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

The head of national security picked up the folder.

He opened the cover, skipped the live demonstration at the beginning, and went straight to the last five pages.

He knew that the previous content had already been shown on the desktop and did not need to be reviewed again.

He wants to see something new.

Joint regulatory mechanism.

He flipped through the first page very quickly, in about ten seconds.

The first page contains general principles and definitions, providing a framework.

The second page was a bit slower, about fifteen seconds.

The second page details the regulatory bodies and their respective responsibilities.

The third page is even slower, taking about twenty seconds.

The third page contains the data interface and technical integration plan.

He stopped on page four.

Lin Che knew where he had stopped.

Page four contains the core clause: the access permission design for the 20% inner algorithm.

It is neither completely closed nor completely open.

It is a hierarchical access mechanism.

Level 1: Operational status monitoring, visible in real time, no authorization from Lin Che required.

When the system is running, the regulator can see the flow of all the outer data, just like looking at the surface of a river.

Level 2: Parameter change records, synchronized monthly, requiring signature confirmation from both parties.

Each time Abyss independently modifies parameters, the modified content and timestamp will automatically generate a report, which will be signed and archived by both parties.

Level 3: Core algorithm source code, accessible only during national security emergencies, requiring joint signature from three parties.

The three parties are Lin Che, the national security-designated representative, and an independent technical notary.

Level 3.

From relaxed to tense, from everyday to extreme.

Each level has clearly defined triggering conditions and operating procedures.

Lin Che revised these five pages nine times, finishing the final revision on a plane.

The national security official finished reading page four but did not turn to page five.

He closed the folder.

As he closed the book, his fingers paused on the cover for a second, as if processing what he had just read.

Then he did something.

He raised his right hand and stretched it towards his face.

My finger touched the right temple of my thin-rimmed metal glasses.

He took off his glasses.

This action occurred silently in room 607.

The glasses left the bridge of the nose, and the temples slid down from the ears.

He held the glasses in his hand, pinching the right temple with his right thumb and forefinger.

The movements were very natural, as if they had done it countless times.

But it wasn't done in 607.

Four meetings were held.

From our first meeting to today, almost a year has passed.

He always wore his thin-rimmed metal glasses and never took them off.

His shirt was buttoned up to the top, with not a single wrinkle at the collar, and a pen and a dark blue folder were always at hand.

These are his standard attire, his entire demeanor in this room.

Now I've taken my glasses off.

A face without glasses looks different from a face with glasses.

There are two shallow, red marks on both sides of the bridge of the nose, left from wearing it for a long time.

My eyes look a little smaller than they do through the lenses, and there are a few fine lines at the corners of my eyes.

One layer is missing, and one layer is added.

What's lacking is a sense of distance and authority; what's abundant is the authenticity that comes from working for a long time.

His eyes were dark brown, and his pupils shrank considerably under the fluorescent light.

He flipped his glasses over and tugged at the hem of his shirt with his left hand.

A small section of the shirt hem was pulled out from the waistband of the pants; it was made of white cotton.

He wiped the right lens with the cloth, a practiced gesture he had done many times before.

I wiped it twice, then moved to the left side and wiped it twice more.

As he wiped, his gaze remained fixed on the table, without looking at anyone.

This action is too common.

It's not a room number 607.

It was as casual as an ordinary middle-aged man wiping his glasses after watching the news on the sofa at home.

But it happened at 607.

It happened in the fourth of four meetings, after Abyss was verified, and after the joint regulatory plan was turned to the fourth page.

The head of national security wiped his glasses but did not put them back on immediately.

He placed his glasses on the table.

Lenses facing upwards, temples folded up, placed next to a dark blue folder.

The metal frame made a very soft sound on the table.

This is the first time a personal item has appeared next to the dark blue folder.

Since the first meeting, this spot has only been used for signing pens and documents.

He looked at Lin Che.

The gaze of someone without glasses is different from the gaze of someone wearing glasses.

closer.

It's not the physical distance that has changed, it's the psychological distance.

It's like there's a layer of glass missing.

Then he looked at the man on his left.

It wasn't the kind of eye contact we exchanged before; it was a more direct and defined gaze.

He asked.

The man glanced at the folder on the desktop that had been opened and then closed.

Then I glanced at the glasses next to the folder.

Then he nodded.

This nod was a little bigger than all the previous nods.

It was so large that you could clearly see his chin had sunk a centimeter down.

The head of national security then looked at the woman on the right.

The woman was already nodding.

It wasn't just a slight nod like before; it was a full nod.

He lowered his head once, then raised it again.

They both nodded.

One on the left, one on the right.

In the same room 607, at the same table, and on the same proposal, members of the two technical evaluation teams nodded in agreement within the same minute.

The head of national security turned his gaze back to the table.

The desktop was covered with documents, with the handwritten paper and a shard of sealing wax in the middle.

His glasses were placed next to the folder, the lenses reflecting the light from the fluorescent lamp.

He picked up his glasses and put them back on.

The temples snap back above the ears, and the nose pads settle back into the indentations on either side of the bridge of the nose.

He used his index finger to push the bridge of his nose in the middle of the frame to make sure it was secure.

The glasses returned to their original position.

Her demeanor has returned to normal.

He didn't care that the hem of his shirt wasn't completely tucked into his waistband.

But those ten seconds or so have already passed.

Take it off, wipe it, put it down, don't wear it anymore.

Ten seconds or so.

During the four interviews in room 607, those ten-odd seconds were the only time he didn't act like a "national security official" but like an ordinary person.

The head of national security pushed the folder back to the center of the desktop.

"I've reviewed the plan."

His tone remained flat.

But the weight of the words "I saw" is different now than before.

When he said "I know" earlier, he was stating an existing conclusion.

Now when he says "I've seen it," he's accepting a new framework.

"The technical details need to be evaluated by them."

He tilted his head slightly, gesturing to the people on his left and right.

"But the direction."

He paused for a second.

"The direction is negotiable."

Four words.

The direction is open to discussion.

It is not "agreement", not "acceptance", not "approval".

It means "we can talk about it".

In room 607, the fact that this person said "we can talk" was the greatest affirmation they could give.

Because he never says anything he's not sure about.

When he says "we can talk," it means he has already discussed it in his mind.

Lin Che's hands were on his knees, and he didn't move.

He heard it.