My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 48

Cheng Ran put down his coffee cup. “Beichen, the North Star. In ancient times, it referred to the emperor or the highest authority. Ting, the court, the council hall. Put together, it can be understood as ‘the palace of the North Star’.”

“An organization?”

“Literally, it means a decision-making body. There may be seven people, or more. But ‘Beichen’ is an odd number, which indicates that there is a core.”

Lin Jiqiu recalled the encrypted message the telescope had received that day, sent by the code name “Polaris”—the North Star. “So the Stargazers, the Mirror Society, and the Rusty Bones all obey this ‘Court of the North Star’?”

“Very likely. The Stargazers are responsible for scientific research and intelligence, the Mirror Society is responsible for ideological infiltration, and the Rusty Bones are responsible for arming and elimination. The three branches each have their own responsibilities, but are all coordinated by the Northern Star Court.” Cheng Ran flipped through the tablet. “I also found a word in the metadata of that encrypted partition—’Taichang Division’. The timestamp is very early, earlier than the establishment time of the Stargazers.”

“The Court of Imperial Sacrifices?”

“The name of the official office in the Qin Dynasty was in charge of ancestral temple rituals. But the ‘Taichangsi’ mentioned in the document is obviously not that meaning. It is more like a code name or the name of an older organization.”

Ayou came out of the kitchen with a rag in his hand. He wiped the coffee table twice and then stood up straight. “Boss, what you’re talking about—the Beichen Court, the Taichang Division—sounds like very, very old things.”

“Maybe.” Lin Jiqiu leaned back on the sofa. “Maybe they are older than we think.”

Ah You didn’t ask any more questions and turned back to the kitchen.

Cheng Ran turned off the tablet and rubbed his eyes. “What’s the next step in the investigation?”

Lin Jiqiu thought for a moment. “Zhao Heng. He’s Wenqu’s field agent, and Wenqu is a member of Beichen Court. He has a token, which is the key to enter that encrypted partition. If we can get the signal from the token, we can get in.”

“Zhao Heng hasn’t contacted you since we met at the teahouse last time.”

“If he doesn’t contact me, I can contact him.” Lin Jiqiu took out the business card from his pocket. “I’ll go to Jingyuan to find him tomorrow.”

“Jingyuan is Wenqu’s territory. It’s too dangerous for you to go alone.”

“So I need you outside. Keep your communicator on and your locator on. If things don’t go well, you know what to do.”

Cheng Ran was silent for a few seconds. “I’ll go with you tomorrow. A Zuo will be outside to provide backup, and I’ll deploy a signal receiver on the rooftop opposite Jingyuan. If Zhao Heng uses the token, I can intercept the signal.”

“good.”

The next afternoon, Lin Jiqiu went out. She hadn’t transformed; she was wearing a dark coat, her hair tied up, and looked like an ordinary young woman. A-Zuo drove, Cheng Ran sat in the passenger seat, and Lin Jiqiu in the back. The car headed east, passed three blocks, and turned onto a quiet road. Most of the plane tree leaves had fallen, and sunlight filtered through the bare branches, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

A-Zuo parked the car on the side of the road opposite the alley entrance. Cheng Ran got out of the car, carrying a black backpack, and walked into a residential building next to the alley entrance. Lin Jiqiu waited in the car for a few minutes, and then Cheng Ran’s voice came through the communicator. “We’re in position. The view from the rooftop is excellent; you can see the entire Jingyuan area. The receiver has been deployed.”

Lin Jiqiu pushed open the car door and walked into the alley.

The security guard at the alley entrance had changed, but his uniform was the same. She walked up to him, and he extended his hand. “Hello, do you have an appointment?”

“Is Zhao Heng here?”

“May I ask your name?”

“Lin Jiqiu”.

The security guard whispered a few words into his walkie-talkie, then stepped aside. “Mr. Zhao is here. Please come in.”

Lin Jiqiu walked into the alley. The bluestone path stretched out beneath her feet, and the vines on the high walls on both sides had mostly withered, revealing the gray-white walls. She walked for about three minutes and arrived at the black wooden door, then pushed it open and went inside.

The courtyard was quiet. The bamboo was still green, and a few withered leaves lay on the stone path. A woman in a cheongsam stood on the steps, smiling. “Miss Lin, Mr. Zhao is waiting for you on the second floor.”

Lin Jiqiu followed her upstairs to the second floor. It was the same private room, with mahogany tables and chairs, and blue-and-white porcelain teaware. Zhao Heng sat at the table, a pot of tea and two cups in front of him. Seeing her enter, he stood up and extended his hand. “Miss Lin, I didn’t expect you to come looking for me.”

Lin Jiqiu didn’t shake his hand, but walked over and sat down opposite him. Zhao Heng didn’t mind, withdrew his hand, sat back in his chair, picked up the teapot, and poured two cups of tea. “This is this year’s new tea, have a taste.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up her teacup but didn’t drink. “Zhao Heng, do you know about the Beichen Courtyard?”

Zhao Heng’s hand paused on the teacup for a moment. It was brief, but Lin Jiqiu noticed. He put down the teacup and looked at her. “Who told you?”

“I found it myself.”

Zhao Heng was silent for a few seconds. “You’re faster than I expected.”

“Answer my question.”

“I know. But I can’t tell you more.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know any more.” Zhao Heng picked up his teacup and took a sip. “I’m just Wenqu’s field liaison. My job is to liaise, coordinate, and execute. I don’t know who Wenqu is, who the other stars are, or where the Northern Star Court is. I only know that it exists.”

“Then what do you know?”

Zhao Heng put down his teacup. “I know you were the only successful test subject in that project. I know your father, Lin Yuanzhou, was eliminated. I know your mother was also involved in that project. I’ve already told you all this. As for Beichen Court—it’s already quite remarkable that you know its name.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at him. “Are you afraid of the Northern Star Court?”

Zhao Heng’s expression remained unchanged, but he tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table. “It’s not fear. It’s reverence. Like reverence for destiny.”

“Destiny?”

“Order. An order that transcends the individual. The Northern Star Court upholds this order. Not because it is right, but because it exists. It has existed for two thousand years.”

Lin Jiqiu’s breath hitched for a moment. “Two thousand years?”

Zhao Heng didn’t answer. He stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to her. “Miss Lin, you’ve found something you shouldn’t have. I warned you. I was surprised you came to see me today. I thought you’d stop. But you haven’t. This shows you won’t stop.” He turned to look at her. “Then let me give you another piece of information. The seven branches of the Northern Star Court are named after the Big Dipper. I am a member of the Wenqu faction. The seventh star of the Big Dipper is called Po Jun, responsible for assassinations. The telescope’s superior is Po Jun. Your father died at Po Jun’s hands.”

Lin Jiqiu’s fingers clenched tightly under the table. “Who is Po Jun?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps you will know someday.” Zhao Heng walked back, took the token from his pocket, and placed it on the table. “This is Wenqu’s token. You saw it last time. You didn’t come here today just to ask questions, did you?”

Lin Jiqiu looked at the token. “I want to know the frequency of the signal it emits.”

Zhao Heng smiled. “You want to copy the token?”

“Is it not allowed?”

“Theoretically, it’s possible. But in reality, you can’t. Because the token’s signal isn’t fixed; each use generates a new verification code. The algorithm is dynamic, and only the core system of the Northern Star Court knows the pattern.” He put the token away. “However, I can do you a favor.”

“What kind of help?”

“Next time I go to Jingyuan, I’ll use the token. If you’ve deployed receivers outside, you might be able to intercept the signal once. But only once. That’ll be enough for you to study for a long time.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at him. “Why did you help me?”

Zhao Heng picked up his teacup and slowly took a sip. “Because I also have things I want to know.”

He didn’t say what he wanted to know. Lin Jiqiu didn’t ask.

She stood up. “Thank you, Zhao Heng.”

“You’re welcome. Next time we meet, I might not be so polite.”

Lin Jiqiu walked to the door and stopped. “Zhao Heng, does Wenqu know you saw me today?”

“I know. Wenqu knows everything here.”

Lin Jiqiu opened the door and went out.

They left the alley and got into the car. Cheng Ran was already back in the car, his expression somewhat grave. “We intercepted him. I received a signal when he used the token. It was brief, but the data was complete.” He looked at Lin Jiqiu. “What did you say to him?”

“He told me that the Northern Star Court has existed for two thousand years. Po Jun is the one who killed my father. He also said that he wouldn’t be so polite next time we meet.”

Cheng Ran was silent for a few seconds. “He’s trying to be friendly, but he’s also giving a warning.”

“I know.”

A-Zuo started the car and drove out of the alley. Lin Jiqiu leaned back in her seat, looking out the window. The shadows of the sycamore trees streaked across the car. She closed her eyes.

The Court of the North Star. Two thousand years. Seven stars. Broken Army. These words swirled in her mind. She remembered Lin Xiao’s words—”Your father’s death was no accident.” She remembered what the telescope had said—”You are as stubborn as your father.” She remembered what Zhao Heng had said—”Some things are more painful to find out than not to find out.” She opened her eyes and looked at the sky outside the car window.

It was a deep blue, cloudless. That being, overlooking everything from the highest point, might be watching her right now. She would continue her investigation. No matter how long it took.

Back at the office, Lin Jiqiu went straight upstairs. She changed her clothes, lay down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. Cheng Ran didn’t follow. She knew he was in the studio analyzing that signal. Ayou brought over a bowl of noodles and knocked on the door. “Boss, eat it while it’s hot.” She picked it up, took a couple of bites, and put it down. Ayou took the bowl away without asking any questions.

In the evening, Cheng Ran came upstairs. He stood at the door, holding a tablet. “I analyzed that signal. The CAPTCHA algorithm is indeed very complex and cannot be cracked in one go. But I noticed a pattern—at the end of each signal’s timestamp, there is a set of the same numbers.”

“What number?”

“202. Could it be a year? Or it could be a serial number.” Cheng Ran walked in and placed the tablet on the table. “If 202 represents a year, then this algorithm is probably updated every two years. The set we captured may still be valid for some time.”

“how long?”

“Uncertain. But it won’t be long.”

Lin Jiqiu sat up. “Then let’s hurry.”

Cheng Ran nodded. “I need a few days. During this time, don’t go looking for Zhao Heng again.”

“Afraid he’ll change his mind?”

“I’m afraid he’ll have to back out.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “Okay.”

Cheng Ran turned and walked to the door, then stopped. “Lin Jiqiu.”

“Um.”

“Two thousand years. If this organization has really existed for two thousand years, then it has experienced countless challenges and crises. But it survived. This shows that it is very good at hiding and also very good at waiting.”

What are you trying to say?

“What I’m trying to say is that we may not be able to find its core. But it may come to us on its own.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at him. “Then let it come.”

Cheng Ran didn’t answer and walked out.

Lin Jiqiu lay back down on the bed and pulled the covers over herself. Outside, the streetlights were on. Light streamed through the curtains onto the ceiling, casting blurry spots of light like some kind of constellation. She closed her eyes, her mind replaying Zhao Heng’s words—”Order. An order that transcends the individual.” She didn’t believe in this order. But she knew it existed. And what she had to do was find it. Not because it was right, but because she wanted it to pay the price for her father’s death.