Fang Jizhong slowly awoke, as if surfacing layer by layer from underwater.
First came his hearing, the sound of dripping water... then his sense of smell, disinfectant, plaster dust, and a faint hint of rust.
Finally, touch... his back pressed against some kind of inclined surface, made of synthetic leather, old and cracked, with edges of peeling leather digging into his lower back.
His hands were bound, the restraints on his wrists were nylon, wide, neither too tight nor too loose, causing no pain, but offering no chance of escape.
Panic poured over him like a bucket of ice water.
His first instinct was to struggle... but he quickly suppressed this impulse.
Stay still, stay silent, assess the situation first.
In the darkness, with a cloth bag over his head, his vision completely deprived, Fang Jizhong began piecing together information with his remaining senses.
The space was small, enclosed, with poor air circulation.
No external noise, indicating good soundproofing or a remote location.
The smell of disinfectant and plaster suggested a medical facility...
Key information: his mouth wasn't gagged.
No cloth stuffed in, no tape, nothing to prevent him from speaking or even shouting for help.
This was unusual.
If the intent was to silence him, he should already be dead.
If it was for interrogation, his mouth wouldn't be left free... the interrogator would ensure he couldn't make a sound before they were ready.
If it was for kidnapping and ransom, his mouth should be gagged to prevent attracting attention during transit.
The only reasonable explanation was... they left his mouth free because they wanted him to speak.
Or, they wanted to speak to him.
Fang Jizhong made a decision: wait.
No struggling, no shouting, no probing.
Wait quietly, see what his captors intended.
The springs of the examination chair creaked softly as he made a slight adjustment.
Then, a voice came from the darkness.
"Don't move."
A male voice, speaking Mandarin, enunciated clearly, with no obvious regional accent, not fast, not loud.
"We are comrades."
These words fell into the darkness like stones into a deep pool, ripples spreading silently.
Fang Jizhong didn't speak.
His facial muscles remained still under the cloth bag, but his brain was working at high speed... analyzing the tone, wording, breath intervals, the direction of the voice, trying to deduce the speaker's true identity and intentions from every piece of information he could capture.
"I know you're skeptical," the voice continued, "but I can tell you two things."
"First... Yu Ruoyin, I was the one who eliminated him."
Fang Jizhong's pupils contracted sharply under the cloth bag.
Yu Ruoyin.
That name was top secret within the Second Department... fewer than ten people in the entire system had access to those two words, and Fang Jizhong was one of them.
A top-priority encrypted message from Jingshi: Yu Ruoyin had fled with a large amount of top secret lists, whereabouts unknown, consequences unimaginable.
And this person claimed... he was the one who killed him.
"The materials he carried out are with me, including the list of our agents in the United States. Take it back, and the relevant departments will know what's going on."
Fang Jizhong's throat moved, but he held back.
"Second... I have a top secret technical document that concerns the lifeline of our national industry. It also needs to be delivered by you."
Silence.
Only the sound of water dripping in the air, one drop after another.
Fang Jizhong finally spoke.
His voice was astonishingly steady...
"If we are comrades... there's no need to treat me like this."
He lifted his bound hands slightly, though the other could see and he could not, the gesture needed no visual confirmation.
Silence in the darkness for a few seconds.
Then the voice took a deep breath.
"...You're right, I'm sorry."
There was genuine apology in the tone, Fang Jizhong could tell.
"But I cannot expose myself."
Fang Jizhong frowned under the cloth bag, then slowly nodded.
He understood the statement.
In the world of intelligence, not exposing oneself wasn't an excuse, it was a rule.
If what this person said was true... if he was indeed an insider transmitting intelligence from the enemy... then his identity was the highest level of secret, more precious than any intelligence.
A face, a name, a clue, could all become his death warrant one day.
What happened next confirmed to Fang Jizhong... this person was highly trained.
He heard the rustle of fabric, then footsteps... the person was moving.
Moments later, he felt the nylon tie on his wrist being cut, then the cloth bag on his head was gently lifted.
Fang Jizhong squinted, adjusting to the dim light.
A small flashlight was placed on the nearby instrument table, its beam directed at the ceiling, casting a warm diffuse light in the cramped examination cubicle.
He saw peeling walls, a rusty instrument rack, dust on the floor... and a person standing two meters away from him.
A dark gray hooded coat.
A black cloth bag over the head, the same style as the one that had been on his own.
The person had put the hood on themselves before untying him.
A complex feeling surged in Fang Jizhong's heart.
The person said nothing more, but pushed a photo in front of him.
Fang Jizhong looked down.
The photo had a warm tint, slightly overexposed, showing a close-up of a man's face...
Fang Jizhong's body visibly tensed.
He recognized the face.
Yu Ruoyin.
Though he had never had direct contact with Yu Ruoyin, he had seen the personnel file photo attached to the defection report no less than five times... thick eyebrows, square face, a strong jawline, a small mole at the end of the left eyebrow.
The traitor was indeed dead.
It was true.
Fang Jizhong clenched his jaw, saying nothing.
Next, a stack of papers was placed before him.
"This is the top secret list he carried with him." The voice under the black hood was calm and certain, "I can confirm, it hasn't leaked."
Fang Jizhong reached for the stack of papers, his eyes scanning from the first page.
Names, one after another. Code names, real names, positions, covert organizations... each line was a life, each page a battlefield.
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He stopped at the middle of the second page, his fingers pausing.
His fingertip pressed on a name,
Jin Youdai.
CIA's...
Fang Jizhong's breath suddenly quickened, his eyes widened, reading that line three times to ensure he wasn't seeing things.
Jin Youdai.
Was one of their own?
His hand began to tremble uncontrollably... shock!
If this list was genuine, then Dragon Nation's intelligence reach had once penetrated to a depth he never dared to imagine... and Yu Ruoyin's defection had nearly destroyed it all.
Fang Jizhong closed his eyes, taking a moment to regain control of his breathing.
When he put down the typed paper, his hand was steady.
But his eyes were red.
Lu Shen didn't give him much time to digest.
A black metal box was placed on the table, the lid opened, revealing three neatly arranged microfilms.
"Do you know why the nation can't produce high-performance aero engines?"
Fang Jizhong looked up at the figure with the black hood.
"It's not because of the blueprints. It's because there's no 5-axis Linkage CNC Machine Tool to process the complex surfaces of turbine blades."
"Without 5-axis, you can't produce the single-crystal turbine blades for the WS-10 turbofan. You can't make the seven-blade large skewed propeller for nuclear submarines. You can't manufacture the reentry vehicle shells for intercontinental missile warheads. These things, the Coordinating Committee for Multilateral Export Controls lists them alongside nuclear weapons and intercontinental missiles on the same control list. In all the open literature worldwide, you won't find a complete manufacturing process."
Fang Jizhong's gaze slowly returned to the three rolls of microfilm.
"Inside here is all the technology for the 5-axis Linkage CNC Machine Tool."
The voice was steady,
"Design blueprints. Servo control algorithms. Material formulas and heat treatment processes for precision spindles. Mathematical models for tool path planning. From zero to one, all the data needed to manufacture a complete 5-axis Linkage Machining Center. Four thousand two hundred and seventeen pages, not a decimal point off."
The examination cubicle fell into silence.
Fang Jizhong wasn't a technical expert, he didn't understand servo algorithms, didn't understand heat treatment processes, didn't know what tool path planning meant.
But he had worked in intelligence for twenty-three years.
He knew all too well the weight of "5-axis Linkage."
In 1983, the Second Department had conducted an internal assessment report on Western technology embargoes against Dragon Nation, and the conclusion highlighted three chokehold technologies in red ink, CNC machine tools being one of them.
And now, someone was telling him this technology was contained in three rolls of microfilm, right there on the table before him. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Fang Jizhong's face first turned pale, then began to flush.
The silence lasted a long time.
Fang Jizhong finally spoke, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper had scraped across metal.
"...You're not joking, are you?"
Lu Shen didn't answer.
He simply pushed the stack of typed paper and the three rolls of microfilm toward Fang Jizhong.
The metal box scraped against the table, making a low, grating sound that was especially clear in the silent examination cubicle.
Fang Jizhong lowered his head, staring at the items before him.
His Adam's apple bobbed once.
His eyes were slightly red, but no tears fell... he was past the age of crying at moments like this.
His hands slowly clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms, leaving four white crescent-shaped indentations.
"These things..." his voice was small, as if afraid of disturbing something, "where did you get them?"
"You don't need to know."
The answer was brief and crisp, with no intention of explanation.
"You only need to confirm one thing... they are real. Take them back to Jingshi, let the experts verify. They will know better than you or I the value of these data."
Fang Jizhong was silent for a moment, then looked up at the unseen face under the black hood.
"There's one more thing I don't understand."
"Speak."
"If you're one of us, why use this method to transmit intelligence?" Fang Jizhong's tone returned to professional calm, but still held a trace of confusion, "You could have gone through the organization's normal channels... safe mailboxes, contact stations, intermediaries... layer by layer. There's no need for such elaborate measures, nor to risk exposing yourself by contacting me directly."
There was a long silence under the black hood.
That silence wasn't hesitation, Fang Jizhong could tell.
"...I'm sorry." The voice finally spoke again, "I have reasons that compel me to do so."
No explanation, no elaboration, a gentle yet firm wall.
Fang Jizhong stared at the unseen figure, nodded.
No further questions.
In the world of intelligence, some questions are destined to remain unanswered.
And someone capable of killing Yu Ruoyin, intercepting a top secret list, and producing a complete set of 5-axis Linkage Machine Tool technical data, their "compelled reasons" must carry significant weight.
"One last thing." Lu Shen's voice returned to being calm and clear, "If you confirm these two pieces of intelligence are real... the list and the technical data are verified... please publish an article on the front page of the People's Daily about the development of science and education fifteen days from now."
Fang Jizhong was slightly taken aback, then understood... this was a confirmation signal.
The oldest, safest form of one-way communication: publishing a seemingly unrelated message in a public medium, with the sender and receiver both aware, while any third party would see nothing unusual.
"Science and education, front page, fifteen days later." Fang Jizhong repeated, engraving these three elements into the deepest layer of his memory.
"Correct."
Lu Shen stepped back.
"I'm leaving. The flashlight is yours, leave in three minutes. Turn right at the exit, follow the alley to Ke Street, and you'll reach the main road."
Lu Shen smiled,
"Mr. Fang... be careful on the road."
Fang Jizhong sat in the examination chair, watching the dark gray figure turn and walk into the shadows at the back of the cubicle, a door opened and closed, the air shifted, and everything returned to silence.
The person was gone.
As if they had never been there.
Fang Jizhong sat alone in the dim light, with three items on the table before him: a photo, a stack of documents, a black metal box.
He sat motionless for about three or four minutes.
Then stood up.
His movements were swift, a stark contrast to his previous stillness.
Fang Jizhong gathered everything, pushed open the iron gate, and stepped into the alley.
The night air of Wan Chai hit him, humid, muggy, mixed with the distant cooking fumes of dai pai dongs and the salty tang of Victoria Harbour.
Fang Jizhong didn't turn right to Ke Street, nor did he head back to his lodging.
He turned left, walking briskly in the opposite direction, returning to his lodging was out of the question.
From the moment he saw that name on the examination chair, the option of returning home had been permanently erased from his life... at least for tonight, at least until these things safely reached Jingshi.
Fang Jizhong hailed a taxi at the first intersection after leaving the alley.
"Luohu," he said.
The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror... a middle-aged man, sweating and panting, with a large wet patch on the back of his gray shirt, his glasses fogged up.
"Luohu Port? Sir, the border's closed at this hour."
"Drive."
Fang Jizhong's tone remained unchanged.
The driver said no more, shifted gears, and started.
The taxi merged into the traffic on Wan Chai Road, heading onto the Hung Hom Cross-Harbour Tunnel, traveling north from the Kowloon Peninsula.