Courtyard House: I, the eldest son of the Jia family, have returned from the battlefield.

Whether Factory Director Yang is involved in the case requires further investigation. He is currently being held in the security department's detention room, and a final report will be submitted once the investigation is complete.

Around 9 p.m., Wang Dapao led several police officers into the factory area.

Once everyone was assembled, Jia Dongming led the security officers and police officers onto the truck, and the truck headed towards Yang Weimin's residence with the engine roaring.

The truck quietly stopped at the fork in the road a hundred meters away from the tenement building.

As soon as Jia Dongming jumped off the train, two scouts who had been lying in wait in the shadows suddenly appeared.

"Chief, Captain!"

One of the younger scouts lowered his voice and reported, "All exits of the target building are now under surveillance."

Guo Jianguo strode forward: "Wang Qi, was there anything unusual during the surveillance?"

"Thanks to the director's earlier reminder that Zhang Huizi has a very strong counter-surveillance awareness,"

Wang Qi wiped the sweat from his brow with lingering fear. "We changed our hiding place three times. Once, she suddenly opened the window and looked out, and we almost got exposed."

When Jia Dongming recalled Zhang Huizi's seemingly unintentional little actions when he followed her twice, his eyes suddenly turned fierce.

He turned to Wang Dapao and said in a deep voice, "Dapao, I'll lead the team straight to the Yang residence. I'll leave the outer perimeter blockade to you."

"rest assured."

Wang Dapao patted the holster on his waist. "We have men at every alley entrance within a 500-meter radius. Tonight, not even a night owl will be able to sneak out."

After the action plan was confirmed, Jia Dongming led six security officers into the shadows of the tenement building.

The moonlight at midnight was swallowed by the clouds, and Jia Dongming stopped in front of the mottled wooden door of Room 302.

He raised his hand to stop the team members behind him, his eyes flashing with a sharp, hawk-like light in the darkness—through the door, he could clearly see Yang Weimin fast asleep in the bedroom, while in the study, Zhang Huizi, dressed in a silk nightgown, was writing furiously at her desk, the dense foreign symbols on the pages impossible to hide in his supernatural vision.

The last shred of doubt vanished.

Jia Dongming made a surprise attack gesture with his left hand and knocked on the door with his right fist: "Director Yang, the security department has an urgent report!"

The silence of the night was shattered by a sudden knock on the door.

Zhang Huizi, who was writing furiously at her desk in the study, paused, and a chilling alertness quickly crept into her eyes.

She steadied her voice and called out towards the door, "Who is it? Old Yang has already retired for the night. If it's not urgent, please come back on the 11th."

A deliberately lowered and respectful voice came from outside the door: "Sister-in-law, it's me, from the factory's security department."

The fire at the logistics warehouse was brought under control, but the damage was considerable.

The section chief specifically instructed me to inform Director Yang that you must wake him up.

Zhang Huizi frowned deeply in the study.

She moved with lightning speed, quickly folding the paper she had just copied and carefully stuffing the original document back into the familiar black briefcase.

Then, she pulled open a hidden compartment in the cabinet behind her, stuffed the manuscript inside, and her fingertips touched a cold, hard object—a delicate, miniature pistol.

She deftly loaded it, held it in her palm, held her breath, moved to the window, and used her fingertips to lift a corner of the heavy curtains.

In the dim light of the corridor, only Jia Dongming's figure was visible.

Zhang Huizi felt slightly relieved, but she was still not relaxed. Through the door, she pressed for details: "How bad is the fire? Is any equipment damaged?"

Jia Dongming, standing outside the door, had eyes as sharp as a hawk's, and had already "seen" the secret actions inside through the tiny cracks in the door and the fluctuations in sound.

It is truly real.

He sneered inwardly, glad that he had rejected the rash suggestion of directly setting up an ambush.

His tone remained as calm as ever, even carrying a perfectly measured hint of anxiety: "Reporting to sister-in-law, we discovered it in time, and the fire has been extinguished."

But the newly arrived batch of imported machines and parts... are probably all ruined.

The section chief was extremely anxious, which is why he sent me to fetch the factory manager that very night.

This explanation is reasonable.

Zhang Huizi's tense nerves relaxed slightly. She tucked the gun behind her back, took a deep breath, and unlocked the door.

As the door opened, Jia Dongming's respectful face appeared before them.

Zhang Huizi quickly put on her usual warm smile and said apologetically, "Comrade, you've really worked hard."

My husband, Lao Yang, hasn't been sleeping well lately, and he just took...

"Zhang Huizi! Don't move!"

Before he could finish speaking, Jia Dongming's eyes flashed with a sharp light, and his respectful demeanor instantly shattered.

Like a cheetah that had been poised for a long time, he suddenly pounced into the doorway, his target clear. His hands gripped Zhang Huizi's wrists tightly like steel pincers, with such force that she felt as if her bones were about to be crushed.

Everything happened so fast that the smile on Zhang Huizi's face hadn't even faded before it froze into terror.

Her expression changed drastically. Instinctively, she tried to twist and back away to touch the hard object on her lower back, but found that her arms were firmly locked and she could not move at all.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Frightened and enraged, Zhang Huizi struggled fiercely, her voice shrill with agitation, "This is the steel mill's residential compound! You can't run wild here!"

Almost at the same moment Jia Dongming pinned her down, the previously silent stairwell was suddenly filled with chaotic footsteps.

Several police officers and security personnel who had been lying in wait surged up the corridor like a tide and rushed into the wide-open room.

Several dark gun barrels were instantly pointed into the room. Two security guards rushed forward and assisted Jia Dongming in completely subduing Zhang Huizi, who was still struggling, and pinning her hands behind her back.

Once the situation was completely under control, Jia Dongming slowly straightened up.

He walked behind Zhang Huizi, who was being held down tightly, reached out, and precisely pulled out the loaded pocket pistol from her lower back.

He twirled the small, cold weapon between his fingers, his gaze falling on Zhang Huizi's pale face, his tone laced with a chilling amusement: "Mrs. Yang, this thing... could you explain it to me?"

Upon seeing the gun being found, Zhang Huizi's pupils suddenly contracted, and the color drained rapidly from her face.

She tried to remain calm, but her voice trembled slightly: "This...this is for self-defense that Old Yang gave me! He was worried about my safety as a woman at home!"

"For self-defense?"

Jia Dongming chuckled and tapped the cold gun barrel lightly with his fingertips. "Zhang Huizi, it's true that Comrade Yang Weimin is a leader of the steel rolling mill."

But such exquisite items are not something that a factory director like him, or even a higher-ranking cadre, could easily obtain or provide for their family members' self-defense.

Do you even believe what you're saying?

"This is what Old Yang gave me! If you don't believe me, there's nothing I can do!"

Zhang Huizi struggled, trying to invoke her husband's status, "Old Yang is the factory director! What right does your security department have to arbitrarily arrest people? Is there no law anymore!"

Her bluster only made her seem more suspicious to Jia Dongming.

He leaned down, his voice low but sharp as a knife: "Zhang Huizi, Yang Weimin is the factory director."

But if the wife he marries is a hidden enemy agent, or even someone from "the other side"... he himself is probably already in dire straits.

Do you think he can still protect you?

At this moment, Guo Jianguo strode out of the inner bedroom and whispered to Jia Dongming with a serious expression: "Section Chief, Director Yang is not in good condition."

Lying in bed, completely unconscious, unresponsive to shouts or pushing, it was as if... she had been drugged.

Jia Dongming's eyes narrowed, and he immediately ordered, "Jianguo, take two men and immediately take Factory Director Yang secretly to the factory clinic. Arrange for reliable personnel to guard him 24 hours a day, and don't allow any outsiders to approach! The rest of you, search this room thoroughly! Don't miss a single piece of paper, not even a nook or cranny!"

The order to search was like a stone thrown into stagnant water.

The residents of the tenement building, who had been disturbed by the noise in the middle of the night and only dared to whisper behind their own doors, could no longer contain themselves upon hearing this clear and stern instruction. They pushed open their doors and peeked out with surprise and uncertainty.

In the dimly lit corridor, whispers, gasps, and suppressed cries spread like ripples, completely waking the sleeping tenement building.

As Secretary Zhang wrapped his coat tightly around himself and stepped into the Yang family's courtyard, several beams of flashlight light were crisscrossing and flickering on the walls through the windows of the main room.

He frowned and looked at the head of security standing on the steps: "Comrade Jia Dongming, such a large-scale search of Director Yang's house, there has to be an explanation, right?"

The woman, who had been forced to sit down, suddenly struggled and raised her head, her hair disheveled: "Secretary Zhang! They're settling a personal score on my behalf, falsely accusing me of being a spy!"

Her voice was sharp and shrill in the night wind, like a broken piece of porcelain.

Jia Dongming stepped aside to block the falling coal dust and spread the work manual under the lamp: "The direct order from the Public Security Bureau—Comrade Yang Weimin's wife, Zhang Huizi, is actually the person in charge of the Japanese military intelligence agency stationed in this area."

As he spoke, his gaze never left the shadowy figures moving on the window paper, as if he were waiting for something.

"Enemy agents?"

Secretary Zhang's fingers unconsciously traced the buttons on his coat. "How could this happen at Old Yang's house..."

He stopped abruptly before finishing his sentence, "Wait, where is Comrade Yang Weimin?"

"He was drugged with sleeping pills and is lying in the inner room."

Jia Dongming gestured with his chin toward the west wing, "I've already sent someone to the clinic to borrow a stretcher."

No sooner had she finished speaking than the woman shouted again, repeating the same words as before, but each word seemed to be chilled as if it had been soaked in ice water.

Just then, the study door creaked open.

The young man in the cotton uniform was running so fast that he tripped on the threshold, clutching a package of oil paper tightly to his chest. "Section Chief! Found it in the wall!"

The oil paper rustled open under the kerosene lamp, and two stacks of documents lay side by side on the table—on the left was a confidential document used by the steel rolling mill, and on the right was a neatly copied copy, with even the binding holes at the bottom of the pages positioned exactly as they were.

Just as Secretary Zhang received the document, the kerosene lamp happened to emit a spark.

He stared at the red circle he had drawn himself in the upper right corner of the homepage, his knuckles gradually turning white.

This production scheduling plan, which I had just sent out from my office that morning, was now lying on someone else's desk, still warm from the dust on the wall.

He slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the woman's taut jawline before finally settling on Jia Dongming's calm face: "Follow the procedures."

As he turned around, the hem of his coat swept over a broom by the door, but he didn't turn back to help it up.

The moment the footsteps disappeared outside the courtyard gate, the woman suddenly stopped struggling.

She slowly sat up straight, wiping the drool from the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief. When she looked up again, her eyes, which had always held a smile, were now as cold as pebbles at the bottom of a well. "Section Chief Jia."

She enunciated each word clearly: "I'll remember you."

Jia Dongming was examining the water stains on the back of the document when he heard this, he simply raised an eyebrow.

"You think that's all?"

The woman suddenly laughed, her laughter tinged with a sticky smugness. "Soon someone will make you remember—some prices must be paid with the tears of your closest family."

The flame of the oil lamp suddenly shot up an inch.

Jia Dongming closed the file and tapped the edge of the table lightly with his pen: "You mean Yamamoto, right?"

He saw the curve of the woman's lips freeze. "Leaving aside his own predicament, just consider those three strongholds you've planted in the backstreet of headquarters, diagonally opposite the branch office, and at the foot of the old city wall—"

He paused deliberately, admiring the other person's suddenly contracted pupils. "Those comrades who dug tunnels day and night should have been transferred to the detention center for breakfast last night."

The cherry blossom project? Now they've probably buried even the cherry blossom petals in the ground.

The woman's face had lost all color.

She opened her mouth, a hissing sound coming from her throat like a bellows leaking air, and after a long while, she managed to squeeze out a complete sentence: "You... how could you......"

"Miss Keiko."

This was the first time Jia Dongming had addressed her by this name, his tone as gentle as if he were correcting a student's spelling mistake: "Having lived in China for so many years, haven't you ever heard of 'walls have ears'?"

He got up and pushed open the creaking window, letting the late autumn night wind rush in, rustling the documents on the table. "You always think it's easier to get things done in the dark, but you forget—"

As he turned around, the kerosene lamp cast a long shadow that completely obscured the woman's pale face. "The watchman has the brightest eyes."

The woman suddenly collapsed.

She stared at the flickering light spots on the ceiling, her lips moving silently, like a stranded fish.