The smaller matters—getting into the house, finding Bai Xue without him noticing, killing him without getting caught—these were too insignificant for him to even consider. Even the matter of whether he would be able to kill him at all wasn’t a question; of course he would kill him. Of course he would reduce Bai Xue to a bloody mess only barely reminiscent of a human. Of course he would be able to go back to Xiaokai and tell him with absolute confidence that Bai Xue was never going to hurt him again, never going to touch him, never going to even look at him ever again. His confidence was something akin to arrogance, as if he had the gods himself on his side, but really if he stopped to think about it, he would fully believe such a thing. There was another ‘of course’: of course the gods would favor him, be on his side, guide the weapon in his hand to the flesh of Bai Xue’s terrible body. If it occurred to him somewhere in the storm of his mind that the gods were at all a part of this situation, he wouldn’t even bother to pray to them. There would be no point. It was Weiran’s god-given purpose to strike Bai Xue down.

There was no question in Zhu Weiran’s mind, not in any form. There was only certainty, determination.

The location was, unsurprisingly, very near to that restaurant where Weiran had seen Liu Baiyan—and Bai Xue, he had realized, though at the time Bai Xue’s figure was a distant detail when Liu Baiyan had been so tantalizingly close. Because it was in the middle of an older part of town, that meant there was no gate to get through, and no camera to see him—not that either of things occurred with any real significance in Weiran’s mind. He found a parking spot quickly and pushed his way out of the car. It was snowing. If there was any sense left in Weiran’s mind, that might have been an omen, but he barely noticed it—barely noticed the cold at all.

He went to the door. Grabbed the doorknob.

Locked, of course. He took a step back, assessed the door, and then slammed his foot into it as hard as he could. The wood gave a groan. He kicked at it again. If Bai Xue was in there, he reasoned, he wouldn’t even call the police on him—wouldn’t risk exposing himself. Whether this was true didn’t matter either way to Weiran. He kicked harder than before. The door splintered with another terrible groan, and then with another kick it collapsed against his force.

“What in the world?”