The morning haze hadn't lifted, and neither had the tension that clung to the walls of Xu Corporation's executive wing.
Han Jiayan walked in with two coffee cups—one for him, one for Li Xinyue—but his eyes were elsewhere. He moved like a man distracted. Not unfocused… just seeing more than the present.
"You're early," Xinyue commented, taking the cup from him without breaking stride.
"I couldn't sleep."
She glanced at him. "Nightmares?"
Jiayan hesitated. "Not exactly."
Not nightmares.
Memories.
The envelope still lay unopened on his desk at home. The symbol on its seal was old—pre-University, pre-Xinyue, pre-everything. It belonged to a life Jiayan had locked away with chains of anonymity and survival instinct.
He hadn't thought of the Aureon Project in years.
And now… the Network's probe, the sudden attention on his name, the veiled threat—they weren't just random. They were reminders.
Someone out there still remembered him.
Still feared him.
Still wanted what was in his mind.
Xinyue's voice snapped him out of it. "Jiayan."
"Hm?"
"You just poured salt into your coffee."
He blinked, then looked down. Sure enough, the little sachet said "Sea Salt" in elegant blue lettering.
He grimaced. "Great. Breakfast à la accident."
She chuckled, sipping her own. "Let me guess—you're thinking about that USB?"
"No. I'm thinking about the origin of the threat."
Xinyue leaned on the table. "Tell me."
Jiayan's voice dropped. "They didn't come after you. Not directly. That means they're watching, not ready to strike. Which also means... they're gathering."
She nodded. "You think someone from inside Xu Corp tipped them off?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he pulled out a small card reader from his coat and inserted a flashdrive.
A loading bar blinked on her desk monitor. The words:
"Internal Communications Heatmap Analysis: Last 90 Days."
Xinyue's brows lifted. "You ran a sweep?"
Jiayan gave a sheepish smile. "...without permission."
She said nothing for a moment.
Then: "You'll do it again."
His smile widened. "Already did."
The heatmap unfolded like a sunburst—dozens of nodes, but only three glowed in pulsing red. All three belonged to mid-tier managers who had no reason to contact external systems. And yet… there they were.
She tapped the screen. "Who are they?"
"Finance auditor, data records assistant… and—" Jiayan frowned, zooming in.
"Who?"
"…someone in the legal department. Under contract review."
Xinyue narrowed her eyes. "That's a direct link to our pending lawsuits with the Qin family."
Jiayan didn't respond.
Because another name just appeared.
Qin Liang.
---
📍Elsewhere — Qin Estate
Qin Liang was standing by the koi pond in the family's winter garden, a phone pressed to his ear.
"You told me he was a nobody," he hissed. "That he wouldn't make it past surface-level clearance."
The voice on the other end was distorted. Robotic.
"We miscalculated. His access to Xu Corporation gives him a vantage point. And more importantly, he's begun to backtrace."
Qin Liang clenched his jaw.
"I want this cleaned up. Now."
"Then sever the link. Burn the bridge. And if needed… bury him."
Qin Liang stared into the pond.
"You may need to start with the queen," he whispered.
---
📍That Night — Jiayan's Apartment
He finally opened the envelope.
Inside was a memory chip and a letter. No address. No signature. Just a single line, handwritten in faded blue ink:
"You still have the key. When the time comes, decide who lives."
Jiayan sat back, breath catching in his throat.
He remembered now.
The experiments.
The simulations.
The Aureon Initiative—designed to enhance neuro-networking via machine-coded reflex development. It was supposed to be theoretical. Just math. Just light.
But it wasn't.
He was the only successful prototype.
They shut it down when it got too real.
And now… someone had found the trail again.
---
📍Meanwhile — Feng Shanshan's Lounge
Tang Weilan looked up from her screen.
"Cross-reference the Aureon name against defense-based contracts pre-2015. Look for false shell companies."
Shanshan raised an eyebrow. "Why defense?"
Weilan tapped her screen. "Because someone just used a neuro-pulse echo on Xu Corporation's server. That tech hasn't been in public domain since… well, ever."
"You think Jiayan's involved?"
Weilan looked thoughtful. "I think they're involved. And Jiayan? He might be the key—or the detonator."
---
📍Final Scene — Jiayan's Internal Monologue
The rain started just past midnight. Soft, almost shy.
Jiayan sat by his window, watching it blur the city into watercolor streaks.
"Xinyue," he whispered, "you gave me a place to belong. But the world I ran from is about to arrive at your doorstep."
He opened his laptop.
Typed one word into a black window.
Initialize.
The cursor blinked. Accepted.
Jiayan stared at the growing code, lines of his own genius springing back to life.
"You brought me into the light, Xinyue… Now let's see what I can do when I stop hiding."
---
In an isolated mountain compound, dozens of monitors lit up at once.
A hooded figure approached the central console.
"Sir," a voice said nervously, "Protocol Echo just activated. He's back online."
The figure didn't move. Just smiled faintly.
"Then the game begins."
---