My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 47

“I’ve broken into a deeper layer of the stargazers’ database.” His voice was low, as if he were afraid of being overheard.

Lin Jiqiu put the photos away, leaning forward slightly. “What did you find out?”

“An encrypted partition. Not ordinary encryption, but the kind I’ve never seen before. The algorithm is old, but the protection level is extremely high. I used the access point list K gave me to bypass the first three layers, but I can’t get into the fourth layer.” Cheng Ran brought up the screen, which was a dark gray interface with only one input box in the middle, with “AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED” written in English above it.

What is needed for the fourth level?

“Some kind of external verification. Not a password, not biometrics. It’s a token signal.” Cheng Ran zoomed in on a corner of the interface, where there was an icon, strangely shaped, like a star, surrounded by some kind of pattern. “I haven’t seen this icon anywhere else among the Stargazers. It’s not their symbol.”

What is that?

“I don’t know. But its design style is very similar to the inscription on the metal door of that underwater facility. Same craftsmanship, same aesthetic.”

Lin Jiqiu tapped his fingers lightly twice on his knee. “So this division might not have been established by the stargazers. It might have been established by their superiors.”

“Very likely.”

The two were silent for a while. Ah You peeked out from the kitchen, saw them sitting on the sofa with somewhat off expressions, didn’t ask, and then retreated back inside. Ah Zuo was organizing files behind the counter, his fingers slowing down as he typed on the keyboard. Ah Hua jumped off Lin Jiqiu’s lap, rubbed against Cheng Ran’s feet, and then walked away.

“Cheng Ran, is the code name you mentioned earlier—’Source’—related to this partition?”

“I’m not sure. But the word ‘source’ first appeared in the metadata of this partition. At the time, I thought it was just a regular project code name.” Cheng Ran flipped through the records. “Now that I think about it, it might not be. ‘Source’ might not refer to a project, but to an organization. An organization at a higher level than Stargazers.”

Lin Jiqiu leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. A higher level than the Stargazers. The Stargazers were already the largest and most secretive organization she had ever seen, operating across borders with tentacles reaching into scientific research, the military, and finance. If there was another level above the Stargazers, how large would that level be? She dared not imagine.

“Can it be cracked by brute force?” she asked.

“No. Brute-force attacks will trigger a self-destruct mechanism. K warned me that this partition’s security mechanism is independently powered, and once abnormal access is detected, all data in the partition will be wiped within three seconds.” Cheng Ran closed the interface and brought up another file. “But I found this. An access log that records who accessed this partition and when. The time span is from ten years ago to now, not many times, and each time the interval is very long. The two most recent times were before Fang Lin disappeared and after we rescued Song Yang.”

Lin Jiqiu’s finger stopped. Before Fang Lin disappeared, the Northern Star Court had searched the Stargazers’ database. After rescuing Song Yang, they searched again. What were they searching for? Her. She was almost certain.

“Is it possible to find out the visitor’s identity?”

“No. The logs only record the IP addresses of the accessing terminals, not user information. But when I checked those IPs, they were all overseas gateways, going through at least five layers of forwarding. We can’t trace the source.” Cheng Ran paused, “But there is a pattern. All the accesses occurred in the same time period—between 3 PM and 5 PM Beijing time.”

“That’s their working hours.”

“Possibly. It could just be an automatic maintenance window set up by the system.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up the teacup on the coffee table and took a sip. The tea had gone cold and was very astringent. She put the cup down. “Chengran, do you think ‘the source’ is an organization or a person?”

Cheng Ran thought for a moment. “Maybe it’s an organization. Maybe it’s an organization controlled by one person. Like the Stargazers, everyone obeys the chief, but there are others behind the chief. Layer by layer, you don’t know which layer is the end.”

Lin Jiqiu thought of a telescope. Behind the telescope was Po Jun, behind Po Jun was Wen Qu, and behind Wen Qu was Polaris. It was a chain, and at the end of the chain was something she hadn’t yet seen.

“Can your colleague, K, get you any more information?”

“K’s privileges have reached the maximum. He’s just a database maintainer and doesn’t have authorization to query core partitions. Moreover, Stargazer is currently conducting an internal security audit, and all non-essential external contact has been prohibited. K said I shouldn’t contact him again in the short term, otherwise he’ll be discovered.”

“So we just have to wait?”

“Not necessarily. There might still be a chance with Zhao Heng.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. Zhao Heng. The man who had met her gaze in the teahouse. Wenqu’s field agent. The token in his hand might be able to open that partition. “Do you think Zhao Heng will help us?”

“No. But if we can get our hands on the token—even just to glance at it and remember its signal characteristics—I can make a replica.”

“Counterfeit token? You said the token has an electromagnetic signature and cannot be forged.”

“It cannot be forged, but it can be copied. As long as I intercept that data when the token sends the signal, I can replay the same signal on another device. This is not forgery, it is cloning. The physical layer of the system only recognizes the signal, not the token itself.”

Lin Jiqiu leaned back on the sofa, Cheng Ran’s words swirling in her mind. Cloning token. Signal interception. This meant she needed to get close to Zhao Heng again and capture the data with her device when he used the token. And the place where Zhao Heng most frequently used the token was Jingyuan.

“Next time Zhao Heng goes to Jingyuan, I’ll go in with him.”

Cheng Ran looked at her. “Too dangerous.”

“How can we intercept the signal without going inside?”

“It can be done on the periphery. I roughly know the signal frequency band of the token. As long as a signal receiver is deployed near Jingyuan, I can receive it every time he uses the token.”

“Can you tell whether Zhao Heng is using it or someone else is using it?”

“No. But the person who uses the token most frequently in Jingyuan is probably Zhao Heng. Other star agents also go to Jingyuan, but much less often.”

Lin Jiqiu thought for a moment. “Then let’s try it first. Deploy a receiver and see if we can intercept the signal. If not, I’ll go in.”

Cheng Ran nodded. “A-Zuo, go buy the equipment tomorrow. A high-sensitivity signal receiver with a wide frequency band coverage.”

A-Zuo responded from behind the counter.

Ah You came out carrying two cups of tea and placed them on the coffee table. “Boss, they’re freshly brewed, drink them while they’re hot.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up the teacup and took a sip. It was very hot, but very fragrant. “Ayou, when did you learn to brew tea?”

“A-Zuo taught me. He said that brewing tea can calm the mind.”

Lin Jiqiu glanced at A Zuo. A Zuo was organizing files behind the counter, not looking up, but there was an almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

“Ah Zuo, when did you learn how to make tea?”

“Before the firm opened, boss, you said back then that the firm had to look like a proper place. When clients came, there had to be a cup of tea to serve them.”

Lin Jiqiu didn’t remember saying those words, but A-Zuo did. He remembered everything. She put down her teacup and stood up. “I’m going upstairs to lie down for a while. Call me for dinner.”

“Okay,” came Ayou’s voice from the kitchen.

Lin Jiqiu went upstairs, entered her room, and closed the door. She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The streetlights outside were still off, and sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting blurry patches of light on the wall. She took out the photograph from her pocket—the one of her father standing on the deck of a ship. She stared at his face for a long time, then turned the photograph over and looked at the words on the back: “1999, East China Sea, research vessel ‘Xiangyang’.” She placed the photograph beside her pillow and closed her eyes.

She dreamt of the sea. Not the deep blue of the south, but the northern sea, a greyish-green, with huge waves. She stood on the deck of a ship, the wind blowing her hair wildly. In the distance, there was a man in a white coat, his back to her. She wanted to call out to him, but couldn’t open her mouth. The man turned around; it was her father. He looked at her, his lips moving as if to say something. She couldn’t hear him; the wind was too strong.

She woke up. It was already dark outside, the streetlights casting their glow through the curtains onto the ceiling. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her phone screen was lit up; Cheng Ran had sent a message: “Another file was found in the database. It mentions a term—’Beichen’s Court.’ It might be the name of an organization.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at the words: “The Court of the North Star.” The North Star, the Big Dipper. The court was where the ancient emperor held court. She replied, “Can you find more?”

“No. The file is encrypted, at the same level as that partition.”

She put down her phone, stood up, and walked to the window. She drew back the curtains. The street was quiet; the flower shop was closed, but the cafe’s lights were still on. The Wanxiang Agency’s sign gleamed dimly under the streetlights. Beichen’s Garden. She murmured these four characters softly, as if reciting some ancient incantation. How long had it existed? Ten years? Fifty years? A hundred years? Or even longer? She didn’t know. But she would investigate.