Only codenames were on the list, not real names.
But Zhou Jinnan's gaze swept down quickly, finally locking onto one codename—“Cuckoo.”
File note: Affiliated with the underground organization.
Zhou Jinnan had always known that he had comrades within the Secret Service.
They were sacrificial pawns prepared by the higher-ups, never to be activated unless absolutely necessary.
If his codename were ever exposed, “Cuckoo” would have to step up to take the blame and catch the bullet for him.
For three years, he had deliberately acted as if this person didn't exist, and they didn't even know his true identity.
Now, looking at this codename, Wen Yuchu's stubborn face suddenly flashed across Zhou Jinnan's mind.
Could it be her?
There was no time to think. The miniature camera in his hands moved so fast it left afterimages.
“Click, click...”
With no time to lose, he pressed the shutter repeatedly.
The faint sound of the shutter was exceptionally clear in the quiet office, making his heart race.
Just then, the sound of a car engine dying suddenly came from downstairs.
Zhou Jinnan leaned toward the window and looked out. Lu Cheng's black official car had actually returned and was parked by the side entrance.
The car door opened, and Lu Cheng strode toward the building.
He had less than a minute.
Zhou Jinnan immediately stuffed the documents back into the manila envelope exactly as they had been.
He couldn't strike a match to melt new wax; the burnt smell in the enclosed space would never escape Lu Cheng's sharp nose.
Relying on the manual dexterity he had used to crack the lock, he pulled out a thin blade he carried with him, slipped it under the cracked edge of the wax, and lightly singed it with the tiny flame of his lighter.
Timing it perfectly to the exact moment the wax was semi-molten, he aligned the fractured surfaces and pressed down hard.
Using his fingertips to press down on the hot wax through the parchment paper, the seal fused back together in less than ten seconds.
He quickly scraped away the excess wax crumbs that had squeezed out of the edges with his fingernails.
Outside, the click-clack of Lu Cheng's hard-soled leather boots already echoed on the corridor floor tiles.
Stuffing the camera back into his inner pocket, he pushed the safe door shut until it sealed tightly, then scrambled the dial with a quick flick of his wrist.
Zhou Jinnan quickly pressed himself against the wooden door, held down the handle, and slipped out just before the footsteps drew near.
To prevent the door from making any sound as it closed, he held the handle down firmly, only slowly releasing it once the door was completely shut.
Just as he melted into the dark corner of the corridor, Lu Cheng's figure appeared at the far end, barely ten paces away.
Lu Cheng pulled out his key, inserted it into the keyhole, and pushed the door open.
The corridor was empty once again, as if nothing had ever happened.
...
A week later.
Winter rain had been falling in Qionzhou for two consecutive days, washing the old arcades of the film base and leaving them with a damp, weathered look.
The filming of 《The Hidden Sentry》 had reached the ultimate climax of the entire drama—the closing of the net on the Oriole Plan.
Behind the monitor, Xu Pingqiu held a rolled-up storyboard script, giving the actors their final directions.
Half an hour later, the entire set fell silent.
“All departments, prepare!”
“Action!”
The clapperboard snapped.
In the chief's office, only a single green-shaded desk lamp illuminated the room.
Lu Cheng leaned back in his leather swivel chair, a cigar clamped between his fingers as smoke swirled around him.
He didn't look at Zhou Jinnan. Instead, his eyes stared at the manila envelope on the desk like a vulture.
“Jinnan.”
Lu Cheng's voice was low and raspy, dripping with pressure. “Tomorrow night, the entire city goes into lockdown.”
Across the desk, Zhou Jinnan wore an impeccably tailored black suit.
He held a cup of freshly brewed Dahongpao tea, he placed it steadily by Lu Cheng's hand.
“Chief, everything has been arranged. Squad One is on standby around the clock.”
Lu Cheng leaned forward, exhaling a puff of blue smoke. “Fu Xiao is heading to the front lines to round them up. We can't have a fire starting at home. I'm leaving the original files and headquarters' defense to you. If even the slightest thing goes wrong, I will hold you solely responsible.”
He leaned closer, exhaling another puff of smoke. “If anything goes wrong, I will hold you solely responsible.”
Anyone else would have hurriedly expressed their loyalty in a panic by now.
But Zhou Jinnan didn't.
Instead, an undisguised gleam suddenly flared in his eyes—a fanatical greed for power and money.
“Don't worry, Chief. With me here, not even a mosquito will be able to fly into these headquarters.”
Then, he rubbed his hands together, leaning in as he deliberately lowered his voice. “Chief, tomorrow when Captain Fu and his men raid that rat's nest... what about the spoils we recover...?”
He was blatantly corrupt, yet it felt entirely logical.
The suspicion in Lu Cheng's eyes faded, replaced by contempt and understanding.
“You'll get your share. Just guard the home front. Off you go.”
“Understood!”
Zhou Jinnan grabbed his commission letter, turned around, and strode toward the door, a deep, inscrutable smile playing on his lips.
The following evening.
Inside the Secret Service operations room, the atmosphere was tense.
Outside, Fu Xiao was leading a large force of black-clad agents, armed to the teeth, to surround Alley 13 in the Jing'an District.
At this moment, Tang Jingran and Wen Yuchu were trapped like cornered beasts in the small building of the liaison station.
Yet inside the operations room, which was supposed to be under tight security, Zhou Jinnan sat casually in the commander's seat.
He sat with his legs crossed, his military boots propped directly on the edge of the desk.
Holding a cup of freshly brewed coffee, he listened to the urgent transmissions coming over the radio.
“Reporting to Captain Zhou! Squad Two has surrounded Alley 13! The vanguard is preparing to storm the building!”
The radio operator took off his headphones and reported loudly.
Zhou Jinnan blew gently on his hot coffee, not even lifting his eyelids.
“What's the rush? Tell Madman Fu to take it easy. If he smashes up the foreign shops nearby, those old fogies from the Chamber of Commerce will start complaining to the Chief again.”
Deputy Captain Zhang Biao leaned in and pointed at several routes on the map.
“Captain, the Chief ordered Squad One to completely lock down the four surrounding streets. What do you think about this defensive line...?”
Zhou Jinnan set down his coffee cup, stood up, and walked over to the map.
His fingertip slowly traced the red crosses representing the blockade lines.
This was the ironclad trap Lu Cheng had set up.
Once the net closed, Tang Jingran and Wen Yuchu wouldn't stand a chance of escaping.
There was no warmth in Zhou Jinnan's lowered eyes, but when he spoke, he sounded like a smooth-talking, opportunistic merchant.
“You blockhead! How are we supposed to seal off four whole streets?”
He tapped Donghua Street with his long finger. “This area is full of foreign shops, which means plenty of money. Zhang Biao, take two squads and guard it. If you run into wealthy merchants trying to slip away, you know what to do, right?”
Zhang Biao's eyes lit up, and he nodded furiously. “Got it, got it! We collect protection fees from them one by one.”
Zhou Jinnan sneered, his finger casually sweeping toward Nanjiao Lane.
“This place is nothing but open sewers and slums. Why should our brothers stand out in the freezing rain for nothing? Pull them out, and bring all the lookouts back to the building to assist me.”
“But Captain, if we move them, the southeast corner will be completely unguarded. What if some of the targets manage to slip through...?”
Zhou Jinnan spun around, grabbed a folder from the desk, and slammed it against Zhang Biao's chest.
“Use your brain! Madman Fu's main force is inside Alley 13, and the Garrison Command is outside. If any rats actually manage to escape, it's because Fu Xiao is incompetent!”
He loosened his tie, his face filled with impatience.
“I'm here to guard headquarters, not to clean up Fu Xiao's messes. Do as I say! If anything goes wrong, I'll take the fall!”
Having been scolded, Zhang Biao actually felt reassured. He felt this was exactly his captain's money-grubbing, self-serving style. He immediately turned and ran to deliver the orders.
Silence returned to the operations room.
Only the rhythmic tapping of the telegraph machine broke the quiet.
Zhou Jinnan sat back in his leather swivel chair and took a sip of his coffee.
Amidst the rising steam, his deep eyes remained fixed on the gap in the southeast corner of the sand table.
A few hours later.
It was precisely by taking advantage of this security vacuum created by “corruption” that Tang Jingran and Wen Yuchu climbed over the open sewer, hid in a cargo carriage, and escaped.
“Cut! Perfect!”
Behind the monitor, Han Song rubbed his arms as he watched the playback on the screen.
“My goodness... his acting is just so natural!”
Han Song turned to Xu Pingqiu, pointing at his own nose with the aggrieved look of a giant child. “Director Xu! Once this drama airs, the audience is going to pity me to death! It turns out this guy was using me as a scapegoat from start to finish!”
Xu Pingqiu picked up his thermos and took a sip of wolfberry tea, highly amused.
“You're playing the villain. If you don't take the fall, who will?”
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