Chapter Ten: Identity Cloud
(一) 档案残影
The border inspection hall was bathed in the cold, white glow of fluorescent lights. Lin Mian stood in front of a row of old file cabinets, the terminal screen flickering with the system login interface. She inhaled deeply, using a technical loophole to bypass the high-level access restrictions: by typing a rarely-known command, the system briefly opened a hidden retrieval entry point. Her fingers tapped quickly, bringing up the internal archives database. Her heartbeat remained steady, but each second felt heavier as the system processed the search.
A search box appeared on the screen. Lin Mian hesitated for only a moment before entering her name and ID number, then dragging her ID photo into the search bar—a tool designed for internal image comparison, originally used to check wanted lists or missing persons. The progress bar moved slowly, the silence broken only by the faint buzz of the processor. Then, suddenly, a record popped up: Lin Wei – Agent Status: Missing. Lin Mian's pupils contracted as she kept her breath steady, but her fingers instinctively tightened around the mouse. She clicked on the record, and an encrypted summary of the file appeared. A slightly blurry ID photo of a woman flashed across the screen, and Lin Mian felt her breath catch. The woman's facial features resembled her own with startling resemblance, only her expression was sharper. The name "Lin Wei" was written under the photo, marked as "Intelligence Agent (Missing)," and the file number began with "X-33."
Lin Mian quickly skimmed the limited information: Lin Wei, missing after performing the operation code-named South of the Border three years ago. The system only showed these fragments of data, with more detailed content locked behind access controls. A red warning flashed: ⚠️ Unauthorized access attempt detected. Lin Mian realized her access permissions were insufficient, but the realization hit her with the force of ice water: Was her identity, her background, possibly the same as this missing agent's? Or, more boldly—was Lin Wei her? This thought crystallized in her mind with chilling clarity. Lin Mian forced herself to remain calm as she carefully compared the information on the screen: age, height, place of birth—all of it matched her own file to a near-perfect degree, even down to the scar on her left shoulder. Data didn't lie, and the coincidences were too numerous to ignore, pointing almost inevitably to one possibility.
She was about to attempt a screenshot to save the fragments when the mouse cursor suddenly became unresponsive. The screen flashed once, and a countdown appeared: System Error: Archive Sync Interrupted. Lin Mian's sharp instincts kicked in as she realized that the security system was cutting off her access. She swiftly grabbed the flash drive and tried to capture the cached data fragments. However, before she could, unfamiliar code flashed by, and the terminal went completely black. The air conditioning in the archive room hummed, the sound almost warning her.
She stood frozen for a moment, forcing herself to suppress the rising panic, and quickly pocketed the flash drive as she left the terminal.
Footsteps echoed at the door. The door creaked open, and Lu Yuan, a technician from the information department, poked his head in, his expression tense but controlled. He lowered his voice urgently, "What did you do? The server monitoring system just threw an error, and my account almost got suspended."
Lin Mian stepped forward, and the two of them moved into the shadows of the archive room. She answered briefly, "I was checking an old file."
Lu Yuan looked at her closely, his voice dropping lower. "You have no idea—you just triggered an anomaly alert. The system detected a high match between your identity and a classified file… Now the entire access log has been flagged."
Before she could respond, Lu Yuan's communicator beeped, and he quickly covered the speaker. An electronic voice sounded faintly: "Identity mismatch detected, ID: Lin Mian, associated code: X-33." Lu Yuan's face paled slightly. He grabbed Lin Mian by the arm, pulling her a couple of steps away. His voice was quick and low, "Listen, I didn't see anything. But you need to leave, and fast. The higher-ups are already on this."
Lin Mian nodded, not asking any further questions. Lu Yuan released her, quickly typing several commands into the terminal to try and delete any traces. However, the screen returned a cold message: "External synchronization in progress. Logs cannot be deleted."
Lu Yuan's fingers froze, realizing he couldn't alter the system's logs anymore. He forced a bitter smile and shrugged. "Take care of yourself," he muttered, quickly leaving the archive room, his figure disappearing into the dimly lit corridor.
Lin Mian stood there for a moment, watching Lu Yuan's retreating back, then exhaled quietly. She adjusted her expression and surveyed the now-empty archive room. The glass window reflected her tense figure, and though she had gained information in the last few minutes that could shake her understanding of her life, she forced her mind to stay focused on the next step.
Right now, the immediate priority was understanding the warning from the system, and what "external synchronization" really meant.
(二) 边境示警
Meanwhile, in the port's border control monitoring room, several indicator lights on the servers blinked in unison. The automatic cross-system identity comparison had been triggered: Lin Mian's irregular query in the internal database had activated the "cross-system identity comparison" module. Data scrolled across the screen as an encrypted communication was transmitted to the higher-level security department. A summary flashed on the screen: "Identity mismatch: Internal employee Lin Mian, potential match with missing agent Lin Wei. Recommend reassessing identity and security status."
The red indicator lights on the central server rack flashed—a signal of external threat. Typically, the port's border inspection system would sync with international databases to exchange information about suspicious entry and exit profiles. However, this time, the exchange wasn't about an external list—it was an internal employee's data. The system's AI swiftly cross-checked Lin Mian's personnel file with the profile of "Lin Wei," generating multiple matching factors: fingerprints, iris scans, facial features, and timelines. The match percentage steadily climbed, reaching 99.7%, and the system automatically flagged it as a high-priority issue.
A hidden notification was sent through the secure network to the relevant superior: "Internal identity reassessment: Lin Mian (Possible association: Lin Wei)."
(三) 静默暗涌
The building was unnervingly quiet before dawn. Only the security indicator light at the end of the corridor flickered weakly. In the director's office, Qin Zhao'an had not slept the entire night, standing silently by the window, lost in thought. The encrypted terminal on his desk remained on, with a dark green system notification lingering on the screen—a silent message from the archives:
Identity Verification Report
Subject: Lin Mian
External connection: Lin Wei (Missing Agent)
Match status: Highly probable
Identity affiliation: Under review
Risk level: Orange (elevated)
Recommendation: Delay access to critical positions; initiate secret investigation into background
Qin Zhao'an stared at the few lines of text. His figure was partly bathed in the dim morning light. The air around him seemed almost stagnant. As the director, he knew the weight of this report—one of his subordinates might be a missing agent from years ago, someone who should have belonged to another system. What was even more complex was that this person had been under his watch: Lin Mian had been diligent and unobtrusive, with no record of misconduct at the border. Yet, the data in front of him was irrefutable. His fingers tightened around the desk before he released his grip, trying to suppress the internal turmoil that surged within him. But his expression remained unchanged.
A light knock interrupted his thoughts. "Director Qin, good morning." A subordinate entered, interrupting his reverie. Qin Zhao'an took a deep breath and pressed the power button on the terminal. The screen immediately went dark. He turned to face his subordinate and replied in a calm tone, "Come in." After brief pleasantries, the subordinate continued: "We've just received a call from the Foreign Affairs Department regarding an identity verification issue."
Qin Zhao'an raised his hand to signal that the matter was already in hand. "I'm aware of it. No need to make this public yet. I'll handle it personally." His voice was not harsh, but it left no room for argument. The subordinate hesitated briefly, then quietly acknowledged and left.
The office fell silent again. Qin Zhao'an slowly sat down, his posture stiff and commanding. He opened a drawer and retrieved a long-forgotten file folder. The faint "Top Secret" marking and the file number "X-33" were still visible on the cover. He didn't open it immediately but placed it on the desk, staring at it in silence. In the dim light, his eyes revealed a complex mix of emotions—anxiety over the old case he had been drawn into, and a sense of disbelief that Lin Mian might not be who she claimed to be. There was also a faint trace of something deeper—resentment, or perhaps something even harder to articulate. All these emotions were locked within him, and he let out a long, silent sigh, choosing not to speak further.
At that moment, Lin Mian had not yet left the building. She had carefully avoided triggering the security system and had instead taken refuge in a seldom-used observation room. The dim light from her watch illuminated her focused expression as she reviewed the fragments saved on her flash drive—though incomplete, the information was enough to convince her that her identity was far from coincidental. The fleeting appearance of the name "Lin Wei" on the screen was like a shadow that haunted her thoughts. Her lips tightened, and her gaze became still as she processed the implications.
A soft beep interrupted her thoughts. A temporary message appeared on her watch: "Good morning, everyone. Full meeting at 9:00 AM today, location: First Conference Room." Lin Mian stared at the message, fully aware that time was running out. The external threat signal was already in motion, and internal doubts were intensifying. The calm atmosphere of the border inspection hall was deceptive—it was teeming with unspoken dangers. She closed the terminal and quietly slipped out of the observation room, blending into the morning light of the corridor.