My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 18

Lin Jiqiu squatted in that abandoned building for a whole day.

After noon, the iron gate opened twice more. The first time, a deliveryman carrying two large bags of takeout food knocked and went in, then came out empty-handed a few minutes later. The second time, a young man carrying a backpack and wearing a baseball cap glanced left and right before entering, moving quickly as if he didn’t want to be noticed.

Lin Jiqiu took the photo, and Cheng Ran reported that the facial recognition had no results—either it was an ordinary person or a fake face.

Around four o’clock in the afternoon, the sun began to set, and the light in the abandoned building dimmed. Lin Jiqiu stretched his stiff neck and took out a bottle of water and the last compressed biscuit from his backpack. Amo had long since finished its cat food and was perched on the windowsill, its golden eyes fixed on the iron gate, motionless.

“Cheng Ran”.

“exist.”

“Has Mingyuan Consulting’s server been breached?”

“We’ve broken through. But their data is encrypted in multiple layers, and I’m decrypting it layer by layer. The innermost layer uses the Stargazer algorithm, which takes time.”

“Approximately how long?”

“Not necessarily. If we’re lucky, it’ll be tonight. If we’re unlucky, it’ll be tomorrow.”

Lin Jiqiu broke the compressed biscuit in half, put one half in her mouth, and placed the other half on the windowsill. Amo looked down, smelled it, but didn’t eat it.

“Have you made any new discoveries over there?”

“In addition to Huanxin Growth Camp, Mingyuan Consulting’s client list includes three other training institutions. They are located in three different cities and have a similar model to Huanxin—they all offer courses on ‘spiritual growth’ and ‘self-exploration.’ They have been online for between six months and a year.”

“Another brainwashing camp.”

“Yes. And the end point of the funding chain is the same overseas company that we found before.”

Lin Jiqiu leaned against the wall and closed his eyes briefly. His eyes were dry, and his legs were a little numb. Keeping watch was more tiring than fighting.

“Cheng Ran”.

“Um.”

“What do you think is behind that door?”

“I don’t know. But the former treasurer of that stargazer has been inside for almost a day. If he were just an ordinary resident, he wouldn’t have stayed inside for so long.”

“So that might be their office.”

“Or the control room.”

Lin Jiqiu opened her eyes and looked at the iron gate outside the window. It was getting dark. The streetlights in the neighborhood weren’t on yet, making the light in the alleyway dim and ambiguous.

“I want to go in and take a look.”

“Wait until it gets dark.”

“I know.”

Another hour passed. At 5:30, the streetlights came on. The iron gate in the alley remained unmoved.

Lin Jiqiu stood up and stretched her legs. Amo jumped down from the windowsill, squatted at her feet, and looked up at her.

“Amo, you go in first and scout ahead.” Lin Jiqiu squatted down and placed his hand on Amo’s head. Amo’s ears twitched, and his golden eyes glowed in the darkness.

“Remember, this is just scouting. Don’t alert anyone. Go inside and see how many rooms there are, how many people are there, and if there are any security cameras.”

Amo turned silently and jumped out of the window. His black fur was almost invisible in the night; Lin Jiqiu only saw a blurry shadow moving along the wall before disappearing into the alley.

“Amo went in,” Lin Jiqiu said in a low voice.

“I can’t see it from here. Does Amo not have visual sharing?”

“He doesn’t. He is independent.”

“Then you can only wait for him to come back.”

Lin Jiqiu leaned against the windowsill, staring at the iron door. Amo squeezed through the crack in the door—he was small and flexible, able to squeeze through any gap. She didn’t know what was inside, so she could only wait.

Time passed very slowly.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes.

Lin Jiqiu’s fingers tapped lightly on the windowsill. The “Yin” on her wrist didn’t vibrate, and Cheng Ran didn’t speak either.

Twenty minutes later, Amo climbed back through the window.

He landed silently at Lin Jiqiu’s feet and rubbed against her leg. Lin Jiqiu squatted down, closed her eyes, and retrieved Amo’s memories.

The image is fragmented, but some parts are clear.

A corridor. Not long, with two doors on each side. At the end of the corridor was a staircase leading upstairs. In the first room on the left of the first floor, the light from a computer screen shone, and a person sat at a desk—the young man with glasses from earlier that day. In the second room, the light was off, but through the crack in the door, one could see piles of cardboard boxes and filing cabinets. Upstairs, one room was locked, and the other was empty. The former accountant of the stargazer was in the locked room upstairs. Amo heard voices inside—a man was on the phone, his voice low, the content indistinct.

Lin Jiqiu opened her eyes.

“It’s not big inside. Two floors. Two rooms on the first floor, two rooms on the second floor. The man wearing glasses is working in front of a computer. The former accountant of the stargazer is on the phone in one of the rooms on the second floor. There are no security cameras in the hallway.”

“Can we go in?”

“Not now. We need to wait until they get off work.”

What time are you planning to spend?

“Eight o’clock. Most companies close at this time.”

Cheng Ran was silent for a few seconds. “I’ve asked A Zuo to be on standby at the office. He can be there in twenty minutes if you need support.”

“good.”

Lin Jiqiu stood up and rearranged the contents of her backpack. She checked everything—flashlight, thin wire, the USB drive Cheng Ran had given her, folding knife—making sure everything was there. Then she took the “yin” from her wristband and held it in her hand.

“Cheng Ran”.

“Um.”

“That ‘yin’ place, if I run into trouble inside, will you know?”

“Yes. Its vibrations will change. The intensity, frequency, rhythm… I can tell whether it’s dangerous or normal.”

“Then don’t just look. If I need you, I’ll hold it tight.”

“……good.”

Lin Jiqiu put the “yin” back into the wristband and tightened it.

Six forty.

The iron gate opened. The young man with glasses walked out, holding his phone and looking at it as he walked. He paused at the alley entrance, then turned and walked towards the main road. 7:05. The young man in the baseball cap also came out, carrying a backpack, walking quickly without stopping. 7:20. The woman in the white shirt came out, still holding a folder, constantly looking at her phone as she walked.

It was 7:40. The sky was completely dark. The streetlights in the alley cast a dim, yellowish glow, making the shadow of the iron gate appear long.

Lin Jiqiu did not see the former accountant of the stargazer come out.

“Chengran, that middle-aged man is still inside.”

“They might live there.”

“It’s also possible that I’m working overtime tonight.”

Are you going to wait any longer?

Lin Jiqiu thought for a moment. “Let’s not wait any longer. Let’s go in now. He’s upstairs, I’ll go downstairs. We won’t disturb him.”

“careful.”

Lin Jiqiu emerged from the abandoned building, crossed the road, and turned into the alley. The alley wasn’t long, but the streetlights were sparse, creating an alternating pattern of light and shadow. Her footsteps were light; her sneakers made almost no sound on the concrete. Reaching the iron gate, she stopped and listened intently.

There was no sound inside.

She took a thin wire from her pocket and inserted it into the keyhole. This lock was a bit more complicated than the ones she had encountered before, but it wasn’t anything fancy. She turned it a few times, felt the spring spring pulsating, and then gave it a gentle twist.

Click.

The door opened.

She slipped inside and gently closed the door.

The corridor was dark. A fluorescent light overhead was off. Both doors were closed. Amo’s previous exploration had formed a mental map—the first room on the left, illuminated by a computer screen. But now, the door to that room was dark, and no one was there.

Lin Jiqiu walked forward, hugging the wall. She pushed open the door to the first room on her left; it was indeed empty. The computer was off, the desk was clean, with only a water glass and a notebook.

She picked up the notebook and flipped through it. It was a work log, recording meeting times and to-do items, nothing sensitive. She put the notebook back, exited, and closed the door.

The second room on the left was piled with cardboard boxes and filing cabinets. She turned on her flashlight, shielding most of the light with her hand, leaving only a small beam to sweep across the labels on the boxes. “Invoices,” “Contracts,” “Expense Reimbursement Forms”—all finance-related documents.

Lin Jiqiu opened a cardboard box containing bound contracts. She randomly pulled one out and read it in the dim light—Party A was “Mingyuan Consulting,” and Party B was “Huanxin Growth Camp.” The terms of service were vague, using clichés like “management consulting” and “strategic support.” But the amount in the payment section was substantial.

She took out her phone and took a few photos. Then she put the contract back and closed the box.

The staircase was at the end of the corridor. It was narrow, just wide enough for one person to pass at a time. The walls were painted white, but had yellowed, and in some places the paint had peeled off, revealing gray cement underneath.

Lin Jiqiu went up to the second floor.

There are only two doors on the second floor. Light shines through the crack in the left-hand door. The right-hand door is closed, and there is no light.

The voices that Amo heard earlier came from behind the door on the left.

Lin Jiqiu walked along the wall to the door and listened intently.

There were people talking inside. Only one voice—the middle-aged man’s voice, deep and slow, as if he were on the phone.

“…Send over the reports by tomorrow. Yes, all of them. Don’t miss any.”

pause.

“I know. But the higher-ups are pushing hard. The data for this quarter must be complete.”

Then another pause.

“I’ll handle things on her end. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Lin Jiqiu held her breath.

Who is “above”? The mirror assembly? Or the stargazers?

The sound of a chair being moved came from inside the door. Footsteps—he was walking towards the door.

Lin Jiqiu quickly retreated to the stairwell and slipped into the shadows.

The door opened. A middle-aged man stepped out, holding a folder. He didn’t head towards the stairs, but instead turned and walked towards another closed door. He took out his key from his pocket, opened the door, and went inside.

The door closed.

Lin Jiqiu emerged from the shadows and strode to the door he had just come out of. The door wasn’t locked—he hadn’t locked it when he came out. She pushed the door open and slipped inside.

The room wasn’t big. There was a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. There was a laptop on the desk; the screen was lit, but it wasn’t locked.

Lin Jiqiu walked to the table and looked at the screen. Several windows were open on the computer—an email interface, a spreadsheet document, and the backend of an internal system.

The email was addressed to a person named “Chen Ming.” The content concerned a financial audit of a training institution. The spreadsheet contained densely packed numbers—cash flow records. The internal system’s backend interface was rudimentary, but Lin Jiqiu recognized the logo.

She had seen that logo in the materials for the “Rejuvenation Camp”.

The image of a two-way mirror. The logo of the Mirror Society.

Lin Jiqiu took a USB flash drive from his pocket and plugged it into the computer’s USB port. Cheng Ran’s cracking program ran automatically; the screen flashed briefly, then began copying data. The progress bar moved very slowly—there were many files.

She glanced at the door. It was closed. The middle-aged man was in the room across the hall; she didn’t know when he would come out.

The progress bar has reached 30%.

Lin Jiqiu listened to the sounds coming from the corridor. The door opposite remained closed.

Sixty percent.

A soft sound came from the hallway—was it the cat? No. It was Amo. He silently walked in from the bottom of the stairs, squatted by the doorway, and stared at the door opposite with his golden eyes.

Eighty percent.

The door opposite opened.

Amo’s body tensed for a moment, but she didn’t make a sound. Lin Jiqiu heard footsteps—the middle-aged man came out of the opposite room, paused in the corridor, and then walked towards the stairs.

The footsteps faded into the distance.

Ninety-five percent. One hundred percent.

The USB drive popped out. Lin Jiqiu pulled it out, put it in his pocket, turned off the computer screen, and slipped out of the room.

Amo was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Lin Jiqiu followed him downstairs silently. The fluorescent lights in the corridor were still off, only the streetlights from the alley shone through the windows, casting blurry patches of light on the ground.

The iron gate. She opened it, slipped out, and gently closed it.

Lock it.

There was no one in the alley. A night breeze blew by, carrying the chill of early autumn.

Lin Jiqiu strode out of the alley, turned into the alley opposite, and returned to the old locust tree. Amo followed silently behind her, squatting at her feet.

“We’re out,” she said in a low voice.

“I saw it,” Cheng Ran’s voice came through the earpiece. “Your heart rate spiked for a split second just now.”

“We were almost discovered.”

“But you didn’t.”

Lin Jiqiu leaned against the tree trunk and took a deep breath.

“Got it. There’s something on the USB drive. I don’t know what it is, but the computer has the Jinghui logo on it.”

“We’ll talk about it when we get back.”

“Um.”

Lin Jiqiu emerged from the alley and walked along the sidewalk toward the office. Streetlights flickered on one by one, the street was sparsely populated, and occasionally a car would pass by, its headlights illuminating her face before dimming again.

She walked for about twenty minutes and then turned into the street where the firm was located.

The flower shop was closed. The lights were still on in the cafe, and through the glass window, you could see a few customers inside.

The sign of Wanxiang Architectural Firm gleamed dimly under the streetlights. Ayou should have already closed, but a sliver of light shone through the crack in the door.

Lin Jiqiu pushed open the door and went in.

The wind chimes tinkled.

Ah You jumped up from the sofa. “Boss! You’re back!”

“Hmm.” Lin Jiqiu changed her shoes and sat down on the sofa.

A-Zuo stood up from behind the counter, went to the kitchen, poured a glass of warm water, and placed it in front of her.

“Brother Cheng is upstairs,” A-Zuo said. “He said you should come up.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up her water glass, took a sip, put it down, and went upstairs.

The door to Cheng Ran’s studio was open. He sat at his workbench, the screen displaying the photos she had just taken—photos of the contract, the cardboard boxes, and screenshots of the internal system backend.

“Where’s the USB drive?” he asked.

Lin Jiqiu took a USB drive out of his pocket and handed it to him. Cheng Ran took it and plugged it into the computer. A file list popped up on the screen—dozens of folders, hundreds of files.

“The amount of data is considerable,” Cheng Ran said. “I’ll analyze it tonight.”

Lin Jiqiu pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning back in it.

“That middle-aged man, you said he used to be in charge of finances at the Stargazers?”

“Yes. That’s what it says in the file.”

“Then he’s doing the same thing at the Mirror now.”

“It seems so.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “What exactly is the relationship between the Mirror Society and the Stargazers?”

Cheng Ran’s fingers paused on the keyboard. “It could be a branch. It could be cooperation. It could also be… the same thing.”

“The same thing?”

“Different faces of an organization. The Stargazers are in charge of information and technology. The Mirrors are in charge of leadership and ideology. Rust Bones are in charge of violence and execution.”

Lin Jiqiu tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest of the chair. “If that’s really the case, the size of this organization… far exceeds our previous imagination.”

“Um.”

Do you want to continue the investigation?

Cheng Ran turned to look at her. “And you?”

Lin Jiqiu did not answer.

She raised her left hand and looked at the “yin” on her wristband. The sphere sat quietly in the groove, without vibrating.

“Cheng Ran”.

“Um.”

Is that ‘Yang’ energy energizing now?

Cheng Ran glanced down at his wrist—he was wearing it today too. “…Here.”

“Mine is here too.”

The two looked at each other for a second, then simultaneously looked away.

Lin Jiqiu stood up. “You analyze the data. I’m going downstairs to get something to eat.”

“Ah-you left some food for me.”

What did he do?

“I don’t know. He said it was a ‘surprise’.”

Lin Jiqiu smiled slightly and walked out of the studio.

Downstairs, Ah You had already heated up the food. Sweet and sour pork ribs—the same dish Cheng Ran ordered the other day. The rice was steaming hot, and the bowls and chopsticks were neatly arranged.

“Boss, eat it while it’s hot.”

Lin Jiqiu sat down and picked up his chopsticks.

“Ah You.”

“Um?”

“Who asked you to make this dish today?”

Ah You blinked. “It was my own idea.”

“real?”

“…Brother Cheng said you’ve been working hard these past few days and asked me to cook something nice for you.”

Lin Jiqiu smiled, said nothing, and put a piece of pork rib into her mouth.

tasty.