On June 23rd, the sky hung exceptionally clear that day, the clouds drifting so faintly they seemed like mere wisps of down clinging to a flawless sapphire, only heightening its brilliant blue.
The Guard Institute’s fortress-like buildings stood out sharply against that pristine backdrop, like bold cutouts from a child’s craft project—outlines crisp, colors vivid.
By 9:10 a.m., the institute’s strict discipline had everyone in position. After nine o’clock, sunlight blazed cheerfully. Though curtains shrouded the windows inside, the staff could still sense the glorious day filtering through the gauzy fabric.
The fine weather lured Dai Enrui out to the back garden for breakfast. She tucked her meal into a bag, settled by the fountain, breathed in the fresh air, and savored a “breakfast wrap with a side of nature.”
On her way to the office, she bumped into Wen Du. As the office director, Wen Du was invariably the first to arrive.
“Morning, Director Wen.”
“Morning, Enrui. The systems are all installed on your computers now. You can start using them for real today.”
“Awesome. I’ll dive right in and get the hang of it fast!”
Wen Du smiled. “Perfect timing, actually. There’s a seminar coming up at Merle this weekend, focused on Gailie language topics. Want to go? You’re our best with Gailie here—this one’s tailor-made for you.”
“Oh come on, with you around, who could claim to be the best? You’ve got everything covered!”
Dai Enrui blinked her big eyes with feigned innocence. “But thanks for thinking of me, Director Wen. Truth is, I’ve only just started poking at the system, so I’m not comfortable with it yet. I was planning to pull some overtime this weekend to really master it, hit the ground running next week, and not hold the team back. So I’d have to pass on this one, unfortunately.”
With that, her sparkling eyes kept blinking, waiting for the director’s response.
Wen Du had always been a master at empathizing with her team’s workload. She knew they burned through millions of characters daily, their brain cells dying by the millions. So she deflected stray tasks from other departments whenever possible, shielding her people and ensuring top-quality output without piling on extras—especially not on weekends.
She’d nearly snagged a “Most Popular Leader” award for it, had the institute bothered with such things.
“If you’re even planning overtime to learn the system, that’s real dedication. A conference trip would mean hopping a flight and losing a full day to travel—that’s too grueling. We’ll save it for next time. I’ll keep you posted on others.”
“Got it, thanks so much, Director Wen! You’re the best!” Dai Enrui’s eyes locked in place, no more blinking—just a bright, genuine grin.
That was Director Wen through and through.
Today, though, Wen Du didn’t just stick to her usual form; she surpassed it, darting between offices across the departments.
She started in the neighboring office, checking her subordinates’ systems one by one and helping them get acclimated. Next, she swung by the Special Action Department to sync on data. Finally, on the stairs outside Logistics, she caught up with the two deans heading the same way and fell in step with them toward the offices.
The trio chatted idly as they walked. Yesuiying started to invite Wen Du to sit, but Wen Du just smiled. “Dean Ye, the Information Room will pass on this external training slot for now. If we need one later, I’ll put in the request.”
Yesuiying smiled back. “You’re always the one taking these trips yourself. No thought to sending along some of your young staffers?”
No thought to lightening the director’s load?
“They’ve got their hands full as it is. Take Enrui—she’s juggling Gailie research, decoding requests from Special Action, and the occasional field support gig. That time with the Merle Language Center exchange? She really wanted to go, but she had tasks piling up and couldn’t break away.”
Yesuiying knew Wen Du had a soft spot for her team, always quick to run interference. She was about to say as much when He De tilted his head sharply. “Did you specifically mention the Merle Language Center exchange to her back then?”
Wen Du hesitated for a beat. “No, I just mentioned there was an exchange opportunity. I wanted to bring her along—she’s got real potential.”
“It’s clear she does. She’s the one who cracked several of those Gailie ciphers.” He De leaned back in his chair, lifting his gaze to fix on Wen Du amid the casual talk. “What was the task keeping her hands full at the time?”
“I don’t recall the details, just that it was important.”
“Fair enough. Cultivate that talent well. Next professional exchange or training comes up, make sure to loop her in.”
Wen Du nodded. “Absolutely.”
Once Wen Du had gone, Yesuiying’s warm expression evaporated. She spun her chair around. “Why did you zero in on the Merle Language Center just now?”
“Forgot already? When Tingxi and I headed to Meisi, it was under wraps. But Merle was right next door with that training session, so Wen Du tagged along. It should have stayed confidential, but now it feels like there’s something fishy.”
Yesuiying’s brow furrowed. “Doesn’t Wen Du suspect a thing?”
“She was mostly suspicious of trouble at North County University before. The lecturer there knew about her exchange, and she seemed to show that subordinate extra favoritism…”
He De rubbed his temples. “I’ll have Te Rui pull the records. See exactly what tasks the Information Room had going right before we left for Merle.”
…
Bai Zhuo had been run off his feet lately, juggling transfers from the Labor Training Camp and tracking the Libo Faction, wishing he could split himself in two.
He’d been tailing pro-Libo students when He De summoned him to the office. One whiff of the mood in there, and he knew another major assignment was coming.
The moment he sat down, a wave of sympathy hit him for Ji Tingxi. Being the boss’s right hand wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
It wasn’t just handling big responsibilities—it was swimming in an ocean of them, all crashing down at once.
“Dean He, you want me to put surveillance on Information Room clerk Dai Enrui?”
“Exactly. Especially now, with special ops underway and everything so sensitive—we need to watch her close.”
“What’s her suspected issue?”
“That’s for you to uncover.”
Tasks involving insiders were never straightforward. Bai Zhuo left the office feeling three pounds heavier on his shoulders.
Early evening had settled in, night creeping on. With many departments clocked out, the building felt vast and echoing, the overhead lights drained of vibrancy, casting only hazy outlines on desks and doorframes.
The place wasn’t deserted, though. The Special Action Department was pulling overtime by order, their eyes sharper than any bulb.
Bai Zhuo climbed from the first floor up to the fourth. The Information Room light was still on—someone pulling duty.
He stepped in and spotted the familiar silhouette: a gray shirt clinging to a slender back, her profile intent on the screen.
Wen Du’s direct reports all seemed to absorb her vibe. No matter their original freewheeling personalities, a few years in the Information Room polished them into paragons of propriety and poise—like the director’s own protégés.
“You’re on shift tonight?”
“Yes. I’ve got a batch of corpus library updates to handle. Need something, Chief Bai?”
“Nothing much—just checking who’s holding down the fort. You? All good.”
Bai Zhuo wasn’t one for small talk, but long-term coordination had made him and Dai Enrui casual acquaintances. A quick chat was fine.
Her round cheeks brimmed with youthful glow; one smile from her chased away half the workday’s fatigue. “Any intel for processing, Chief Bai? I’m glued here all night.”
“Sounds good. Keep at it. I’ll swing by if something comes up.”
His footsteps echoed back to his own turf. He shrugged off his uniform jacket—strange how evenings left him overheated indoors, his undershirt damp with sweat.
Just in his gray long-sleeved shirt now, he perched half on his chair, long legs sprawled beyond it. No fieldwork today, yet he felt like he’d been in the trenches all day.
“What’s eating you, Chief Bai?” An Erdong had just brewed his favorite coffee and hesitated over sharing a packet.
“Old An, put in a request at General Affairs for backend access. Have someone monitor the Information Room’s B02 terminal.”
An Erdong was the Internal Investigation Section Chief, but he mostly handled tech support for external ops. A true “internal check” like this felt downright unfamiliar.
He cradled his coffee, frozen for two seconds, suddenly grasping the manpower crunch. “Group 2 and Team 3 are slammed, though. Terminals are maxed out…”
“Shift some bodies around—figure it out. We have to keep eyes on that machine.”
…
June 23rd, nearing midnight.
On Kangman Countryside Road, several black sedans faced off against an equal number of trucks across a fifty-meter gap, holding position without closing in.
Slender wheat stalks swayed in waves under the wind, like a rumpled curtain unfurling endlessly through the dark, veiling and revealing the horizon all at once.
The vehicles’ shells drank in the starlight, while their headlights stabbed out—yearning to vanish into shadow even as they strained to pierce the foe’s lines.
Behind the tangled shadows of windshields, eyes gleamed unblinking, like wolves crouched low before the lunge.
The standoff dragged quarter of an hour before a phone screen in one sedan lit up: Time’s up. Load on.
The glow faded to a dim pulse.
Moments later, a door swung open. Cheng Yiqing, the Libo Faction’s key operative, stepped out. He paused a few heartbeats, the rolling wheat sea before him rustling in the breeze that tousled his short fringe.
To his south lay his homeland, Bailunting.
As a secret most-wanted on Rui’er Terrace’s lists, even slipping back into his own land demanded rat-like caution from the sewers—except rats didn’t risk their necks.
The wind carried wheat’s earthy tang, laced with a river’s chill that prickled the skin. In the car behind him, a laptop and pistol glinted faintly, all prepped to cover his exit.
Cheng Yiqing drew a deep breath and strode toward the shadowed truck.
Inside the truck, pistols lurked deeper than in the sedans, tucked out of sight—but the air thrummed with tension regardless. One relaxed breath, and hostility would flood the cab.
His polished shoes sank into the mud for the short trek, caked by the end and lit starkly clear. Cheng Yiqing’s form stood exposed in the truck’s glare.
The occupants made out his face—that signature profile more reliable than any ID, vouching for his faction and the deal’s high stakes.
Identity confirmed, the driver hopped down, flung open the cargo doors, and waved him aboard.
For blending in, Cheng wore subdued black: T-shirt, wide-leg pants, layered with a protective suit that swallowed visible light. Amid crates of electronics, he vanished seamlessly.
The doors slammed shut; he was gone. But on the sedan’s screen, a green blip burned steady, pinning his exact coordinates.
Amid the wheat’s whispers, the engine growled to life. The truck rolled down the rural lane, parting the stalks like a straightedge through ripe grain.
The sedans stayed put, hunkered deep in the field like slumbering beasts.
Yet the green blip snaked along the tracker map, etching a vivid path toward the Kangman-Bailunting frontier—the shadowy lifeline threading into Bailunting’s heart.
Meanwhile, in Bailunting proper, lights burned late in windows on Wutong Street and Chestnut Wood Street, spilling thick shadows over the treetops outside.
Wen Du sat in her study; Ji Tingxi lounged on her balcony. One pored over books, the other gazed at the night sky. But both harbored the same preoccupation, awaiting word they couldn’t chase down in real time.
On one side, a pivotal leader loomed large; on the other, a do-or-die route. Each camp’s vital artery.
By all rights, with their clashing allegiances, this was the last thing to lay bare. Yet here it was, exposed in a silent pact of mutual check and balance.
Three days earlier, Wen Du and Ji Tingxi—representing Giel and the Libo Faction—had forged a tacit understanding. A grand gamble, with lethal stakes on the line.
The truck drove steady, freight aboard and bargain sealed within, bound for Bailunting’s border checkpoint.
