Chapter 113

Surveillance footage froze on a glint at the end of the Night School corridor; Zhao Jianguo was about to zoom in on the detail when the check-in system on his wrist buzzed. A piercing alarm blared without warning, red lights flashed in succession, and a line of text popped up on the screen: "Technical homogenous entity is approaching, distance 500 meters."

He sprang to his feet, the chair was dragged back a bit and hit the wall with a thud.

"Who?" he instinctively barked, then realized the question had no answer. The system had never mentioned another "homogenous entity," let alone automatically locking onto a target approaching. He quickly grabbed the palm-sized black box on the desk corner—the signal jammer—stuffed it into his pocket, and rushed to the window in a few steps.

He pulled the curtain open a slit, diagonal rain streaks hit the glass, and a person stood under the streetlamp at the alley mouth.

Chen Jianguo.

His suit was immaculate, his tie perfectly knotted, but his right hand was shoved in his pocket, his posture stiff. He seemed to have been waiting a while; his shoulders were soaked, his hair dripping, yet he didn't move. Noticing the commotion here, he slowly lifted his head, his gaze locking directly onto Zhao Jianguo's eyes.

At the instant their eyes met, the alarm cut off abruptly.

The screen returned to calm, as if what had just happened were an illusion.

Zhao Jianguo didn't loosen his grip, his knuckles still pressing against the curtain edge. He knew this wasn't an illusion. The system wouldn't false alarm, nor would it act at a time like this. He stared at the person outside, who also stood motionless, as if waiting for a response.

Zhao Jianguo stepped back half a pace, tapping three times on the side of his watch. This was the prearranged signal they'd agreed on—the non-verbal communication activation key. The system switched to low-frequency pulse mode, and a burst of Morse code was quietly sent: "Safe?"

A few seconds later, Chen Jianguo outside the window lightly brushed his left hand over his cuff, his fingertip tapping twice almost imperceptibly.

The response came: "The system is under control; do not connect to the network; they are using me to find you."

Before his words finished, he had already turned, preparing to leave.

Zhao Jianguo immediately pulled open the side door, leaned out, and said, "Come in and we'll talk."

Chen Jianguo paused, glanced back at him with a complex look—like hesitation, like warning—but he ultimately lowered his head and stepped inside, his leather shoes making a soft sound on the threshold.

The room's light was dim yellow; Zhao Jianguo casually shut the door and locked it. He didn't turn on the main light, only switched on the corner desk lamp, its glow just enough to make out a face.

"You're injured," he said.

Chen Jianguo didn't deny it, slowly pulling a handkerchief from his inner suit pocket, half of it already stained dark red. He didn't wipe it, just clenched it in his hand.

"Just coughed up," his voice low, "not an old injury, but a system backlash. They've taken over my terminal and are reading all my records—including our communication logs."

Zhao Jianguo's brow jumped: "Can you cut it off?"

"Can't," Chen Jianguo shook his head, "the permission is locked down. Every time I get closer to you, your coordinate exposure probability rises by seven points. Stay another ten minutes and they'll be able to pinpoint this place exactly."

"So you came on purpose?" Zhao Jianguo understood, "Using yourself as bait to force the system to alarm?"

"Otherwise, how would you believe me?" Chen Jianguo tugged at the corner of his mouth, a bit bitter, "If I'd just knocked on the door and said 'I've been hacked,' your first reaction would surely be it's fake. But now, it's your own system that sounded first."

Zhao Jianguo said nothing, turned and walked to the workbench, opened an iron box, and took out a silver crystal the size of a fingernail cap. This was a backup module he'd secretly made a few days earlier, originally intended for emergencies, but he'd never had the chance to activate it.

"This is a mirror copy of my system," he said while inserting the crystal into the data cable and working quickly, "I've copied the main interface, login traces, and recent scan records into it, making a fake terminal. As long as you carry it with you, the data they read will be this."

Chen Jianguo watched his movements: "What if they discover it's fake?"

"Then it shows they don't just want to locate me," Zhao Jianguo lifted his head, "they also want to copy my system. If that's really the case, we'll have to change the game."

Once the crystal was written, he pulled it out and handed it over: "Hide it well. Don't connect to the network, don't trigger the scan function, and preferably don't let it sense any external signal."

Chen Jianguo took it, glanced at it, then bent down, untied his right shoelace, slipped the crystal into the shoe's insole layer, and retied it.

"I'll head to the southern old factory district," he said, "the signals there are chaotic, surveillance sparse, good for shaking off a tail. I'll buy you twelve hours."

"Enough," Zhao Jianguo nodded, "as soon as they start reading this fake data, I'll have a chance to trace back their access node."

Chen Jianguo stood up, suddenly pressed his hand against the desk edge, and his body swayed.

"Can you still hold on?" Zhao Jianguo reached out to steady him.

"I won't die," he gasped, "each time the system is remotely invoked, my body feels like someone's stirring a knife inside me. But..." he paused, "next time we meet, don't believe any sudden 'future information' that pops up—like new blueprints or technical parameters, even if they look genuine—they're very likely forged by them to lure you in."

"Got it," Zhao Jianguo patted his shoulder, "come back alive."

Chen Jianguo didn't respond, just nodded, turned, and walked toward the door.

The door opened a crack, rain still falling. He stepped out, his silhouette quickly merging into the night.

Zhao Jianguo didn't shut the door right away; instead he stood where he was, staring at the ground for a moment. Where Chen Jianguo had stood just before, there was a wet footprint, its edges slightly darkened, as if something had been mixed in. He crouched, rubbed a bit of dirt with his fingertip, and brought it to his nose.

It wasn't ordinary rainwater smell.

He immediately went back inside, took a small bottle from the drawer, sealed the dirt-stained tissue inside. Then he unplugged all external cables from the laboratory—router, phone line, even the signal coupler beside the breaker—removing them and tossing them into a metal box.

The backup power kicked on, the screen lit up, and the system entered offline mode.

He opened the encrypted log, found the Morse response he'd just received, and transcribed it verbatim. Then he pulled up the system's underlying protocol and began comparing all anomalous processes since early this morning.

Ten minutes later, he discovered an unfamiliar command sequence in a hidden log:

【Synchronization Request｜Source Unknown｜Target Terminal: FGJ-001 (this machine)｜Timestamp: 23:17】

Exactly seventeen seconds before the alarm sounded.

He snorted, extracted that code alone, created a virtual sandbox environment, and prepared to run it to see where the source lay.

At that moment, his watch vibrated once.

Not an alarm, but an offline message.

From Chen Jianguo's watch terminal, only a few short characters:

"They let me see your room layout."

Zhao Jianguo's finger paused.

He jerked his head up toward the doorway—there it was quiet as usual, the lock intact, no one had entered.

But he knew this wasn't a threat.

The other party not only could remotely control Chen Jianguo's system, but also make him "see" what he shouldn't know. Either through some visual data-sharing protocol, or... they had actually been to this place before, having recorded a 3D model.

He quickly shut off all cameras, even taping over the indicator lights on the backup power supply.

The room plunged into total darkness, only the screen faintly glowing blue.

He sat back down in the chair, his fingers flying over the keyboard faster and faster. While parsing that synchronization request, he pulled up the building floor plan and mentally simulated possible intrusion routes.

If the other party had truly made a physical intrusion, they'd surely have left traces—even a slight scratch on the floor, a loose switch panel, or an outlet at an odd angle.

He was about to pull up last week's inspection records when he suddenly heard outside the sound of wheels rolling over puddles.

It was faint, but continuous.

Not like passing by, but rather like a slow patrol.

He held his breath, slowly moved to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain and looked outside.

A deep-green three-wheeled motorcycle was slowly driving along the alley, with several sacks piled in the cargo bed, the person on the driver's seat wearing a bamboo hat, face unseen. The vehicle moved very slowly, almost inch by inch, and even paused for a moment when passing the courtyard gate.

Zhao Jianguo did not move.

That person also didn't lift their head; after a moment they continued forward, the taillight drawing a red trace in the rainy night that gradually faded.

He lowered the curtain, returned to the desk, and stared at the Data Stream on the Screen.

The IP of the sync request jumped seven times, finally landing at a relay station in an abandoned Youju in East City. This method is too professional, something an ordinary spy organization could not pull off.

What's worse, the sandbox simulation showed that if anyone carrying his system data approached a specific frequency transmitter, a temporary access channel would be automatically generated—equivalent to carrying a universal key.

And right now, that key was inserted into Chen Jianguo's insole.

Zhao Jianguo rubbed his temples, was about to continue analyzing, when his watch vibrated again.

This time it was an audio clip that played automatically.

Chen Jianguo's voice came in fragments: "……They are using my memories……to piece together your habits……don't go to the old place……"

Immediately after came a muffled groan, as if someone had covered his mouth.

The recording ended.

Zhao Jianguo stared at the Screen, his fingers slowly tightening.