The richest man started taking advantage of loopholes after joining Alibaba.

Three days until Singles' Day.

The distribution center of Weiguang Logistics was as quiet as a morgue.

At this time of year, the logistics park would normally be filled with the ripping of tape, the whirring of forklifts reversing, and the hoarse shouts of dispatchers.

Now, all that's left is the buzzing sound of the fan blades spinning idly.

Two automated sorting lines stopped in the center.

A thin layer of dust had accumulated on the black rubber conveyor belt.

The still steel behemoth exudes an eerie industrial beauty, as if in mourning.

The air in the office seemed to freeze.

"Smack."

The plastic bottle cap was violently flicked open.

Fatty Wang, his face covered in grease and sweat, gripped the gourd-shaped bottle of quick-acting heart medicine tightly.

The small yellow plastic gourd was severely deformed, and its body was covered with fingernail marks.

He poured out a few brown pills, swallowed them dry without drinking water.

"Brother Che, we only have enough cash in the account for two weeks."

Fatty Wang pointed at the financial statements, his voice hoarse.

"That bastard Zhao Sihai is too cunning; he's blocking our shipments upstream. We only get a few hundred orders a day, and we're losing money on electricity bills as soon as the machines are turned on."

He paced around in his ten-square-meter office.

"We can't wait any longer! The complaint letter is already written, right? Send it now! Make him shut down and fine him!"

Lin Che sat by the window without turning around.

Instead of a bleak report, the monitor in front of me displayed a dynamic line chart.

That's a real-time data model of the city's western network points, obtained through web crawling.

A bright red curve is climbing at an almost vertical angle.

That's the storage capacity utilization rate of Zhao Sihai's "Warehouse No. 1 in the West of the City".

"Should I report it now?"

Lin Che moved the mouse, and the cursor hovered over the red peak.

"The warehouse is currently only at 120% capacity."

The voice was calm and completely still.

Fatty Wang was stunned: "120% isn't enough? This is already illegal stacking!"

"not enough."

Lin Che turned around and tapped his knuckles lightly on the table.

"If we report it now, the fire department will seal it off and order rectification. Zhao Sihai can transfer the goods to the illegal warehouse in just two days, pay a 20,000 yuan fine, and reopen his business."

"Back then, Singles' Day hadn't really started yet."

Lin Che looked at Fatty Wang as if he were instructing an intern on how to analyze a case.

"This kind of blow is just a superficial wound. It hurts, but it won't kill you. As long as you don't die, he can use his monopoly to continue blocking us."

Fatty Wang opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"What we need to do is not make him sick, but make him die suddenly."

Lin Che's gaze returned to the screen.

The data is still fluctuating.

In order to absorb the order volume in the west of the city, Zhao Sihai is frantically buying up goods.

Greed is the best fuel.

It causes people to lose their basic judgment of risk during the fervor of a holiday.

"He's betting on making a fortune during the Singles' Day sales boom. He'll be like a gluttonous python, swallowing its prey whole regardless of whether it can actually be swallowed."

Lin Che pointed to the end of the prediction curve.

"Wait three more days."

"Wait until Singles' Day, until the warehouse capacity reaches 200%, until tens of thousands of packages fill the warehouse so much that even a mouse can't crawl out."

"Then, we'll help him close the door."

Fatty Wang felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at the red line.

This is not how you do business.

Lin Che was clearly watching someone sitting on a barrel of explosives, and instead of reminding him, he patiently counted the seconds the fuse burned for him.

"Brother Che... do you want to watch them... choke to death?"

Lin Che turned off the monitor, and the black screen reflected his expressionless face.

"He committed suicide; we are responsible for collecting his body."

In the west of the city, there is a "Seafood Restaurant".

The "Hall of Wealth and Prosperity" was filled with smoke.

The king crab in the center of the round table had long since gone cold.

Instead, there were several bone plates full of cigarette butts.

Cigarette ash mixed with leftover food scraps was piled into a nauseating little mountain, emitting a fishy and tarry smell.

Zhao Sihai slumped in the main seat, his face flushed.

The Gucci belt buckle was loose, the belt buckle dangling to one side, revealing the hem of the shirt squeezed by fat.

Extremely relaxed, extremely inflated.

"Drink! Drink it all!"

Zhao Sihai, slurring his words, slammed an empty Wuliangye bottle heavily on the table.

Four empty bottles were lying haphazardly on the table.

"This Singles' Day... hiccup... this whole area in the west of the city is mine!"

Zhao Sihai pointed at the owners of several secondary outlets around him, spitting as he spoke.

"Weiguang Logistics... that brat surnamed Lin... you think he can mess with me?"

He let out a cold laugh, his face twitching with its thick, fleshy features.

"You've gone mad from studying! You think you can run logistics just by playing around with a few computer spreadsheets? This industry... this industry is built on fists! On drinking skills!"

The surrounding business owners all raised their glasses.

"General Manager Zhao is awesome!"

"That kid's a greenhorn, he doesn't know any rules."

The warehouse manager burst in, sweating profusely and looking flustered.

"Mr. Zhao, no more... we really can't fit any more in."

The supervisor leaned close to Zhao Sihai's ear.

"Three more truckloads of goods just arrived. I wanted to unload them in the yard, but it's been raining these past few days... the warehouse is overflowing, even the aisles are full."

Zhao Sihai waved his hand impatiently.

"Idiot! Can a living person die from holding in their pee?"

He reeked of alcohol, his eyes wide as copper bells.

"What about the fire escape routes? The stairwells? The areas around the windows... aren't they all just empty spaces?"

The supervisor froze: "Mr. Zhao, that's a fire escape... and they caught us..."

"Investigate my ass!"

Zhao Sihai slammed his hand on the table, making the cutlery rattle loudly.

"During the Singles' Day shopping festival, which leader isn't busy in meetings? Who has time to inspect my warehouse? This territory is where I call the shots!"

He grabbed his chopsticks and pointed them at the supervisor.

"Pile it up! Block all the passageways! Seal the windows too! Maintain strict security for the next few days. Stuff whatever goods you can get in, but don't let a single fly in, especially not those people with the surname Lin!"

The supervisor, seeing the boss's bloodshot eyes, shrank back and retreated.

Zhao Sihai looked around smugly.

"See that? That's what you call guts! Those college students don't know anything!"

Raising my glass again, I could almost see mountains of banknotes.

The moment he said "block all the fire exits".

The death sentence was stamped with the final official seal.

The streets were chilly in late autumn.

Lin Che was wearing a black windbreaker, zipped up to the top, covering his chin.

He was holding three envelopes in his hand.

The cadence is very stable.

I stopped at a convenience store and bought a bottle of mineral water.

A green mailbox stands on the street corner.

The paint is mottled, and the mail nozzle looks like a dark, gaping mouth, waiting to devour.

Lin Che did not hesitate.

The first letter was from the Municipal Fire Brigade.

The second letter was from the Municipal Safety Supervision Bureau.

The third letter was from the Mayor's Hotline Office.

The letters slid into the darkness one by one.

The old-fashioned delivery method seems out of place in the era of impending full digitalization.

But what he needs is precisely this most primal "trace".

I went to the counter and asked for a receipt.

The pen tip scratched across the paper, making a soft, rustling sound.

A few minutes later, I received a thin registered mail receipt.

It was stamped with a red postmark.

This is more than just a piece of paper.

This is a concrete manifestation of the power of law.

Once the receipt is received, the whistleblower letter enters an irrevocable administrative process.

If the fire brigade receives the letter but fails to investigate, it would constitute dereliction of duty and negligence, posing a significant political risk should an incident occur.

This is a kidnapping.

Using rules to hijack power.

Lin Che folded the receipt and put it into his inner pocket.

I walked out of the post office and stood on the steps to take a sip of water.

Across the street, on the exterior wall of a shopping mall, an LED screen displays a scrolling weather forecast.

The red text is glaring:

"In the next 48 hours, affected by a strong cold air mass, the city will experience northwesterly winds of level 5-6, and the air will be dry. The fire risk level is high."

Lin Che looked up.

The weather is dry and the air is parched.

This is a good time to inspect fire prevention measures.

Tighten the bottle cap and blend into the crowd.

A whisper faded into the wind.

"The wind is picking up!"