Chapter 85

Dai Enrui still wanted to remain silent, hoping to buy as much time as possible. However, Ji Tingxi interpreted her silence as an admission, shattering that delusion completely.

“I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I don’t know why this would have anything to do with Gailie Country,” she said.

Ji Tingxi replied, “The drone in the photo—you should recognize it. It came from Gailie Country, and we still have one lying in our operations room. We’ve already extracted all the camera data from it. Also, the information you tried to steal this morning was Gailie’s corpus library, wasn’t it? What, are you worried we’ll decipher their encrypted messages and wanted to steal them back to prepare countermeasures?”

Dai Enrui’s expression froze. She didn’t show much panic; instead, it was more like a dazed realization, as if she couldn’t keep up with the conversation.

“Chief Ji,” she said, “I’ll stick to my previous statement. I have no idea how that USB drive ended up in my drawer, and I’ve never used it.”

Ji Tingxi matched her lack of emotion, conveying unshakable certainty as she stated the irrefutable facts.

“Today, we detected traces of a system intrusion, and the source was traced directly to your computer. And this morning, you were the only one in the office. If it wasn’t you, then who?”

Dai Enrui fell silent once more.

She had chosen to act during her shift precisely because no one else would be around, making it easier to move. But she had overlooked one crucial point: if anything went wrong, she would be the prime suspect.

Her previous successes had given her complete confidence, especially since her contact had assured her the program was perfectly concealed. She had believed this operation would be safer than ever.

Lost in thought, Dai Enrui’s gaze landed on Wen Du.

There were no cameras in the office, but the hallway ones would show that Wen Du had visited her office twice. However, there was no evidence of what happened inside—only the word of those involved.

So she could claim that Wen Du had come in to help test a new system, sitting at the computer while she herself stepped away from her desk to fetch documents, brew some tea, check files—anything that proved the computer had been out of her sight.

Shifting the blame would take only an instant, just a couple of sentences.

But right now, Wen Du sat before her, her face cold and her eyes full of scrutiny.

Dai Enrui had never seen her superior like this. In the past, Wen Du had always been composed and calm, never one for idle chatter, but she had exuded a gentle warmth—like a cup of tea left to cool just enough not to scald, yet still comforting to the touch.

That pleasant warmth could linger and grow more fragrant over time, or it could vanish in an instant, leaving only dregs to be dumped over her head and snap her out of her fantasies.

The idea of redirecting suspicion didn’t last long before crumbling in Dai Enrui’s mind. Wen Du’s intangible pressure made it clear that path was blocked.

She stared at Wen Du for no more than two seconds, but Wen Du seemed to sense her intentions. She picked up where Ji Tingxi had left off, not diving deeper but expanding in another direction.

“I remember two months ago, I invited you to join me for some off-site training. Do you recall?”

Dai Enrui nodded.

“You said you had too much work and declined, so I went alone. But on the way to the destination, I was ambushed and nearly didn’t make it back.”

Dai Enrui’s features scrunched together. Her face had always been full and softly rounded, without any sharp edges, but now, drawn inward, it took on a pointed harshness.

“You didn’t tell me the exact location at the time,” she said. “You only mentioned an opportunity for training related to computer-assisted work.”

“Computer-assisted,” Wen Du repeated, word by word. “Combined with the specific date, and with your knowledge of the industry and academia, a quick search would have revealed that the training center was in a town in Merle.”

Wen Du sat ramrod straight, leaning forward toward the interrogation table to amplify the impact of her words. “I truly never imagined that a subordinate I saw every day would want me dead!”

Dai Enrui’s lips twitched. She hadn’t known it was the Jili Organization behind the attack, nor that it was an assassination attempt.

She hadn’t realized it would threaten Wen Du’s life—though even if she had, she would have had no choice but to provide the information as ordered by her handler.

The words lingered between her lips and teeth but never escaped.

To speak them would be to admit everything, and she wasn’t ready for that, even though she now clearly saw that the suspicion was locked in and the situation hopeless.

Outside the room, He De listened in silence. Every word, every sound from within reached his ears clearly.

He had initially worried that Wen Du lacked interrogation experience, but now it seemed letting her confront Dai Enrui had been a wise decision. Those who knew you best could strike the deepest blows.

At the same time, He De grew even more curious about Wen Du’s true attitude toward Dai Enrui—this ambiguous stance that was still hard to read.

Had she truly never suspected Dai Enrui at all?

“After the Merle Incident, I suspected many people and investigated plenty of them. But as you said, I hadn’t told you the exact location, and because I trusted you, I didn’t include you on the list. Now, though, I see the signs were there all along. I just viewed you through a filter of trust and overlooked the details.”

Wen Du placed her hands on the interrogation table, interlocking her fingers. “Actually, even before this, you exposed a major red flag: the fallout from the Swan Palace Incident. Chief Ji and the Kangman Representative were negotiating in the basement—a private matter that could have been handled discreetly. But you, as the Kangman Representative’s personal translator, suddenly appeared during the farewell ceremony between the two delegations, dragging the basement issue into the open and drawing everyone’s attention.”

The incident had happened over three months ago, but bringing it up still made it feel vivid—the repercussions still echoed through the Guard Institute.

“I thought at the time that you were young and inexperienced, panicking in the face of such a scene and mishandling it. But now I realize that as a Blue Training Department graduate with top marks in both theory and practice, even if it was your first time dealing with something like that, your position and sense of duty should have told you the first rule: keep it confidential. Instead, you showed up in front of everyone, blowing it up and giving the media and public opinion an opening!”

Color crept into Dai Enrui’s face, piling up as a flush on her cheeks—like she’d been drinking. But she was far tenser than any drunk.

She offered no response. Part of her wanted to keep up the passive resistance; the other part knew Wen Du was stating facts. Her orders at the time had been to seize any opportunity to sabotage the friendly exchanges between Bailunting and Kangman, preventing the contract from being signed.

He De’s gaze shifted from Wen Du to Dai Enrui’s face.

At least he could confirm one thing Wen Du had said: Dai Enrui was young and lacked real-world experience. Her current expression betrayed her inner turmoil.

He just hadn’t expected that her seemingly innocent and straightforward personality had been her best shield, deflecting all prior suspicions and letting her get away with it time and again.

The room fell quiet for a moment, but the mental gears never stopped turning.

Wen Du paused briefly before speaking again. “You first disrupted the scene, drawing people to the basement to witness the disturbance and escalate the situation. But afterward, Bailunting and Kangman didn’t break off relations—they went ahead and signed the contract, launching trade cooperation. So you leaked the photos you’d secretly taken, creating an even bigger public outcry and trying once more to derail the partnership!”

Dai Enrui shook her head vehemently, her face full of shock. “No, I didn’t take any photos! It wasn’t me!”

Wen Du knew full well it hadn’t been her—the photo leaked to the media had come from Ruo Xing, exposed by Ji Tingxi in a classic case of the thief crying thief.

But right now, she needed to bundle all the suspicions—those on herself and Ji Tingxi included—onto Dai Enrui.

The atmosphere of internal distrust in the building had dragged on too long. It was time to bring it to a close.

Wen Du gave a cold smile, as if dismissing the denial. “And then there was the time the entire institute was under lockdown. The Institute Director made it clear that Jili Organization members had infiltrated the city, endangering our safety. Why did you still insist on applying to leave?”

Dai Enrui fell silent again, choking for a moment before hesitantly responding.

“It was for the reason I submitted—my aunt needed surgery, and I had to be by her side.”

“But you were considered a risk at the time. If you went to accompany your aunt during her surgery, weren’t you afraid of passing that danger on to her? Or could you be certain you weren’t in any danger, so you could boldly go out and stay with your loved one? And why so certain? Because you were connected to Gailie Country. You knew the Jili Organization under their control wouldn’t harm you. So no one from the Guard Institute could leave—but you could.”

In reality, the Jili Organization hadn’t infiltrated North County City at all. It had been Ji Tingxi’s smokescreen, which Wen Du had figured out. As Gailie Country’s mole, Dai Enrui would have known the alert was fake and posed no real threat.

“Director Wen,” Dai Enrui said, “you’ve always been a caring and supportive superior to me. Even here in the interrogation room, I ask that you not doubt my sincerity. I just wanted to be with my aunt and didn’t think much about my own safety.”

Ji Tingxi saw that the atmosphere was ripe. After building tension for a moment, she spoke up.

“Since you won’t confess, we’ll have no choice but to question your aunt. Though maybe she’s working for Gailie Country too and will cover for you.”

“Don’t touch her!” Dai Enrui’s previously soft demeanor hardened in an instant. She had absorbed the earlier attacks with feeble pushback, but this time her retort rang out sharp and clear.

Seeing the reaction, Ji Tingxi maintained her tone and pressed harder. “Getting nervous? Worried she’ll expose both of you?”

“She’s innocent! She knows nothing, and her health is poor. Don’t harm her!”

The flush on Dai Enrui’s face deepened further, spreading to the corners of her eyes, draining away the shock and leaving only a crystalline resolve.

By saying this, she was effectively admitting guilt. She wasn’t prepared to confess fully, but she knew resistance would only bring the Guard Institute’s wrath down on her family, making things worse.

Of two evils, choose the lesser. She had no path left but the single plank bridge ahead.

“So you’re admitting to your crimes?”

“Yes, I admit it. I’m a Gailie Country spy, but my aunt has nothing to do with it.”

Ji Tingxi’s expression didn’t change, but a spark lit in her eyes—as if the rehearsals were over and the real performance had begun, demanding her full focus.

“So this time, you were stealing our decryption terminology for them to improve their communication methods later, right?”

“Yes.”

“Who was the one helping you steal it? Where are they now?”

“That… I don’t know.” The shift in attitude was so abrupt that even Dai Enrui struggled to adjust. She wanted to keep hiding it, but there was no point anymore. “They never tell me. I just had to implant the program.”

This meant tracing her handler through her would be nearly impossible. Ji Tingxi shifted direction to dig deeper.

“When did you start working for them?”

“Two years ago.”

“Did you approach them, or did they come to you?”

“They came to me.”

Unlike Wen Du, Ji Tingxi leaned back in her chair. She didn’t need to inject emotion—just stick to the facts.

“Tell us the details of how it happened.”

From hesitation to adaptation, the flush on Dai Enrui’s face began to fade. But what emerged wasn’t her normal complexion; it was a pallid ashen tone, blood drained away, growing more stark as she recounted her story.

“Two years ago, my aunt received a misdelivered package. Later, someone contacted her and asked her to forward it to a specific address. As thanks, that person sent her a potted plant. My aunt loves growing greenery, so she kept it on the living room windowsill. Then one day, when I was home alone, I got a phone call. A man’s voice accused my aunt of having reactionary thoughts and mailing books with reactionary content to others.”

Neither Wen Du nor Ji Tingxi interrupted, letting her continue.

“Because of my job, I’m very sensitive to details. There were no ‘incorrect’ books or publications in our home. I’d even warned my aunt not to buy or access sensitive materials. So I didn’t believe the man at first and wanted to hang up. But then he said not only did she have reactionary thoughts, but she was planning reactionary activities.

“At that point, I couldn’t hang up. I wanted to pry information from him and report him for spreading rumors. But in the end, he claimed the evidence of my aunt’s reactionary activities was hidden in the potted plant.”

Dai Enrui paused, as if reluctant to relive it.

“What was in the potted plant?”

“A handgun.”

“And then someone came to you, right?”

“Yes… three days later, someone found me. He said he had detailed evidence of my aunt’s illegal activities. If I wanted to save her, I’d have to work for them.”

Ji Tingxi followed up. “So you’re saying Gailie Country used your aunt to threaten you and force you to join them?”

Dai Enrui nodded.

“But as a Guard Investigation Institute operative, you should have known the stakes. You shouldn’t have let such a threat hold you back.”

“I knew I should report it immediately, but the problem was that they already had eyes on me and my aunt. If I didn’t cooperate, she could be in real danger later. She doesn’t have the ability to spot threats. I was afraid Gailie Country’s people would go all out against her.”

At this point, the “audience” outside—He De—grew increasingly grim-faced. A promising talent handpicked and trained by the Blue Training Department was now, right in his ear, venting frustrations and undermining morale. What a gem they’d selected!

Ji Tingxi continued, “But did you ever consider that by joining them, you’d put not just your aunt, but yourself, your loved ones, your colleagues—even everyone in the entire city—at even greater risk?”

The question was too vast; Dai Enrui’s mind couldn’t process it right away, her response lagging.

In the pause, Ji Tingxi pivoted from the grand to the specific, flipping her palm up. “Or did you have other considerations? Did they offer you benefits?”

If the previous question allowed a show of innocence, this one laid bare pure guilt.

Dai Enrui’s throat bobbed, sinking low before rising. Her eyes now held a hollow intensity.

“Yes, they gave me money.”

“Your salary isn’t low, and from your lifestyle, you’re not extravagant,” Wen Du said, frowning.

“But I needed money—for my aunt’s treatment, the best medical care possible.”

“That’s no excuse. When you first joined the Guard Institute, we investigated your family situation. We provide necessary medical support for relatives of our staff.”

Every new recruit underwent a background check. The Guard Institute wouldn’t admit anyone suspicious—or anyone with obvious vulnerabilities.

It wasn’t discrimination against those with hardships; vulnerabilities often became entry points for hostile forces.

Dai Enrui’s acceptance into the Information Room meant her skills had earned the Intelligence Division’s approval. Her aunt’s leukemia would have qualified for assistance, so she shouldn’t have been desperate for funds.

“You’re right—they did provide help, covering most of the medical costs. But what about her medications? The most effective drug for her condition is from Gailie Country. After relations soured and trade stopped, even imports were banned. The remaining stock here skyrocketed to over a hundred thousand per box!

“The worst part? When I scraped together the money, I couldn’t even buy any! We have treatments domestically, sure, but the side effects are brutal. My aunt would vomit up her food—half a bowl eaten, half puked back up. Her immune system was already wrecked, and her esophagus kept getting burned!”

“So Gailie Country not only gave you money but also the imported drugs?”

Dai Enrui’s expression halted as her tangent veered off. Ji Tingxi always knew how to deliver a killing blow, yanking the topic back to the most perilous and sensitive ground.

“Yes.”

“I sympathize with your aunt’s condition,” Ji Tingxi said. “But that’s no justification for betrayal. Your willingness to collaborate with Gailie Country boils down to weak sense of responsibility, shaky loyalty, and impure convictions.”

People like that didn’t deserve to be Guard Investigation Institute operatives.

Dai Enrui’s lips twisted in a bitter smile at the rebuke.

They had asked her to explain in detail, and she’d naively thought she could lay out her hardships, her dilemmas—the absurdity of it all. But in the end, it came down to values, loyalty, and rigid protocol.

“This faith isn’t purely applied—it rigidly abandons certain people…”

Even in agitation, Dai Enrui cut herself off before finishing.

In an interrogation room—in the Guard Investigation Institute’s interrogation room—such words were like joking in a censorship crackdown, walking straight into the line of fire.

She might be doomed, but her aunt still needed to survive. No matter how broken Dai Enrui felt, she had to protect the “innocent bystander” behind her.

But Wen Du was perceptive enough to grasp her implication, filling in the unsaid words and sensing the deeper meaning.

So she and Dai Enrui were the same—both part of the groups cast aside by the new policies.

Bailunting Ruiertai had sacrificed the Sern People for its “rebirth,” along with many hidden groups. Anything obstructing the new order’s tide would be discarded.

Bailunting’s “rebirth from the flames”—some were reborn, others burned, and even the reborn drew oxygen from the ashes exhaled by the sacrificed.

In that instant, Wen Du felt a profound empathy for her, even a conviction: if the Giel Organization had reached her before Gailie Country, they might have been steadfast allies now.

Wen Du fell silent. Ji Tingxi held back too, but her pause was to forge harder words, aiming for a perfect close to the interrogation.

“Do you now recognize your errors?”

Dai Enrui’s face twisted in, and she finally spoke, owning it all.

“I’m sorry. For all the harm I’ve caused the Guard Institute since striking that deal with Gailie Country, I admit it fully and feel deep remorse. I plead guilty and accept any punishment! But please—my aunt was framed by Gailie Country, and her health has always been frail. For the sake of my voluntary confession, I beg you to look after her!”

With that, she turned pleading eyes—restrained but desperate—to Wen Du, as if sensing that, among everyone in the building, only she might extend a helping hand.