsing at his temple. “If I don’t kill someone today, call me your son!”

“Monkey, stop!” Monk, who had been on the floor, shouted and hauled himself upright. “Calm down. This isn’t the moment.”

Monkey hesitated, then eased his finger off the trigger. The gun stayed pressed against the hostage’s head.

“Who exactly are you?” Monk turned to face Wen Yiqian.

“Can we finally negotiate?” Wen Yiqian nodded and tapped his phone screen.

The small device on the floor beeped and lit up, a countdown appearing on its display.

4:59

4:58

4:57

…

“What is that?” Monk asked, his voice going flat.

“Our negotiation window,” Wen Yiqian said pleasantly. “If I don’t get the result I want in five minutes…”

“Ha.” Monkey’s sneer was dismissive. “Trying to scare us again? You wouldn’t dare.”

His eyes narrowed. “Even if you don’t care about these hostages, aren’t you afraid of dying with them?”

“I should introduce myself properly.” Wen Yiqian smiled. “I’m not actually a police officer. I’m a death row inmate.”

He straightened his tie. “They told me that if I could get all these people out alive, they’d take the death penalty off the table.”

His gaze swept across the room, cold and unhurried. “Which means if any one of these people gets killed by you, I’m finished either way. At that point, I’ll make sure every last one of you comes with me.”

The robbers couldn’t tell whether he was lying.

His expression gave nothing away. No guilt, no tells.

And when they thought about it: if he were a real police negotiator, he never would have done what he just did. Even if it somehow worked, he wouldn’t be thanked for it. The hostages alone would bury him in complaints.

More than that, this man radiated something wrong.

Morbid. Unhinged. Completely indifferent to whether anyone lived or died.

Everything about him ran counter to what a police officer was supposed to be.

Taken together, the robbers found themselves believing him more than they wanted to.

Monkey felt cold sweat sliding down his back. It was lucky Monk had called him off when he did. If he had actually pulled that trigger, there would have been nothing left to negotiate, and the consequences of that didn’t bear thinking about.

“Bring your squad leader here and I’ll release all the hostages,” Monk said, eyes flickering.

“He doesn’t have the nerve. That’s why he sent me. Save your breath,” Wen Yiqian replied.

“Then there’s nothing to discuss. We want your squad leader. Until then, no one leaves,” Monk said.

“Fine. We wait.” Wen Yiqian crossed his arms, completely unbothered. “I’m already a dead man. It’s been nice coming out to play.”

The standoff held. Seconds accumulated into minutes. The air inside the bank grew tighter with each one.

When the countdown hit three minutes, the robbers began to crack.

Their pulse quickened without their permission. The sensation of death edging closer was a specific kind of torment, slow and impossible to ignore.

Finally, Monk bent down and threw something through the entrance.

“Nice throw.”

Wen Yiqian caught it, smiled across at them, and set it on the threshold with the countdown facing inward.

“You’re all trapped in here, but it’s not completely hopeless,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “For instance… you could kill me.”

The robbers hadn’t even had time to despair. The hostages were already falling apart.

These were ordinary people. Their reserves of composure had long since run dry. Some wept. Some begged. Some hurled curses into the air. The room descended into noise.

“Shut up! All of you!” Monkey fired a shot at the ceiling. “One more sound and I shoot someone!”

The room quieted, though soft crying continued underneath.

“Release some of them,” Monk said. “Two or three hostages is enough. This many is more trouble than it’s worth.”

Before Monkey could agree, Wen Yiqian spoke. “No.”

“What?” Monkey stared at him. “We’re offering to let people go and you’re turning it down?”

“Games are more fun with more players.” Wen Yiqian’s smile was bright and guileless.

“Are you insane?” Monkey’s voice was edged with something close to genuine disbelief.

“If a single hostage walks out that door,” Wen Yiqian said, the smile fading into something that was much harder to look at, “none of you leave until I’ve had my fill.”

The hostages went very still, unsure what to do with that.

“We’ve actually found ourselves a real lunatic,” Monkey muttered, sidling up to Monk. “What do we do?”

Monk badly wanted to snap back how should I know, but this wasn’t the moment for that. He glanced down at his phone, expression complicated.

If he could reach that person, he wouldn’t have to think through this alone. With their capabilities, a solution would already be in hand.

The countdown stood at one and a half minutes.

The pressure was physical now, like heat against the skin.

But Monk quietly slipped back behind cover, eyes fixed on his screen.

Because somewhere between one moment and the next, the signal had come back.

(End of Chapter)