Chapter 78: Prisoner Transfer Preparations

On June 22nd, every operative in the Special Action Department received a notice. They were to carry out a special mission, one that required full attendance and unusual adjustments to their work hours.

Everyone frowned upon hearing the news. A special adjustment for overtime? They even had such a fancy phrase for it.

As division chief, Ji Tingxi worked under Dean He’s direct command alongside Chief Bai to oversee the execution of this special task.

Since taking office, Ji Tingxi could recall only two instances where Dean He had personally organized missions: the interrogation trip to Meisi and the tourist incident at Snake Mouth Bay.

The first had required his involvement due to cross-city operations, while the second had touched on city-state security and carried immense weight.

With Dean He stepping up once more, Ji Tingxi knew the matter was no small thing. Yet when she reviewed the details of the task, its scale hardly seemed to justify deploying the institute’s full might.

—On Saturday morning, they were to escort the Zi Qin sisters to the entrance of the North County Labor Camp and hand them over to the camp’s military police.

It was just a simple escort. In the past, transferring prisoners to the labor camp had only required a single team. There was no need to mobilize like this.

Ruo Xing remarked, “This is really strange. Back when the incident happened in Meisi, weren’t they desperate to send these people back? They sat on them here for a while, and now we’re supposed to handle it ourselves?”

Ji Tingxi scanned the schedule he had sent without looking up.

“Dean He already explained,” she said. “The situation in Meisi is unstable. They’re too busy dealing with the Jili Organization. Brutal as the Jili are to outsiders, they’re fiercely united among themselves. With Zi Wan locked up in Merle, things there have already gotten restless. Sending the Zi Qin sisters back now would make the road anything but peaceful.”

“But what about our stretch of road to Snake Mouth Bay? Is that guaranteed to be safe?”

Ji Tingxi silently repeated the place names to herself several times. “Snake Mouth Bay” had been dominating conversations lately. And every time it came up, Dean He appeared right alongside it. He was well on his way to trading his title as Guard Institute dean for bay chief.

She found the whole thing suspicious deep down, but in the office, Ji Tingxi kept it brief. “The fallout from the Snake Mouth Bay incident hasn’t died down yet. Let’s just focus on preparing properly.”

And prepare they did. Starting from Wednesday, the entire Special Action Department pulled overtime.

By day, everyone juggled their other duties—especially Chief Bai, whose several teams left him running ragged like a ghost until evening, when he could finally carve out time for this.

Dean He had laid out strict requirements for the prisoner transfer. He explained them to Ji Tingxi and Chief Bai, who then hashed out the specifics together. Once he approved the plan, they rolled it out to their teams.

Before, Ji Tingxi had commanded the three sections with ease, but now Chief Bai was in the mix, forcing her to coordinate every step. It tied her hands more than she liked.

“Director Ji,” Chief Bai said, “we’ve locked in our final route: westbound from Birch Tree Avenue through the Orchid Community, then into Zelkova Branch Road. From there, we turn into Dawn Street District, keep heading west along its side path, and finally enter Snake Mouth Bay Park via Ring Lake East Road.”

Ji Tingxi needed only a glance at the map to commit the route to memory. Her daily dealings with patrols had made her intimately familiar with every street and district, along with their security profiles. She could even trace mazes through them in her head.

“We’ll need fixed posts at every district boundary to handle any surprises,” she said, “but even with a rough setup, we’re short on manpower. Can you free up two teams from your end?”

Chief Bai shook his head without hesitation. “Can’t do it. Their missions can’t afford interruptions—picking up afterward would be next to impossible.”

On the surface, he seemed mildly reluctant. In truth, his heart screamed no—after the Red Show Theater stakeout where solid leads slipped away, nothing, not even an alien invasion, would pull him from finishing his case.

Nobody was poaching his people this time!

“Fine,” Ji Tingxi said. “Handle your priorities. I’ll sort out the manpower issue.”

Since Chief Bai wouldn’t budge, Ji Tingxi took her request straight to Dean He.

“Dean He,” she said, “the route’s planned out, but we’re light on security along the way. Could you reach out to the Police Bureau and borrow their anti-riot team?”

“How could manpower be an issue? Let me see the draft.”

“Chief Bai’s got tasks locked in,” she explained. “He sent over two teams, and they can’t be pulled.”

Dean He recalled the situation. Chief Bai did have critical work he’d reported, and Dean He had promised no repeats of the abrupt Red Show Theater pullout.

“Proceed with the current plan for now,” he said. “I’ll handle manpower.”

…

The Special Action Department’s collective overtime stretched into the evening, and the lights in the Intelligence Division burned late too—not dragged down by them, but buried in their own workload.

The recent escape during city entry inspections had tightened security across North County City. Meanwhile, the Intelligence Collection Division had snagged masses of Sern-language chatter from the communications network, all demanding line-by-line translation to hunt for traces of Jili Organization infiltration.

Meetings rolled one after another in the Special Action Department, while Wen Du gathered her subordinates for a small briefing in her office.

“Truth be told,” she began, “we’re plenty expert here on Sern and Gailie languages—we can handle most intel. But my stint at the Merle Guard Institute broadened my horizons.

“We do our translations within isolated language systems. Over in Merle, geography and politics force a different approach: they cross-reference languages, sometimes processing them in tandem. The Jili Organization’s backed by Gailie Country, so their communications might blend symbols in tricky ways.”

Dai Enrui, Wan Lin, and the others listened closely. Wen Du had the institute’s best reputation among mid-level leaders. She never called meetings lightly, so when she did, they knew it mattered and gave it their full attention.

“Since coming back, I’ve mulled this over,” Wen Du continued, “and experimented using what I picked up there. The Merle Language Research Center’s decryption system is fully tested now, complete with libraries of common characters for fast matching and cracking. I wrapped up my session with it today. Now I’ll walk you through the workflow.”

With a click of her mouse, the interface appeared on the projector screen, instantly drawing every eye in the room.

…

June 22nd.

Inside his office, Chief Bai reviewed the teams’ investigation reports. He flipped through them standing tall and broad-shouldered, his gray shirt tucked neatly, gun holster still strapped to his waist. It accentuated the powerful set of his shoulders tapering to a trim build.

The relentless workload kept his physique in peak form—a pillar of the Special Action Department’s field operations.

After his promotion, the institute had given him a private office for handling files and issuing orders solo. But he rarely lingered there, clinging to the External Investigation Section’s old habit of hitting the streets at every chance, treating wind and sun as old friends.

Lately, though, his fragmented tasks demanded constant oversight, so Chief Bai stuck closer to base. It beat having subordinates shout reports to him from some signal-dead corner.

Kati slipped in and shut the door with practiced ease. As one of his longest-serving subordinates, she knew his ways: skip the pleasantries, get to business.

“Our Group 2 informant at North County Liberal Arts University has intel,” she said. “Two of his friends from different colleges both requested leave for next week’s graduation ceremony. From his day-to-day watch, they look like left-leaners—posted pro-Libo Faction stuff on social platforms once, then scrubbed it.

“Since he came on as informant, he’s tracked their movements. They rarely cross paths, but graduation’s meant to be mandatory full attendance. Both filing leave requests at the same time struck him as highly suspicious.”

Chief Bai pulled up Group 2’s report. They were spearheading the probe into reactionary elements among university staff and students.

“What excuses did they give?”

“One’s for a hospital follow-up—claims an expert slot only on Sunday. We checked his ID-linked hospital account: no booking record. The other’s a family emergency, needs the weekend to visit home. Our check’s ongoing, no hits yet.”

Chief Bai glanced up from the file, tamping down the itch for a smoke. Inhaling helped him think, but the institute banned tobacco and booze. Breaking it meant ducking to the designated restroom spot or stepping outside entirely.

It took willpower; he sank into his chair and zeroed in on the crux.

North County Liberal Arts University was infamous as a hotbed for pro-Libo members, where endless debates on life and philosophy warped into fanaticism, churning out recruits for the Libo Faction.

In Chief Bai’s eyes, that crowd just needed a good shaking up. Theoretical giants but action corgis—pampered in their comfy lives, yet itching to blaze a reckless trail.

“Get Lin Lun on it,” he ordered. “Have them tail these two directly. Check everyone they’ve contacted lately for overlaps. Then, radiating out from Liberal Arts University, scan nearby schools for any other Sunday leave requests.”

Kati’s expression wavered. “Understood. But Sundays rarely have required events. Liberal Arts has graduation, but schedules vary across schools, so cross-checks will be tricky.”

Chief Bai slammed the file down and smirked. “Start with one school as a pilot. Link up with admin—make it so non-essential leaves aren’t approved for Sunday. See who still reports out, then compare across!”

“Understood.”

With the orders acknowledged, Kati didn’t budge. Chief Bai reined in his impatience and straightened slightly.

“Something else?”

“Yes. Team 3 spotted Director Ji at the Red Show Theater last night—entered at 8:20 p.m., out at 9:41, watched The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. Waiter Yan Ge went in once for eleven minutes of service. Nothing overtly off, same as usual.”

After the report, Kati hesitated before asking, “Chief Bai, do we keep tailing her?”

Chief Bai’s hands rested on the arm supports, fingertips drumming the undersides.

Ever since Red Show Theater pinged as suspicious—and Director Ji turned out to be a regular— he’d wrestled with tangled emotions. Surprise laced with curiosity, and tying in recent events, his suspicions had flourished. Why had the institute lost all peace since she took the helm? Abuse-of-power scandals one day, reprimands from superiors the next.

Was Ji Tingxi a bold innovator grinding cases to their end no matter the cost, or was she sabotaging the Guard Institute and Rui’er Terrace on purpose?

That undercurrent of doubt had kindled a spark in him. Fuel came from every trace she left behind—if she was rotten at the core, she couldn’t stay; that seat was rightfully his.

“Keep on her,” he said. “And tail her right-hand man Ruo Xing at the same time!”

…

June 22nd, evening.

North County Liberal Arts University’s library brimmed with students as finals loomed. Tables groaned under stacks of textbooks and study guides—professional tomes only at this crunch time, no room for literary fluff or romances.

Yet Li Dun cradled a leisure read, its cover a clinched couple lost in each other’s eyes, title sweetly sentimental: The Moment Love Comes.

He held it with such poise that he radiated the calm of someone whose thesis had sailed through, finals a distant worry. All that remained was graduation day, then freedom.

In this idle stretch, he didn’t prowl about. Instead, he dedicated his final hours to the library—his favorite haven, the one pristine corner in this chaotic world.

Back in his first year of grad school, brimming with restless fire and nowhere to vent it, he’d buried himself here in his beloved history and literature.

It hadn’t lasted. Eight of his top ten favorites vanished from shelves—no ebooks either. The librarian explained they touched on Sern Culture, ripe for spreading bad ideas. At their age, growing minds and bodies should steer clear of crooked books, lest they stray.

In that instant, Li Dun felt even the library tainted. He stayed away for a spell. But when he returned for self-study, a new librarian took pity: “Tell me what you’re after. I can pull it from the backend.”

Ecstatic, he rattled off three or four titles—then realized they were all forbidden. Panic hit: blacklist incoming.

“They’re available,” the librarian assured him. “Lending because of your stellar grades and rock-solid will—for study only. Keep it from classmates, or the perk ends.”

Li Dun grinned. “They wouldn’t touch them anyway.”

And so he’d savored three years of elite treatment, better than any VIP lounge. Today marked his last indulgence.

From the book’s pages, he fished out the invite card: Seven Leaves Street Entertainment City Blue Feather Theater, this Saturday at 10:10 a.m.

Three years of solitude ending—he’d finally meet fellow travelers. It thrilled him like a beggar stumbling into the fold.

He pocketed the card, pulled up his phone, and mapped Seven Leaves Spectator Entertainment City.

Two hours by tram each way—not ideal. He booked an hourly room at the nearby Micro Silk Hotel instead. Post-event rest, ready for any follow-ups.

Ten minutes later, in the Internal Investigation Section, An Erdong lit up. “His account just booked an hourly room at Micro Silk Hotel—thirty kilometers out.”

Chief Bai, dozing at his side, bolted upright. “Time slot?”

“June 24th, noon twelve to two p.m.”

“24th—that’s graduation day.” He leaned toward the screen. “Wasn’t it a checkup? Any hospitals nearby?”

An Erdong zoomed the map. “No big ones, but clinics and community health spots aplenty.”

“He’s dirty for sure. Keep eyes on Laoken too.”

An Erdong replied, “Nothing from him.”

“What?”

He refreshed Laoken’s payment card logs. “Supposedly heading home to Mulang City for a sick relative. Train’s fastest, but no tickets booked yet.”

As Internal wrapped up, an External Investigation team chimed in.

“Chief Bai, Science and Technology University played ball. Announced a unified math test for Saturday—counts toward credits and GPAs. But admin just tallied: seven students requested leaves, excuses all over the map. Awaiting your call.”

Chief Bai sat bolt upright, drowsiness gone. “What kind?”

“Hospital runs, friend meetups, signing docs. Press or approve?”

“These over GPA? Tech U’s cutthroat on credits. These seven bold warriors turning the world upside down?” He waved it off. “Approve them all. I want to see what big shots show for Saturday!”

…

June 23rd dawned with an exceptionally crisp sky, clouds wispy and sparse like stray down on a gleaming blue gem, heightening its clarity.

The Guard Institute’s fortress-like structure stood vivid against the pristine backdrop, sharp-edged and richly hued like a child’s collage.

By 9:10 a.m., iron discipline had everyone in position. Past nine, sunlight blazed despite the curtains, its cheer filtering through the sheers.

The fine weather lured Dai Enrui to the back garden for breakfast. Bag in hand, she perched by the fountain pool, soaking in fresh air with her breakfast burrito and a generous side of nature.

On her way to the office, she ran into Wen Du—the office head, always first on station.

“Morning, Director Wen.”

“Morning, Enrui. The systems are loaded on all your computers. You can go live today.”

“Awesome. I’ll get up to speed fast!”

Wen Du smiled. “Perfect timing—this weekend, there’s a seminar in Merle. Gailie language focus. You’re our best on Gailie; it’s your spot.”

“Oh, with you around, who’s ‘best’? You handle everything!”

Dai Enrui batted her big eyes innocently. “Thanks for the chance, Director Wen, but I’m green on the system. I want to overtime this weekend to master it—hit the ground running next week, no holding anyone back. So I’ll have to pass on this one.”

Her eyes kept blinking expectantly, awaiting reply.

Wen Du excelled at empathy, fending off stray tasks from other departments so her team could focus. No extras unless core work allowed—especially weekends. She’d nearly snagged “Most Popular Cadre” if awards existed.

“You’re dedicated, grinding overtime on the system,” she said. “A conference means flights and a full travel day—too draining. Next time, I’ll loop you in.”

“Yes! Thank you, Director Wen—I adore you!” Dai Enrui’s eyes locked into a beaming smile.

Classic Wen Du.

That day, she not only held to form but pushed further, flitting between departments.

First, the neighboring office to check subordinates’ systems hands-on. Then Special Action for data syncs. Finally, on the Logistics Department stairs, she caught up with the two deans heading the same way and fell in step.

Amid small talk, Yesuiying offered her a seat. Wen Du smiled. “Dean Ye, the Information Room will sit out this study trip. I’ll apply if we need one later.”

Yesuiying chuckled. “You snap up every outbound slot. No thoughts for your young staff?”

“They’re swamped. Take Enrui—Gailie research, Special Action decryptions, occasional offsites. She wanted the Merle Language Center gig last time, but tasks pinned her down.”

Yesuiying knew Wen Du’s kind heart, always shielding her team. Praise was coming when Dean He tilted his head. “Did you tell her it was the Merle Language Center exchange?”

Wen Du paused. “No, just mentioned an exchange opportunity. Wanted to bring her—a real gem.”

“Clear why,” Dean He said, leaning back into the casual flow while fixing Wen Du with a look. “She’s solid. Cracked several Gailie encryptions. What task kept her hands full then?”

“I don’t recall precisely,” Wen Du said. “But it was critical.”

“Good. Nurture that gem. Next pro-training exchange, make sure she joins.”

Wen Du nodded. “Absolutely!”

Once Wen Du left, Yesuiying’s warm expression faded. She swiveled her chair. “Why the pointed question about Merle Language Center?”

“Forgotten already? Tingxi and I went to Meisi under wraps. Merle had a training nearby; Wen Du tagged along. Supposed to be confidential, but something’s off.”

Yesuiying frowned. “You suspect Wen Du…?”

“She suspected trouble at North County University first—the lecturer knew about her exchange, and she dotes on her subordinates…”

Dean He rubbed his brow. “I’ll have Te Rui pull records: what tasks the Information Room had the eve we left for Merle!”