Chapter Twelve: Fragmented Night
Lin Qishan did not fully awaken from his shallow sleep until the first pale ray of morning light filtered through the curtains. He had tossed and turned all night, only drifting off for two or three fitful hours, with the intel he'd gathered the night before and a vague sense of impending danger circling endlessly in his mind. Rubbing his stinging eyes, he picked up his phone to check for messages: still no reply from Su Wei, and no new leads. A heavy sense of foreboding weighed on him.
After a quick wash, he turned on the television. Just then, a news bulletin was airing: "Xiangci Charity Refutes Recent Rumors." On the screen, Xiangci's spokesperson earnestly declared that certain people had been maliciously smearing Xiangci's project to help orphans, and urged the public to discern right from wrong. Several foster parents of children aided by Xiangci appeared on camera, choking up with gratitude as they thanked the organization, saying that without Xiangci many children would never have the lives they enjoy today. Lin Qishan stared intently at the screen, a chilly smirk tugging at his lips. So, the war of public opinion had begun already. Clearly, Xiangci had realized someone was investigating them, and now they were using the media to go on the offensive, seizing the moral high ground and painting the investigation team and any skeptics as malicious rumormongers.
He flipped through a few channels and found that more than one media outlet was running similar stories; some even bluntly claimed that "certain ill-intentioned individuals were using orphans to spread rumors." Lin Qishan realized this was a meticulously orchestrated PR campaign by Xiangci. He couldn't help worrying about the official investigation team's situation—once public opinion tipped against them, the resistance to the inquiry would greatly increase.
Thinking of this, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number of a friend on the investigation team whom he knew well. After a few rings, the call connected, but all he could hear on the other end was static and muffled voices. "Old Wu, it's Qishan," he said as quietly as possible. "How are things on your side?"
There was a brief hesitation before a hushed reply: "Don't contact us… There's a lot of pressure from above. We've been told to halt our in-depth investigation of Xiangci for now, supposedly to maintain stability in public opinion." Before he could finish, it sounded like someone came up to him. The voice hurriedly added, "Be careful. They might know about you." The call cut off abruptly.
Lin Qishan gripped his phone, frozen in place for a long moment. As expected, the investigation team had been pressured into suspending their activities. But even more alarming was that final whispered warning from his friend—"They might know about you." Had Xiangci already become aware of his involvement?
He went to the window and lifted a corner of the curtain to peer outside. In the morning light, the street looked normal and nearly empty. A black sedan was parked across the street, its interior impossible to see. Lin Qishan stared at the vehicle, struck by a strange sense of familiarity—it looked like one he'd glimpsed near the shelter last night. But from this distance, he couldn't be sure. As he raised his phone to try and snap a photo, the car suddenly started its engine, pulling away from the curb and merging into the morning rush traffic. Lin Qishan's heart sank. Perhaps this was no coincidence.
For the remainder of the morning, he stayed in and repeatedly checked the security of his computer and phone. He recalled that he had already backed up his data externally the night before, which gave him some reassurance, but he still needed to guard against hackers stealing or destroying evidence. He physically disconnected his laptop from the internet and worked offline to organize last night's recordings and notes.
At the same time, he powered up a spare phone and logged onto social media and forums to survey discussions about Xiangci. Sure enough, every major platform had suddenly been flooded with posts supporting Xiangci and questioning the motives of the investigation team and their "shadowy backers." Several anonymous accounts even posted leaked snippets from within the investigation team, taken out of context to portray the investigators as heavy-handed, which led some netizens to sympathize with Xiangci. A few posts even insinuated that a "conspiracy-theory-loving independent journalist" was fanning the flames and guiding public opinion. When Lin Qishan read that, he couldn't help but draw a sharp breath—it was pointing at him. He had never publicly taken part in reporting this case, yet Xiangci had already turned their sights toward him, indicating that his covert investigation had long been detected.
He couldn't sit around waiting for death any longer. Lin Qishan realized that simply observing from afar wouldn't yield any more evidence; he needed to go out in person to learn more—and also shake off any potential surveillance. He changed into inconspicuous clothing and put his phone on silent, taking only the most essential recording tools and tucking a small emergency camera into his pocket. Before leaving, he deliberately slipped out via the back stairwell and quickly walked away from the apartment building, ducking into a few side alleys to avoid anyone who might be watching the main entrance.
Around noon, he quietly arrived at a café in the southern part of the city. It was a public place not far from Xiangci's headquarters, and from a second-floor window seat he could overlook the side entrance of the Xiangci building. Not far away, three large trucks were parked at the building's loading area, and several uniformed staff were loading them with one big box after another. Lin Qishan raised his phone as if casually scrolling, but in truth he had the camera on, zooming in to record. He saw security seals and labels on the boxes, faintly marked with words like "Archives" and "Equipment." Was Xiangci relocating important materials? Moving equipment and files at such a critical time could only mean they were clearing out evidence that might be targeted by an investigation.
The café was loud and crowded, and no one paid attention to Lin Qishan in his corner. Just then, he overheard two men at the next table speaking in low voices, casually mentioning words like "server" and "backup." His heart gave a jolt. He pretended to remain absorbed in his phone while straining to listen. He caught one of them saying, "…Good thing we cleared out the database in time last night, or the consequences would've been unimaginable."
The other man murmured in agreement: "Yeah. I heard the investigators had gotten hold of some lists. Good thing Old Zhou and the others worked through the night and wiped the data at the orphanage, too."
Lin Qishan's stomach lurched. They were clearly talking about an internal data purge at Xiangci. Even the orphanage's data had been erased—meaning the orphan records he found last night had likely already vanished from official systems.
"Still, a bit of word leaked out," the first man said, lowering his voice. "Those up top suspect someone tipped off outsiders, and they're searching for a mole. Hmph, someone has a death wish."
The other man let out a cold laugh. "That reporter on the outside has his eye on us too. Word is he showed up at the shelter last night and ran into the target."
"So what do we do then?" the first man asked.
"Don't worry," the second replied dismissively. "Someone will deal with him. We just need to take care of our part."
Hearing this, a chill crept down Lin Qishan's back. He immediately put away his phone, left his barely-touched coffee, pulled his cap brim low, and swiftly left his seat. These two were most likely Xiangci personnel, discussing last night's evidence purge and the internal mole hunt. And the "target" they mentioned was clearly Li Xiaotian! Lin Qishan was almost certain that Xiangci had already moved against her.
He forced down the surge of anger and panic inside, hurried out of the café, and merged into the flow of people on the street. Once he reached a safe area and stopped, he pulled out another phone and tried calling the contact number he had for Li Xiaotian. No one answered.
Next, he called the shelter's manager, feigning concern for Li Xiaotian's well-being. The person on the line hesitated, then sighed. "Well… Xiao-Tian left without saying a word early this morning. We're worried too and are looking everywhere for her. Someone said they saw her get into a black car this morning…."
As he listened to this, Lin Qishan's fist clenched so hard his knuckles crackled, his nails digging into his palm without him realizing. Xiangci had indeed moved with alarming speed—erasing digital evidence while simultaneously taking away key people to silence them. Li Xiaotian's disappearance was unquestionably Xiangci eliminating a living witness!
The anger boiling in his chest nearly broke his composure, but his years of experience as a journalist forced him to calm down and think rationally about his next steps. He hung up and quickly walked to a taxi waiting not far off. Once inside, he headed straight for the west side of the city—there was a cybersecurity firm there he was familiar with, and a friend of his at the company who might help check whether his devices had been bugged. He had to ensure his communications were secure; otherwise, any move he made would be known to the enemy.
The taxi weaved through busy streets. Through the rear window, Lin Qishan kept a close eye on the traffic behind them, quickly noticing a silver-gray sedan that stayed not too near yet not too far, seemingly following. Keeping his composure, he had the driver make several extra turns, then suddenly changed his destination and directed the driver down a small side road.
A moment later, he saw in the rearview mirror that the silver sedan had indeed followed. Lin Qishan's heart tightened; he was now almost certain he was being tailed. He thought for a few seconds, then decisively told the driver to pull over at the next intersection. He pretended to pay and step out, but instead of walking off he slipped around a row of parked cars and quietly watched from the other side. Sure enough, the silver car also pulled over not far ahead. A man in a baseball cap leaned out of the driver's window, peering around as if trying to spot where he had gone.
Seizing the moment while the man wasn't looking, Lin Qishan swiftly slipped into a nearby narrow alley. After taking a roundabout route for some distance, he hailed another taxi. He took several deep breaths, forcing down his racing heartbeat. This cat-and-mouse game brought on a sense of danger like nothing he had experienced before. By now, he could all but conclude that Xiangci had assigned people to tail him around the clock—if he was even a little careless, he might face direct retaliation.
At the cybersecurity company, his old friend Tian ushered him into the server room. After listening to Lin's brief summary of the situation, Tian's expression turned grave and he immediately set about checking Lin's laptop and phone. The results came back quickly: on the phone that Lin used regularly, they discovered a suspicious background process—most likely some kind of spyware trojan. Lin recalled that he had kept that phone well-protected; the only possible breach was a seemingly ordinary text-message link he had clicked a few days ago. Ten to one, that was when the monitoring program was planted. Tian helped him remove the trojan and provided a brand-new secure phone for him to use for now. He also recommended that Lin shut off his home internet, to prevent his laptop from being exposed as well.
It was near dusk by the time he left the security company. The gray, leaden sky pressed down, heavy and suffocating. At the roadside, Lin Qishan bought two steamed buns to quickly sate his hunger, then wasted no time hurrying to a small inn he knew. He had decided not to return home for the time being, to avoid coming into the enemy's line of sight. After renting a room at the inn, he bolted the door and drew all the curtains, plunging the room into absolute darkness, leaving only a faint glow from the bedside lamp.
In the dim yellow lamplight, he took out his laptop. Using a mobile connection, he carefully logged into his email to check for new messages. Sure enough, there was one that had arrived not long ago, and the sender was displayed as Su Wei. But as Lin Qishan stared at the email titled "XC-33 Detailed Report," his heart began pounding uncontrollably. Su Wei would never use such wording to email him—in fact, she always contacted him through encrypted channels and had never sent him a direct email before.
His gut told him this was a trap. He didn't rashly click on the attachment. Instead, he first downloaded the email onto an isolated USB drive, then disconnected from the internet and opened a copy of the file. The document didn't display any normal text at all—only a page of gibberish. A few seconds later, his antivirus software's alarm suddenly blared – sure enough, it was a Trojan virus! Cold sweat broke out all over Lin Qishan, and he was thankful he'd been cautious. Xiangci had begun deploying direct cyberattacks against him, attempting either to steal the investigation data on his computer or to incriminate him. They had disguised a bait email to look as if it came from Su Wei; if he had opened it carelessly, the consequences would have been unthinkable.
Lin Qishan deleted that dangerous email and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. By now, he understood completely that he was in a close-quarters battle with a vast and insidious adversary. In this silent life-or-death struggle, he could only be more vigilant than ever.
Night deepened. The streets and alleys outside the inn were utterly silent, punctuated only by a few distant dog barks. Lin Qishan sat by the window, peering through a slit in the curtain at the murky darkness. Since he began investigating Xiangci, this was perhaps the first time he felt truly isolated and helpless. He didn't dare contact anyone on the investigation team anymore, had lost contact with Su Wei, and there were almost no people left around him that he could trust. Every clue and piece of evidence seemed to have been swiftly cut away by Xiangci, leaving behind only some fragmented "cross-sections"—scattered memories, redacted screenshots of records, fleeting silhouettes on the run. These fragments pieced together formed the outline of Xiangci's crimes. But if he were even one step slower, even those remnants could be wiped out.
He glanced down at his watch—the hands pointed to 1:00 a.m. From his briefcase he took out a handwritten copy of notes and a few photographs—the evidence copies he had risked collecting that day: photos of the trucks moving equipment, an audio snippet of the Xiangci employees' conversation in the café, and Li Xiaotian's testimony which he had backed up earlier. He organized all of these into a waterproof envelope, writing an old friend's address on it. This friend was a veteran journalist, highly trustworthy; if something happened to Lin, the packet would be sent out via a scheduled courier. After making these arrangements, he finally let out a long breath.
At that moment, the spare phone on the bedside table lit up. The screen displayed a new text message: "Mr. Lin, it's late—isn't it time to rest?" There was no signature. Lin Qishan stared at those words, cold sweat slowly seeping down his back. The sender even knew about his new number, and clearly knew what he was up to at this very moment. This wasn't something an ordinary person could manage. The text contained no overt threats, yet it was more terrifying than any threat—as if a pair of eyes in the darkness were fixed on him, silently sneering.
Lin Qishan slowly walked to the window and lifted the curtain a crack to look out. On the street corner opposite the inn, an unremarkable van had parked facing his building, though he hadn't noticed when it arrived. Under the faint streetlights, he could just make out two dull red pinpoints glowing inside the van—the light of cigarettes being lit and dying out. Someone in the van was watching. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. Don't panic.
He sat back down at the desk, grabbed pen and paper, and began to quickly write out a draft of an emergency exposé—summarizing in the most concise language the evidence he had and the horrific deeds of Xiangci, ready to send to fellow journalists at a moment's notice. If the situation deteriorated any further, he would not wait.
Under the pitch-black curtain of night outside, this felt like a long, interminable fragmented night. Lin Qishan felt as if he were standing on the edge of a blade—one misstep and he would plunge into an abyss. Yet he also knew that once the truth cut through the darkness and rose to the surface, no matter how many tricks Xiangci employed, they would be unable to stop justice from arriving. He could only keep telling himself that he had to hold on—just a little longer, only one last step remained.