My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 53

Lin Jiqiu picked up his water glass and took a sip. “Can you find a direct connection between them and the Northern Star Court?”

“Not at the moment. All three companies are legally registered, their legal representatives are all real, and they have normal business records. However, among their common clients is a company called ‘Mingyuan Consulting.’ Mingyuan Consulting is the one we investigated before.”

“Mingyuan Consulting is the front man for Jinghui. These three logistics companies are all providing services to Mingyuan Consulting, so the clients they serve are essentially Beichen Zhiting.”

“Logically, that’s how it is. But the chain of evidence isn’t complete enough; we need to obtain a specific shipping manifest.”

Lin Jiqiu put down her water glass. “Where’s the shipping manifest?”

“In the logistics company’s database. Yuantong Freight’s server has the weakest protection. I tried to hack into it, but their data is encrypted. It’s not ordinary commercial encryption, it’s the kind that Beichen Zhiting uses. Cracking it will take time, and once an alarm is triggered, they will delete the records.”

“So remote intrusion is not possible?”

“No. Physical contact is required—get into their office and extract the data directly from the terminal.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “Where is Yuantong Freight?”

“In the east of the city, near the development zone. It’s a small, standalone office building. They have a lot of business; trucks come and go every day. It shouldn’t be difficult to sneak in.”

Ah You poked his head out from the kitchen. “Boss, breakfast is ready. Eat first.”

Lin Jiqiu stood up and walked to the table to sit down. Cheng Ran followed and sat opposite her. Ayou brought over the porridge and side dishes; the porridge was made with preserved egg and lean pork, and the chopped green onions were neatly sprinkled on top. Lin Jiqiu picked up a spoon and took a sip; it was just the right temperature, neither too hot nor too cold. “Ayou, don’t bother asking us to stay for lunch today. We might be back a little late.”

Ah You paused for a moment. “Going out again?”

“Yes. East of the city.”

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

After breakfast, Lin Jiqiu went upstairs to change her clothes. She wore dark casual wear, which was easy to move in. She clipped her communicator to her belt, inserted the “Yin” clip into her wristband, and tightened it. She then took out the folding knife from the drawer, weighed it in her hand, and tucked it behind her waist. She went downstairs. Cheng Ran was already waiting at the door, and A Zuo started the car.

Yuantong Freight is located at the end of a side road in the Chengdong Development Zone. It’s a three-story white office building next to a large warehouse, where several trucks are parked and workers are loading and unloading goods. The office building isn’t large; the first floor has a reception hall and several offices, while the second and third floors house administration and finance. Lin Jiqiu and Cheng Ran got out of the car, and A Zuo parked the car on the roadside some distance away to wait.

“How do you plan to get in?” Cheng Ran asked.

Lin Jiqiu looked at the building. “There’s a reception desk in the lobby on the first floor; you need to register. There should be another entrance on the side.” She walked around to the side of the building, where there was an iron door that was closed. The lock was an old-fashioned pin tumbler lock. She took a thin wire from her pocket, inserted it into the keyhole, turned it a few times, and with a click, the door opened.

She slipped inside, Cheng Ran following behind. Behind the door was a dimly lit stairwell; the white paint on the walls was peeling in places. The two walked up the stairs. On the second floor, offices lined both sides of the corridor, all doors closed, but through the glass windows, they could see people working inside. On the third floor, at the end of the corridor, there was a door with a sign that read “Finance Office.”

Lin Jiqiu walked to the finance office door and turned the doorknob—it was locked. She then took out a thin wire; this time, the lock was more complicated than the one downstairs, and it took her more than ten seconds to open it. The two slipped inside and gently closed the door.

The finance office was small, with two desks, two chairs, and two filing cabinets. Computers sat on the desks, their screens initially black. Cheng Ran walked to one of the computers, pressed the power button, and the screen lit up, displaying a password input box. He took a small USB drive from his pocket, plugged it into the USB port, and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. The screen flashed, and the desktop appeared.

“Alright. You find the documents, I’ll keep an eye on things outside.” Lin Jiqiu walked to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain, and looked out. The workers in the yard were still loading and unloading goods; no one noticed what was happening upstairs.

Cheng Ran’s fingers flew across the keyboard. He opened the accounting software and pulled up the shipping records for the past three months. The data was dense: shipper, consignee, type of goods, quantity, and amount. He found the entries from Mingyuan Consulting—the goods were listed as “electronic components,” the quantity was small, but the shipping frequency was very high. At least once a week, delivered to three different addresses.

“Found it.” Cheng Ran turned the screen to Lin Jiqiu. “Three delivery addresses. One is in the North City Industrial Zone, which is where we went yesterday. One is in the South City, and the other is in a neighboring city, about 200 kilometers away.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at the address on the screen. “The goods are listed as ‘electronic components,’ but they probably aren’t actually electronic components.”

“It could be a derivative product of Originium Technology. Chips, equipment, or drugs.”

“Can you find out exactly what it is?”

“It’s not in the financial records. We might need the warehouse’s inbound and outbound inventory records.”

Lin Jiqiu thought for a moment. “The warehouse is downstairs. I’ll go take a look.”

“careful.”

Lin Jiqiu walked out of the finance office and down the stairs. The receptionist in the lobby was on the phone and didn’t notice her. She went around to the back warehouse. The warehouse door was open, and workers were going in and out, busy loading and unloading goods. She went in, and no one stopped her. The warehouse was large, with rows and rows of shelves piled high with cardboard boxes and wooden crates. She found the shelf labeled “Mingyuan Consulting,” which had several cardboard boxes sealed with gray tape.

She pulled a folding knife from her pocket and cut open the seal of a cardboard box. Inside was foam plastic, with several small metal boxes embedded in the foam. Each box was about the size of a palm, very light, with a smooth surface, and no markings. She opened one box; inside was a chip—no, not an ordinary chip. Its shape was strange, like some kind of electronic component she didn’t recognize. Its surface had fine textures, reflecting colorful luster when held up to the light. It was somewhat similar in material to Master Yu’s token, but more delicate and smaller.

She took out her phone, took a few photos, put the box back, resealed the cardboard box, and then put the cardboard box back in its original place.

“Chengran, I got the picture. It’s a chip, made of a material similar to the token.” She lowered her voice.

“Bring one back?”

“No. They’ll notice if one is missing.”

“Taking photos is enough. Let’s go.”

Lin Jiqiu walked out of the warehouse through the side iron gate. Cheng Ran was already in the car. She opened the car door, got in, and handed him her phone.

Cheng Ran looked at the photo, zooming in and zooming in again. “I’ve seen this kind of chip in the Stargazers’ database.”

“What is it used for?”

“Communication. Encrypted communication. The Stargazers’ internal communication system uses this kind of chip, which is more advanced than any other product on the market. It cannot be eavesdropped on or interfered with.”

Lin Jiqiu looked at the photos. “So, the goods Mingyuan Consulting shipped were communication chips. Yuantong Freight delivered the goods, Mingyuan Consulting received them, and then distributed them to Stargazers, Mirror Society, and Rust Bones. That’s their supply chain.”

“Some. There might be others.”

“Check the other two addresses as well.”

“Hmm. But there’s no time today. Let’s go back and organize the intelligence first.”

A-Zuo started the car and drove out of the development zone. Lin Jiqiu leaned back in her seat, looking out the window. Those chips, those technologies, those unknown supply chains—Beichen Zhiting had woven a net with these things, covering the entire world. She had broken a small corner, but the net remained.

Back at the office, Lin Jiqiu transferred the photos from her phone to the tablet and analyzed them with Cheng Ran.

“Where is the production base for this chip located?” Lin Jiqiu asked.

Cheng Ran flipped through the documents. “There’s no record of it in the Stargazers’ database. The production location is confidential; only Lu Cun knows it.”

“Lu Cun. The star that governs scientific research.”

“Yes. The design and production of the chips should both be under Lu Cun’s jurisdiction.”

Lin Jiqiu leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “Lu Cun, Ju Men, Wen Qu, Po Jun… the seven stars, each with their own function. Ju Men manages money, Wen Qu coordinates, and Lu Cun manages technology. We destroyed one of Wen Qu’s contact points—Jing Yuan. But Wen Qu is still here. Ju Men is still here. Lu Cun is still here.”

“We’ve disrupted their supply chain, and they’ll find out. Not today, but tomorrow.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “Then let’s gather as much information as possible before they find out.”

“The address for the south side of the city tomorrow?”

“Go. People from neighboring cities should go too.”

Ah You came out carrying two cups of tea and placed them on the coffee table. He looked at Lin Jiqiu, then at Cheng Ran. “Boss, please be careful.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up her teacup and took a sip. “Yes.”

That night, Lin Jiqiu lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. She thought of the chips—packed in cardboard boxes, transported through ordinary logistics companies, hidden under the guise of “electronic components.” No one knew their true purpose. No one knew that behind them was an organization that had existed for two thousand years. She thought of her father. If he were still alive, would he tell her more? Perhaps not. Perhaps he was also protecting her. Protecting her from a truth he didn’t want to face. She turned over and pulled the blanket over herself.

“Can’t sleep?” Cheng Ran’s voice came through the communicator.

“Aren’t you the same?”

“I sent K photos of those chips. He replied using an anonymous account.”

“What did he say?”

“He had never seen the encryption algorithm used in this chip before. But he noticed that the texture on the chip’s surface was very similar to the logo of a certain project in the Stargazer database.”

What project?

“‘The New Human Project’. Your project.”

Lin Jiqiu’s fingers tightened slightly on the bedsheet. “My project. Those chips are related to my project?”

“Perhaps. Your abilities come from Originium, and the chip’s material also comes from Originium. The same technology, but different applications.”

Lin Jiqiu remained silent for a long time. “Chengran, if I am a ‘product’ of the Northern Star Court, will they one day ‘iterate’ me out too?”

Cheng Ran didn’t answer immediately. After a few seconds, his voice came again. “No. Because you’re not the product.”

Lin Jiqiu’s lips curved slightly. “How did you know?”

“Because the product manager won’t ask that question.”

She didn’t answer, closing her eyes. The ball on her wrist vibrated gently, in sync with her heartbeat. She placed her hand on the ball, feeling its faint warmth. Outside the window, streetlights shone through the curtains onto the ceiling, casting blurry spots of light like constellations. She gazed at those spots, her consciousness slowly sinking.