My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 34

“Come in.”

Cheng Ran pushed open the door and came in, dressed in dark clothes and carrying a backpack. He placed the backpack on the table and unzipped it. Inside was the lock-picking equipment—more sophisticated than the previous one, with parts that Cheng Ran had modified himself: a signal generator, a small scanner, and a modified tablet with a diagram of the access control system displayed on the screen.

“Ready?” Lin Jiqiu asked.

“The scanner is fully charged. The frequency of the signal generator is also adjusted, and theoretically it can simulate any level of key card.” Cheng Ran took out the equipment one by one to check, “but success cannot be guaranteed. The Stargazer’s access control system has multiple layers of encryption, and if one layer does not match, the door will not open.”

What if we fail?

“Then we’ll have to go in underwater.”

Lin Jiqiu thought for a moment. “Let’s try this first. If it doesn’t work, we’ll think of something else.”

The two left the hotel. A-Zuo waited at the entrance and started the car. The wind was strong, making the roadside signs rattle. The clouds were thick, obscuring the stars; only the lighthouse in the distance drew an arc in the darkness. The car pulled up outside the quarry. Lin Jiqiu and Cheng Ran got out, while A-Zuo stayed in the car to wait.

“Call me anytime if you need anything,” A-Zuo said.

Lin Jiqiu nodded and walked towards the cave, flashlight in hand. Cheng Ran followed behind, the equipment in his backpack making a slight clattering sound with each step. The cave entrance was as dark as during the day, like an open mouth. Lin Jiqiu squeezed in sideways, Cheng Ran following behind. The flashlight beam flickered on the cave walls, casting long shadows of the two figures on the rocks, making them look like two distorted monsters.

Red brick walls. Wooden doors. Corridor. Numbered rooms. They walked to the passageway that required them to stoop to pass through. At the end of the passageway, the iron door was closed, and the indicator lights in the sensor area emitted a faint red glow in the darkness, like an eye that could not be closed.

Cheng Ran crouched down and placed the scanner on the sensor area. The screen lit up, displaying a series of jumping codes. He took out a tablet from his backpack, connected it to the scanner, and brought up the architecture diagram of the access control system.

“It’s exactly the same system as the Stargazers’ system.” He stared at the screen. “I’ve seen the core encryption algorithm before, but there’s a new outer shell. We need to break through that shell first.”

How long will it take?

“Uncertain.” Cheng Ran’s fingers moved quickly across the tablet. “The shell isn’t very complex, but there might be traps inside. If the alarm is triggered, the door will lock completely.”

Lin Jiqiu squatted beside him, shining her flashlight on the tablet screen. She didn’t quite understand the code, but she could tell the rhythm of Cheng Ran’s fingers—fast meant things were going smoothly, slow meant he was encountering obstacles. Now his fingers were very fast, and strings of instructions scrolled rapidly across the screen.

“The shell is broken.” There was a hint of relief in Cheng Ran’s voice. “Now let’s move into the core.”

A new interface popped up on the screen—a maze-like structure diagram, with each layer employing a different encryption method. Cheng Ran’s fingers slowed, analyzing the code line by line.

A gust of wind blew in from the other end of the passage, carrying the salty smell of the sea. Lin Jiqiu pulled up the collar of her coat. The temperature was several degrees lower than outside, whether because the cave was deep or because the sea was just beyond the door, she didn’t know.

“Cheng Ran”.

“Um.”

“Did you ever crack this kind of system when you were with Stargazer?”

“It’s been cracked. But not this model.” Cheng Ran’s fingers didn’t stop. “The Stargazers’ access control system has different levels. The ordinary area uses standard encryption, and the core area uses custom encryption. This system’s encryption level is somewhere in between—it’s probably outsourced to a third party.”

Have you met with a third party?

“No. The Stargazers have a very loose organizational structure, and many of their operations are outsourced. The people you come into contact with might just be partners in a project and have no idea that the Stargazers exist.” He paused for a moment, “like the relationship between Mirror Technology and the Rejuvenating Growth Camp.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “So the Mirror Association might just be an outsourced service for the Stargazers.”

“Maybe. Or maybe the other way around. It’s not clear yet.”

A green notification popped up on the screen—”First layer verification passed.” Cheng Ran switched to the second layer. This layer was more complex than the first, with a higher code density. He slowed down, checking it line by line.

“Cheng Ran”.

“Um.”

Do you regret working for the Stargazers?

Cheng Ran’s fingers paused for a moment. “Regret. But regret is useless.” He continued typing. “All I can do is use those technologies for good. Like ‘Yin Yang,’ like the new communicator.”

Lin Jiqiu looked down at the sphere on his wrist. It lay quietly in the darkness, without vibrating. “Did you leave the Stargazer because you regretted it?”

“No,” Cheng Ran’s voice lowered, “I’m afraid.”

What are you afraid of?

“I’m afraid that one day I won’t care where those technologies are used.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at him. Cheng Ran’s profile appeared cold in the flashlight beam, his features sharp, as if sculpted by a knife. His eyes were fixed on the screen, his brows slightly furrowed. “You’re different from your father.” Lin Jiqiu was taken aback. “What?” “Your father chose to continue. You chose to leave. Different.”

Cheng Ran swiped his finger across the screen. “You don’t know what my father chose.” “He chose experimentation, chose to continue researching those technologies, even knowing it might hurt you.” Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “He didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“I know. But he still hurt you.”

She didn’t answer. A gust of wind blew in from the other end of the corridor, causing her flashlight beam to flicker slightly. A new notification popped up on the screen—”Second level verification successful. Entering the third level, the final level.”

“The last layer.” Cheng Ran’s fingers quickened. This layer’s encryption method was completely different from the previous two layers. It wasn’t code, but a set of biometric verifications—fingerprint, iris, and voiceprint. He took out a signal generator, placed it next to the sensing area, and adjusted the frequency to simulate biometric signals.

“This thing can simulate fingerprints?”

“Yes. But we need to know the sample.” Cheng Ran pulled up the data collected by the scanner earlier. “The access control system’s sensor area records the biometrics of each unlocking. The system stored that data when someone opened this door last time. What I’m doing now is retrieving that data and replaying it.”

A progress bar appeared on the screen, slowly moving to the right. Ten percent, twenty percent, thirty percent. The wind grew stronger, and the temperature in the passageway dropped. Lin Jiqiu put her hands in her pockets, her fingers touching the photograph—the one of her father on the ship. She didn’t take it out, but just felt it through her pocket.

Sixty percent, seventy percent, eighty percent. When the progress bar reached ninety-five percent, a red warning box popped up on the screen—”Biometrics mismatch. Verification failed.”

Cheng Ran’s finger paused for a moment. “Someone modified the database. Previous unlock records have been deleted or replaced.”

Can it still be broken?

“Yes. But it will take time.” His fingers began typing again. “In another way—brute force enumeration.”

How long would a brute-force enumeration take?

“A few hours. Maybe longer.”

Lin Jiqiu glanced at his watch. It was one in the morning. “Continue. I’ll stay with you.”

Cheng Ran glanced at her. “You don’t need—”

“I said I’d stay with you.”

He didn’t say anything more, and lowered his head to continue typing.

Time ticked by. The numbers on the screen kept changing as they were tried one by one. Lin Jiqiu crouched against the wall, the flashlight dimmed to a faint beam. Cheng Ran’s profile flickered in and out of focus in the screen’s light, his brow furrowed, his lips pursed, as focused as a machine.

“Cheng Ran”.

“Um.”

“Did you stay up this late when you were at Rusty Bone?”

“often.”

Aren’t you tired?

“I’m tired. But I can’t stop. If I stop, I’ve lost.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at him. “This isn’t Rusty Bones now. You’re at the firm now. You can stop.”

Cheng Ran’s finger paused on the screen for a moment. “I’m used to it.”

“Habits can be changed.”

He didn’t answer. A green notification popped up on the screen—”Verification successful. Access control unlocked.”

Click. The iron gate popped open a crack.

Cheng Ran leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. “It’s open.”

Lin Jiqiu stood up, walked to the door, and opened it. A gust of wind rushed in, carrying the strong smell of the sea. Outside was a small, concrete platform, about two meters square. There were no railings along the edge; below lay the sea—black and bottomless, waves crashing against the rocks with a dull thud. Looking up, he could see the sky; the clouds had parted, revealing a few stars. In the distance, the light of a lighthouse flickered, once, then again, at regular intervals.

“This is the back of the sea cliff.” Cheng Ran walked onto the platform and shone his flashlight on the surrounding rocks. “At high tide, the platform will be submerged. You can swim out through the underwater facility’s passage and get right here.”

Lin Jiqiu crouched down and shone his flashlight on the platform floor. There were footprints on the ground, not old ones, but new ones—shoe prints, the tread pattern of sneakers, clearly visible. “Someone has been here recently.”

Cheng Ran crouched down to take a look. “It wasn’t just one person. There were at least three different pairs of shoe prints. It happened within the last week. They came out of the underwater facility, came ashore here, and then walked up the cliff.” Lin Jiqiu shone his flashlight up the cliff, where a narrow path wound its way through the rocks to the top.

“Let’s go up and take a look,” Lin Jiqiu said.

The two climbed up the narrow path, just wide enough for one person to pass at a time. One side was rock, the other a sheer cliff. Cheng Ran led the way, with Lin Jiqiu following behind, their flashlight beams swaying in the distance. After about ten minutes, they reached the top. The top was a flat area covered with low shrubs and weeds. There were tire tracks on the ground, not new, but the outlines were still visible.

“They parked their car here.” Cheng Ran squatted down to check the tire tracks. “Driving down from here leads to the highway. You don’t have to go through the town.”

Lin Jiqiu stood atop the cliff, gazing at the distant sea. The lighthouse light traced arcs in the darkness, striking once, as if counting. She turned to look at Cheng Ran. “They come and go from this facility without passing through the town or the docks. Completely concealed.”

Cheng Ran nodded. “So the people in the town don’t know. The people at the research institute don’t know either. Besides Sun Yuan, there might be others.”

“What about Wang Jianguo? He’s the director of the research institute. He approved Fang Lin’s solo deep-sea dive, so he probably knows some of the inside story.”

“Regarding Fang Lin’s matter, he might have just been used. Or it might have been intentional. We need to investigate.”

Lin Jiqiu put his hands in his pockets and touched the photograph. “Let’s go back. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

The two retraced their steps. They passed through a corridor, numbered rooms, and wooden doors, exiting the cave. A-Zuo’s car was still there, engine running, headlights casting two beams of light in the darkness. They got in.

“How is it?” A-Zuo asked.

“The door is open. It leads to the back of the sea cliff. There’s a road up there, big enough for a car.”

A-Zuo nodded, didn’t ask any more questions, and started the car, driving towards the hotel.

Lin Jiqiu leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed. Cheng Ran sat beside her, also with his eyes closed. Neither of them was asleep.

“Cheng Ran”.

“Um.”

“At the end of that passage, on the platform, there are footprints. You said there were three people. Who do you think they are?”

“The one with rusty bones. There might still be someone who can see mirrors.”

What are they here for?

“Inspect the equipment. Move the personnel. Destroy the evidence.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “XK-01 and XK-02 were moved by them. They might still be alive.”

“They might not be around anymore.”

She opened her eyes and looked out the window. The night was dark; she couldn’t see anything. The ball on her wrist vibrated gently, in sync with her heartbeat.