I started with a ship full of max-level veterans, and I'm just a complete noob.

Jiang Ming put the three sets of handwritten drafts, along with the waterproof sealed bags, into a metal briefcase with a hidden lock. After pressing the latch and hearing the short click of the spring engaging, he took the dark blue Zhongshan suit from the coat rack behind the door and brushed off the pencil dust and solder residue from the cuffs and collar.

During the break between changing clothes, he took out a small glass bottle with a tightly screwed cap from the bottom of the toolbox. Inside was fluorescent leak detection powder used to locate leaks when inspecting the seals of high-power magnetrons. Once this powder adheres to the skin's oils, it cannot be washed off with ordinary soap and requires a special solvent to remove it completely.

He unscrewed the bottle cap, dipped a cotton swab in a thin layer, and evenly applied it along the inner curved surface of the briefcase's metal handle. The powder appeared pale yellow under normal light, almost blending into the oxidized color of the copper handle.

Comrade Song waited outside the corridor, holding two passes and a temporary vehicle dispatch order in his hand.

Jiang Ming fastened the last button of his Zhongshan suit, picked up his briefcase, and walked out of the confidential cubicle. The lights on both sides of the corridor were flickering at a frequency that could be seen with the naked eye, and the power supply lines were obviously still carrying the slight fluctuations after the backup diesel engine was switched on.

Security officers had set up checkpoints on each floor, and everyone entering the meeting area had to show their credentials and register their belongings. Even the seal numbers on the document bags were copied into the register.

The double mahogany doors of Conference Room No. 1 were half-open. Inside, people were already setting up projection equipment and chairs. A dark green tablecloth covered the long table, and a row of numbered film reels was placed in the middle of the table, with a corresponding agenda card attached to each reel.

Jiang Ming placed his briefcase behind his name tag, with the handle facing outwards, and then walked to the projection screen to check the lens focus of the projector.

Vasily's two entourage members were busy hanging up Russian parameter summary charts on a display shelf on the other side of the conference room. The scrolls were very long, requiring one person to hold the top and the other to hold down the counterweight at the bottom. Both of them were focused on the huge charts.

A clerk wearing thick-rimmed glasses walked in carrying a stack of slides. His temporary work permit from the Fifth Academy was clipped to the left breast pocket of his uniform. He first placed the slides into their respective numbered slots according to the agenda, moving slowly and deliberately. When he encountered a number that was unclear, he even bent down to look at it closely.

When he walked to Jiang Ming's row of seats, his finger slid along the edge of the table and paused in front of the film box next to Jiang Ming's seat, as if checking whether the number matched the agenda card.

With his left hand, he opened the film canister lid, and with his right sleeve slightly raised, a white film canister of exactly the same size as the one on the table slid out from the inside of his sleeve, with the same number label on the bottom.

The replacement box remained in his palm for less than two seconds. The old box was pushed into his sleeve, the new box was put back in its place, and the lid was put back on. The whole action was perfectly in sync with the rhythm of arranging the slides.

After completing the replacement, he casually reached out to adjust the handle of Jiang Ming's briefcase, seemingly just to straighten the bag that was blocking the aisle by a few centimeters. He pressed his fingers on the curved copper surface for a moment before releasing them, and then turned around and walked to the next row of seats as if nothing had happened, continuing to check the remaining agenda cards.

Vasily stood at the head of the long table, organizing his speech outline. Occasionally, he would glance up at the Chinese personnel coming and going, frowned, and whispered a few words to the interpreter, his tone impatient. He clearly thought that the Chinese side's pre-meeting security check procedures were taking too long and were simply wasting the already tight meeting time.

A young technician brought by the Soviet side glanced at the old-fashioned slide projector on the Chinese side while adjusting the lights on the display stand. A low, sarcastic smile appeared on his lips. He turned to his colleague next to him and muttered a few words in Russian, the gist of which was that this kind of projection equipment from the early 1950s was already obsolete in Moscow's middle school classrooms.

Jiang Ming stood in front of the screen adjusting the focus. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the document had already gone around the last row and headed towards the side door. He turned around and returned to his seat. He first pressed the hidden lock on the briefcase again to confirm that it was engaged, and then looked down at the curved surface on the inside of the handle.

The pale yellow powder layer revealed a clear fingerprint outline where the finger had pressed, with complete lines and even the broken lines on the edge of the fingertip were clearly imprinted.

He put his briefcase back in its place, walked out of the meeting room, and saw Director Wang leaning against a fire hydrant at the corner of the corridor, holding an unlit cigarette in his hand.

"The side gate passage is blocked, and the backyard exit is guarded by two people. There's only one way to get to the restrooms." Director Wang tucked his cigarette behind his ear and lowered his voice.

Jiang Ming nodded and retreated to his spot against the wall in the corridor to wait.

Three minutes later, a series of short footsteps and a muffled thud of something hitting the countertop came from the side door, followed by the sound of a metal faucet being turned on forcefully.

Two security officers rushed in through the side passage of the restroom. The sound of the door being smashed open echoed several times in the corridor before the sound of water was immediately stopped.

When Director Wang strode over, the clerk wearing thick-rimmed glasses was already pressed against the edge of the sink, his right hand still clutching a film canister half-wrapped in newspaper. The newspaper was soaked through, and the film inside was just peeking out from the edge.

The security officer pinned his hands behind his back and pulled a thin piece of paper, folded twice, from the inside left pocket of his jacket. Unfolding it, it revealed a fragment of a railway freight timetable, with three stations and their corresponding departure times circled in pencil.

Jiang Ming took the fragment and compared it line by line with the contents of the fake Xi'an maintenance worker's confession that he remembered. The names and order of the three stations matched perfectly with the abandoned branch line transfer nodes mentioned in the interrogation record. Even the pencil circles were biased to the same side.

Director Wang pulled the clerk's temporary work permit out of his breast pocket. The number next to the photo on the permit belonged to the Fifth Academy's Logistics and Printing Group, and the issuance date was three days ago.

"Take the person away first, seal the original film, and cross-compare the fingerprints with the group in the power distribution room." Director Wang handed the interrogation arrangements to the officer behind him, then glanced back at Jiang Ming.

"What's that powder of yours?"

"The fluorescent tracer used for leak detection of magnetron seals has a zinc sulfide base with a small amount of europium dopant. After it adheres to the grease layer, it requires tetrachloroethylene to completely dissolve it. Ordinary hand soap and alcohol cannot clean it completely."

Director Wang shifted his gaze to the hands behind the back of the document holder, the fingertips and palms faintly tinged with a pale yellow hue that clashed with the skin tone under the corridor lights.

"When did you start taking precautions?"

"The briefcase was coated with solvent before I left home. Anyone who touched the handle would leave a mark, including myself, so my hands also had to be treated with solvent before I could enter the meeting room."

Vasily had been waiting in Conference Room 1 longer than scheduled. The interpreter went to the door for the third time and peeked in, urging the Chinese side to take their positions as soon as possible. His tone gradually escalated from a polite reminder to a warning with diplomatic pressure.

Jiang Ming returned to the washbasin at the end of the corridor, took out a small bottle of tetrachloroethylene solvent from the toolbox, poured it onto a clean cotton towel, and carefully wiped the fingertips and between the fingers of both hands. Only after confirming that the fluorescent powder residue had been completely removed did he put the towel into a sealed bag.

Comrade Song walked over from the duty room on the military line, holding a cup of warm water and handed it to him.

Jiang Ming took the cup and drank two sips, slowing his breathing and allowing the rise and fall of his diaphragm to return to a stable frequency.

The double mahogany doors of the conference room were pushed open from the inside, the hinges making a dull turning sound. The outline of a major general in his crisp military uniform was revealed on the inside of the door frame. His gaze passed over the threshold and landed directly on Jiang Ming, who was about to step into the corridor.