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

Lin Che pulled his hand out of his briefcase.

There was an extra envelope in my hand.

It's made of kraft paper, A5 size, and one size thicker than a regular envelope.

The opening was sealed with red sealing wax, and there were a few fine cracks on the edge of the wax, which were left by time and not caused by human intervention.

A circular steel stamp was pressed onto the sealing wax; the characters were small, but clearly visible under the light in room 607.

Hangzhou West Lake Notary Public Office.

There is a handwritten date in the lower right corner of the front of the envelope.

The blue ballpoint pen, with neat handwriting.

2022 11 Month 18 Day.

One month ago.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 202ᴋᴋs.ᴄᴏᴍ]

Lin Che placed the envelope on the table.

He used both hands when he placed it, as if he were placing something fragile.

The envelope landed on the table with a soft sound, the sound of paper hitting wood.

He placed the envelope on top of all the documents, directly in front of Abyss's computer screen.

All three people's eyes fell on the envelope at the same time.

A second ago they were looking at the computer screen, but now all three pairs of eyes are on this brown paper envelope.

The head of national security shifted his gaze from the date on the front of the envelope to the steel stamp on the sealing wax.

He looked at it for two seconds.

Then he straightened up from the back of the chair.

Lower your hands from your chest and place them back on the table.

The defensive stance is over.

"A month ago, I used Abyss to make a prediction."

Lin Che's voice was calm, but a little slower than before.

"The prediction was handwritten on a piece of paper, put into this envelope, and sealed and notarized at the Hangzhou West Lake Notary Public Office."

"The envelope has not been opened since that day."

He touched the sealing wax with his finger.

"The sealing wax is intact, the steel stamp is intact, and the notarization number is verifiable."

The head of national security extended his hand.

It wasn't that I was taking the envelope; it was that I turned the envelope around so that the front was facing me.

He bent down and looked closely at the steel stamp on the sealing wax.

The stamp has an eight-digit serial number.

He looked at it for about three seconds, then straightened up.

"dismantle."

One word.

He didn't change his tone when he said the word, but Lin Che sensed something.

It's not an order, it's an urgency.

He wanted to know what was inside.

Lin Che did not move.

He glanced at the head of the National Security Bureau.

"I suggest you take charge of dismantling it."

The head of national security paused for a second.

Then he nodded.

He reached out and picked up the envelope.

He turned the envelope over in his hand and glanced at the back.

The back is blank, except for the notary office's red seal, stamped at the junction of the seal and the envelope itself.

He pinched the edge of the sealing wax with his thumb and forefinger and gently pried it off.

The sealing wax cracked, making a very small, crisp sound.

The sound was louder than anything else in room 607.

It broke in two, and red fragments lay on the table, but the stamped marks were still on both fragments, and the left and right halves could still be put together intact.

He reached into the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper.

A5 size, white, folded once, the crease is very straight.

He unfolded it.

The paper makes a slight rustling sound when it is unfolded.

The words on the paper were handwritten.

The blue ballpoint pen is the same one used for the date on the front of the envelope.

The handwriting is Lin Che's.

There were four lines written on the paper.

The first line is the date: November 18, 2022.

The second line indicates the target for prediction: LME copper futures.

The third line contains the prediction.

LME copper prices are expected to experience a temporary correction within the next three months, with an estimated range of 10-15%.

Triggering factors: The continuous decline in the global manufacturing PMI coupled with expectations of a Fed rate hike.

The two lines of text were written close together, but each character was clear.

The fourth line is a number: Abyss confidence level 78.9%.

The head of national security looked at the paper.

I watched for about five seconds.

Then he placed the paper on the table, face up.

He didn't speak.

The man on the left put down the thirteen-page document in his hand and picked up the handwritten paper.

He looked at the front, then turned it over to look at the back.

The back is blank.

He put the paper back on the table, opened his laptop, and began typing rapidly.

He's investigating.

Lin Che knew what he was investigating.

The price trend of LME copper from November 18, 2022 to today.

Approximately thirty seconds.

The man's fingers stopped.

He stared at his screen for about five seconds.

Then he looked up at the head of the National Security Bureau.

There was neither nod nor shake of the head.

He simply looked at the head of national security.

But his expression changed.

This is the first time his expression has changed since he entered room 607.

It wasn't surprise, it wasn't shock.

It is a solemnity that comes after confirmation.

The head of the national security agency saw his expression.

"How many."

The man spoke; this was his second sentence.

"As of yesterday's close, LME copper prices were down 11.7% from November 18th."

11.7%.

The prediction on the handwritten paper is 10-15%.

11.7% falls right in the middle of the range.

It wasn't a close call, nor was it a mere brush with the line.

Right in the middle.

The triggering factor also matches.

The global manufacturing PMI fell for the third consecutive month, and the Federal Reserve raised interest rates by 50 basis points in December.

Both of the factors written on the paper have occurred.

The woman on the right wasn't looking at the man's screen.

She was looking at her own screen.

She was also checking the same set of data.

She finished searching, lifted her fingers off the keyboard, and placed them on the desktop.

She did not speak.

Room 607 was quiet.

This silence is not a stalemate.

It's not that it can't be verified.

It's not about processing information.

The silence this time signifies that the verification is complete.

The prediction from a month ago came true when I opened the package today.

It's not that the direction was hit, it's that the range was hit.

The forecast was 10-15%, but the actual figure was 11.7%.

It actually happened with a 78.9% confidence level.

The person in charge of national security kept his hands on the table without moving.

His pen was beside him, but the cap was still off.

He didn't pick up a pen.

No need to draw horizontal lines anymore.

No need to write anymore.

The man on the left closed his laptop.

It happened softly, without making a sound.

He placed his hands on the closed laptop, just like the woman on his right had done earlier.

The woman on the right also closed her laptop.

The two ThinkPads were closed at the same time, with the screens facing down.

Both of their hands were on the computer.

The three people sat across the table.

No one speaks.

The light outside the window had completely dimmed, and the fluorescent light tube in room 607 cast everyone's shadows on the wall behind them.

The silence lasted for about forty seconds.

The sound of water flowing from the radiator.

The sound of electricity from a fluorescent light tube.

The occasional sound of cars coming from outside the window seemed distant, as if they were from another world.

For forty seconds, Lin Che didn't say a single word.

He sat in the chair, his hands on the table, looking at the three people opposite him.

No rushing, no explanations, no additions.

Everything that needed to be said has been said, and everything that needed to be shown has been shown.

The rest is their business.

The handwritten paper was still in the middle of the table, the blue ballpoint pen writing clearly visible under the light.

A fragment of sealing wax, broken in two, lay beside the envelope; it was red.

Forty seconds.

enough.