Nominal: Hou Liangping blocking the door? He was slapped away!

Six o'clock in the morning, in Conference Room No. 3 of the Provincial Military Region.

The blinds weren't open yet, and the table lamp cast a warm yellow glow on the tabletop, while the rest of the room was still shrouded in the lingering darkness of night.

Shen Zhong sat in the main seat, his combat uniform now clean, the top button still fastened perfectly. The overnight flight left no trace of fatigue on his face; rather, it was as if he had brought the lingering fire from the northern front back to Handong.

Zhou Weiguo handed a source tracing report to the table: "General, the source of the second compliant military transfer order intercepted during the northern front training exercise has been identified."

"explain."

"The initiator is affiliated with a ministry in Beijing, and on the surface, it follows the compliant sequence in the personnel code pool." Zhou Weiguo turned to the second page, his finger hovering over a string of letters and numbers. "But the management authority of this code pool closely matches the holding code of the core page's jump account."

Shen Zhong reached out and pulled the report over, then took out a copy of the contact list of the Qin family middleman from his briefcase. He laid the two documents side by side on the table.

The left side is the transfer order, and the right side is the contact list.

There is an intersection on the two sheets of paper – “QC”.

"Qin is not the end." Shen Zhong tapped the two letters with his index finger, his knuckles turning white. "It's a transit station."

Zhou Weiguo closed the folder, his heart sinking slightly: "In other words, going up from Handong, Director Qin is just a conduit. The person at the other end of that conduit is at a much higher level than we previously estimated."

Shen Zhong didn't reply. He refolded the two documents and placed them on the corner of the table. He knew very well that the stack of papers got hotter and hotter as he flipped them up.

The access control beeped once.

Qi Tongwei pushed open the door and came in, his left arm bandaged inside the sleeve of his uniform, his footsteps carrying a lingering smell of iodine. His back was ramrod straight, showing no sign of bending.

"A summary of the preliminary review compiled overnight by the provincial department." He placed a file folder on the table. "The middleman surnamed Qin went through three rounds of review, but only acknowledged his role as an agent."

Shen Zhong opened the bag and flipped through two pages: "Where is it online?"

"They insist they've never met, it's a single-line encrypted communication, they didn't even leave a voiceprint." Qi Tongwei sat down opposite him, his right hand habitually resting on the edge of the table. "They're stubborn, but the insignia number has already been matched. Q7-HZ-019 belongs to the code name Qingtai. This line is real."

"Qingtai." Shen Zhong closed the summary and leaned back in his chair. "He's half a level above Director Qin."

After a few seconds of silence, even the low hum of the dehumidifier could be heard clearly.

"What has Sha Ruijin been doing these past few days?"

Qi Tongwei answered quickly: "I was locked in my office writing the sixth draft of the self-examination report, and I didn't see any outsiders."

There was a pause.

"But his confidential secretary, Liu happy, went to the Chengbei Teahouse the night before last and stayed for forty minutes."

Shen Zhong leaned forward two inches, his eyes suddenly focusing: "Whose teahouse is this?"

"I checked. The legal representative is a shell company, registered in another province." Qi Tongwei took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. "But the property management fees are paid through a public account, which is the same as the old Qingfeng Pavilion account."

The paper was unfolded and laid out on the table. After a heavy sweep of it, it was pressed down next to the copy of the transfer order.

The three documents are arranged in a row.

The transfer order, the address book, and the teahouse account—three lines of communication converged on the same node, as if by prior arrangement.

"Zhou Weiguo".

"exist."

"Who did Liu happy meet at the teahouse? Can we deduce that from the base station data?"

Zhou Weiguo opened his notebook: "It's already been adjusted. There were only three active numbers on the base station during that time period that night. Two were teahouse employees, and the third was a one-time prepaid card that only existed for forty-seven minutes after its initial activation."

"Professional," Qi Tongwei replied, his tone completely flat. This wasn't the first time he'd seen such a "use and burn" method.

Shen Zhong stood up, walked to the window, and opened the blinds. The morning light streamed in, illuminating half of the tabletop while the other half remained dark.

With his back to the two men, he picked up the landline on the table and dialed a number.

Beep—beep—connected.

The sound of teacups clinking against lids came from the other end, unhurried and leisurely, as if the sky over Handong had never fallen.

"You're back?" Gao Yuliang's voice carried the heaviness of early morning.

"I'm back, but not for long."

"Is the northern route still not completely cleared?"

Shen Zhong leaned against the window frame, paused for two seconds before speaking: "We've finished it off, but the loose threads are still there."

There was a moment of silence on Gao Yuliang's end, and the sound of the teacup being placed on the stone table was very soft.

"I sealed the second page of the sealing wax bag with three layers. I still haven't looked at the name on the core page."

Why don't you watch it?

"Once you see it, you have to act. And if you act, you have to be confident you can kill with one blow." Gao Yuliang spoke slowly and deliberately, each word like it had been tapped on a stone table. "Before you dismantle it, peel off the outer shell completely. Director Qin is the shell, Huiji is the shell, even Sha Ruijin—is a shell."

Shen Zhong pondered those words for three seconds, then offered no rebuttal. The person who left understood perfectly; he agreed with what was said.

"Understood."

The phone hangs up.

He turned around and held up three fingers to Qi Tongwei.

"First, the Qin family middleman will be transferred to a joint military-civilian interrogation today, following military procedures. The provincial department will keep a copy of the case file."

Qi Tongwei nodded.

"Secondly, Liu happy's whereabouts were closely monitored by the Provincial Department's Technical Investigation Team. They did not make contact, did not alert him, and only recorded his movements."

"Third," Shen Zhong said, stacking the three documents together and stuffing them into his bag, "retriev copies of all the documents signed by Sha Ruijin during his suspension and send them to the military region for archiving."

Qi Tongwei stood up: "Let's do it today."

He took two steps toward the door, when someone called out to him from behind.

"stop."

Qi Tongwei turned around.

Shen Zhong leaned against the edge of the table, his gaze falling on the unnatural angle of his left arm. His eyes had scanned countless false reports on the battlefield, and this little bit of concealment could not fool him.

"I've read the medic's report. It's a torn ligament and a secondary infection of the sutures. If we don't have surgery soon, this arm will be useless."

"Let's talk about it after we take over the case."

"We can't take the case." Shen Zhong cut him off completely, leaving him no room to maneuver. "This arm can't wait either. Surgery is scheduled for the day after tomorrow; that's an order."

Qi Tongwei stood at the door without moving, his lips pursed. His logic was always simple—the knife belonged to him, and if the blade chipped, it was up to him to decide; no one else had the right to stand up for the knife.

Shen Zhong had already lowered his head to rummage through the next document in his briefcase, giving him no chance to retort.

"……yes."

The door was closed.

Shen Zhong was the only one left in the conference room.

He pulled out the last page of the comparison report for the northern route from the bottom of the bag and unfolded it.

There is a line of handwritten coordinates above, with the ink color different from the main text—someone added it later.

The string of numbers perfectly matched the sealing position on the second page of the wax-sealed file.