My childhood friend is in her mature, sophisticated form again today. - Chapter 66

“Tonight, we need to access the user management interface of the control system,” Cheng Ran said, his voice slightly hoarse.

Where is the management interface?

“It’s on another server, physically isolated from the production line control system. That server isn’t connected to the external network; it can only be accessed through terminals in the factory.” Cheng Ran pushed the tablet over, which showed a new drawing indicating the location of the other server. “Zhang Wen’s notes didn’t mention this server, but there was a small square in the corner of the production line drawing marked with an ‘S’—it probably means server.”

“Inside the factory?”

“Next to the power distribution room on the east side of the factory building. A separate server rack.”

Is anyone on duty at the power distribution room?

“No. The power distribution room operates automatically and does not require human intervention.”

Lin Jiqiu nodded. “Then tonight.”

Ah You came out carrying two bowls of noodles and placed them on the coffee table. “Boss, eat and then sleep a little longer. We’re going out again tonight.” Lin Jiqiu didn’t object and picked up her bowl to eat. Cheng Ran also picked up his bowl, and the two of them each ate most of their bowls before putting down their chopsticks. Ah You took the empty bowls back to the kitchen without asking any further questions.

In the afternoon, the two rested for a while. Lin Jiqiu lay in bed for another two hours, and when he woke up, it was already dark. He changed into dark clothes and checked his toolbox—a universal card, thin wire, a signal receiver, and a new device Cheng Ran had given him, smaller than the last one, like a coin, but more powerful, capable of bypassing simple firewalls. The communicator was clipped to his belt, and the “Yin” SIM card was inserted into his wristband. He went downstairs, where Cheng Ran was already waiting on the sofa. A Zuo stood at the door, holding his car keys.

Let’s go.

The car drove through the night. The streetlights were dim, and the streets were deserted. A-Zuo parked the car on a side road near Fengyuan Agriculture, leaving the engine running and the air conditioning on. Lin Jiqiu and Cheng Ran got out of the car. The night breeze was as cool as the night before, rustling the poplar trees along the roadside. The security cameras on the wall were still turning, their red indicator lights like a string of unblinking eyes in the darkness. They circled back to their previous spot where they had climbed over the wall. Lin Jiqiu threw the rope up, hooked it onto a crack in the brickwork below the barbed wire, and climbed over. Cheng Ran followed behind.

They landed. Hugging the wall to avoid the cameras, they circled around to the side of the factory. The lock on the side door was the same as last night; Lin Jiqiu unlocked it with a thin wire, and the two slipped inside.

The factory was darker than the night before. The equipment was silent, the instrument panels displaying faint readings, like the steady beating of a sleeping heart. The smell of chemicals in the air was fainter, and the vents emitted a low hum. They walked east along the base of the wall. Next to the electrical room stood a separate cabinet, taller and darker than the control cabinet, with a grayish-blue metallic sheen. The cabinet door was locked—not a mechanical lock, but an electronic one.

Lin Jiqiu took out the universal card and placed it on the sensor area. The red light flashed once, but it didn’t turn on. He changed the angle and tried again; the red light flashed again, but it still didn’t turn on. Cheng Ran leaned over to take a look, took out the new coin-sized device from his bag, placed it next to the sensor area, and turned it on. The small light on the device flashed rapidly a few times and then turned green.

The green light came on. Lin Jiqiu opened the door.

Inside the rack was a server, not an ordinary one, but a reinforced one, its thick metal casing tightly sealing the internal components. A row of indicator lights on the front panel displayed power, network, and hard drive status. A label on the bottom of the unit showed the model number and a date—manufactured five years ago. Five years ago. This server had been installed here for five years, running continuously without interruption. Lin Jiqiu reached into his backpack, took out a coin-sized device, attached it to the server’s casing, and started it. The device began emitting extremely weak pulse signals, attempting to establish communication with the server’s data interface. The indicator lights blinked slowly, like a silent breath.

“Reading user management records,” Cheng Ran said in a low voice. “It may take a few minutes.”

Lin Jiqiu stood beside the server rack, his gaze fixed on the side door of the factory, his eyes never leaving it. The factory was quiet, save for the low hum of the ventilation vents and the whirring of the server fans. He held his breath, his eyes glued to the door, waiting for any possible movement. A few minutes passed, and suddenly the indicator lights on the equipment changed from flashing to solid.

“Got it.” Cheng Ran pulled out the device, his voice tinged with fatigue. “User management records. The last login wasn’t Zhang Wen.”

Lin Jiqiu’s fingers tightened slightly. “Who is it?”

“An account. Only an employee ID, no name—’A-017′. Last login was three days ago. The operation log shows that this account modified the default permissions of Zhang Wen’s account.”

“So someone used the account ‘A-017’ to remotely modify Zhang Wen’s permissions, and then generated weekly instructions using Zhang Wen’s employee ID?”

“It seems so. A-017 is the real executor of Echo, but he is using Zhang Wen’s identity to hide himself.”

Lin Jiqiu closed the cabinet door and reset the lock. “A-017, can you find out who it is?”

“Let’s get back in the car and talk. Let’s get out of here first.”

The two quickly walked to the side gate, slipped out, closed the gate, climbed over the wall, and got into the car. A-Zuo started the car and drove towards the city.

“A-017.” Lin Jiqiu leaned back in his seat and read the number aloud.

“In the user management logs, A-017 has a very high level of privileges, second only to the administrator. It can create, modify, and delete permissions for any user in the system.” Cheng Ran looked at the data on the screen. “This account has modified the permission settings for at least five people in the past three years. Zhang Wen is just one of them.”

“There are still four people?”

“Yes. I haven’t checked the others yet.”

Lin Jiqiu was silent for a few seconds. “A-017 is Echo. But Echo isn’t just Zhang Wen. Zhang Wen was being used; the real Echo is the person operating with the A-017 account.”

“Possibly. It’s also possible that A-017 is just an account, not a person. Anyone could log in with that account.”

“That’s a universal identity. The ‘Echo’ system of the Northern Star Court.”

Cheng Ran nodded. “We’re getting closer and closer to the truth.”

Back at the office, dawn was breaking. Ayou was dozing on the sofa, Ahua curled up on his lap, and Aju huddled under the coffee table. Hearing the door open, he jolted awake, and Ahua jumped off his lap.

“Boss, you’re back?”

“Okay.” Lin Jiqiu changed her shoes and sat down on the sofa. Cheng Ran sat down opposite her and transferred the data to the tablet.

“In A-017’s user records, there is one entry that is different from the other accounts. Every time it logs in, it first visits an external link. It’s not an email address, but an encrypted server address.”

“Can it be tracked?”

“Yes. But that server might be located overseas, and tracking it will take time. However, at least we have a path.”

Ah You went to the kitchen and brought out the heated soup, placing it on the coffee table. “Boss, have some soup first.”

Lin Jiqiu picked up the bowl, took a sip, and put it down. “Chengran, start tracking that server address tomorrow.”

“good.”

Lin Jiqiu leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. His mind was filled with the server’s label: manufacturing date—five years ago. This server had been installed for five years, and the account named A-017 had existed for five years. For those five years, Beichen Zhiting had been using this account to issue commands through Zhang Wen’s identity. Zhang Wen was unaware; he thought he was simply executing emails from a higher level. He had been used for five years without his knowledge.

“Cheng Ran”.

“Um.”

“What do you think will happen to Zhang Wen?”

Cheng Ran was silent for a few seconds. “The Northern Star Court may already know that he gave us something.”

Will he die?

“Not necessarily. He’s a useful cog in the machine. The Northern Star Court is more likely to transfer him away, give him a different identity, and send him to work elsewhere.”

Lin Jiqiu stared at the ceiling. “So this is how his life is going to be?”

“Perhaps. The Northern Star Court gave his mother a chance to live. He owes them a life, a debt he can never repay in this lifetime.”

Lin Jiqiu didn’t speak again. He closed his eyes, and the ball on his wrist vibrated gently, in sync with his heartbeat. The sky outside the window was already bright; morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a thin band of light on the floor.

“Cheng Ran”.

“exist.”

“You think what my father found back then was A-017?”

“Perhaps. But he couldn’t find the A-017 account. He found something else.”

“We found something we shouldn’t have.”

“Um.”

Lin Jiqiu opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Several links in the chain of the Northern Star Court had broken. The paper figures of Liuhe Village, the production line of Fengyuan Agriculture, Echo’s account, A-017’s permissions. Each link pointed in the same direction—to that being sitting at the highest point, overlooking everything.

“Chengran, one day, I will find that person.”

“I know.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”