Chapter Eleven: The Mysterious Enemy

These days, Qingdong was shrouded in continuous rain, showers coming and going, drenching the city in their wake. The greenery throughout the city shimmered with crystal droplets, and the fresh scent of earth lingered in the air.

This city possessed its own unique flavor, unlike the sharp-edged, concrete and steel Mingcheng; here, every inch of land was entwined with green, even the high-rises were surrounded by trees, lending the place a touch of softness.

After checking into the hotel, Haifeng told the young members to rest and recover from their journey, then he and Liu Zhiyang went out first. Zhang Mufeng went to chat with the hotel’s front desk manager, Li Mengyang surfed the internet on his tablet in the room, the sound of notifications echoing constantly. Zhao Zhijie, meanwhile, was absorbed in reading materials on his laptop.

Knock, knock, knock! A round of knocking sounded at the door.

“Just a moment!” Hearing the knock, Zhao Zhijie rose from the bed and opened the door to find Li Weiwei standing there.

“Is something the matter?” Zhao Zhijie asked.

“I’d like to go for a walk—are you interested in joining?” Li Weiwei inquired.

Zhao Zhijie thought for a moment, then replied, “Alright.”

He closed the door and the two of them left the hotel together.

Adjacent to the hotel was a park—a hallmark of Qingdong’s urban design, its abundant parks inviting people to wander at will. The drizzling rain had driven away the summer heat, the moisture in the air making everything feel refreshing. As they walked along the tree-shaded path, Li Weiwei felt her mood lift; she realized how much a pleasant environment could ease one’s heart.

Li Weiwei said to Zhao Zhijie, “You were right, this team is actually quite enjoyable, but I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do. It seems there’s nothing for me!”

Zhao Zhijie glanced at her. She wore a gray cotton-linen dress with a white shawl, her smooth long hair tied back with a headband, perfectly complementing the gentle atmosphere of Qingdong.

“Don’t worry, you’ll definitely have a place to shine. Otherwise, if you were just here for a free vacation, we’d be losing out, wouldn’t we? Leader Hai isn’t one for losing deals,” Zhao Zhijie said with a smile.

“Well, actually, if there’s nothing to do, it’s like a holiday, which isn’t bad. It’s my first time in Qingdong—the environment here is truly wonderful!” Li Weiwei breathed deeply, letting the freshness seep into her heart.

“I don’t think you’re really suited to being a police officer. You seem to have it tough—so why persist?” Li Weiwei asked Zhao Zhijie.

Zhao Zhijie lowered his head and pondered for a while. “Because I have to earn a living. I’ve been here for eight years now, and I can’t really switch to something else.”

“You’re attached to your public servant status, aren’t you? The work is easier, and jobs outside aren’t as good—people are struggling out there,” Li Weiwei said.

“You mean the so-called ‘996’?” Zhao Zhijie asked, then continued before she could answer, “Our work schedule is 5+2, day and night, overtime calculated weekly. Do you think I’d care about ‘996’?”

“Then why not change careers?” Li Weiwei pressed.

“It’s not that I haven’t considered it, but it’s not easy to switch fields. When you’re in one position, all your skills develop for that role, and after a long time it’s hard to adapt to another industry. I’ve always been at the grassroots level, so I haven’t progressed much technically—how could those companies want me? My resumes all vanish without a trace,” Zhao Zhijie explained.

“But I know plenty of police uncles who went to work at companies, and their benefits are pretty good,” Li Weiwei said.

“You probably know those who are at division level or above. Those leaders have networks—they can help companies develop police-related business, which is lucrative, so companies want them. I’m different; I don’t know anyone,” Zhao Zhijie replied.

“But if you don’t want to do it, why keep going? Can you really be happy doing something you dislike?” Li Weiwei asked.

“Because I have to eat. People have to live. I’ve been here eight years, and I’m unfamiliar with other industries—if I don’t do this, what would I eat?” Zhao Zhijie said.

“Is there nothing else you know well? If Party A doesn’t want to do it, you could go to Party B!” Li Weiwei suggested.

“If I’m Party A, then Party B is the criminal—you want me to be a criminal?” Zhao Zhijie laughed cheerfully. “But honestly, that’s a pretty good job. All the ways to make big money are written in the criminal code—switching over, you’d be rolling in it!”

Li Weiwei was startled by this perspective, surprise showing on her face.

Zhao Zhijie suddenly grew serious. “But one must have their own beliefs. My faith is in the goodness of this country. I could give up being a police officer without hesitation, but I would never do anything that harms this nation—that’s my bottom line. Besides, the law’s net is vast and unyielding; there’s no such thing as a criminal who won’t be caught. I don’t want to end up living in a ‘grand courtyard.’”

He looked at Li Weiwei and both of them smiled.

Li Weiwei fell silent. She had always considered herself self-reliant, but now she realized she still depended on her family. If her family hadn’t been well-off, would she truly have been able to pursue what she liked? She suddenly felt people like Zhao Zhijie were pitiful—working at jobs they disliked with no recourse. Sometimes, society was indeed cruel.

After half an hour of circling the park, Zhao Zhijie said, “Let’s head back. Leader Hai and the others should be returning soon.”

“Alright,” Li Weiwei replied.

They returned to the hotel.

As soon as Li Weiwei entered, she saw Zhang Mufeng waving goodbye to the front desk manager, the woman beaming with delight.

The two joined Zhang Mufeng in the elevator.

“You’re quite the charmer—the girl was all smiles!” Li Weiwei teased Zhang Mufeng.

“I told you, my specialty is communication,” Zhang Mufeng replied with a smile.

“And what good is that? Is chatting really a specialty?” Li Weiwei pouted.

“It’s great for gathering information. Otherwise, how could I know so much about Leader Hai? He’s not the type to share his stories,” Zhang Mufeng said.

“So what info do you have about me?” Li Weiwei asked, intrigued.

“The one who knows you best here is Zhao Zhijie, and he only knows you’re a hacker. What info could I have? Intelligence isn’t guesswork—divination doesn’t work,” Zhang Mufeng laughed.

“What about Zhao Zhijie?” Li Weiwei pressed.

“He’s a good person, unlucky, but Leader Hai is a great mentor. Gold will shine no matter what,” Zhang Mufeng smiled at Zhao Zhijie. Before finishing, he added, “Besides, I only know the young ladies of the ‘wealthy families,’ but he knows the heiresses. With connections like his, luck will turn around soon.” He looked at Li Weiwei with a smile.

Li Weiwei was astonished by Zhang Mufeng’s information-gathering skill. She knew she had never revealed her identity—besides Qiu Zhiyong, no one else knew her family background. Yet Zhang Mufeng’s words made it clear he knew. She realized he would make an exceptional intelligence agent—a rare social worker indeed.

Just as Zhao Zhijie and the others returned to their room, Haifeng and Liu Zhiyang came back from outside.

They gathered in Haifeng’s room.

Haifeng said, “Zhiyang and I just spoke to our colleagues here. The location Zhao Zhijie mentioned is in an industrial park. We’ve arranged with local colleagues to assist if needed. We also went to the telecom provider—the company hosting the server is called ‘Jiazhuang Storage.’ Tomorrow we’ll scout the site and make further plans. Zhang Mufeng and Zhao Zhijie, you’ll go with me; Zhiyang, you, Li Mengyang, and Li Weiwei will remain on standby.”

“Leader Hai, I just talked with people at the hotel about the area. That industrial park is the largest tech park in Qingdong—I’ve got the routes down, it’s a half-hour metro ride. Mostly internet companies, lots of foot traffic, so no one will notice us. Dress casually like programmers and we’ll blend in,” Zhang Mufeng reported.

Li Weiwei realized Zhang Mufeng was remarkable—he hadn’t left the hotel, yet he’d been gathering intel all along. Truly an outstanding intelligence operative, she thought, glancing at his youthful, smiling face. You really can’t judge by appearances.

The next day, Haifeng, Zhang Mufeng, and Zhao Zhijie went to the industrial park. They first visited the property management office to learn about “Jiazhuang Storage,” checked surveillance records, and found it was a small company with only four employees, but a heavy electricity user. Zhao Zhijie deduced there was likely a server cluster.

Zhang Mufeng volunteered to disguise himself as an electrician and probe the company. Haifeng had the property management temporarily cut power to that floor.

Soon, a call came to property management: “Hello, this is Room 2501, Building 7. We’ve lost power—has the whole park lost power or is it just us?”

Haifeng replied, “No issues in the park. I’ll send an electrician to check.”

“Thank you,” came the reply.

Zhang Mufeng, tool bag in hand, set off for “Jiazhuang Storage.”

Inside, he looked around. Three people were busy on phones, handling business. The fourth, a young man in a black t-shirt with short hair, spoke up: “Are you the new electrician? I haven’t seen you before!”

“Liu is sick. I’m filling in. You’re the boss, right?” Zhang Mufeng asked.

“Yes, that’s me. Any idea why the power’s out? Please check quickly—I’ve got servers here, and the UPS won’t last long. You can’t just cut power on servers; I’ll lose a lot if it’s not fixed soon,” the man said.

“How long can the UPS hold out?” Zhang Mufeng asked.

“About half a day,” the man replied.

“That’s plenty. I checked the electrical box outside, nothing wrong. Let me see your server room,” Zhang Mufeng said.

“Alright, I’ll take you,” the man replied.

They went next door. Seeing the room full of servers, Zhang Mufeng asked, “What does your company do? Why so many servers?”

“Mainly server hosting,” the man answered.

“Why rent such a big office? You could just use a private residence,” Zhang Mufeng commented.

“The load’s too high there, power cuts aren’t acceptable. Plus, the park offers incentives—my rent and electricity are cheaper than a private residence,” the man said.

“That makes sense,” Zhang Mufeng agreed.

He tested the power, then asked the man to fetch a cloth. While he was out, Zhang Mufeng slipped a burnt fuse into the power supply, then removed it when the man returned.

“Your power usage is so high, the fuse burnt out. I’ve replaced it—hold on,” Zhang Mufeng said, then had Haifeng restore the power and left.

The three regrouped, and Haifeng asked, “No cameras in the room?”

“None. All normal inside, the four are present, black t-shirt’s the boss, the other three are sales staff. From their business calls, they seem to just host servers, not suspects. Here’s the footage—take a look,” Zhang Mufeng said.

Haifeng and Zhao Zhijie watched Zhang Mufeng’s footage and decided to act immediately, giving no time for reaction. Haifeng contacted Qingdong colleagues, and he and Zhao Zhijie returned to “Jiazhuang Storage.”

Faced with so many police, the four young men were bewildered, not understanding what was happening.

Haifeng asked who was in charge. The young man in black stepped forward, “I’m the boss, my name is Jia Cunzai. What’s the matter?”

Haifeng had Jia Cunzai take them to the server Zhao Zhijie had mentioned, but when Jia was asked to enter the password, there was a problem.

“Officer, our company maintains servers for others. This particular server is hosted for a game company—they never gave me the account or password, always manage it remotely, so I can’t log in,” Jia Cunzai said, troubled.

“Who hired you to host this server?” Haifeng asked.

“Someone with the same surname—Jia Yucun. We met online,” Jia Cunzai replied.

Hearing this name, Haifeng immediately realized it was fake. “Jia Yucun” is a pun referencing “false words stored”—even quoting Dream of the Red Chamber. Clearly, their adversary was a literary type.

“Have you met in person?” Haifeng asked.

“No, all contact was online via HugeChat,” Jia Cunzai replied.

“How does he pay you?” Haifeng continued.

“Online payments,” Jia Cunzai said.

“How do you know he isn’t breaking the law, or a criminal?” Haifeng pressed.

“I don’t think so. Besides, I’m just hosting servers—whatever he does isn’t my concern. I know nothing, just earning a bit to support my family,” Jia Cunzai answered.

Haifeng reviewed Jia Cunzai’s company books and HugeChat records with “Jia Yucun.” He wasn’t sure if Jia was truly ignorant or simply uncooperative, but he knew they wouldn’t get server information from him—he wasn’t the one they sought.

Haifeng had his Qingdong colleagues escort the young men out, then called Li Weiwei: “Weiwei, we’re at ‘Jiazhuang Storage,’ a server hosting company. We found the server, but no one knows the password. Can you break in?”

“No problem, ten minutes,” Li Weiwei replied. She had already researched the server beforehand, knowing it ran an outdated system. She had easily sniffed out this intel, and knew many vulnerabilities—ten minutes was more than enough.

Once Li Weiwei gave Haifeng the login details, he had Zhao Zhijie begin forensic analysis.

While Zhao Zhijie worked, Haifeng pondered Jia Cunzai’s role. If innocent, his hosting facilitated fraud; if guilty, he knew nothing of the programs running on the server. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to know. As long as he made money, the legality of the programs didn’t concern him. Yet, it was his indifference that gave criminals opportunity, making honest earnings vanish without a trace.

Haifeng thought of the black and gray industry chains—the criminal black chain relying on the legally ambiguous gray chain, lurking behind it to stir trouble, while the gray chain greedily siphoned the nation’s lifeblood, making everyone unwittingly pay for their malicious deeds.

Even more terrifying, when crime is no longer the activity of individuals or gangs, but infiltrates every corner of the country, when anyone—friend or stranger—might be part of criminal activity, how frightening is that!

Haifeng didn’t know how to curb this new form of crime, but he understood the need to cultivate forces capable of opposing it—the new generation. He might not know how, but he believed these young people would find a way. His task was to trust them, foster them, strengthen them, and fulfill his historical mission.

Zhao Zhijie checked the login user and chat records on the server, discovering traces of Li Mengyao. But he knew the opponent used a dynamic address—he couldn’t track it, which left him dejected. He reported the situation to Haifeng.

Haifeng called Li Weiwei again: “Weiwei, we found info on Li Mengyao from the server, but Zhao Zhijie says it’s a dynamic address, untraceable. Do you have any ideas?”

“I can’t trace it either. The only option is to plant a virus on the server and wait for them to log in again, then we can pinpoint their location,” Li Weiwei replied.

“Alright, understood,” Haifeng said.

Afterwards, Haifeng returned to the hotel with Zhao Zhijie and Zhang Mufeng.

The three felt a bit frustrated—success was within reach, but they could do nothing more and had to wait.

Li Weiwei was likewise frustrated, wishing she had better options, but for now, she too could only wait.

Haifeng gathered all the team members and briefed them on the day’s actions. Li Mengyang, after hearing the report and seeing their disappointed faces, suddenly said, “Actually, we don’t have to just wait—we can be proactive.”

Everyone looked at him in surprise, full of anticipation.

“We know ‘Jia Yucun’s’ HugeChat account, right? Just use Jia Cunzai’s phone to trick the address out of him. Once we find him, we’ll have no trouble finding Li Mengyao,” Li Mengyang explained.

Zhang Mufeng shook his head, “It’s possible ‘Jia Yucun’ doesn’t know Li Mengyao in real life, only online. If ‘Jia Yucun’ is caught, we may never catch Li Mengyao.”

Li Mengyang said, “Don’t we know Li Mengyao’s game account? Can’t we find her address?”

“No way—the account is no longer in use,” Zhao Zhijie replied.

“The account may be inactive, but a person’s habits don’t change easily. Language, typing style, emojis, catchphrases—all these are hard to alter in a short time. Compare the chat habits of Li Mengyao’s old account to new ones, and you’ll find her new identity. Weiwei’s a hacker, right? With your skills, you and Li Weiwei should be able to locate her as long as you make contact,” Li Mengyang countered.

Zhao Zhijie nodded, “No problem. I’ll find her new account.”

Li Mengyang said, “I’ll impersonate Jia Cunzai to trick ‘Jia Yucun’s’ location.”

Li Weiwei said, “Since they haven’t met, they probably won’t give you the address. But it doesn’t matter—I’ll hack him, then we’ll know his address.” She turned to Zhao Zhijie, “If you need me to break in for you, just ask—don’t be shy.” She made a playful face at him.

“You all have things to do—I’ll just assist, serving tea and pouring water!” Zhang Mufeng sighed, then turned to Zhao Zhijie, “I can help analyze their chat habits! That’s my specialty!”

“Alright, let’s do it together!” Zhao Zhijie smiled at him.

Haifeng watched the young people organize themselves, assign tasks, and plan efficiently, feeling deeply gratified. He told them, “Since you’ve taken over all my work, I won’t say more. With you handling things, Zhiyang and I—two old-timers—can rest easy. But don’t overwork yourselves; get some rest.” With that, Haifeng and Liu Zhiyang retired to their rooms.

“Are you really going to let a bunch of kids do all the work while we rest? I don’t mind, since I don’t have much to contribute at this stage. But do you trust them that much? You’re the leader—your team works while you rest? That’s not how you usually operate! Do you think these kids will find clues?” Once back in their room, Liu Zhiyang asked Haifeng.

“These cases are tough. We’ve been searching for ages and still don’t know who the suspect is. Don’t count on me—at best, I’m the team’s legal advisor, just helping argue with others. Tracking suspects, attacking their devices—that’s not my skill set. Gathering intelligence like Zhang Mufeng isn’t feasible, either. With my looks and age, I could intimidate, but not pry for information,” Liu Zhiyang said.

Haifeng replied, “It’s not bureaucratic—I’m just like you, unable to help them. Now we can only rely on them. If we’re there, they’ll feel constrained; better to let them figure things out themselves. I believe in their abilities. Tomorrow, let’s wait for good news!”

He gazed at the bright moon outside, lost in thought. Seeing Haifeng so calm, Liu Zhiyang said no more, picked up his phone, and started a video call with his daughter, ignoring Haifeng.