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

After the high-speed train passed Jiaxing South Station, the number of people in the carriages decreased by half.

Lin Che straightened the backrest a little and glanced out the window.

It was completely dark, and nothing could be seen except for the occasional passing highway streetlights that cast orange streaks on the glass.

The phone is placed on the small table, screen facing down.

It's been over four hours since he boarded the train at Beijing South Station, and he hasn't replied to a single message.

No one sent any new ones.

We've arrived at Hangzhou East Railway Station.

The cold air on the platform is different from that in Beijing. The cold in Beijing is like a razor blade, cutting cleanly and crisply.

The cold in Hangzhou is damp; it seeps into the seams of clothes and clings to the skin.

There weren't many people queuing for taxis at the exit. At 9 p.m. on a weekday at the end of December, Hangzhou East Railway Station had already passed its peak hours.

Lin Che got into the car and gave the address.

The driver didn't say much, turned on the meter, and drove off.

The car drove along the road beside the Qiantang River. The river surface was not visible, only the lights on the opposite bank were reflected in the water, fragmented into a single image.

The taxi's heater was on full blast, making me a little sleepy.

But Lin Che did not close his eyes.

When the car turned into the Binjiang residential area, the first thing he saw was the row of streetlights.

High-pressure sodium lamps, the old town hasn't been replaced with LEDs yet, cast an orange glow on the roadside trees.

The ginkgo leaves have all fallen, and the branches cast dappled shadows on the ground under the streetlights.

I paid the fare, got out of the car, and picked up my bag.

The neighborhood was quiet, most of the windows were dark, and only a few households had their lights on, with a faint warm light shining through the curtains.

There was a thin layer of frost on the ground. Stepping on it made no sound, but you could feel how slippery it was.

The unit door's combination lock was entered with four digits, and the door popped open.

The hallway lights are voice-activated; they turn on as soon as footsteps are heard, illuminating a dusty stroller at the corner of the stairs.

A dried-up Christmas wreath hung outside the security door on the second floor; the plastic leaves were curled at the edges, so it was probably hung up last year.

Third floor.

The key was inserted into the lock and turned twice.

He stood in the doorway for a second when the door was pushed open.

It wasn't hesitation; it was my nose that sensed that scent first.

The house had been uninhabited for three days; the air was still, with a faint rusty smell from the tap water pipes.

The light switch for the entryway is on the right-hand side; with a click, it turned on.

A thin layer of dust settled on the shoe cabinet counter.

He changed into slippers and hung his coat on the hook behind the door.

After walking a few steps, he found the air conditioner remote on the coffee table. He picked it up and pressed it, but nothing happened.

The battery is loose.

He opened the battery cover, pried out the two AA batteries, turned them around, and put them back in, then tried again.

The air conditioner beeped and started blowing warm air.

The bag was left unopened on the sofa.

Go to the kitchen first and turn on the tap.

I rinsed it for a few seconds, drained the overnight cold water that had been sitting in the pipes, and then filled a cup.

I took a sip.

It's cold.

I didn't boil water.

The cup was taken to the study.

The things on the desk were the same as before I left: a keyboard, a mouse pad, and a pen without a cap.

The pen tip is dry.

He screwed the pen cap on and put it in the pen holder.

I pressed the power button on the main unit.

With a hum, the fan started spinning.

When the monitor lights up, it first shows a blue screen, and then the desktop loads.

Three folders.

It's placed in the upper right corner of the desktop, with the icons very close together.

Lv4.

Abyss-v4.

in case.

I moved the mouse over and clicked Lv4 first.

The folder opens to a blank white screen with nothing inside.

Turn off.

I ordered Abyss-v4.

The same blank space.

Turn off.

The mouse cursor hovered over the icon of the third folder for about two seconds.

The word "if" is highlighted in blue.

No double-click.

When the mouse is moved to an empty area of ​​the desktop, the selection box disappears.

He leaned closer to the back of the chair.

The chair's hydraulic rod made a soft creaking sound.

I picked up the water glass and took another sip. The light from the monitor was reflected on the glass, forming a pale blue arc.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through it.

There is no new information from Shen Nan.

Consultant Xu did not.

Old Zhou didn't.

Xie Yu did not.

Fang Yuan did not.

He scrolled through his WeChat message list from top to bottom.

The last conversation was three days ago, sent by Shen Nan, confirming the handover of documents for LM-X.

He replied "Received".

After that, no one spoke again.

The entire list was quiet; not even anyone in the GG group sent a message.

Put the phone back on the table, screen down.

I opened my browser and logged into the CCPS backend.

The data panel for the second batch of four cities popped up, showing a flat curve that was steadily rising.

The daily average exceeded 5000, which is more than 200 more than before he left.

Temperature control is 99.7%, with no fluctuations.

He watched it for about half a minute, then turned it off.

Then I opened the Ark's monitoring page.

Of the seven accounts, three remain frozen.

The SEC logo is still there, a small red dot in the upper right corner of the page with the word "Active" written next to it.

There are no new developments.

Turn off.

The monitor is back on the desktop.

Three folders.

Empty, empty, not opened.

He stood up from the chair and went to the bathroom to wash his face.

The water was very cold; tap water at the end of December was enough to rinse without adding ice.

He saw himself in the mirror as he wiped his face with a towel.

He didn't look particularly tired, just a dull, listless weariness.

I have some stubble on my chin; I haven't shaved in three days in Beijing.

I came out of the bathroom and passed through the living room.

The warm air had already warmed the room up a bit, unlike when it was first cold when I entered.

The curtains weren't drawn, and the corridor lights in the building across the street were on. It was the sixth floor, and no one was there.

Further along, the streetlights along the riverbank form an arc, their orange-yellow high-pressure sodium lamps winding their way along the riverbank.

A car drove across the bridge, its red taillights leaving a long trail in the reflection of the river.

Back in the study.

sit down.

I flipped my phone over and looked at it, but there were still no messages.

Put it back.

He reached out and pulled the keyboard closer, then opened Notepad.

The cursor is flashing in the upper left corner.

The page was white and blank.

The cursor blinked for about ten seconds.

He didn't type a single word.

When I closed the window, a dialog box popped up asking "Save?", and I clicked "No".

The computer is also turned off.

When the monitor went dark, everything on the desktop disappeared at the same time, including the icons of the three folders.

The study suddenly became very dark.

The only light source was the streetlight shining through the window, casting a blurry, orange-yellow shadow on the opposite wall, along with the shadows of the roadside tree branches.

He did not get up immediately.

I sat in that orange light for a while.

The study was quiet, with only the faint ticking sound of the main unit cooling down after it was turned off, and the continuous hum of the air conditioner vents.

Someone was walking their dog downstairs; the sound of their paws hitting the paved pavement came up from three floors away, a click-clack sound.

After taking a stroll, I'm already far away again.

The refrigerator made a humming sound in the kitchen, the sudden vibration of the compressor starting up lasted for two or three seconds and then stopped.

The room fell silent again.

He stood up, took the water glass to the kitchen, and poured it out.

The cup was left in the sink without being washed.

I turned off the living room lights and prepared to go to the bedroom.

The phone lit up.

A small patch of white light suddenly appeared on the desktop.

It wasn't a phone call, it was a WeChat message.

He picked it up and glanced at the sender.

Shen Nan.

Two words.

"Are you there"

There is no question mark.