Lu Chenzhou pushed open the heavy solid wood door of the conference room. The cold light from the projector sliced through the stagnant air inside like a knife. The figures seated on either side of the long table swayed slightly at the edges of the light beam, like aquatic plants wavering at the bottom of a pond. Gu Zhixing stood before the projection screen, the jade thumb ring on his left hand glowing with a warm green luster under the light. Qin Wangshu sat by the window, her profile somewhat blurred against the backdrop of the dazzling city nightscape outside. Squad Leader Zhao Tieshan sat opposite her, idly toying with a faded old police badge. "Mr. Lu, your timing is perfect," Gu Zhixing adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze calm and unrippled behind the lenses. "We were just about to begin." Lu Chenzhou walked to the vacant seat at the far end of the long table. The chair legs scraped across the carpet with a muffled, grating sound. He sat down, took a black ballpoint pen from his pocket, and placed it on the open notebook. There was a fine crack along the edge of the pen cap. "Based on preliminary investigation," Gu Zhixing's voice spread steadily through the conference room, each word like a meticulously crafted component, "the core security of the underground archive vault has a structural window. Every day from 2:00 to 3:00 AM, the hydraulic gate in Zone A3 undergoes routine maintenance and reboot. The surveillance logs indicate a three-minute gap in patrol handovers during this period." A three-dimensional structural diagram appeared on the projection screen. Red arrows pierced toward the core of the building from three directions. One arrow was labeled "Team Three — Lu Chenzhou Unit," its endpoint a zone flashing with a green halo, annotated beside it as "Emergency Evacuation Point E7." Lu Chenzhou's pen tip touched the paper. He sketched a simplified outline of the building, then marked a dot at the location of Zone A3. The pen tip paused, drawing a circle around the dot. "Team Three's mission," Gu Zhixing's finger tapped lightly on the red dot of the laser pointer, "is to utilize these three minutes to breach the gate and secure the core archive area. Mr. Lu, for a team you personally trained, exploiting this window shouldn't be a problem, should it?" The question was lobbed over, wrapped in a professional sugar coating. Lu Chenzhou raised his eyes. His gaze first fell on Qin Wangshu's face—she was looking down at the safety on her service pistol, her finger unconsciously flicking it once. Then he looked at Gu Zhixing. "The data is clear," Lu Chenzhou said, his pace as steady as if he were discussing the weather. "However, I'd like to verify the source of the original surveillance logs for this 'three-minute window'." Gu Zhixing's motion of rubbing his thumb ring halted for half a second. "In the structural notes provided by Elder Zhou last time," Lu Chenzhou continued, his pen tip drawing another arc around the circle on the paper, "it was mentioned that due to long-term dampness, the hydraulic pump reboot time for the mechanical gate in this area fluctuates. The slowest recorded instance was four minutes and seventeen seconds." Only the low hum of the projector fan remained in the conference room. Gu Zhixing smiled. The smile was shallow, only tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Mr. Lu is indeed meticulous. We retrieved the logs from the last three months. The equipment just underwent maintenance last quarter." He turned to the assistant operating the computer. "Project the log summary." A new screen overlay the structural diagram. Dense timestamps and status codes scrolled. Lu Chenzhou stared at the screen. A slight twitch began at the corner of his left eye, as if something beneath the skin was trying to break free. He forced himself to relax the muscles around his eyes. His pen tip wrote a number on the paper: 3:00. Then he drew a question mark beside it. "Can we see the maintenance records?" he asked. This time, Gu Zhixing didn't hesitate. "Of course. However, they involve specific supplier information, which is commercial confidentiality. I can provide them to you separately after the meeting." His tone remained even, yet it felt like a wall. "What we need to confirm now is the tactical framework. Time is tight." The pressure began to tighten. Lu Chenzhou's pen drew two lines back and forth between the "3:00" and the question mark. He felt the gaze from the other end of the long table—Zhao Tieshan had stopped toying with the police badge and was looking at him. That gaze held scrutiny, and something deeper. "I agree time is tight," Lu Chenzhou put down his pen, placing his hands Gu Zhixing's thumb rubbed against the jade ring faster, the friction between the emerald and his finger bone emitting an extremely faint rustling sound. "So we've arranged a support team." He switched the screen, and another blue arrow appeared on the structural diagram, slowly pointing from the rear toward the flank of Zone A3. "The Zhao family's security forces will be on standby in the outer perimeter. Once the main assault is hindered, they can provide support within fifteen seconds." Lu Chenzhou looked at that blue arrow. Its starting point was on the outer perimeter of the building, its route winding, avoiding all areas marked with red alert lines. Its endpoint stopped five meters outside the entrance to the passage of Zone A3—a perfect "support" distance, neither getting involved in frontal conflict nor unable to claim "full support given." A perfect trap. His fist clenched under the table, nails digging into his palm. The pain was sharp and sobering. "What is the response time of the support team based on?" Lu Chenzhou asked, his voice betraying no emotion. "On-site drill data," Gu Zhixing pushed his glasses up. "Last week's simulation test." "The test report?" "Will be provided after the meeting." *After the meeting again.* Lu Chenzhou's pen tip jabbed at the paper, puncturing a small hole. He stared at that hole, suddenly remembering the note Zhou Zhengping had secretly slipped him three days ago, scribbled with hurried handwriting: "Old gate, four minutes seventeen seconds, seen with my own eyes. Don't trust the new data." Seen with my own eyes. And Gu Zhixing was using "logs from the past three months." "I understand." Lu Chenzhou loosened his fist, leaving four deep crescent-shaped marks on his palm. He looked up, his face showing an almost compromising expression. "Then, regarding personnel allocation—" Gu Zhixing immediately took over, as if he had been waiting for this moment. "The third team will be under your direct command, consisting of the few... partners you trust most." He deliberately omitted the word "allies." "Captain Qin will lead the police technical support team, establishing a communication hub in the rear. Captain Zhao is responsible for perimeter security and evacuation. The Zhao family's security forces will serve as mobile support." With each sentence he spoke, a corresponding name and position icon appeared on the projection screen. Lu Chenzhou watched those icons fall onto the board like chess pieces. His "pieces" were pushed to the front line, right against that green "Emergency Evacuation Point E7." Qin Wangshu's icon was in the rear, surrounded by symbols representing communication equipment. Zhao Tieshan's icon was on the periphery, separated from the main building by a symbolic distance. And Gu Zhixing himself—no icon. He stood outside the chessboard, holding the laser pointer, the one arranging the game. "Very reasonable," Lu Chenzhou said. He picked up his pen and quickly sketched a simplified diagram of the entire deployment in his notebook. When he reached "Emergency Evacuation Point E7," he pressed the pen tip heavily at that spot, the ink spreading into a small black dot. Then he looked up. "I need to verify the terrain details," Lu Chenzhou said, his voice as calm as if discussing a lunch menu. "Especially the specific coordinates and passage structure of this evacuation point. Is there a clearer version of the electronic map?" Gu Zhixing looked at him. Two seconds of silence, long enough for everyone to sense something off. "Yes," Gu Zhixing finally said, turning to his assistant. "Take Mr. Lu to the data room and pull up the high-definition survey layer." The assistant stood up. A man in a black suit, with broad shoulders, standing with his hands naturally hanging at his sides, but his fingers weren't completely relaxed. Someone brought out by Lei Hu. Lu Chenzhou closed his notebook and stood up. His knee bumped against the table edge, producing a dull thud. Pain crawled up his shinbone, yet he felt clear-headed. "I'll be right back," he said. Walking toward the door, he passed Qin Wangshu's seat. She didn't look up, still staring at her service pistol, but her lower lip was caught between her teeth, leaving a pale mark. Lu Chenzhou pushed open the door. The corridor lights were colder than the meeting room's, shining on the dark gray carpet like a layer of frost. The assistant followed half a step behind him. His footsteps were light, but each step fell in a fixed rhythm, like some kind of surveillance metronome. The data room was at the end of the corridor. The lock was an electronic fingerprint-plus-code lock. The assistant stepped forward to unlock it; the metal bolt retracted with a soft *click*, unusually clear in the quiet corridor. Lu Chenzhou walked in. The smell of dust and old ink hit him in the face, like The corridor lights were dimmer than those in the conference room, carrying a deliberately crafted sense of privacy. Lu Chenzhou pushed open the door to the records room. The smell of old paper and dust mixed together rushed to meet him. The room wasn’t large. Several metal filing cabinets stood against the walls, and an old desktop computer along with a scanner sat on a long table in the middle. The security chief—a middle-aged man with a crew cut and eyes like a hawk—followed half a step behind him, so close Lu Chenzhou could almost hear his steady breathing. "Mr. Lu, which area do you need to check?" the security chief asked, his voice not loud, but each word enunciated clearly. "Area A3, and the surrounding evacuation routes." Lu Chenzhou pulled out a chair and sat down. The computer screen lit up with a cold white light, making the lines of his face appear somewhat rigid. He could feel the security chief standing just behind and to his side, his gaze falling on the back of Lu Chenzhou's neck and the screen like an unsheathed knife. He moved the mouse and clicked open the electronic map Gu Zhixing had just displayed. The 3D modeling was meticulous, even labeling the fire hydrants on the walls. That "Emergency Evacuation Route" emphasized with a heavy circle was on the west side of Area A3, marked by a conspicuous green arrow with a line of small text beside it: "Safety Passage, Direct to Ground-Level Alternate Exit." Lu Chenzhou's left hand unconsciously disassembled a ballpoint pen beneath the table. The cap was unscrewed, the spring lightly compressed and released. His eyes were fixed on the screen, but his right hand slipped into the inner pocket of his jacket, finding the folded stack of old blueprint photocopies. The edges of the paper were rough, carrying the faint, elusive scent of tobacco that Zhou Zhengping had transferred when handing them over. "This map is made in great detail," Lu Chenzhou said, his voice as steady as if commenting on the weather. He clicked to zoom in on Area A3. The green arrow expanded on the screen, almost filling the entire view. "Zhao Corporation's technical department is quite capable." "As it should be," the security chief replied, his tone devoid of emotion. "Advisor Gu required all details to be precise down to the centimeter." Lu Chenzhou nodded. His right hand withdrew from his pocket, casually placing his phone on the table, screen face down. The movement was natural, like someone casually setting something down. Then he picked up a blank notepad and a pencil from the table. "I need to verify a few coordinates," he said, beginning to scribble on the notepad. The pencil tip scratched lightly against the paper, making a soft, rustling sound. At the same time, beneath the table, his left hand used the fingernails of his thumb and index finger to very subtly lift the phone's side volume button. The phone vibrated once. Very lightly, almost drowned out by the sound of the pencil. But Lu Chenzhou felt it. It was a shortcut operation he had preset—holding down the volume down button to launch the camera in silent mode. The security chief's gaze seemed to linger on the back of his neck for a second, then shifted half an inch toward the filing cabinets. Lu Chenzhou didn't turn around, but he could judge that momentary relaxation through the subtle change in the other man's breathing rhythm. *Now.* Beneath the table, his left hand thumb searched for and found the position of the camera lens on the back of the phone, aiming it at the old blueprint spread open on his lap. His right hand swiftly wrote seemingly random numbers and arrows on the notepad, while he said aloud, "The entrance width of this passage... it's marked as 1.2 meters? I recall the old building codes required a minimum clear width of 1.5 meters for this type of emergency route. Was it modified later?" As he spoke, his left thumb pressed lightly on the side of the phone. The camera made an almost inaudible, extremely faint *beep* as it focused. Lu Chenzhou's heart skipped half a beat. His pencil tip drew an abrupt, angular line on the notepad. But the security chief didn't seem to notice—or perhaps the sound was too similar to the normal electronic hum of a device. The man replied, "The drawing annotation might be incorrect. We measured the actual passage; it complies with current regulations." "That's good," Lu Chenzhou said, his voice betraying nothing unusual. His left thumb pressed twice more. Each press produced another almost silent *beep* and another barely perceptible vibration. Each one felt like a tap against his own nerves. Three photos. That was enough. He set down the pencil, his right hand grasping the mouse again. He switched the electronic map's view to plan mode, then zoomed in Lu Chenzhou's gaze fixed on that coordinate, like a nail hammered into place. His left hand, under the desk, rapidly flipped through the photocopied old blueprint on his lap. The rustling of paper made a fine, crisp sound, startlingly clear in the quiet room. He flipped to the page corresponding to the area—it was the original structural blueprint of this building from the 1970s, which Zhou Zhengping had riskily photographed from the dusty infrastructure archives sealed away in the city archives. The paper had yellowed, and the lines were somewhat blurred, but the key structural notations were clearly marked. His eyes swept back and forth over the blueprint. Once. Twice. On the third pass, his breath caught. On the old blueprint, at the location corresponding to the green arrow's coordinate on the electronic map, there was no passageway, no door, no dotted lines representing any cavity. That area was a solid mass filled with dense, diagonal hatching representing reinforced concrete. Next to it was a line of small, handwritten notes: "This is a load-bearing shear wall, 800mm thick. Absolutely no openings permitted." The air seemed to solidify. The smell of dust and old printer's ink in the materials room suddenly became overwhelmingly thick, drilling into his nasal passages with a stale, nauseating sweetness. The cold light from the computer screen stung the corners of Lu Chenzhou's eyes. The corner of his left eye began to twitch uncontrollably, once, then again, as if something were struggling beneath his skin. It was fake. That passageway didn't exist at all. The so-called "safe evacuation point" was an elaborate death trap drawn on the electronic map. Anyone walking into it would run headlong into an eighty-centimeter-thick reinforced concrete wall. And behind them, the pursuers would arrive right on schedule. Gu Zhixing... no, the Zhao family. The Zhao family never intended for any of them to come out alive. The so-called "joint raid" was a meticulously planned purge. Their blood would be used to stain the secret transaction agreement between the Zhao family and the archive custodian. Under the table, Lu Chenzhou's fist clenched. His fingernails dug deep into his palm, bringing a sharp, stinging pain. The pain cleared his head. He released his grip. His palm bore several crescent-shaped white marks, which slowly regained their color. "How is it, Mr. Lu?" The security chief's voice came from behind him, a little closer than before. "Found the information you need?" Lu Chenzhou took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was so steady it felt foreign even to him: "Found it. The pipeline notations on the electronic map and the old blueprint basically match up. Just some dimensional details need adjusting." He moved the mouse, closed the map window, and stood up. The chair legs scraped lightly against the floor. He turned to the security chief, even managing to force a faint, almost polite smile onto his face. "Thank you for your trouble. I need to use the restroom, then we can return to the conference room to continue." The security chief stared at his face for two seconds. Something seemed to flash through those hawk-like eyes, but in the end, he just nodded. "The restroom is at the end of the hallway, turn left. I'll wait for you here." "Alright." Lu Chenzhou turned and walked toward the door. His steps were steady, the distance of each stride almost identical. When he pushed open the materials room door, the slightly brighter light in the hallway made him squint. He walked in the direction of the restroom without looking back. He could feel the security chief's gaze glued to his back until he turned the corner of the hallway. The restroom door closed behind him, cutting off the outside world. Lu Chenzhou didn't immediately enter a stall. He stood before the sink, turned on the faucet. Icy water gushed out. He braced his hands on the edge of the basin, looking down at the water splashing against the white ceramic wall. The mirror reflected his face—pale, the twitch at the corner of his eye had stopped, but deep in his eyes was a kind of near-nihilistic coldness. He turned off the faucet, pulled the disposable phone from his inner jacket pocket. The plastic casing felt cheap and smooth. He walked into the innermost stall and locked the door. The sound of the toilet flushing masked other noises. He quickly powered on the phone, opened the encrypted messaging app, and found the only contact—the profile picture was blank, the alias a single period. His fingers tapped on the screen quickly, but each word was carefully considered: "A3 West side, coordinates X-3471.82, Y-1885.09, marked as emergency passage. Check municipal historical construction records, foundation settlement reports. Confirm whether any passable structure existed at this Lu Chenzhou deleted the sent record and this reply. Then he took out the SIM card, pressed his fingernail against the edge of the chip, and broke it with force. *Click.* A faint, crisp sound. The plastic card snapped in half. He threw the two broken pieces into the toilet and pressed the flush button. The swirling water swallowed them, disappearing into the bottomless darkness of the sewer. He raised his head. The fluorescent light tube above the stall buzzed with an electric hum. Footsteps sounded outside the door; someone had entered the restroom and stopped in front of the sink. Then came the sound of running water, and the hushed conversation of two men. "...That plan just now was bold enough, having Lu Chenzhou lead a frontal assault?" "What else? He was a legend ten years ago. Even though now... his skills are still there." "True. If it really succeeds, we might get a bit of reflected glory." "Shh, keep your voice down..." The voices gradually faded as the footsteps receded. Lu Chenzhou leaned against the cool plastic partition of the stall and closed his eyes. The echo of those two men's conversation still lingered in his ears—their tone carried admiration, even a trace of anticipation. They didn't know that the object of their admiration and anticipation was preparing to lead them into a certain-death trap. And he had to use this trap. He had to turn their own scheme against them. The rat had smelled the snake. Not to run, but to lure the snake out of its hole, to seize its vital spot when it thought it had everything under control. He opened his eyes, took out the stack of old blueprint photocopies from his pocket, and quickly flipped to the page marked with the abandoned ventilation duct. It was a duct labeled "Abandoned, recommend sealing" on the architectural drawings from the 1970s, located on the east side of Zone A3, almost diagonal to that fake "emergency passage." The duct diameter was only sixty centimeters, its interior filled with rust and the risk of potential collapse, but its end, theoretically, could bypass most of the security nodes in the archive core area and lead directly to the auxiliary archive room. A real, forgotten backup entrance. Also his only path to survival. Plan B. He needed a team completely independent of the Zhao family's control to infiltrate through this duct. The team couldn't be too large; it had to be elite, absolutely reliable, and capable of slicing into the core as silently as a scalpel while the main assault force drew all the fire. And the person to command this team... A face surfaced in Lu Chenzhou's mind. Capable, short hair, eyes that always held scrutiny and defensiveness when looking at others, but in certain moments, would reveal deeply buried exhaustion and struggle. Qin Wangshu. Only her. She had the authority to mobilize police resources, the ability to coordinate and provide cover within the system, and more importantly—after all that had happened, she was the only person he could still gamble on as "possibly trustworthy" at this moment. Even though this trust itself was full of cracks, even though every contact could be a new exposure. But there was no other choice. He had to hand Plan B to her. He had to let her know a part of the truth—enough for her to act, but not enough for the Zhao family to detect her. He had to get her to agree to lead a small team into that abandoned duct at the exact moment the main assault was launched. And this required communication. An extremely dangerous, encrypted, untraceable communication that had to be completed right under the Zhao family's nose. Lu Chenzhou folded the old blueprint and tucked it back into his inner pocket. He pushed open the stall door, walked to the sink, turned on the cold water, cupped his hands, and splashed the water fiercely onto his face. The icy water stung his skin, washing away the last trace of hesitation. He raised his head and looked at the wet, utterly hardened face in the mirror. The plan was set. The trap was clear. Now, he had to go back and continue acting out this "sincere cooperation" play. Then, before the curtain fell, he had to pass on that life-or-death signal. He pulled off two paper towels, dried his face and hands, crumpled the paper, and threw it into the trash bin. He turned, pushed open the restroom door, and walked back toward the dimly lit corridor leading to the meeting room. His steps remained steady. Only this time, each step was treading on the edge of a blade. (End of Second Scene) The water flow was bitingly cold. Lu Chenzhou buried his face in the sink, letting the tap water wash away the lingering scent of disinfectant on his skin. The reflection in the mirror had sunken eye sockets, and the left corner of his eye twitched invol Lu Chenzhu straightened up, water droplets trickling down his jawline. He pulled the disposable phone from his pants pocket—the cheap, smooth feel of the plastic casing like the carapace of some insect. The screen lit up. Qin Wangshu’s reply was only one line: 「Coordinates correspond to an area filled in twenty years ago due to foundation settlement. The map is fake.」 His thumb hovered over the delete key. The air grew thinner. Not from a lack of oxygen, but from something heavier pressing down on his chest. He remembered the rhythm with which Gu Zhixing had rubbed his jade thumb ring in the conference room, the "emergency evacuation route" marked in bright red on the projection screen, the cup of tea Zhao Tieshan had pushed toward him—the steam long gone, only the memory of warmth lingering on the rim. That cup of tea was real. This passage was fake. Lu Chenzhu’s breath hitched in his chest for a moment. He closed his eyes, but the old blueprint automatically surfaced on his retinas: yellowed paper, hand-drawn ink lines, a dashed arrow labeled "Abandoned Ventilation Duct (Backup)," with a line of small characters beside it: "Sealed 1987, structure intact." On the electronic map provided by Gu Zhixing, the same location was a straight green passage labeled "Safe Evacuation Route B." The two images overlapped, compared, tore apart in his mind. Not an oversight. A meticulously designed contradiction. He opened his eyes and began to move his fingers: deleted the message history, removed the SIM card, folded it in half—the plastic gave a faint, crisp sound, like snapping a tiny bone. He flushed the fragments down the toilet, watching them spin and vanish in the vortex. The stall door was suddenly knocked twice. "Mr. Lu?" It was the head of security's voice. "Are you alright? Advisor Gu said the meeting is resuming shortly." "Coming," Lu Chenzhu said. His voice was steady, so steady it felt alien even to himself. He turned on the faucet, cupped another handful of water, and splashed it on his face. The cold water stung his skin, pulling every nerve taut to its limit. The man in the mirror, his eyes had completely changed. From the shock of discovering the trap, to the chill of verifying the betrayal, to now—something harder, darker was congealing in the depths of his gaze. It wasn’t anger; anger was too hot. This was calculation, a ruthless recalibration of the scales in a dead end. He pulled out a paper towel, dried his face, and tossed the damp wad into the trash bin. When he pushed the door open, the head of security stood two steps away, hands clasped in front of him, a standard alert posture. Lu Chenzhu nodded at him and walked toward the corridor. His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, each step like treading on a tightly stretched drumhead. Passing a fire hydrant, he glanced at its glass reflection. The head of security followed behind, maintaining a distance of three meters. Not too close, not too far. Close enough to monitor, but not close enough to overhear a whispered conversation—if he had anyone to whisper to. Lu Chenzhu did not. He was an island now, surrounded on all sides by reefs disguised as allies. Qin Wangshu’s warning was real, but what was her stance? Was that message a friendly reminder, or another form of test? He couldn’t gamble. The elevator doors opened, the cold metallic light glaring. Lu Chenzhu stepped in. The head of security followed, pressed the button for the top floor. The cabin began to ascend, the slight feeling of weightlessness tugging at his stomach. "Mr. Lu," the head of security spoke suddenly, "Advisor Gu asked me to relay something just now. About that abandoned duct… he checked earlier maintenance records and found there was indeed a structural reinforcement done in the eighties. It might still be usable." Lu Chenzhu turned his head. The head of security’s expression was calm, even carrying a hint of professional deference. But the timing of this statement was too perfect—right after he had just verified the fake evacuation point, right before he was about to re-enter the meeting room. Was Gu Zhixing patching a hole, or… "Thank you for letting me know," Lu Chenzhu said. "I’ll bring up that possibility in the meeting." The elevator arrived. As the doors opened, the light from the conference room flooded in from the end of the corridor, mingled with the low murmur of discussion. Lu Chenzhu walked in. The people on both sides of the long table looked up simultaneously. Gu Zhixing stood beside the projection screen, his fingers lightly tapping the switch of the laser pointer. * "I've verified it," Lu Chenzhou said, his voice steady as if reporting the weather forecast. "Abandoned ventilation duct, eighty centimeters in diameter, sealed in 1987, but the main structure is intact. The sealing point is here—" His fingertip tapped a coordinate on the blueprint. "Twelve meters in a straight line from the core area of the archives, separated only by a non-load-bearing partition wall." Gu Zhixing stopped tapping. "Mr. Lu," he adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, "I understand your urgency to increase the success rate. But that duct is old and poorly maintained. Entering rashly could trigger unknown alarm systems, or even cause a collapse. The risk is too high." "That's why a professional assessment is needed." Lu Chenzhou raised his eyes. "I suggest that while the main force attacks head-on according to the original plan, we form an independent support team to infiltrate through this duct. Two prongs advancing simultaneously, supporting each other." The conference room fell silent. Zhao Tieshan stopped spinning his police badge. Qin Wangshu released her bitten lip. Gu Zhixing's fingers unconsciously rubbed the jade ring—the frequency slightly faster than before. "Independent team?" Gu Zhixing repeated. "Who commands it? Where do we pull personnel from?" "Command authority goes to the police." Lu Chenzhou said, his gaze sweeping over Qin Wangshu before returning to Gu Zhixing's face. "Captain Qin is familiar with the scene and has sufficient tactical expertise. Personnel... we can transfer some from the team I've trained and supplement them with police elites." "This will affect the troop strength on the main assault axis." Gu Zhixing said immediately. "Therefore, the deployment needs adjustment." Lu Chenzhou tore a page from his notebook, on which was a simple diagram he had quickly sketched earlier in the restroom. "Pull the third team back from the vanguard position at Gate A3, change them to a reserve force. The support team's mission isn't a strong assault; it's a surprise attack and support—if the main assault goes smoothly, they are responsible for securing the core area of the evidence database; if the main assault is hindered, they become the key to opening a second front." He paused. "Of course, the premise for all of this is that the patrol gap data provided by Consultant Gu is accurate." Lu Chenzhou looked at the annotation "three-minute window" on the projection screen. "If the gate restart time fluctuates, or the patrol team returns early... then whether from the front or the duct, it's a dead end." Gu Zhixing smiled. It was a very shallow smile, the corners of his mouth just slightly upturned, but his eyes held no warmth. "The data source is a copy of the surveillance log leaked from inside the archives," he said, "cross-verified three times. If Mr. Lu isn't reassured, after the meeting I can provide you with raw data slices for verification." "After the meeting is too late." Lu Chenzhou said. "The operation is tomorrow night. I need to see the data slices now—at least a sample." The air solidified. On both sides of the long table, those "forces of integrity" Lu Chenzhou had painstakingly gathered now held their breath. They could feel that this seemingly professional tactical discussion was sliding toward a more dangerous edge. Gu Zhixing remained silent for several seconds. Then he nodded. "Fine," he said. "I'll have the technical team prepare them now. However..." His gaze fell on Lu Chenzhou's face. "Mr. Lu's insistence on opening a second route—is it truly to increase the success rate, or... do you have some doubts about the main assault route?" The question was like a thin blade, quietly extended. Lu Chenzhou met his gaze. "I have doubts about any route that hasn't been fully verified," he said. "Including that evacuation route B marked as 'safe.' So, before I get the data slices, I suggest temporarily suspending the final route vote." He paused, adding another sentence: "After all, none of us want to lead our brothers into a dead end, right?" Gu Zhixing's rubbing of the ring completely stopped. The jade surface reflected the projector's light; that bit of green now looked cold and hard, like the eye of some reptile. He stared at Lu Chenzhou for a full three seconds before slowly relaxing his fingers. "Of course," Gu Zhixing said. "Then... let's verify the data first." He turned and walked toward the secure phone in the corner of the conference room. Lu Chenzhou stood where he was, feeling the slight twitch starting again at the corner of his left eye. He knew that the words just spoken had already crossed an invisible line—not an open confrontation, but enough to let Gu Zhixing understand that he was not completely unaware of the trap— When Lu Chenzhou returned to the On both sides of the long table, everyone's gaze was pinned on him. Gu Zhixing stood beside the projection screen, his fingertips still tapping the table rhythmically—tap, tap, tap. Qin Wangshu sat by the window, the pen in her hand having already spun three full circles. Squad leader Zhao Tieshan's hands were clasped together on the table, his knuckles white. "My apologies," Lu Chenzhou pulled out his chair. The copy of the old blueprint was casually spread out on the table by him, the sound of paper scraping unnervingly sharp. "I was double-checking some of the pipeline markings. Over time, some details truly need verification." Gu Zhixing adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. "Mr. Lu, time is precious." "Which is exactly why we need to verify clearly." Lu Chenzhou sat down, his left hand unconsciously picking up a pen from the table and beginning to disassemble the cap and barrel. "Regarding the assault route Advisor Gu mentioned earlier, I've given it some careful thought. There's a problem." The air in the conference room solidified for an instant. "What problem?" Gu Zhixing's voice was steady, but the speed at which he rubbed his thumb ring increased by half a beat. Lu Chenzhou screwed the pen cap back on, then unscrewed it again. "The 'three-minute window' for the A3 zone gate is based on surveillance logs. But in the structural notes provided by the late Mr. Zhou Zhengping, it's mentioned that the mechanical gate in that area is an old-style hydraulic system installed thirty years ago. Its restart time is affected by oil temperature, with a fluctuation range of plus or minus ninety seconds." He paused, the pen tip lightly tapping the table once. "In other words, if the oil temperature is low, the restart could take up to four and a half minutes. If the oil temperature is high, it might be completed in two and a half." Lu Chenzhou raised his eyes. "Advisor Gu, does the surveillance log you provided indicate the oil temperature data at that time?" Gu Zhixing fell silent. The silence wasn't long, lasting only about three seconds. But three seconds were enough for everyone in the conference room to feel—something cracking beneath the surface. "The logs... do not include environmental parameters." Gu Zhixing finally spoke, his tone still even, but Lu Chenzhou noticed his Adam's apple move slightly. "However, we retrieved surveillance records from the last three months. The gate restart time never exceeded three minutes and twenty seconds." "That's under normal maintenance conditions," Lu Chenzhou said. "What if the Archives side already knows we're coming and lowers the oil temperature in advance? They'd only need to lower the air conditioning temperature by five degrees. The viscosity of the hydraulic oil would increase, and the restart time would lengthen." He leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. "By then, when the third team charges in, but the gate only opens after four and a half minutes—they'll be trapped in the crossfire zone between A3 and B2. Sitting ducks." A suppressed gasp sounded in the conference room. Lu Chenzhou didn't need to look to know it came from one of the "forces of integrity" he had painstakingly brought on board, sitting in the corner—a veteran technician who had worked in the archives system for twenty years. "Mr. Lu's considerations are very thorough," Gu Zhixing finally released his thumb ring, clasping his hands in front of him. "But the probability of such a situation occurring..." "It's not a matter of probability," Lu Chenzhou interrupted him. "It's a matter of logic. If our intelligence source has a vulnerability of this magnitude, the entire foundation of the assault plan is invalid." He picked up the spread-out copy of the old blueprint, flipping to the page marked with ventilation ducts. "Therefore, I suggest adjusting the main assault direction." The paper was pushed to the center of the table. Everyone could see a thick red line drawn on the blueprint, extending from a disused inspection shaft on the building's periphery all the way to a ventilation shaft beneath the core area of the archives. "This is a maintenance passage reserved during the original construction. It was later sealed due to foundation settlement, but the structure itself is intact." Lu Chenzhou's fingertip pointed to the starting point of the red line. "The pipe diameter is 1.2 meters, sufficient for a single person to pass through. Infiltrating from here allows us to bypass all gates and heavily monitored areas, directly entering the equipment level beneath the core area." Gu Zhixing stared at that red line, his pupils behind the lenses contracting slightly. "Mr. Lu, this passage was backfilled twenty years ago," his voice held a subtle fluctuation for the first time. "Construction records indicate that due to foundation settlement, the midsection of the pipe has collapsed. It's simply impassable." "Construction records?" Lu Chen "All the materials are stored in the Zhao Group's archives, digitized..." He paused, "Of course, if Mr. Lu needs verification, we can arrange..." "No need," Lu Chenzhou said. Two words, decisive and firm. The conference room fell into dead silence once more. The city's nightscape outside the window remained dazzling, but those points of light now looked like countless cold, indifferent eyes. Lu Chenzhou surveyed the people on both sides of the long table. Qin Wangshu was looking down, her fingers gripping her pen so tightly her knuckles were white. Captain Zhao Tieshan picked up the cup of long-cold tea in front of him, took a sip, then set it down heavily with a dull thud. That sound was like a signal of some sort. "Advisor Gu's plan is meticulous, and the data is detailed," Lu Chenzhou spoke again, his tone having regained its calmness. "But there are too many variables on the battlefield. Any plan drawn up on paper may have oversights. So my suggestion is—" He took a deep breath, as if making a difficult