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

Meeting room B has windows.

This was the first thing Lin Che confirmed after he pushed the door open and went in.

Two windows facing south allow the early January Beijing sunlight to stream in, casting two rectangular patches of warm light on the floor.

The room temperature was about 23 degrees Celsius, neither too hot nor too cold, and the air conditioner panel on the wall was lit up with a green light.

The table is oval, not rectangular like the 607.

The oval table has no clear "opposite" position; everyone's position is on the arc, and no one is directly facing anyone else.

There were six bottles of mineral water, six paper cups, and six printed agendas on the table.

Shen Nan was already sitting on the left side of the table, and nodded when he saw Lin Che come in.

The agenda in front of him had been turned, and a blue ballpoint pen drew a line somewhere on the second page.

The head of the National Security Bureau sat on the other side of the table, wearing a dark jacket, not the formal one he wore when they met in room 607, but more casual.

He stood up when he saw Lin Che come in.

"Mr. Lin."

Mr. Lin.

Previously, in room 607, he was called "General Manager Lin".

"Mr. Lin" is more formal than "General Manager Lin," but it's a level more polite.

"Please sit down," the head of the National Security Bureau said, pointing to the seat to Lin Che's right.

The female member of the technical evaluation team sat next to the head of the national security team. Her ThinkPad was open, the screen was lit but the content was not visible.

She nodded slightly to Lin Che without saying anything.

The other two.

The man, around fifty years old, sat opposite the woman in the technical evaluation group. He had gray hair and wore a dark blue sweater with a dark gray suit jacket over it.

The expression on his face was the kind of calm that only someone who has maintained composure for a long time has; it wasn't deliberate, it was a habit.

The bottled water in front of him was unopened, and the paper cup was unused.

The woman was sitting next to the man; she was younger than him, probably in her early forties.

Short hair, black turtleneck sweater, no jewelry.

The agenda in front of her had been turned to the last page, which meant she had already looked at it before she came.

Lin Che sat down.

Six people sat around an oval table, the sunlight streaming through the window casting long shadows of mineral water bottles on the surface.

The head of national security spoke first.

"Today's main topic is: the operational plan for the emergency circuit breaker mechanism."

He spoke more slowly than he did in 607, and his tone was flatter.

It wasn't an interrogation tone, it was a meeting tone.

"Our initial technical assessment suggests that both parties share the right to initiate the process, and neither party can trigger it independently. We have no objection to this principle," he paused, "Today we need to address the specific operational issues."

He glanced at Lin Che.

"First question: How many parties' signatures are required to trigger a circuit breaker?"

Lin Che glanced at Shen Nan.

Shen Nan shook his head slightly, meaning "You tell me."

"Both parties must sign," Lin Che said. "You have one signature, I have one signature; both of us must sign simultaneously to initiate the process."

The national security official nodded, as if he had expected this answer.

"Our initial plan also involves joint signatures, but there's one issue that needs verification."

Verification required.

That's the word he used.

It's not "confirmation" or "agreement," it's "verification."

This phrase implies leaving the decision-making power to the facts.

"In case of an emergency requiring the circuit breaker to be activated quickly, how should the time limit for joint signatures be set?"

"Within 24 hours," Lin Che said, "both parties completed the joint signing within 24 hours, and the circuit breaker took effect."

"What if we can't reach you within 24 hours?"

Under what circumstances would you be unable to contact someone?

For example, if you are not in the country.

Lin Che looked at him.

"Then call me back."

These four words are spoken very plainly.

This is not a provocation, nor is it negotiating terms.

It is stating the facts.

If this matter is important enough to trigger the circuit breaker, then it is also important enough to call him back.

A plane takes two hours to fly from Hangzhou to Beijing, and at most twenty hours to fly from anywhere in the world to Beijing.

There's no reason why we can't be contacted.

The national security official did not respond immediately.

He picked up the paper cup, took a sip of water, and put the cup down on the table without making a sound.

The gray-haired man glanced at Lin Che, his gaze lingered for about two seconds, and then he looked away.

That was the first time he had formally seen Lin Che that day.

"That's acceptable," he said, "but we need to add a clause: if we can't contact you within 72 hours, we can initiate the process unilaterally, and you can sign the agreement within 24 hours afterwards."

72 hours.

Unilateral temporary activation.

Signed retroactively.

Lin Che went through it in his mind.

72 hours is three days. The probability of not being able to contact him within three days is almost zero, unless he deliberately disappears.

However, once the "unilateral temporary activation" option is opened, theoretically the other party can legally shut down Abyss alone within the 72-hour limit.

"72 hours is too short," Shen Nan said. "I suggest 120 hours, five days."

The head of national security glanced at the man with gray hair.

This was the first time he had looked in that direction today.

The gray-haired man didn't speak, but simply nodded slightly.

"96 hours," the national security official said, "Four days, a compromise."

Shen Nan glanced at Lin Che.

96 hours is an intermediate value between Plan B and Plan C in Shennan USB drive.

It's not the best outcome, but it's within an acceptable range.

Lin Che nodded.

"Can."

The first topic has concluded.

The female member of the technical review team was typing on her ThinkPad, and the clattering sound was clearly audible in the quiet conference room.

The national security official was about to move on to the second topic.

Then the woman spoke.

She's not a female member of the technical evaluation team.

It was that short-haired woman in a black turtleneck sweater, in her early forties, who had reviewed the entire agenda before coming.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was very clear, with each word sharp and distinct.

"Mr. Lin, before moving on to the next topic, I'd like to ask a question that's not on the agenda."

The meeting room fell silent for a second.

The sound of the air conditioner blowing air, the sound of traffic flowing in the distance outside the window, made the female member of the technical evaluation team stop typing.

The expression on the head of national security's face remained unchanged; he clearly knew this question was coming.

The gray-haired man didn't move either, his hands resting on the table, completely still.

She looked at Lin Che with a steady gaze.

"Was your Africa strategy suggested by Abyss, or was it your own judgment?"

Africa.

Lin Che rested his right hand on the edge of the table, his fingertips pressing against the edge of the surface.

Africa.

It's not Abyss.

It is not CCPS.

It is not a circuit breaker.

It's Africa.

She knew about the existence of SPV in Africa.

She knew that Ark had a presence in Africa.

She asked a question about Africa at a conference about Abyss technology validation.

This means that the range of materials she saw far exceeded the twelve pages of the technical evaluation report.

The sunlight was still shining through the window, and the shadow of the mineral water bottle was still on the table.

Six people sat around an oval table, and no one moved.