A Sharp Edge Emerges From The Mist Chapter 15

Encrypted Love Words

The chaos lasted until three in the morning before it finally subsided.

The fire in the No. 3 backup power room was confirmed to be arson. A homemade delayed-ignition device had been used, clearly intended to incite panic and cause a blackout. Fortunately, it was discovered in time. The fire suppression system quickly extinguished the flames, resulting only in localized cable damage and smoke contamination. The core backup units suffered minor damage, and after emergency repairs, the data center’s overall power supply remained stable, allowing the counter-offensive in the isolation zone to continue.

The arsonist left no direct clues to their identity. The scene yielded only a few blurred footprints and a fragment of a cheap rubber glove—the most common kind on the market—likely dropped by accident. Clearly, this was the work of a trained professional.

The battle on the network level had entered a stalemate. The opponent’s DDoS attack stopped abruptly after twenty minutes, vanishing as if it had never existed. The honeypot Shen Qingwu had deployed was completely destroyed, but the data she captured before the connection severed became a critical breakthrough.

By now, it was five in the morning. In a small, temporary meeting room on the top floor of the Gemini Data Center, the curtains were tightly drawn, and only a dim wall lamp was lit. Over twenty hours of high-intensity work had exhausted everyone. Most of the personnel from the Cyber Security and Technical Sections had already cleared the scene, leaving only a few staff members on duty to monitor the equipment and conduct follow-up analysis.

Shen Qingwu sat alone at one end of the conference table with two laptops open in front of her. One was connected to the data center’s internal security network, filtered through multiple layers of protection, its screen displaying various logs and analysis tools. The other was her own encrypted device, showing only a minimalist command-line window where the cursor blinked silently.

Her work jacket was draped haphazardly over the back of her chair. She was still wearing the cream-colored loungewear she had on earlier, her sleeves rolled up high to reveal the sharp lines of her wrists. Her long hair was loose, with a few stray strands sticking to her damp forehead and the side of her neck. Her makeup had long since worn off, leaving only the pallor of an all-nighter and faint shadows under her eyes. Yet her gaze remained sharp, like a blade tempered in ice water, fixed intently on her screen.

Lin Jianfeng pushed the door open and entered, carrying two disposable paper cups with steam rising from the rims. She had changed out of her previous jacket into a dark gray hoodie. Her hair was also slightly messy, but she seemed in better spirits than Shen Qingwu. Years of criminal investigation work had accustomed her to irregular hours and high-pressure environments.

“Ginger tea, with a bit of honey.” Lin Jianfeng placed one cup by Shen Qingwu’s hand and sat down opposite her, taking a sip from her own. The warm liquid dispelled some of the chill and fatigue.

“Thanks.” Shen Qingwu didn’t look up. Her fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboard for a few moments before she finally reached for the cup. The warmth spread from her fingertips as she took a small sip. The sweetness, mingled with the spicy kick of the ginger, allowed her taut nerves to relax slightly.

“Any progress?” Lin Jianfeng asked, her eyes falling on the screen of Shen Qingwu’s encrypted device. The complex command lines were like a foreign language to her, but she could read the focus in Shen Qingwu’s expression.

“The last captured data packets went through seventeen layers of jumps. The path was meticulously designed, and most of the nodes were disposable zombie computers or public proxies.” Shen Qingwu’s voice was somewhat raspy, but her logic was clear. “However, I reverse-engineered a fragment of a temporary log from a node in a Southeast Asian data center that was used briefly. I found an interesting pattern—when switching springboards, the opponent showed a clear preference for nodes in a few specific geographic regions. They stayed there slightly longer, and the data throughput patterns were more stable.”

She opened a world map on her computer and marked those regions with red dots: a country in Eastern Europe, a free trade port in South America, and… a small country in East Africa that was relatively politically stable and had recently invested heavily in digital infrastructure.

“What do these three places have in common?” Lin Jianfeng frowned in thought.

“They are all high-incidence areas for international cybercrime and money laundering. At the same time, they are popular locations for certain large multinational ‘consulting’ or ‘security’ firms to set up overseas branches.” Shen Qingwu pulled up several semi-transparent icons on the map—logos of well-known multinational corporations. A few of them were strikingly connected to overseas partners or suppliers of the New City Project.

“You mean the attackers’ command level, or their financial backers, might be hiding behind the facade of legitimate multinational corporate structures?” Lin Jianfeng followed the logic immediately.

“It’s highly likely. An attack of this caliber requires sustained funding, a stable technical team, and secure command and communication channels. It’s difficult for a pure criminal gang to maintain this scale and precision for long.” Shen Qingwu zoomed in on the map of the small East African nation. “Especially here. I checked, and over the past three years, three offshore funds with indirect investment ties to the New City Project have established nominal ‘R&D centers’ here. And according to some… non-public information flows I gathered previously, one of those funds has made several ‘consulting service’ payments to Zhou Tieshan’s Tiedun Security through complex channels.”

The clues pointed once again toward Tiedun, toward Zhou Tieshan, and toward the pattern of Anhe using legitimate fronts for illegal activities.

“So, attacking Gemini and stealing data… on the surface, it looks like extortion and sabotage, but the deeper purpose might be to gather intelligence for Anhe and its affiliates, clear out data risks, or… test a certain cyber warfare capability for their next move?” Lin Jianfeng analyzed.

“The possibility of it being a test is quite high.” Shen Qingwu closed the map and returned to the command-line interface. “The technical level and organizational coordination shown in this attack far exceed that of typical industrial espionage or ransomware crimes. It feels more like… a live-fire exercise. A multi-dimensional, coordinated exercise targeting Shuangcheng’s critical infrastructure.”

This conclusion made the air in the meeting room feel a few degrees colder. If Anhe already possessed this level of cyber-attack capability and had integrated it into their regular arsenal, the chaos and destruction they could cause in the future would be immeasurable.

After a moment of silence, Lin Jianfeng changed the subject. “Did they verify the false information you planted?”

“Partially.” Shen Qingwu pulled up another analysis report. “They focused on verifying three transaction records pointing to shell companies and attempted to access several fake bank account query interfaces I had set up. This shows they are very familiar with the internal capital flow patterns of the New City Project. They might even have an insider who can quickly verify the authenticity of certain information.”

“Can we narrow down the scope of the insider based on their verification behavior?”

“The scope can be narrowed,” Shen Qingwu nodded. “Not many people have access to transaction details of this level. They are mainly concentrated in the project’s core financial team, a few officials responsible for fund allocation, and… specific management personnel from primary investors like Qingyuan Capital.” She paused, looking up at Lin Jianfeng. “I’ve already initiated a secret internal review to check for any recent abnormalities among everyone who could have accessed this information. But the opponent could also have obtained information from the periphery through bribery or coercion, so this line of inquiry will need your cooperation on the official level.”

“Understood. I’ll coordinate with the Economic Investigation and Audit departments to intervene,” Lin Jianfeng noted. “Keep monitoring on your end. If there are any new discoveries, contact me anytime.”

“Mm.” Shen Qingwu gave a soft response, her gaze returning to the screen. Her fingers tapped on the keyboard, seemingly performing the final wrap-up work.

Lin Jianfeng didn’t leave immediately. She looked at Shen Qingwu’s profile in the dim light, at her lips slightly pursed in concentration, at the lingering exhaustion in her eyes, and the unyielding light that still burned beneath it.

Somewhere in her heart, things became exceptionally soft, yet exceptionally firm.

She remembered the chaotic stairwell a few hours ago—their joined hands and that moment of unspoken understanding and trust.

On a sudden impulse, Lin Jianfeng took out her private phone—the one that had been specially encrypted and shared the Deep Blue Library channel with Shen Qingwu. She quickly logged into the private section that only the two of them used.

The cursor blinked in the empty input box.

Lin Jianfeng’s finger hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t someone good at expressing tenderness, especially in such a tense and serious professional setting. But there were some words, some emotions, that she didn’t want to suppress anymore.

She quickly typed a line of text, using the simple substitution cipher they had agreed upon—one that only they could understand. Send.

Almost at the same instant, Shen Qingwu’s identical encrypted phone, which was lying face down on the table, vibrated very slightly.

Shen Qingwu’s fingers stopped tapping the keyboard. She glanced at the phone, seemingly confused about who would contact her through this channel at this hour. She used her free hand to pick up the phone, unlocked it, and clicked the message.

A new message from [Lin] popped up on the screen.

The content was just a single line of simply encrypted characters. A flash of realization crossed Shen Qingwu’s eyes as she skillfully decoded it in her mind.

The decoded words surfaced clearly:

[I miss you.]

Four very simple, direct, and even somewhat clumsy words.

No prefix, no suffix. They just appeared abruptly in the early morning after high-intensity work, nestled between cold screens filled with data and code.

Shen Qingwu’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the phone.

She looked up and met Lin Jianfeng’s eyes across the table.

Lin Jianfeng was holding her paper cup, eyes downcast, seemingly very focused on drinking her tea. But Shen Qingwu saw a faint, barely noticeable flush creeping up from the base of her ears.

The meeting room was incredibly quiet. Only the faint hum of the servers drifted up from downstairs, accompanied by the shallow breathing of the two women.

The corners of Shen Qingwu’s mouth curled upward into a tiny, genuine arc. It was a shallow smile, yet it was like a glimmer of light that instantly dispelled all the coldness and fatigue from her face.

She didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she lowered her head again, looking at the screen of her encrypted device, her fingers tapping rapidly on the keyboard.

A few seconds later, the phone in Lin Jianfeng’s hand also vibrated gently.

She immediately set down the paper cup and picked up the phone.

It was also an encrypted message, this one from [W].

Decode.

[Me too. Also, the ginger tea is too sweet. Put less sugar next time.]

Lin Jianfeng stared at the words, stunned for a moment. Then, a warm current mixed with a hint of embarrassment and even more laughter welled up from her heart. She could almost imagine the look on Shen Qingwu’s face as she typed those words—feigning annoyance while hiding a smile in her eyes.

She looked up, catching Shen Qingwu’s gaze just as it turned toward her.

Their eyes met in the air. No words, no movements—they just looked at each other quietly.

In the dim light, they both saw the same clear things in each other’s eyes: exhaustion, pressure, vigilance toward the unknown road ahead, and… a deeper connection and trust that transcended partnership, perhaps even transcending a certain hazy sentiment.

It was the peace of mind that comes from confirming someone’s presence while walking side-by-side through the darkness.

It was a tacit understanding that required no words.

Shen Qingwu was the first to look away, returning her attention to the screen. Her fingers began tapping the keyboard again, but this time, the lines of her profile were noticeably softer.

Lin Jianfeng also lowered her head, reading the “complaint” about the ginger tea being too sweet once more. She couldn’t suppress the curve of her lips no matter how hard she tried.

She put her phone away and finished the rest of the ginger tea in one gulp. It was indeed a bit sweet, but at this moment, it tasted just right.

Outside the window, the sky had unknowingly begun to turn the pale grey of dawn.

A new day had quietly arrived amidst encrypted love words and the lingering warmth of fighting side-by-side.