Lu Chenzhou sat on the edge of the guest room bed, his fingers resting on his knees, fingertips ice-cold. Outside the window, the night was thick and viscous, like old rice paper soaked in ink. His left eyelid twitched, a subtle, persistent tremor, like some kind of alarm. In the bathroom, the indicator light on the internal line telephone had just gone out. The signal conveyed by the voltage fluctuation was fragile, like cracks on thin ice. A ten-minute window. Within these ten minutes, he had to send the spark hidden in a button into that pre-established, potentially snapping-at-any-moment channel. He stood up, his movements slow. The pajama fabric rubbed against his skin, making a rustling sound. His ears captured the noises outside the door—the footsteps of the night watch security guard at the end of the corridor, passing by every fifteen minutes. It had just been three minutes since the last round. He had twelve minutes before the next patrol. He walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him with his backhand. The click of the lock bolt was exceptionally clear in the silence. The chill from the floor tiles immediately seeped up through the soles of his cotton slippers, crawling up his ankles. He didn't turn on the light. Only a faint sliver of moonlight from the window barely outlined the contours of the toilet, sink, and shower stall. The air smelled of disinfectant, and there was a faint, elusive scent of rust emanating from deep within the old pipes. His knees pressed against the icy floor tiles, the cold biting to the bone. He reached out, groping for the corner near the wall at the bottom of the toilet tank. His fingertip touched a slightly raised, hexagonal metal cap disguised as a bolt. A specialized tool slid out from his pajama pocket—an inconspicuous metal rod with a hexagonal socket at the tip. There was almost no sound as the metal cap was unscrewed. Inside, a miniature interface was revealed, with several fine wires of different colors, their solder joints brand new. This was the physical link he had secretly laid within the waterproof layer a few days ago while hiding evidence, using a gap during an inspection. It utilized a redundant port from Shen Yan's internal old-fashioned security telephone line, theoretically independent of the main network shielding system. However, the signal had to pass through an extremely unstable relay node set up externally by "Pigeon." He pulled a miniature relay device from another pocket. It was the size of a matchbox, its casing cold. A soft *click* sounded as the cable interface connected. An eerie blue light glowed in the dark bathroom like will-o'-the-wisp. A line of encrypted status text flashed on the screen: 「Link detecting...」 Simultaneously, he pressed one ear tightly against the bathroom door panel. The wooden panel transmitted the constant, low hum of electricity from the corridor—the central air conditioning system. No footsteps. Slow. Too slow. The noise interference on the old line was severe; the signal strength curve on the screen jerked violently, like the electrocardiogram of a dying patient. He stared at the jumping line, his breathing so light it was almost imperceptible, barely feeling the rise and fall of his chest. His left hand unconsciously moved to his chest, pressing against the shirt button that concealed the miniature storage device through the pajama fabric. The metal edge pressed into his fingertip. His watch vibrated once. An encrypted text message popped up, from "Pigeon": 「Channel brittle as thin ice. Ten minutes max. Begin.」 Lu Chenzhou pressed his thumb against the confirmation button on the side of the watch. No reply. Any extra communication increased the risk of exposure. The transmission protocol initiated. A new progress bar jumped onto the screen, labeled 「Evidence Package A-03.」 These were the key three scanned pages from the forensic report that had been tampered with in that political murder case years ago. They had undergone multiple layers of encryption and fragmentation. Even if only a part was transmitted, it would be enough to trigger an earthquake in certain circles. Outside the door in the corridor, footsteps faintly sounded. Approaching from afar. Steady, the standard patrol pace of security. Lu Chenzhou's body instantly tensed. The ear pressed against the door panel could clearly discern the footsteps pausing slightly just outside the door—perhaps just a routine check of the lock status. His right thumb hovered above the physical destruction button on the relay device, the nail turning slightly white from the pressure. His left hand still pressed against the button on his chest. He slowly exhaled a breath held in his chest. The air condensed into a small white mist in the cold air before rapidly dissipating. A faint *click-click* sound came through the bone-conduction headset, the characteristic noise of encrypted data streams passing through an unstable link. Like countless tiny Almost simultaneously, the second message from "Pigeon" squeezed in, the text carrying a rare urgency: "Dogs! Signal scans coming from the east, spectral signature matches the city bureau's 'Sky Net' surveillance vehicle! They're sniffing all non-standard data streams in this area! Speed up! Speed up!" They really had been laying a perimeter. And the timing was so precise, right when he had started transmitting the core evidence. Cold sweat instantly seeped from the crevices of his spine. Icy, clammy, sliding down his back. But his fingers didn't tremble. His thumb swiped rapidly across the watch screen, pulling up the link parameters. Packet loss had already surged to 47%. He had to immediately activate the backup error correction protocol, even if it would further slow down the speed and consume the precious window of time. The progress bar seemed to freeze for a few seconds before crawling upward again with excruciating slowness. 32%... 33%... Five minutes and twelve seconds had passed. Less than half of the window remained. Movement sounded again in the hallway outside the door. This time, not the regular footsteps, but low voices in conversation, approaching from a distance. Two, no, at least three voices. One of the tones he remembered—it was the always expressionless technical assistant by Gu Zhixing's side. "... Sensor data in Zone Three showed minor fluctuations. Mr. Gu has ordered a comprehensive re-check." "At this hour? Wasn't this guest room area just patrolled?" "The preliminary location of the fluctuation source is right in this area. Could be aging wiring, could be... something else. Open up, we'll start with this one." Lu Chenzhou's heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. Gears spun wildly in his chest, but his body reacted faster than his mind—his thumb slammed down hard on the physical destruction button on the relay. A faint mechanical click, a clear vibration feedback through his fingertip. The preset circuit overload module inside the relay was triggered. A small-scale high-voltage pulse would instantly burn out the core chip and storage unit, simulating an accidental short circuit. Simultaneously, his right hand yanked out the connecting cable, while his left hand, which had already twisted back the cover disguised as a bolt, tightened it with a forceful turn of his fingertips. He threw the still slightly warm, faintly scorched-smelling relay remains into the toilet. Pressed the flush button. A tremendous roar of swirling water erupted, drowning out all other sounds. The rushing torrent carried away the remains and also masked his own heavy breathing from the frantic movements. He stood up, his steps a bit unsteady. He quickly retrieved the micro storage device from the button and stuffed it deep into his pajama pocket. Then he turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face. Droplets slid down his jawline, falling onto the front of his pajamas, leaving dark, damp spots. "Mr. Lu?" It was the technical assistant's voice, muffled through the door panel. "Could you please open the door? Routine check." Lu Chenzhou grabbed a towel, roughly wiped his face. The man in the mirror was pale, a few strands of wet hair plastered to his temples, his eyes holding the weariness of someone just awakened and a trace of barely perceptible irritation. He adjusted his breathing, calming the heaving of his chest, then walked over and turned the door lock. Three people stood outside. The technical assistant, a technician holding a portable spectrum analyzer, and a security guard with a flashlight. The flashlight beam swung over, making him squint. "Mr. Gu, what is it?" he spoke, his voice hoarse as if just woken, carrying impatience at being disturbed. "I just lay down... what's wrong now?" The technical assistant—now more accurately, Gu Zhixing's representative—his gaze like a probe, swept from Lu Chenzhou's damp hair, to the slightly open collar of his pajamas, to the dark bathroom behind him. "Mr. Lu, apologies for the disturbance." His tone was formulaically polite. "The internal network shielding system of the residence indicates abnormal data request fluctuations in this area between 3:15 and 3:20 a.m. We are ordered to inspect all potential data egress points." He stepped aside, allowing the technician to enter. The portable instrument emitted an almost inaudible high-frequency hum, scanning every corner of the room, especially the bathroom. The flashlight beam moved carefully over the walls, ceiling, toilet, and drainage pipes nearby. Lu Chenzhou leaned against the doorframe, rubbing his temples, offering a bitter smile. "Data requests? Phone? Tablet? Weren't they confiscated by you long ago? I'd like to use them." He pointed towards the bathroom. "Probably just the old house's wiring acting up, or maybe my stomach was a bit off tonight, got up The technical assistant didn't respond. He walked into the bathroom, crouched down, carefully inspected around Ma San's toilet tank, even ran his hand over the seams between the floor tiles. Then he looked up at the exhaust vent opening. The instrument in the technician's hand emitted a humming sound that rose and fell intermittently, the waveform on the screen constantly jumping. A trace of an extremely faint, charred smell—like burnt hair or plastic—still lingered in the air, masked by the scent of disinfectant, almost imperceptible. But the technical assistant's nose seemed to twitch slightly. Lu Chenzhou's heart tightened. His fingers, inside his pajama pocket, gently rubbed the now-empty button, its metal edge cold. The technician finally looked up and gave the technical assistant a slight shake of his head. "No active wireless signal residue detected. There's an extremely faint, broad-spectrum electromagnetic noise near the drainpipe, but the intensity is below the background threshold. Source cannot be determined. Could be resonance from old pipes, or... electrical interference from somewhere upstairs." The technical assistant stood up, brushing off non-existent dust from his hands. He turned to Lu Chenzhou, his face expressionless, but a trace of lingering scrutiny deep in his eyes. "Stomach trouble, Mr. Lu? Need a doctor?" "Old problem, gastritis. A night's sleep will fix it." Lu Chenzhou waved a hand, his tone growing more noticeably impatient. "Finished checking? Can I go back to sleep now? I still have to submit a report to Mr. Shen at dawn." The technical assistant looked at him for another two seconds, then finally nodded. "Sorry to disturb you. Get some rest, Mr. Lu." He paused, adding, "Before dawn, I hope there won't be any more... 'misunderstandings.'" Lu Chenzhou remained standing where he was, unmoving. Only when the footsteps outside the door had completely receded, disappearing around the corner of the next corridor, did he move. He leaned back against the cold wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor. All his strength seemed to drain away in an instant, his entire body aching with the weakness that follows exhaustion. He rested his forehead on his knees, his breathing finally no longer forced, becoming heavy and rapid. Cold sweat had thoroughly soaked the back of his pajamas, the fabric clinging to his skin, icy. He raised his wrist and looked at his watch screen. The transmission progress was forever stuck at 34%. Below it was a red marker: 「Connection interrupted. Data packet A-03 partially transmitted, integrity check failed.」 "Partially transmitted." That meant at least some fragments of data had slipped out, sliding along that fragile ice path into the "Pigeon's" external buffer. Even if it was just a few critical data frames, even if it was just a corner of the tampered forensic report page. He suddenly remembered the "Pigeon's" final warning message. The Municipal Bureau's "Skynet" scan. Qin Wangshu's people had detected the anomalous signal. Where were they now? Tightening the net? Or had they already locked down the general area of the signal source? And Gu Zhixing. His words, "I hope there won't be any more misunderstandings," were definitely not casual. Suspicion had been planted. After dawn, surveillance of this guest room, especially this bathroom, would only intensify. It wasn't moonlight. It was a regular, alternating flash of blue and red light, seeping through the gaps in the heavy curtains, casting flickering shadows in the dark room. He braced himself against the wall and stood up, walked to the window, and with extreme care, used his fingertip to lift a corner of the curtain. About fifty meters away from the tall, cast-iron gates of Shen Yan's residence, parked by the roadside, were two police cars. Their rooftop lights rotated silently, the blue and red light slicing through the pre-dawn darkness, cold and oppressive. Several blurred figures stood beside the cars, seemingly negotiating with the security at Shen Yan's gate. Using "detection of illegal signal leakage" as a pretext, the troops were at the gates. At that moment, a regular, sustained, faint vibration came from the inside of his wrist. Not an alarm, but the preset encrypted message reception signal. He lowered his head, ostensibly massaging his temples wearily, but in reality, his gaze rapidly focused on the tiny LED dot-matrix display inside the watch strap. Green light dots jumped, forming a line of ciphertext he knew by heart: 「Pigeon offline. Evidence fragments sent to dark web 'Echo Chamber' forum, anonymous node relay. Forum visible in three minutes. First encrypted reply received, content parsed: Fire ignited, the one who passes the torch burns first. Police at the door, not my doing. Take care.」 At the end of the message was a specific symbol representing " Only the line of green cipher text gradually dimming on his wristwatch still left a searing imprint on his retina. He opened his left hand, which had been tightly clenched all along. The empty button lay in his sweat-dampened palm, its metal edge reflecting the extremely faint light from outside the window, like a cold, lifeless teardrop. But the one who passes the torch now stands on a cliff edge about to be licked by flames from three sides simultaneously. Inside the door are the seeds of deeper suspicion that Gu Zhixing has just planted. And in the unseen darkness, the death threat from that "third party" has already slithered up along the network cables like a venomous snake, coiling tightly. But before dawn arrives, the deepest cold is soaking into the marrow, inch by inch. Lu Chenzhou pressed the shirt button back into place, his fingertips registering a slight coolness. He took a deep breath, letting that hint of burnt odor from circuit overload sink completely into the depths of his lungs, then turned the door handle. Gu Zhixing stood at the very front, his gaze behind the gold-rimmed glasses like two probes. Behind him were two technicians, one carrying a black instrument case, the screen of the portable spectrum analyzer in the other's hand flashing green. Further back were two security personnel, hands resting at their waists, bodies taut like drawn bowstrings. "Mr. Lu," Gu Zhixing spoke, his tone so steady it betrayed no emotion, "The network shielding system indicates that three minutes ago, the area where your guest room is located registered an abnormal data request pulse." Lu Chenzhou rubbed his temples, the slight twitch in the corner of his left eye perfectly concealed by his fingers. "Mr. Gu," his voice was hoarse, carrying the weariness of someone just woken, "What is it? I just laid down... something wrong again?" Gu Zhixing stepped inside, his footsteps light. The two technicians followed closely behind, the instrument case making almost no sound as it was placed on the carpet. The security personnel remained by the door, like two door gods. "The source address of the abnormal request points to the physical interface of the guest room landline telephone," Gu Zhixing walked to the bathroom door and stopped, "That interface, in theory, only connects to a twenty-year-old dial-up phone. But the pulse characteristics just now resembled some kind of... data modulation signal." Lu Chenzhou followed and leaned against the doorframe. The bathroom still held a faint mist, mingled with that elusive burnt odor—he could only hope they wouldn't detect it. "Data signal?" He gave a bitter smile, "Mr. Gu, my phone, computer, even my electronic watch, weren't they all confiscated by you? What could I possibly use to send data? With my thoughts?" Gu Zhixing didn't respond. He raised a hand toward the technicians. The one carrying the case crouched down and opened it. Inside was a palm-sized detection device connected to several probes with suction cups. He attached the probes to the bathroom wall, the outside of the toilet tank, and the drainpipe elbow under the sink. The other raised the spectrum analyzer, slowly scanning the entire space. Lu Chenzhou's temples began to throb again. He forced himself to focus his attention on Gu Zhixing's face—it showed no expression at the moment, but his left thumb was unconsciously rubbing the jade thumb ring. The frequency was rapid. "Was Mr. Lu just now in the bathroom using any electronic devices?" Gu Zhixing finally spoke, though his eyes remained fixed on the detection device's display, "For example... something we might have missed, a backup phone hidden on your person? Or, some kind of modified communication tool?" "I wish I could," Lu Chenzhou sighed, injecting just the right amount of annoyance into his voice, "A bout of gastroenteritis, up three or four times in the night. This old house has poor soundproofing; I was afraid the flushing sound would disturb others, so I had to wait each time. Where would I find the mind to fiddle with any devices?" As he spoke, his fingers gently rubbed the button in his pajama pocket. The metal edge pressed against his fingertip, bringing a sharp sense of reality. That gaze was like a scalpel, scraping layer by layer across skin, muscle, bone, trying to dissect all the secrets hidden beneath. Lu Chenzhou met it, letting weariness and helplessness float in the shallowest layer of his eyes. Deeper down, beneath the frozen surface of that lake, killing intent was silently circling. "Check around the drainpipe," Gu Zhixing said quietly to the technician, "Focus on whether there are residual traces of a signal booster, or... chemical deposits from a micro-burn." The technician nodded, retrieving a pen-sized sampler from the case and bringing it close to the drainpipe connection. Lu Chenzhou's heart gave a heavy thump in "The readings are normal." The technician stared at the screen. "No thermal decomposition residues from common signal-boosting materials were detected. However..." He paused. "There's a slight temperature gradient on the inner wall of the drainpipe, 0.3 degrees higher than the ambient environment. It's possible a large volume of liquid close to body temperature flowed through it recently." "I flushed the toilet four times for Ma San." Lu Chenzhou immediately replied, the hint of impatience in his tone becoming more pronounced. "Each time, it was salt water I'd just boiled and then cooled to lukewarm—an old remedy for gastroenteritis. Mr. Gu, is your Shen Yan's monitoring system perhaps a bit too sensitive? Or do I need to file a report even for having diarrhea in the middle of the night?" "My apologies, Mr. Lu." He finally spoke, his voice regaining that polite, steady tone. "These are special times; caution is unfortunately necessary. After all... the case of Young Master Shen Yan is still unresolved, and you are currently the most crucial investigation consultant." The equipment was packed back into its case. The detection probe was carefully coiled up. The two security guards relaxed their posture slightly, but their hands remained near their waist holsters. "It could be an issue with the old wiring in this house." Gu Zhixing took one last look at the bathroom, his gaze lingering on the Ma San toilet tank for a moment. "Or, as you said, the sensor in that smart toilet malfunctioned. We'll arrange for someone to come check it tomorrow." "Mr. Lu," he said without turning around, his voice very soft, "before dawn, I hope there won't be any more 'misunderstandings.' Master Shen doesn't rest well, and his temper worsens. And when his temper is bad... he generally dislikes seeing unplanned events occur."