Chapter 152: Midnight Assault of the Storage Ring

The wind just blew the last oil‑printed sheet over its edge, and Zhao Jianguo turned and went inside. He slipped the door shut without a sound. The people in the Courtyard gradually dispersed, and no one noticed that the light in his room stayed on a little later than usual.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and the ring on his wrist suddenly burned, like a sun‑heated iron piece pressed against his flesh. Immediately, a line of text floated before his eyes: **"Detected illegal transaction! Coordinates locked: West City Old Cotton Mill Warehouse No. 3."**

He stared at the line for two seconds, his mouth twitched slightly, "Hauling goods at midnight—still knows how to pick the right time."

He got up, pulled a dark coat from the bottom of the cabinet and slipped it on, then turned the ring half a turn inside his cuff to ensure it wouldn't reflect. When opening the door, he pressed the hinge with his left hand, so light that it was as quiet as a cat stepping on cotton.

The night was pitch black, even the moon was hidden by clouds. He walked along the Wall Base, turned three Hutongs before mounting his bicycle. The bell had been removed, the tires only slightly inflated, so it rolled almost silently. In his mind he weighed Xu Da Mao's recent movements—pretending nothing during the day, yet slipping westward every night, even skipping Meal Ticket at home.

Sure enough, there was something off.

The old cotton mill had long ceased operations, and Warehouse No. 3 stood alone in the middle of the empty lot, its iron‑sheet roof collapsed at one corner as if someone had bitten it off. Zhao Jianguo tossed the bike into a tree pit a hundred meters away, slunk along the Enclosure Wall. The Wall Base was piled with broken bricks, but they didn't slip underfoot.

Before he got close, a muffled voice came from inside.

"... This batch can't stay long; we have to move it the day after tomorrow," Xu Da Mao's voice said, pressed low but urgent, "Fifty per set, cash taken, and anyone who asks we say we've never seen it."

"Then you better be careful," another voice replied, "These are questions from Guangzhou and Shanghai; the source is dirty."

"What do I care if it's clean? If someone wants it, I sell. Right now the whole city is crazy about study material; we have the real stuff in hand, so not making a profit would be a loss."

Zhao Jianguo crouched in the corner, and after hearing those lines, he already had a plan. He circled to the back of the warehouse, found a rusted little window, pried a gap open with a Wrench, and flipped himself inside.

Inside were piles of wooden crates, their tags facing outward reading "Teaching Reference", "Internal Data", "Guangzhou Education Bureau Publication". He crouched, inspected each seal tape for signs of resealing. He selected a crate labeled "Mathematics Simulation Paper·Top Secret", took out his tools and gently pried the nails.

The crate held dozens of test papers neatly stacked, the cover ink still fresh. He was about to collect them into the Storage Ring when his finger froze—at the bottom lay a half‑cut seal, a red stamp clearly bearing five characters: **Shanghai Education Bureau Supervisor**.

He squinted, pulled the seal out and examined it a couple more times. This stamp shouldn't be here. How did Shanghai's questions end up in Xu Da Mao's hands? Was it using the "Supervisor" title? This isn't just a simple personal resale; there must be a deeper connection behind it.

Just as he was thinking, Footsteps outside rushed toward him.

【7】 "Hey, didn't you hear that 'click' just now?" a guard shouted.

Hey, did you hear that "ka" sound just now? is the guard's voice.

"Which sound? The wind rattling the metal sheet."

"That's odd, I'll go check."

Zhao Jianguo immediately slammed the crate shut, darted into the narrow passage between two rows of cargo. The flashlight beam swept in from the doorway, swung a couple of times, then retreated. Not even ten seconds later, the light returned, this time scanning more closely.

He knew he couldn't wait any longer.

Taking advantage of the brief darkness, he slipped to the inner side of the main Iron Gate. The heavy iron door had bolts both top and bottom; unlocking it normally would take minutes. But there was no time now.

He raised his wrist, pressed the Storage Ring onto the center of the door panel, and whispered in his mind, "Collect."

In an instant, the whole door seemed sucked into an invisible pocket, leaving only a square empty frame in place. Two guards outside, holding flashlights, suddenly saw the door open and jumped in surprise.

"How did the door open by itself?"

"Impossible! I clearly locked it just now!"

"Quick, go in and check!"

In the split second the two were stunned, Zhao Jianguo had already leapt out through a broken window on the other side, rolling as his foot hit the ground to absorb the impact. He didn't look back, sprinted into the adjacent drainage tunnel, slinking for over three hundred meters before stopping to catch his breath.

When he returned to the Siheyuan, dawn was still dim. He vaulted over the wall into the Courtyard with nimble movements, landing without even startling a dog. As soon as the light inside switched on, he spread the stack of test papers on the bed, checking each one. Chinese Language Corner, Mathematics Corner, Physics, Chemistry—all present, and all were simulation questions from prestigious out‑of‑town high schools, far tougher than the local ones.

Most crucially, every paper had the same serial number in the lower right corner, even the font deviation was identical—indicating they were printed in the same batch, not a haphazard collection of loose copies.

He pulled out a red pen, drew a circle on one of the Mathematics papers, and said, "This set, extra practice for top students tomorrow afternoon."

Then he gathered all the papers into the Storage Ring, leaving only one pressed under the pillow. Just as he lay down and closed his eyes, he heard movement outside the window.

Xu Da Mao rode a battered bicycle, humming a tune as he passed the Courtyard Gate, the rear seat empty, but his face smiled like a treasure‑hunter who had just found a gold ingot.

Zhao Jianguo lay still on the bed, his ears catching the squeaking wheels fading away, his mouth curling up slightly.

He lifted his hand, glanced at the ring, and whispered, "Next time you hide something, remember to change the spot."

As the words fell, a faint blue glimmer flashed across the ring's surface, vanishing in an instant.

Outside, a sparrow fluttered onto the eaves, clutching half a Chalk tip in its beak.