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

Lin Che turned back to page seven of the printed document, the timeline of unusual inflows into BVI accounts.

The text on the page was printed very small; Chen Wei used Song typeface, size 9, so a lot of information could be crammed onto a single sheet of paper.

He turned on the lamp and zoomed in to take a closer look.

Four strokes.

The first transaction, on October 2nd, amounted to 10 RMB.

The second transaction, on October 19th, was 10 million.

The third transaction, on November 14th, was 11 million.

The fourth transaction, on December 22nd, was for 12 million.

The intervals were 17 days, 26 days, and 38 days, respectively.

The intervals are widening.

The amounts vary, with no obvious increasing or decreasing pattern.

If there were a pattern, Chen Wei would have discovered it long ago.

The absence of a pattern is itself a form of information.

The people who send money are not following a fixed procedure; they are acting according to some external rhythm.

He went through the four dates in his mind.

October 2nd, the second day of the National Day holiday.

On October 19, the second batch of cities in CCPS had just been launched a week earlier.

November 14th is not a special date.

On December 22, the day before he was in Beijing preparing for the fourth meeting of the 607 group.

He compared the four dates with his own schedule and found no overlap.

I compared the operation logs with those of Ark, but couldn't find any overlap.

He picked up his phone and scrolled to Chen Wei's chat window.

Last time, I still saw those two "received" messages but didn't send a message.

This time he pressed the dial button.

He glanced at the time as he dialed the number; it was 8:42 a.m.

It rang three times.

I accepted it.

There was no background noise, so Chen Wei was probably in a quiet place.

"Did you see it?" Chen Wei's voice was as clean as his note, without anything superfluous, even skipping the greeting.

"I saw it, those four strokes for BVI."

"Um."

A brief silence.

It wasn't the awkward kind; it was the kind where both people were waiting for the other to speak first.

Lin Che spoke first.

"Have you found the source?"

"I checked, but couldn't find it."

Four words, no further explanation.

Someone else might have added, "What channels did I use to find out?" or "Which directions were ruled out?", but Chen Wei wouldn't.

I searched but couldn't find it.

Do you have a direction?

"They're not one of ours."

Lin Che sensed the weight of those words.

In Chen Wei's dictionary, "our people" are clearly defined: all operators within the Ark system who hold authorized keys.

"Not one of our people" means that the four sums of money were not allocated internally by Ark, ruling out system errors or delayed arrival.

Where is the enemy?

"It doesn't seem like it either."

They don't seem like enemies either.

These three words carry more weight than "not one of ours".

If it were a sting operation by the SEC, the amount involved wouldn't be so small, and the pace wouldn't be so casual. Moreover, Chen Wei had seen the SEC's methods before, and he could recognize the traces.

If the spy is from a competitor, the same principle applies, but the methods will be more systematic.

"Unlike" means that Chen Wei had gone through all the enemy's operational patterns he knew, and none of them matched.

There was a two or three-second silence on the phone.

Lin Che heard soft keyboard sounds coming from Chen Wei's side; he was probably in front of his computer.

They're not one of us.

They don't seem like enemies either.

Who is that?

"Are there any special features about the amount?" Lin Che asked.

"No," Chen Wei said, "it doesn't match the transfer habits of any of our known affiliates, including the common counterparties of the seven accounts flagged by the SEC."

This was the longest sentence Chen Wei spoke today.

Lin Che could sense that he had spent a lot of time on this matter.

Chen Wei wouldn't say things he hadn't confirmed; when he said "none of them match," he meant they really didn't match.

"The amount is too small," Chen Wei added. "If it were about moving the Ark, this level of investment wouldn't be used."

If the goal were to move the ark, this scale wouldn't be used.

These words were spoken calmly, but the underlying meaning was clear: the people who sent the money were not there to cause trouble.

Someone who was neither an ally, nor an enemy, nor someone there to cause trouble, deposited four sums of money into the BVI account.

That's strange.

"Keep an eye on it," Lin Che said. "Let me know if any new cases come in."

"Um."

There was another second of silence.

"Anything else?" Lin Che asked.

This question isn't just directed at the BVI.

They hadn't been in contact for almost a month, and he was giving Chen Wei a chance to speak.

If Chen Wei wanted to explain where he had been and what he had done during this time, this was the best opportunity.

"No."

Chen Wei's voice remained unchanged, exactly the same as his first sentence, "You saw it?"

There was no explanation for why he disappeared for almost a month.

I didn't ask how Beijing was doing.

I didn't ask about 607.

There was nothing there.

This is Chen Wei.

"Okay," Lin Che said.

It's over.

He placed his phone on the table; the screen was still lit.

The call log is displayed at the top, with Chen Wei's name next to a number.

37 seconds.

The entire phone call lasted thirty-seven seconds.

Two people who hadn't spoken for almost a month finished saying everything they needed to say in thirty-seven seconds.

There were no pleasantries, no explanations, and not a single extra word.

There wasn't even a simple "How have you been lately?"

In thirty-seven seconds, he received three pieces of information: they couldn't find them, they weren't one of their own, and they didn't seem like enemies either.

The three pieces of information together point to one conclusion: an unknown third party is testing Ark's BVI account with a very small amount of money.

Lin Che turned his phone upside down and placed it face down on the table.

He rearranged the printed documents, clipped them with binder clips, and placed them on the left side of the desktop.

On the right is the note, with the words "Received" facing upwards.

Two things were placed side by side: one was Chen Wei's silent return, and the other was Chen Wei's silent answer.

I turned on my computer and logged into the Ark game's backend.

On the BVI account page, the amount and time of the most recent deposit are consistent with those on the printout.

December 22, 12 million.

The source field displays a string of code, not a name; it is sixteen characters long and consists of a mix of letters and numbers.

He copied the code and pasted it into the reverse lookup tool in the background.

The system processed for two seconds and returned "No matching record".

The cursor blinked a few times in the search box, and he typed it in again, but the result was the same.

Just like Chen Wei said.

I checked, but couldn't find it.

Close the background processes.

The chair was moved back a little.

The office window faces west, and at this time the sun hasn't turned yet, so the light is gray.

The printed documents and sticky notes lay quietly on the desktop.

The warm air from the air conditioner caused the edges of the sticky note to curl up slightly before settling back down.

They're not one of us.

Unlike an enemy.

The amount is too small; it doesn't seem like enough to move an ark.

Four strokes, three months, no pattern.

It's not an attack.

What are they doing?

He thought of a possibility.

But that possibility is too great, so great that he doesn't dare to think in that direction for the time being.

The phone was face down on the table, and the 37-second call log had sunk to the bottom.

The wind outside picked up again, and the glass curtain wall made a humming sound.