My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 61

“Hmm.” Lin Jiqiu changed her shoes and sat down on the sofa. Cheng Ran followed behind, while A Zuo went to park the car.

Ah You went to the kitchen and brought out the heated soup, placing it on the coffee table. “Drink it while it’s hot. It’s pork rib soup; it’s been simmering all afternoon.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up the bowl and took a sip. The soup was very hot, but very flavorful. He didn’t speak, and neither did Cheng Ran. Ayou stood to the side, glanced at them, seemed about to ask something, but swallowed his words and turned back to the kitchen.

Cheng Ran took out his tablet from his backpack and pulled up the photos he had taken in Liuhe Village: household registration records, village committee interview transcripts, and the village party secretary’s address. He put these photos together with the paper list of people he had found earlier; the screen was covered with dense red text.

“The Liuhe Village model is probably not an isolated case.” Cheng Ran zoomed in on a photo. “The first six digits of these ID numbers all belong to the same region. If Beichen Zhiting has similar ‘paper doll bases’ all over the country, then the first six digits of the ID numbers should be different for each one.”

“Can you check?”

“Yes, but it requires access to the national household registration database. I don’t have that.”

Lin Jiqiu leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. A Zuo pushed open the door and came in, walking behind the counter and sitting down.

“Ah Zuo, have you made any new discoveries over there?” Lin Jiqiu asked without turning around.

“I’ve got Fengyuan Agriculture’s electricity bill records.” A-Zuo took a file folder from the drawer and placed it on the coffee table. “These are for the last three years. The monthly electricity consumption has been very stable, without any seasonal fluctuations.”

“The electricity consumption of agricultural greenhouses should be seasonal. In summer, they need ventilation and cooling, and in winter, they need insulation and heating. Stable electricity consumption indicates that they are not actually growing vegetables.”

“Yes. The peak electricity consumption occurs at night, not during the day. This indicates that the main production activities take place at night.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up the electricity bill and flipped through it. “Fengyuan Agriculture is a production base. Electricity is cheaper at night, so they choose to produce at night, which is in line with the logic of industrial production, not agriculture.”

“What about Yuanfeng Electronics? Does its warehousing require such a large amount of electricity?”

A-Zuo pulled out another record. “Yuanfeng Electronics’ electricity consumption is lower than Fengyuan Agriculture’s, but it’s also very stable. The peak consumption is also at night.”

“Warehouses do not need electricity unless they have equipment that requires constant temperature and humidity.”

“A chip warehouse,” Cheng Ran said. “Chips have very high requirements for the storage environment. Constant temperature and humidity, 24 hours a day without interruption.”

Lin Jiqiu put down the electricity bill record and rubbed his eyes. Liuhe Village, Fengyuan Agriculture, Yuanfeng Electronics, Yuantong Freight, and the receiving points in the south of the city and neighboring cities. Every link matched. Production, warehousing, transportation, distribution. Beichen Zhiting had a complete industrial chain in this city. And at the end of this industrial chain were those chips whose uses he didn’t know.

“Chengran, what exactly are those chips for?”

Cheng Ran thought for a moment. “It could be a communication chip, the kind used by stargazers. Or it could be a chip used in the control system. The facilities of the Northern Star Court around the world all require communication and control, and these chips are core components.”

“The technology used to manufacture these chips comes from Originium.”

“Yes. Originium is the basic material, and chips are the application products. The Northern Star Court controls the entire chain from raw materials to finished products.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up the now-cold pork rib soup and drank it all in one gulp. “Then let’s break their chains.”

Cheng Ran looked at him. “You want to intercept the goods?”

“It’s not about intercepting the goods. It’s about breaking their supply chain. Whether it’s a vehicle, a warehouse, or a production line, as long as we can find a way to stop it, Beichen Zhiting will have to spend time repairing it. The more time they spend, the more we can find out.”

“You’re trying to alert the enemy.”

“The snake already knows we’re nearby. Let’s give it a slap and see which way it runs.”

Cheng Ran was silent for a few seconds. “How do you plan to fight?”

Lin Jiqiu thought for a moment. “Fengyuan Agriculture’s production line. If we can get in and sabotage it—not all of it, just a part. Their production will be affected, and they’ll need to repair or replace equipment. The repairmen might be technicians from within Beichen Court. By following them, we can find people at a higher level.”

“The risk is too great.”

“Risk and reward are directly proportional.”

Ayou came out of the kitchen carrying two cups of tea. He placed the tea on the coffee table, looked at Lin Jiqiu, and then at Cheng Ran. “Boss, what are you going to do now?”

“Go to Fengyuan Agriculture and sabotage their production line.”

Ah You’s hand tightened its grip on his apron. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I know.”

“and you–“

“Ah You,” Lin Jiqiu said calmly, but with an undeniable air of authority, “Go to sleep. There’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

Ah You opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he just nodded, turned around and went upstairs.

Ahua jumped onto the sofa and curled up next to Lin Jiqiu. She reached out and scratched Ahua’s chin, and Ahua made a gurgling sound.

“Chengran, we haven’t been inside Fengyuan Agriculture’s greenhouses yet. We’re not sure what’s inside them.”

“Therefore, reconnaissance is needed first.”

“Bluebird”.

“Bluebird”.

The next morning, Lin Jiqiu didn’t rush out. He sat on the sofa and looked at the satellite map of Fengyuan Agriculture several times. The courtyard wall, the main gate, the side gate, the greenhouses, the gray building. He closed his eyes and mentally reconstructed the layout of the entire yard.

“Bluebird,” he commanded in his mind.

A bluebird flew up from the windowsill, its gray feathers almost transparent in the morning light. It landed on Lin Jiqiu’s shoulder, tilting its head, its black bean-like eyes sparkling.

“Let’s go to Fengyuan and see what’s inside the greenhouse.”

The bluebird flapped its wings and flew away, disappearing outside the window.

Lin Jiqiu closed his eyes.

The bluebird’s vision unfolded high in the sky. The city shrank beneath its feet, the highways became thin lines, and the cars became moving dots. After flying for about twenty minutes, the courtyard of Fengyuan Agriculture came into view. The bluebird lowered its altitude, flew over the courtyard wall, and landed on the plastic sheeting of the greenhouse.

The greenhouse’s plastic sheeting was so thick that you couldn’t see inside from the outside. Qingque found a broken crack and crawled inside.

Through Qingque’s vision, Lin Jiqiu saw the scene inside the greenhouse—not vegetables, not plants. Instead, there were rows of metal racks, on which sat various pieces of equipment Lin Jiqiu couldn’t name. There were reaction vessels, pipes, and control panels. Electrical wires stretched across the ground, densely packed like blood vessels. The air was filled with the pungent smell of chemicals.

Several people in white protective suits walked between the equipment, holding notebooks in their hands, and stopped in front of the control panel to record the data on the instrument panel.

A bluebird flew over the perch and landed on a high beam, overlooking the entire greenhouse. The greenhouse was huge, probably over a thousand square meters. Equipment took up most of the space, with some cardboard boxes and plastic buckets piled up in the corners. The cardboard boxes were printed with the words “Fengyuan Agriculture,” the same as the ones we had seen before.

Lin Jiqiu had Qingque fly around the greenhouse, taking pictures of all the equipment, workbenches, cardboard boxes, and people in protective suits. Then Qingque slipped through a gap and flew back to the office.

Lin Jiqiu opened her eyes and synchronized the scene Qingque saw onto the tablet.

“Chengran, look. This isn’t an agricultural greenhouse. It’s a chemical plant.”

Cheng Ran looked at the screen. “Reaction vessel, pipes, control panel. This is a production line for some kind of chemical.”

“What chemical?”

“I don’t know. But judging from the scale and complexity of the equipment, it’s not a simple chemical product. It could be a precursor material for chips.”

“What about that gray building? Qingque didn’t go in.”

“Have Qingque go again this afternoon.”

In the afternoon, the bluebird flew to Fengyuan Agriculture again. This time, its target was the gray building. The building’s doors were closed, and the curtains were drawn in the windows. The bluebird squeezed into the ventilation duct. The ventilation duct was very narrow; the bluebird’s wings were almost touching the duct wall as it barely squeezed through.

The pipe outlet was on the ceiling of the corridor. The corridor was long, with doors on both sides, labeled “Laboratory,” “Quality Control Room,” and “Warehouse.” A bluebird flew down from the ceiling and landed on the corridor’s light fixture.

The corridor was empty. The bluebird flew towards the door of the “laboratory,” which was closed, but it could see people operating equipment inside through the crack. It flew to the door of the “quality control room,” which wasn’t fully closed, and squeezed through the crack.

The quality control room wasn’t large, containing a few tables. On the tables were microscopes, spectrometers, and several other instruments that Lin Jiqiu couldn’t name. A person in a white lab coat sat at one of the tables, observing something under a microscope.

The bluebird flew to the table and landed behind a stack of documents. Through the gaps in the documents, a metal plate could be seen on the microscope stage—the same material as the chips. The person was writing something in a notebook, but the bluebird couldn’t see the words from its angle.

Lin Jiqiu sent Qingque back to the corridor and went to the “warehouse” again. The warehouse door was closed, but through the crack, he could see cardboard boxes piled up inside—the same kind of cardboard boxes as those in Yuanfeng Electronics’ warehouse. The boxes were printed with numbers, just like the ones he had seen before.

Qingque returned via the same route.

Lin Jiqiu opened his eyes and synced the newly captured footage to the tablet.

“That building houses the laboratories and quality control rooms. The warehouse is piled high with finished chips. Fengyuan Agriculture is not just a simple production base. From raw materials to finished products, everything is here.”

“What about Yuanfeng Electronics?”

“Yuanfeng Electronics may just be a transit warehouse. Chips produced by Fengyuan Agriculture are first transported to Yuanfeng Electronics for temporary storage before being distributed to the receiving points below.”

Cheng Ran looked at the screen. “The source of that entire chain is Fengyuan Agriculture.”

“Yes. So if we’re going to cut off the supply, we need to cut off the source.”

Lin Jiqiu leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. The equipment, the people, the cardboard boxes Qingque had seen swirled in his mind. Beichen Zhiting had been operating in this city for countless years, building a complete industrial chain. From the paper figures in Liuhe Village to the production lines of Fengyuan Agriculture, to the warehouses of Yuanfeng Electronics, to the trucks of Yuantong Freight, to the receiving points in the south of the city and neighboring cities. Each link was independent, yet interconnected.

“Chengran, if we could get a list of personnel from Fengyuan Agriculture—”

“That way you’ll know who’s managing this industry chain.”

“right.”

“Then we need to go into that building and find the personnel files.”

Lin Jiqiu opened her eyes. “Let’s go tonight.”

“night?”

“There are fewer people at night. And it’s easier to sneak in at night.”

Cheng Ran looked at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sure.”

At 10 PM, A-Zuo parked the car on a side road near Fengyuan Agriculture. Lin Jiqiu got out, and Cheng Ran followed behind. A-Zuo waited in the car, the engine still running. The night breeze was a bit cool, rustling the poplar trees along the roadside. There were stars in the sky, but no moon, and it was pitch black all around.

Lin Jiqiu took a small flashlight from his pocket but didn’t turn it on. He groped his way to the wall in the dark; the wall was very high, with barbed wire strung on top. He found an angle out of the camera’s view, took a rope from his backpack, threw it over the wall, and hooked it onto a crack in the brickwork below the barbed wire. He tugged on it to make sure it was secure, then climbed up.

Cheng Ran followed behind. The two climbed over the wall and landed on the grass in the yard. The yard was quiet; the lights in the greenhouse were still on, but no one was there. Light shone from a few windows on the second floor of the gray building. Lin Jiqiu walked to the iron gate on the side of the building, stuck the master card on it, the red light flashed once, but it didn’t turn on. He tried again, but it still didn’t turn on.

“The access control system has been upgraded,” Cheng Ran said in a low voice.

Lin Jiqiu took a thin wire from his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole—it wasn’t an electronic lock, but a mechanical one. He turned it a few times, and with a click, the lock opened.

The two slipped inside. The stairwell was dark, without lights. They went up the stairs to the second floor. The corridor was lit, but empty. Offices lined both sides, their doors closed. At the end of the corridor was the personnel office.

Lin Jiqiu walked to the door and turned the doorknob—it was locked. He unlocked it with a thin wire and slipped inside.

The office wasn’t large, with two desks and two filing cabinets. Lin Jiqiu walked to the filing cabinets; they were locked. He unlocked them and took out the folders inside. Employee files, arranged alphabetically by surname. He took out his phone and photographed each page.

Cheng Ran stood at the doorway, staring down the corridor.

“Someone’s coming,” he said in a low voice.

Lin Jiqiu quickened her pace, photographed the last few pages, put the folder back in the filing cabinet, and locked it. The two slipped out of the office, footsteps echoing at the end of the corridor. They didn’t head towards the stairs—that would mean bumping into each other. Lin Jiqiu pushed open an unlocked door beside her and slipped inside.

The room was dark, with no lights on. They could see the courtyard outside through the window. Footsteps approached from the corridor, growing closer and then fading into the distance. They waited a while, making sure no one was in the corridor, before leaving the room and hurrying towards the stairs.

After exiting the iron gate and climbing over the wall, we got into the car.

“Did you get a picture?” A-Zuo asked.

“I got the picture.” Lin Jiqiu leaned back in his seat and handed his phone to Cheng Ran.

Cheng Ran took the photos and looked through them. “The employee files, apart from a few locally recruited workers, mostly contain fake identity information for the managers. Just like those paper men in Liuhe Village.”

“But their photos are real.”

“Yes. With photos, we can track it.”

Ah-Zuo started the car, turned around, and drove towards the office.

Lin Jiqiu looked out the window. The night was deep, and the streetlights receded one by one. They had obtained the personnel list for Fengyuan Agriculture; although most of the identities were fake, the faces were real. One day, he would find the people behind those faces.

It was almost midnight when they got back to the office. Ah You didn’t wait for them; there was a thermos and a note on the coffee table—”The soup is in the pot, help yourself.”

Lin Jiqiu didn’t drink the soup. He went upstairs, lay on the bed, and closed his eyes. His mind was filled with those faces. The people of Beichen Court—they had faces too. Not code names, not tokens, not paper figures. They were faces. One day, he would remember every single one of them.