Chapter 266: Tracing the Origin, Unmasking the Spy

Zhao Jianguo throws the lollipop stick into the garbage can, his gaze lingers for two seconds on the corner of the courtyard wall. The burnt robot still lies there, its shell charred black, electric wires dangling. He doesn't look at it again; turning back into the house he instinctively feels his pocket—yesterday's sign‑in gave him the Time‑Space Origin Mirror, still there, a palm‑sized copper piece, its edge a little warm.

Dawn breaks, and the courtyard sounds with a mop scraping the cement floor. A man in a gray uniform bends his head to wipe the laboratory doorway tiles, moving slowly, the water bucket tilted askew. Zhao Jianguo watches him through the window crack for half a minute, suddenly remembers something, pulls out the copper piece and sticks it to his chest, pressing lightly.

The mirror surface lights up, rippling like water. He aligns the copper piece over the cleaner's back through his clothing, and the scene instantly appears: late at night, this person squats beside a printer, a glove inserted into the data port, holding a fingernail‑sized reader. He looks left and right, stuffs the device into his shoe insole, stands up, knocks over a paper basket, bends down to pick it up; his movements are too practiced to be his first time.

Zhao Jianguo folds the mirror away, carries a cup of hot water down the steps. "It's early today." he says, leaning against the doorframe.

The cleaner looks up, expression blank, "Lots of work, finish early."

"You're Li Shouye? Sent by the Street Office?"

"Yes."

Zhao Jianguo hands over the cup, "Have some water, rest a bit."

The man takes it, his finger touches the cup wall, freezes for a moment, as if surprised the water is warm. He lowers his head, takes a sip, puts the cup down and continues work, wiping the handle three times with the rag.

Zhao Jianguo turns and enters the house. The Triplets are gathered around the table eating breakfast; Zhao Chen sits in a wheelchair, chopsticks pinching a fried dough stick toward her mouth. She lifts her head seeing her father enter, the food still in her mouth.

"Dad, what's up?"

"That sweeping guy outside, have you seen him before?"

Zhao Xing stops with chopsticks, "Yesterday! He was squatting next to the printer, his hand stayed in there for a long time!"

Zhao Yang adds, "He also looked at the Schedule Board, noted the times when no one was around."

Zhao Chen bites her lip, "He thought 'the data's enough this time'… he didn't steal for himself, someone forced him."

Zhao Jianguo nods, pulls the copper piece from his pocket, "I know who did it."

Three sets of eyes turn to him simultaneously. Zhao Xing jumps down from the stool, "Catch him now?"

"No rush." Zhao Jianguo folds the mirror, "We'll wait until the evidence is solid."

As soon as the words finish, a System Prompt pops up: "Capture the Cross‑Time‑Space Technology Thief, reward 【Counter‑Reconnaissance Specialization】." The text flashes and disappears, no sound, no visual effect, only he knows he saw it.

Zhao Chen suddenly looks up, "Someone's coming."

Footsteps grow louder; three black bicycles stop at the courtyard gate, five people in dark clothes alight, the leader shows ID, says they're Special Forces, responding to an anonymous tip about illegal acquisition of research data.

Zhao Jianguo doesn't block them, points outside. The Special Forces members immediately surround, one presses the cleaner's shoulder, "Come with us."

The man doesn't resist; as he's lifted, he looks back at the laboratory door, his eyes change, no longer the honest look from before.

"I didn't take anything," he says.

"Whether you did or not, we'll find out." A team member fastens handcuffs on him.

At the instant the cuffs snap shut, the cleaner's body jerks, black liquid oozes from his mouth corner. He opens his mouth to speak, his throat croaks, the last few words sound as if forced from a machine: "You… will be judged by Temporal Judgment…"

He rolls his tongue and spits out a grain‑sized Crystal, which lands on the floor with a crisp click.

The scene falls silent for a moment.

Zhao Jianguo steps forward, squats and picks up the Crystal. It's icy, the surface etched with a few fine lines, indecipherable Symbols. He turns it over on his fingertip, the Triplets crowd around.

"These aren't current characters," Zhao Xing says.

"It's a 2035 code," Zhao Chen and Zhao Yang say together.

Zhao Jianguo places the Crystal into a small iron box, closes the lid. The Special Forces lift the man onto a bike; before leaving, the team leader hands him a document, saying they'll notify about investigation progress. Zhao Jianguo takes it, says nothing, watches the bike drive out of the courtyard, turn a corner and vanish at the street entrance.

He turns back into the house, the Triplets follow behind.

"Dad, was he really a spy?" Zhao Yang asks.

"Not exactly." Zhao Jianguo shakes his head, "He was being controlled; that line wasn't his own words."

"Who controlled him?" Zhao Xing presses.

"Don't know." Zhao Jianguo puts the iron box on the desk, "But the method is from the future, not something people now can devise."

Zhao Chen reaches out to touch the box, "They want our technology."

"More than technology." Zhao Jianguo sits, "What they want is the Time Difference. Using our stuff to alter their future."

The house quiets. Zhao Yang brings three small stools, everyone sits around the table.

"Then what do we do?" Zhao Xing asks.

"Defend." Zhao Jianguo says, "First, register names and times for anyone entering or leaving the laboratory; second, add physical locks to all equipment, cut power when not in use; third, install the Signal Shielding Cover today."

"I'll draw the schematics." Zhao Yang says.

"I'll get the materials." Zhao Xing stands.

"I'll watch the Schedule Board." Zhao Chen pushes the wheelchair to the table edge, opens the Tablet, "From now on, whoever comes in or out, I'll record it."

Zhao Jianguo watches them busy, says nothing further. He walks to the courtyard gate, looks up at the sky. Thick clouds block the sun, the wind is a bit cool.

At three PM, a knocking sound comes from the roof. Zhao Xing leads two workers installing the Signal Shielding Cover; aluminum sheets are pieced together, the welding torch sparks. Zhao Yang below directs positions, holding the design drawings for comparison. Zhao Chen inside connects the new alarm to the Tablet.

Zhao Jianguo inspects the laboratory one last time. The printer interface now has a metal cover, the key in his trouser pocket. The computer tower has its wireless module removed, the Ethernet cable unplugged, to be re‑plugged when needed. A red switch on the wall reads "Power‑Off Dedicated".

He just closed the cabinet when he hears someone call from outside.

"Dad!"

It's Zhao Chen's voice.

He steps out, sees the Triplets standing in the courtyard center, their faces off‑color.

"What's wrong?"

"The Schedule Board has a problem." Zhao Chen points at the Tablet, "Li Shouye's registration info is false. The Street Office says they never sent this person."

Zhao Jianguo frowns, "Then how did he get in?"

"Don't know." Zhao Xing says, "But he used someone else's name, and he knew when we were empty."

"That means someone helped him work inside," Zhao Yang whispers.

Zhao Jianguo falls silent, turns toward the kitchen. He pulls an old radio from the bottom shelf of the cupboard, the gadget he got from signing in a few days ago, never used. He flips the switch, the tuning knob turns slowly.

The radio crackles, and suddenly, amid static, a voice emerges: "Target eliminated, memory upload complete."

The voice is brief, then returns to noise.

The Triplets surrounded him completely.

"It can still hear signals from the future?" Zhao Yang asked.

"It's not a radio problem," Zhao Jianguo said, staring at the Speaker. "It's that this Courtyard has already been marked. As long as we use technology, we'll be monitored."

"Then we don't need it?" Zhao Xing asked.

"Impossible," Zhao Chen shook his head, "What we do will eventually be discovered."

Zhao Jianguo put the radio back into the cabinet, closed the door. "Then let them discover it. But we must control the pace."

"What does that mean?" Zhao Yang looked up.

"Next time they come, don't rush to capture them," Zhao Jianguo said, "First make them think they've succeeded, then follow the trail and dig back out."

"Fishing?" Zhao Xing's eyes lit up.

"Right." Zhao Jianguo nodded, "We act as bait, and also as the hook."

At seven p. m., everything was in order. The shielding dome was installed, the alarm connected, and the Schedule Board was re‑passworded. The Triplets tested the new system inside the house, while Zhao Jianguo sat on a stone bench in the Courtyard smoking.

Just as the cigarette was about to finish, he heard the sound of a wheelchair.

Zhao Chen emerged alone and stopped beside him.

"Dad."

"Hmm."

"Do you think they'll come again?"

"They will."

"Then can we win?"

Zhao Jianguo pressed out the cigarette butt and tossed it into a tin can. "I used to think I was just an ordinary person, that crossing over was just to pass the days. But now I know that everything we do is changing the lives of many people behind us."

He looked up at the night sky, "They're not afraid of the technology; they're afraid that we can make the future different. So they'll come—if one attempt fails they'll try again. But as long as we're here, with the door open and the lights on, anyone can come."

Zhao Chen said nothing, just placed his hand on his.

A cat meowed outside the Courtyard; a black cat leapt over the wall, and when it landed it stepped on a plastic bag, rustling it with a sound.

Zhao Jianguo stood up and pushed the wheelchair back.

At six a. m. the next day, Zhao Yang was the first to rush into the house.

"Dad! The alarm went off!"

Zhao Jianguo rolled out of bed and headed straight for the Laboratory. A record popped up on the Screen: 5:47 a. m., the East Side Wall detected a weak signal connection lasting twelve seconds, source unknown.

He opened the log and found that the signal attempt was trying to connect to that offline mainframe.

"Didn't connect?"

"No," Zhao Chen was already seated at the computer, "The firewall automatically cut it off and even traced back for ten seconds."

A set of Coordinates flickered on the Screen, located in the West Suburb, marked on the map as an Abandoned Factory.

Zhao Jianguo stared at that point for a long time.

He picked up a pen and wrote a line in his notebook: "Next time don't wait for them to come in. We'll act first."