My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 49

On the fourth day, Cheng Ran came downstairs. Not for dinner—he hadn’t eaten even though A You had brought the food up. He came down to find Lin Jiqiu. He walked to the sofa, sat down, and placed his tablet on the coffee table. The screen displayed a waveform graph with regular peaks and troughs, like some kind of coded language.

“I deciphered the first layer of that signal.” His voice was a little hoarse, with a dryness from not speaking much for several days. “The CAPTCHA algorithm is time-based. Each generated CAPTCHA is different, but the pattern is fixed. As long as you know the algorithm, you can predict the next CAPTCHA.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at him. “You can predict it now?”

“No. I’ve only deciphered the first layer; there are two more. The second layer requires knowledge of the token’s physical characteristics—temperature, magnetic field, and even changes in the user’s grip strength. The Beichen Court’s system not only verifies the token’s signal but also verifies whether ‘the person using the token is a real person.’ Without this second layer of verification, even if the correct verification code is generated, the system will still consider it an abnormal access.”

“So you need to know Zhao Heng’s grip strength? You don’t even know how big his hands are.”

Cheng Ran leaned back on the sofa and rubbed his eyes. “It’s not grip strength. It’s the sensors inside the token that record the user’s physiological characteristics: body temperature, heart rate, and skin conductance. Every time the token is used, this data is uploaded to the core system of the Northern Star Court and compared with the previous record. If the difference exceeds a threshold, the system will determine it as abnormal access and trigger an alarm.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “So even if we cloned the token signal, it still wouldn’t pass the physiological characteristic verification.”

“Yes. Zhao Heng said, ‘I won’t be so polite next time we meet,’ which wasn’t a threat. It was a fact. Because the next time he sees you, he will act according to Wenqu’s instructions, not his own will.”

Ah You poked her head out of the kitchen, holding a spatula. “Is that Zhao Heng a good guy or a bad guy?”

Lin Jiqiu thought for a moment. “He’s neither a good person nor a bad person. He’s an executor. Executors don’t need to be right or wrong, they only need to obey.”

Ah You shrank back and continued cooking.

Lin Jiqiu leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “Chengran, if the physiological verification fails, does that mean we’ll never be able to access that encrypted partition?”

“Not necessarily. If you get the token itself, the situation is different. The token is a physical device that stores the authorizer’s biometric template. If you use the token itself to access the system, it won’t trigger any additional biometric verification—because the system assumes the token holder is the authorizer.”

“Ultimately, we still need to obtain Zhao Heng’s token.”

“Or find the token maker. Each token is unique, but they may have been made by the same person. If we can find that person, we might be able to reverse engineer them.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at him. “How do you know the token has a manufacturer?”

“Because each token has a number. In the signal I intercepted, besides the verification code, there was also a serial number. The format is uniform—two letters followed by five numbers. The Wenqu token starts with WQ. Other star tokens should have corresponding abbreviations.” Cheng Ran pulled up the signal and zoomed in on the last part, “TL, JM, LC, WQ, LZ, WQ, PJ. Tanlang, Jumen, Lucun, Wenqu, Lianzhen, Wuqu, Pojun.”

Seven code names, seven tokens. Lin Jiqiu stared at the seven abbreviations, his fingers tapping lightly on his knee. “Are these serial numbers the order in which they were manufactured, or the order in which they were issued?”

“It might be the order in which they were issued. WQ—Wenqu—appeared twice. One was Wenqu herself, and the other was Wenqu’s field agent Zhao Heng. Zhao Heng’s token was a copy with limited permissions, but the serial number format was the same as the original. This indicates that the manufacturer made more than seven tokens, but also many copies.”

“Who is the manufacturer?”

“I don’t know. But the naming convention for the serial numbers is consistent with the naming convention for the encrypted partition in the Stargazer database. It’s the same person, or the same team.”

A-Zuo walked out from behind the counter, holding a printed document. “Boss, I found some information about the ‘Taichang Division’ that you asked me to look up before. It’s not public information; Lin Xiao sent it to me—he said he copied it from the project team’s archives back then.”

Lin Jiqiu took the printed document. It contained several lines of text written vertically in traditional Chinese characters, as if copied from an ancient book. She read a few lines and then handed it to Cheng Ran.

“The Taichangsi (太常司) was a Qin dynasty official in charge of ancestral temple rituals. However, its duties were not limited to sacrifices; it also controlled the instruments of ‘Heaven’s Mandate.’ The First Emperor collected all the weapons in the empire and gathered them in Xianyang, where they were melted down to make twelve bronze bells and statues. What the Taichangsi obtained was neither gold nor jade, but rather objects from outer space. They were kept in a secret chamber and not recorded in history.”

Cheng Ran looked up after reading it. “Something from outer space?”

Lin Jiqiu thought of the metal door in the underwater facility, and of the technologies Chen Weisong had mentioned, technologies that “shouldn’t exist in this world.” She thought of the fragments Lin Xiao had mentioned, things that “don’t exist in humankind.” She thought of herself—her abilities also came from those “extraterrestrial objects.” “Extraterrestrial objects. Not of this world. Not of this era.”

“The people of the Qin Dynasty called it the ‘Artifact of Heaven’. We call it the ‘Source Stone’.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at the printed document. “So the existence of the Northern Star Court is not just two thousand years old. It started in the Qin Dynasty.”

“Possibly. The Court of Imperial Sacrifices was established by the Qin Dynasty, and the Court of the Northern Stars is its continuation. Over the past two thousand years, it has changed its name countless times, but the core has remained the same—to hold the ‘Mandate of Heaven’ and maintain order.”

Ah You came out carrying the dishes, placed the plates on the table, looked at Lin Jiqiu, and then at Cheng Ran. “Boss, let’s eat first. We can think about those things after we finish eating.”

Lin Jiqiu stood up and walked to the table to sit down. Ayou placed a bowl of rice in front of her, and then placed another bowl in front of Chengran. Ahua squatted down by the table, and Aju was already squatting down. Azuo came over from behind the counter and sat down.

Lin Jiqiu picked up a piece of pork rib and chewed it twice. “Chengran, you said before that the leader of the Stargazers might know the token maker?”

“Possibly. The chief is the highest-ranking person in charge of the Stargazers and has direct contact with the Seven Stars. He might have the original token, or he might know the whereabouts of the token’s creator.”

“Can we find the chief?”

“Can’t find him. After the telescope disappeared, the chief also disappeared. He didn’t hide; he was summoned back by the Northern Star Court, or…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but Lin Jiqiu knew what he was thinking.

“Or it has been cleared.”

“Um.”

After dinner, Lin Jiqiu went upstairs and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Cheng Ran returned to the studio; Ayou was washing dishes in the kitchen, and Azuo was organizing files behind the counter. Everything seemed normal.

She turned over and pulled the photograph from under her pillow. Her father was standing on the ship’s deck, wearing a white coat. The Court of Imperial Sacrifices. The Treasure of Destiny. Originium. These words swirled in her mind.

Two thousand years ago, the First Emperor collected all the weapons in the land and cast twelve bronze statues. The Imperial Household Department obtained “objects from outer space.” Two thousand years later, those same objects used to create those technologies. Her father studied those technologies and was then killed. She is a product of those technologies.

She closed her eyes.

The next morning, when Lin Jiqiu came downstairs, Cheng Ran was already sitting on the sofa. He was wearing a clean black hoodie, and his hair was combed. On the coffee table in front of him were a tablet and several printed pages.

“I’m going somewhere today.”

“where?”

“There’s a flea market in the west of the city. I found a record in the Stargazer database that says the token maker opened an antique shop there after retiring.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at him. “Are you sure he’s still alive?”

“Not sure. But that record is from two years ago, so he was alive at least two years ago.”

“Why would he open a shop in a flea market? Shouldn’t he be hiding somewhere?”

“The most dangerous place is the safest. Besides, he is the token maker, not the executor. He doesn’t know where what he creates is used. To him, they are just ‘crafts’.”

Lin Jiqiu thought for a moment. “Let’s go.”

A-Zuo drove, Lin Jiqiu sat in the passenger seat, and Cheng Ran was in the back. The secondhand market in the west of the city was located in an old residential area. The market was small, with dozens of stalls crammed together, selling all sorts of things—old books, old furniture, old appliances, and old clothes. The air was filled with dust and a musty smell, and sunlight leaked through the gaps in the plastic canopy overhead, reflecting a blinding light onto the water stains on the ground.

Cheng Ran got out of the car and looked around. “The record said the shop was at the very back of the market, on the right, with a wooden sign hanging at the entrance that read ‘Xiuyuan’.”

Lin Jiqiu followed behind him, through the crowded aisle. Some of the stall owners on both sides were dozing, some were chatting, and some were arranging their goods. No one was paying attention to them.

At the far end of the market, on the right-hand side, there was a wooden sign with the words “Xiuyuan” written in clerical script. The characters were faded and the edges were cracked. The door was closed. Lin Jiqiu knocked twice, but no one answered. He knocked twice more.

“Come in.”

The voice was old and a little hoarse. Lin Jiqiu pushed open the door and went in. The shop was small, with shelves on all four walls, filled with all kinds of antiques—porcelain, bronzes, jade, and some things she couldn’t name. Behind the counter sat an old man with completely white hair, deep wrinkles on his face, and reading glasses. He was holding a pocket watch and cleaning the dust off the dial with a small brush.

What would you two like to buy?

“We’re not here to buy anything.” Cheng Ran walked to the counter. “Are you Master Yu?”

The old man’s hand paused on his pocket watch. “Who told you that?”

“A friend.”

“What friend?”

“Friends I can no longer contact.”

The old man put down his pocket watch, took off his reading glasses, and looked at Cheng Ran. “Are you one of the Stargazers?”

“It used to be.”

“And now?”

“Not now.”

The old man was silent for a few seconds. “Then what do you want from me?”

Cheng Ran took a printed sheet of paper from his pocket and placed it on the counter. It contained screenshots of the token serial numbers—TL, JM, LC, WQ, LZ, WQ, PJ.

The old man glanced at it, his expression unchanged. “What is this?”

“You should know this.”

“I don’t know him.” The old man pushed the printed paper back. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

Lin Jiqiu spoke up. “Master Yu, we don’t want to make things difficult for you. We just want to know one thing—who instructed you to make those tokens?”

The old man looked at her. “Young lady, how old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four. When I was twenty-four, I was doing the same thing. I didn’t ask why, I only asked how. Later I asked why. And then I stopped doing it.”

“Why?”

The old man remained silent for a long time. “Because some things, once created, can’t be taken back.” He stood up, walked behind the shelf, took a small cloth bag from a drawer, placed it on the counter, and opened it. Inside was a half-finished token—it hadn’t been engraved with a totem or inscribed with a serial number, but the material was exactly the same as the one Zhao Heng had.

“This is the last piece. It’s not finished, and I don’t want to finish it.” He pushed the cloth bag over. “Take it. Maybe it’ll be useful.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at the unfinished token. “Master Yu, do you know about the Northern Star Court?”

The old man’s hand paused on the counter. “I know. But what I know is no longer important.”

“Why?”

“Because the Beichen Court I knew no longer exists. The current Beichen Court is not the one I used to forge the token.” He picked up his pocket watch again, put on his reading glasses, and said, “You can leave now. I’m closing down.”

Lin Jiqiu and Cheng Ran exchanged a glance. Lin Jiqiu put the cloth bag away.

“Thank you, Master Yu.”

The old man did not answer, but lowered his head and continued to clean the dust off his pocket watch.

Stepping out of the shop, Lin Jiqiu glanced back at the wooden sign—”Xiuyuan.” The road ahead is long and arduous. She thought of her father. If he were still alive, would he also be walking on some road, walking and walking, never reaching the end?

Once in the car, Lin Jiqiu opened the cloth bag, revealing the unfinished token inside. It had no totem, no serial number, but its material, weight, and feel were exactly the same as Zhao Heng’s.

“Cheng Ran, can this token be used?”

“No. There’s no serial number, no authorization. But we can reverse engineer its physical structure. Knowing how it was made might reveal the weaknesses of other tokens.”

Lin Jiqiu wrapped the cloth tightly and put it in his pocket. “Master Yu said that the Beichen Court he knew no longer exists. What does that mean?”

“Perhaps the Northern Star Court underwent a reorganization at some point. Perhaps those people Master Yu knew are no longer in office. The current Seven Stars are a different group of people.”

“Or it could be the same group of people, just with different names.”

“Maybe.”

A-Zuo started the car and drove out of the flea market. Lin Jiqiu leaned back in her seat, Yu’s words echoing in her mind—”Some things, once created, can’t be taken back.” She looked down at her hands. She herself was that thing.

Back at the office, Lin Jiqiu handed the cloth bag to Cheng Ran. He took it upstairs, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell. Ayou was busy in the kitchen, while Azuo was organizing files. Lin Jiqiu sat on the sofa, and Ahua jumped up and curled up beside her.

“Boss,” Ah You poked his head out from the kitchen, “what would you like to eat tonight?”

“casual.”

“‘Whatever’ is the hardest thing to do.”

Lin Jiqiu’s lips curved slightly. “Then sweet and sour pork ribs.”

“Okay. Sweet and sour pork ribs.”

She leaned back on the sofa, listening to the clanging of spatulas in the kitchen, the rustling of files flipping through by Ah Zuo, and the gurgling sounds in Ah Hua’s throat. These sounds filled the entire office, like a warm shell. She knew what lay outside the shell—the colossal machine that had never stopped for two thousand years, its seven stars in motion, with the North Star overlooking everything from the highest point. But she had no intention of stopping.