Chapter 54: World Two [24]

The real-name report Jing Ke mentioned wasn’t the type where you burst into a police station clutching a pile of evidence, shouting that you wanted to report someone for drug use.

Instead, using her superb technical skills, she hacked into the work computer of the relevant Provincial Official, embedded the most direct transaction evidence onto it, and conveniently attached a photo of her ID card and contact details.

Thinking of Shao Qing’s deep concern for her safety, Jing Ke appended a list of personnel authorized to know her identity, specifying that her information could only be shared with these individuals and not disseminated further.

If her information got out, then the packaged data she’d delivered might also get out due to some unfortunate negligence.

Jing Ke had vetted this list thoroughly; if a related arrest operation were to occur, these people would absolutely be the commanders and backbone of it.

More importantly, they were absolutely loyal to the people and would not sell out Jing Ke’s information for personal gain.

The hacking of a Provincial Official’s work computer was already a grave matter in itself, potentially leading to serious state secrets being leaked.

After the official saw the extra file on her computer, she widened her eyes, inhaling deeply several times before she could control her overtly shocked expression.

As the person in charge, she knew exactly what this complete chain of evidence signified.

Using their previous methods—undercover infiltration and long-term stakeouts—it would have required immense manpower, resources, and time to obtain such a thorough body of evidence.

But the Provincial Official didn’t blindly trust the data. She logged into relevant information websites and started looking into Jing Ke’s background.

Born in a domestic coastal city twenty-five years ago, Jing Ke was taken abroad at the age of three. Her foreign experiences were unrecorded, but she had never obtained foreign citizenship.

According to customs records, Jing Ke had been back in the country for less than a month and had settled in Sea City, a bustling, bustling metropolis.

Upon returning, she spent nearly a hundred million yuan to acquire a poorly managed entertainment company, renaming it New Life Entertainment Co., Ltd. It was currently in a phase of internal personnel restructuring, seemingly poised to establish roots and develop within the entertainment industry.

The scant information made the Provincial Official even more hesitant to easily trust, but she was unwilling to miss the chance to uproot this malignant tumor.

The cautious Provincial Official promptly convened everyone listed on that document, initiating a video conference where she shared the evidence delivered right to her virtual doorstep.

Official Number One: “Our comrade planted deep within the enemy’s stronghold has transmitted back similar intel that aligns perfectly with this complete chain of evidence. This data is very likely genuine.”

Official Number Two: “Can someone who has lived overseas for so long truly be trusted? What if she’s bait deliberately released by the enemy? Once we act, our comrades embedded for over a decade will be in danger. The risk is too great; we cannot afford to lose.”

Official Number Three: “We can’t pass up such a golden opportunity. Erasing this gang sooner will indirectly save tens of thousands of lives!”

Official Number Four: “This involves overseas elements. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs will certainly need to coordinate first. This matter brooks no impatience; our steps must be steady.”

Official Number Two: “My personal suggestion is we need more assessment and evaluation. Hacking directly into a cadre’s computer is not the behavior of a law-abiding citizen.”

Official Number Three: “I’m not so absolute about that. The precision with which the files were delivered suggests this Jing Ke did her homework. And leaving her ID info shows she’s very sincere about cooperating with us.”

Official Number Five: “Is it possible to speak directly with this Jing Ke? Why did she send all this information? What does she want in exchange? A position? Preferential allocation of resources?”

Provincial Official: “There’s a phone number listed; I can try communicating directly with this Jing Ke.”

Official Number One: “Good, make direct contact. Synchronize the call’s audio directly to us.”

The meeting had been convened urgently, so when Jing Ke saw the incoming call from an unknown number, she was in the kitchen prepping ingredients.

After inserting a Bluetooth earpiece, Jing Ke answered directly.

“Hello, this is Jing Ke speaking.” Jing Ke greeted politely.

“Hello, Ms. Jing Ke. I saw the email you sent me. Could we discuss its contents?” The Provincial Official’s voice came through the earpiece.

Jing Ke had been selective in her hacking. The Provincial Official she’d targeted had been a front-line force in her youth, only forced into a second-line command role due to injuries sustained in the line of duty.

This official possessed an unshakable conviction, a strong capacity for empathy, and was unafraid to break convention and try new approaches.

“The contents are things I collected through online means. If needed, I can provide even more data, up to and including real-time location tracking of those individuals.” Jing Ke cut straight to the chase, laying down her biggest bargaining chip.

“Before you called, you should have very carefully reviewed those materials. Perhaps you’ve already corroborated via other channels that the data I provided is genuine.”

Silence hung on the other end for a moment. Three minutes passed before the voice returned, “Yes. But I want to know why you’re doing this? As I understand it, you lived abroad for twenty-two years. Your memories of home should be almost nonexistent, correct? May I ask why you chose to do this?”

“Yes, which is precisely why I need to quickly establish roots and develop my business domestically. I plan to take over an entertainment company, then expand operations and strive to become the industry leader.”

“I did a brief scan of my competitors and found their hands aren’t very clean. So I want to seek cooperation with the government to send all those criminal rivals to the places they belong.”

Jing Ke glanced down at the matchstick potato strips on the cutting board, rinsed them twice briefly to wash off the starch, and set them aside to drain.

“Is that your exchange condition? You need the government to support you in opening an entertainment company?” The Provincial Official’s tone carried a trace of bewilderment.

If Jing Ke possessed such formidable hacking skills, why not develop advanced systems or research cutting-edge technologies?

A talent like that going into the entertainment industry seemed like a shocking waste of potential—using a guided missile to shoot down a sparrow. Such a waste.

“You could say that. I hope relevant departments can slightly relax certain requirements when reviewing my company’s productions. I want to film something with novel themes, something that won’t see my creative expression shackled by layer upon layer of censorship.” Jing Ke stated.

“Furthermore, I hope relevant departments can ramp up efforts against those gossip accounts willing to spout any nonsense for money. The cost of online slander is far too low. Ideally, related laws and regulations could be improved.”

“If the information you’ve provided proves true, we can grant you certain privileges, so long as no laws are broken and no gore or violence is promoted. I will personally engage with the relevant departments.” The Provincial Official quickly replied.

To her, the requests Jing Ke raised were not excessive. Moreover, the state already had intentions to intervene in the entertainment industry.

“Is there anything else you require?” the Provincial Official added.

“I want my information absolutely confidential. I don’t want anyone outside that list to know. I value my personal safety highly.” Jing Ke said. “I don’t need any credit or commendation. Keep me invisible from any media reports as well.”

“Of course. We will encrypt your files. Below my clearance level, no one will be able to view your detailed dossier.” The Provincial Official readily agreed.

“But our protection for you is limited to within national borders. If you travel abroad, you must file a report and request authorization with us at least three days in advance.” She added, glancing at her colleagues’ text suggestions.

“If you have any requests in the future, you can bring them to us. We will not forget anyone who has rendered meritorious service.”

The Provincial Official had great foresight and considered many angles.

If Jing Ke truly possessed such uncanny hacking skills, able to unearth a criminal evidence chain this vast with just a computer and an internet connection,

then Jing Ke was unequivocally a national treasure-level talent. Such a talent had to be properly cultivated and firmly kept from being poached by foreign entities.

“You should be able to investigate who I’m close to. Shao Qing is the sole reason I settled back in the country. I don’t want anything to happen to her.” Jing Ke added one final point.

“I understand. Let us deliberate; we will contact you within three days.” The Provincial Official concluded the call.

After ending this communication with the Provincial Official, Jing Ke casually opened a music player and continued concentrating on cooking.

In Jing Ke’s plan, her identity data would only be known by key individuals, minimizing the risk of leakage.

Additionally, since Jing Ke didn’t want any honors or public recognition, she only needed this approach to reduce the obstacles hindering her influence on this world.

Whether the entire gang was swept up in one net or some fish slipped through, she would not appear in any public reports or internal files.

To reassure Shao Qing, Jing Ke didn’t hide the direct call with the Provincial Official. She also told her about the expected cooperation in three days.

“But I still feel it’s very dangerous.” Shao Qing had once guest-starred in related film topics, giving her contact with some authentic information.

The methods of those drug traffickers were truly terrifying; recalling them still made Shao Qing’s heart flutter with fear unbidden.

“It’s fine. I can crack all their communication methods reliant on networks and signals. Besides, I’ve made other arrangements. If my name information is ever sent out, the moment they receive it, it will be automatically replaced with another person’s.” Jing Ke reassured her; she could be very cautious too.

“You can do that?” Shao Qing froze upon hearing it, but remembering Jing Ke was a Higher-Dimensional Being, she silently dismissed her doubt. “Then whose personal info did you switch it to?”

“Xu Yin’s.” Jing Ke said with an utterly earnest expression. “If Xu Yin gets attacked by unknown assailants, then it means the official confidentiality protocols failed.”

“But the risk is minimal. The crackdown on traffickers domestically is terrifyingly stringent. The things you’re worried about have a higher probability of happening abroad.” Jing Ke blinked, then asked cautiously, “Shao Qing, you don’t mind me doing this, do you?”

Shao Qing shook her head gently, her expression carrying a hint of indifference. “I’m not some selfless, righteous person either. Rather than you getting hurt, let Xu Yin take the hit.”

Xu Yin was never a good person anyway. From the intel Jing Ke had previously compiled, Xu Yin had definitely committed illegal and immoral acts.

Even if he got stabbed in broad daylight by drug traffickers, wouldn’t it be considered comeuppance?

Uprooting an entire gang wasn’t something that could be prepared in just a few days. The front-line personnel alone numbered in the thousands, involving numerous provinces and regions, so the preparatory work consumed nearly a month.

Before this was complete, the official announcement regarding the widely-followed tax evasion scandals involving well-known celebrities was released.

Whether to avoid alerting the snake or due to limited enforcement capacity at the tax agency,

of the more than eighty people Jing Ke anonymously reported, only slightly over thirty ended up on official notices. Among them, nine individuals, implicated in issues like embezzlement of public funds and fraudulent accounting, were now enjoying free three-meals-a-day accommodations inside the slammer.

Director Hua, relying on sufficiently strong connections, merely suffered a massive financial hemorrhage, coughing up roughly two hundred million yuan in back taxes without being dragged into any related disclosures by the authorities. In the eyes of netizens, he remained a famous director worthy of film textbook inclusion.

This outcome left Jing Ke slightly dissatisfied. So, when providing the Provincial Official with the latest intel on the gang’s movements, she appended a comment.

Jing Ke indicated there were far too many tax evaders within the entertainment circles. She hoped relevant departments could intensify their crackdown, ideally making an example of a typical offender with severe punishment.

“This can also act as cover for your subsequent operations, making those individuals mistakenly believe the recent focal point is targeting tax issues in the entertainment industry, rather than the far more severe problems lurking beneath.” Jing Ke offered her personal insight after sharing the latest intelligence.

Realizing Jing Ke could obtain intelligence—information they would have to trade their undercover comrades’ lives for—with a mere flick of her fingers, the Provincial Official readily agreed. She immediately submitted a report to higher-level leadership, outlining the latest requirements of this national treasure-level talent.

Glancing at the submitted report, the senior leader waved a hand and approved it directly.

Tax evasion was an illegal act anyway; wasn’t it perfectly normal to intensify the crackdown somewhat?

Coincidentally, next year’s infrastructure funding was just a little short—let these high-income earners who style themselves as idol stars make up the difference.

Thus, while Jing Ke diligently fulfilled her duties as chef and driver’s assistant, the seemingly subsided tax storm flared up, growing even larger.

The authorities officially announced that every public figure earning over ten million annually would undergo a renewed tax audit, setting the state machinery fully into motion, operating at blistering speed.

When the news broke, tax bureau employees couldn’t help but cry, beginning their daily overtime grind.

But collapsing even harder were the celebrities needing to pay massive back taxes. With the government clearly intent on a thorough investigation, those individuals, however strong their connections, dared not jump out now and become the public example.

Thus, the entire industry suddenly fell silent and on edge. Artists who usually flaunted across platforms quieted down, burning the midnight oil to check their incomes and tax payments.

As a first-tier star thriving on Notorious Fame, Shao Qing naturally fell within the scope of required tax audits.

But Shao Qing had always paid her taxes in full. On top of that, more than half her income was donated, making her one of the first batch of entertainers to pass the audit.

In early December, Shao Qing, along with seven other public figures dedicated to charity, received official recognition from the State Media. A subsequent interview feature was arranged for each, pinned at the top for an entire week.

In an industry where virtually everyone felt threatened, what did it mean to be publicly praised by the authorities?

The answer was simple: Shao Qing became an officially certified model citizen who paid taxes lawfully, a role model within the industry, a public figure worth emulating.

Following this pointed endorsement, Shao Qing’s commercial value saw another surge. Numerous domestic brands sought her as their spokesperson.

Sister Ke, grinning ear to ear, carefully vetted offers and secured Shao Qing two endorsements from domestic brands boasting excellent reputation, quality, and national recognition.

Though the endorsement fees had just reached the seven-figure mark—far lower than some accessible luxury brand deals—this collaboration promised absolute mutual benefit and shared success.

The first brand’s shoot location was in Sea City; Shao Qing just needed to carve out two days for material shooting alongside her saber practice.

But the second brand’s representative wanted their frontline employees and factory to appear in the advertisement, shifting the filming location to the actual production factory located in Mianyang.

“So this time, are you staying here, or coming with me to Mianyang for the shoot?” Shao Qing asked, sitting in the study. In her hands was the script, its edges frayed from countless re-reads.

Mianyang was Shao Qing’s hometown. Last time she had returned to visit her grandmother, Jing Ke needed to promptly follow certain leads and hadn’t been able to accompany her.

“I’ll come along. I’ve already delivered the coded program to the authorities. They can observe and plan operations accordingly; my direct involvement is basically no longer needed.” Jing Ke pressed the Enter key, temporarily ending her work.

“Shao Qing, do you have time in January? There’s a popular variety show. Its filming format is similar to an immersive murder mystery game, but this time they’re planning a live broadcast too.” Jing Ke inquired.

“An immersive murder mystery game? Is it ‘Who Is the Murderer?'” Shao Qing looked up towards Jing Ke. “I remember this show’s popularity is pretty good.”

Jing Ke nodded, “Not bad. I have a spot available for a Flight Guest. Want to give it a try?”

Shao Qing tilted her head slightly, a quizzical look flashing in her eyes. “Did you trade info for this too? Isn’t this a local variety show? Can the police even intervene in this?”

Jing Ke said very naturally, “Nope. I invested ten million in the production team, and they gave me one of their two per-episode Flight Guest spots.”

“If you weren’t entering the film crew in February, I was planning to ask for a Regular Guest spot too.” Jing Ke smiled. “If you’re free, I’ll submit your name. If not, I’ll arrange for another artist from our company to go instead.”

“Huh?” Shao Qing couldn’t help but widen her eyes. She heard Jing Ke’s words clearly, but since when did she have a company? And when had she invested ten million?

Wasn’t Jing Ke always living with her? The only time they were apart was those two days when she returned to her hometown. Could two days really have made Jing Ke a company boss?