Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 345

The next moment, he had already skipped over to his desk and placed the important file down. Zhao grabbed a
thick book from the bottom drawer underneath his office desk and flipped to the page he knew best. As his finger
went down the list, just like a cursor scrolling down a page, it landed on the one name he despised most with a
burning passion. It couldn’t be a coincidence – his surname matched the first characters on each of the discovered
rings. The angered general closed the book shut, then hurried out of his office to alert the other officers, closing
the door with a slam behind him. A title was printed onto the thick book in huge golden font, which now lay on
the desk. It read: “Record of Previous and Current Officers of the Shanghai Municipal Police”.
A black mask and officer’s cap concealed the cunning face hidden beneath. He crouched to catch a better view of
the city down below. His movements were swift, almost as though he was in a hurry to escape. Beads of sweat had
started to trickle down his forehead and the sides of cheeks from embarking on the perilous journey to the top of
the hill. As the blazing orange sun glared at him from above, he heaved heavily and zipped his case open, revealing
a sniper rifle. The man assembled his weapon with ease, then propped it up onto the tallest rock towards the edge
of the mountain and cautiously took aim. As time started to tick away, the man crouched closer and closer. One
final time, the man surveyed the street down below, peering through his weapon to set his target in his sights. His
right hand wrapped itself around the pistol grip. On the index finger of his right hand was an emerald ring which
smelled of lavender.
“Stand still! Hands up! Don’t move!” the general’s voice rang. A swarm of officers closed in on the masked man,
gathering into position and pointing their guns at the target.
“General Zhao, what a pleasure it is to meet you here,” a distinct, familiar voice replied. The man in black lifted
his disguise over his head, unveiling a face wounded with many deep gashes and scars. The top of his head was
bald, where the sunlight glinted off his scalp. A disorderly, misshapen beard outlined the sides of his tough jaws.
Cold eyes which could freeze a person on the spot scowled menacingly at the general, looking as though he was
daring him to make the first move.
“General Shan, I should have known it was you. I’ve wondered where you’ve hid all these years.” Zhao cursed
himself under his breath. He watched carefully with his gun still raised, as Shan lightly bounced backwards with his
toes, heading towards the edge. Right when General Zhao was about to surrender, his enemy swung the perched
sniper rifle around and released a barrage of shots, sweeping his weapon across the group of surrounding officers.
Immediately, officers and Zhao flung themselves to the ground. A few officers were injured and retreated to
receive treatment. The arc of officers, including the general, started to fire back. Bullets ricocheted everywhere.
Within the flying frenzy, General Zhao blindly took aim. His shot pinged through mid-air, then hit its target right
in the middle of Shan’s chest, just to the left of his heart. A shocked, contorted expression formed on Shan’s face.
He stumbled back, and his heel tripped over the tip of an unnoticeable rock. General Shan fell backwards, and the
back of his head smacked against the rock, splitting his skull open.
As blood poured out through the open wound, Shan tumbled over the edge of the mountain, plummeting
towards his certain death down below.