The laptop fan sounded like it was trying its absolute best not to die. Kai sat cross-legged on the floor, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed at the screen as lines of code scrolled slowly. Lian stood behind him with her arms folded, leaning forward just enough to read over his shoulder.
“Okay,” Kai said, squinting, “I think I’m in.”
“You always say that before the real pain starts,” Lian replied.
He pretended to be offended. “Wow. No faith.”
“I have faith in your stubbornness. Not your optimism.”
Kai clicked something and waited. A loading bar appeared. Then froze. Then lurched forward like it had been shoved by a tired intern.
Lian blew out a breath. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. This is how old LSK encryption looks. It thinks it’s fancy. It’s actually just slow.”
She crouched next to him. “How slow?”
Kai tilted his head. “Like a grandma trying to send an email.”
She made a sound halfway between irritation and a laugh. “Kai.”
“Okay fine. Maybe ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes is not slow.”
“For a hacker it is.”
Lian nudged him with her shoulder. “Stop whining.”
He nudged her back. “Stop breathing over my ear.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
She rolled her eyes and moved back, sitting on the edge of the bed. The room was too warm now. The hostel air conditioning clearly wasn’t trying anymore. Sunlight filtered in through the thin curtains, making the dust in the air look like tiny floating ghosts.
Kai glanced at her. Lian’s face was calm, but her hands were clasped tightly in her lap.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
He gave her a look.
She sighed. “I’m thinking. Not spiraling.”
“That’s a start.”
Lian leaned back against the wall and stared at the laptop. “If the names on that drive really link to the old contract, I want to know why they resurfaced now. Why the fixer had them.”
Kai said nothing. It wasn’t the right moment for reassurance. Sometimes she didn’t want comfort — she wanted clarity.
The loading bar pinged and turned green.
Kai sat up straight. “We’re in.”
He opened the directory. Dozens of file names appeared. Some were meaningless strings of numbers, others were short bits of text that looked like codes. Lian moved to sit beside him again, this time slowly, like she wasn’t sure what she was going to see.
“Wait,” Kai murmured. “Look.”
There were timestamps beside each file. Some dating back years. Some newer.
Lian pointed. “The recent ones. They were all added within the last six weeks.”
Kai clicked one. A list popped up. Not long. Maybe twelve names.
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He read them quietly to himself. Then he whispered, “These are all people tied to the old project.”
Lian leaned in closer. “I recognize two of them.”
“Same.”
They scrolled. Some names had small flags next to them. Some had a symbol that looked like a triangle inside a square.
“What’s that?” Lian asked.
Kai zoomed in. “Priority mark. LSK uses that for people they want eliminated but can’t do directly. Outsourced contracts.”
Lian was still staring at the list. Her voice was low. “Why these twelve?”
Kai wasn’t sure how to answer. He went back to the timestamps. “Look. The older files don’t have that symbol. Only the recent ones.”
“Which means the fixer was working off new instructions,” Lian said.
Kai nodded. “Someone updated the list. Someone high enough to sign off.”
Lian drew in a slow breath. “This wasn’t random then.”
“No. Definitely not.”
She got quiet. Not tense, just thinking again.
Kai opened another file — a short memo. It was encrypted text but partially corrupted. He tapped a few keys until the text became legible.
Lian read it aloud. “Contract renewals authorized. Continue cleansing pending files.”
“Cleansing,” Kai repeated. “They love their dramatic vocabulary.”
Lian didn’t smile. “This means they’re not just after us.”
He turned his head. “Lian, they’ve always been after more than us.”
“Not like this.”
He waited. She didn’t elaborate.
He opened another file. This one was a photo, slightly blurry, taken through a window. A man in his late fifties, wearing a suit, stepping into a car. Lian leaned closer.
“Wu Jianming,” she said.
“Who is he again?”
“Worked under our father for six months. Quit right before everything happened. He moved to Singapore. Last I heard he was consulting.”
Kai clicked for attached info. There was a note. “Target confirmed. Surveillance ongoing.”
Lian pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Why chase him now? He never had access to the core design.”
“Maybe he knew someone who did.”
“Or maybe he kept a copy,” Lian said quietly.
Kai frowned. “You think he’d do that?”
“I don’t know. He was always… careful. Paranoid.”
Kai opened another folder. Another list. Smaller than the first. Only five names.
He scanned it. “These ones all have addresses.”
Lian straightened. “That means they were active targets.”
“Or current ones.”
She pushed her hair back, thinking hard. “We need to find out who the fixer contacted before we showed up. If he was moving on one of these names, we’re already behind.”
Kai looked up at her. “Think he passed anything off?”
“He didn’t have time to hand anything over. But he could have already sent updates before we reached him.”
Kai grimaced. “Right.”
They sat there in silence for a moment. The laptop hummed quietly. The fan rattled from the ceiling. Downstairs someone dropped a tray of dishes and swore loudly.
Lian finally spoke. “Let’s filter for messages. Anything sent out in the last twelve hours.”
Kai typed a few commands. A small list popped up. Only two outgoing files.
One was a brief report. The other was a packet of coordinates.
Kai clicked the second.
A map opened. A red dot blinked somewhere across the harbor.
Lian leaned in. “That’s in North Point.”
Kai zoomed in until the rooftop shapes became clearer. “Looks like an apartment block.”
Lian’s tone went flat. “Coordinates mean someone there is already flagged.”
Kai stared at the blinking dot. “Do you think—”
“We’re going,” Lian said. She stood up, fast. Too fast. “Grab your gear.”
Kai blinked at her. “You want to just walk in there blind?”
“Not blind. Just not slow.” She grabbed her jacket off the chair. “Whoever that fixer reported on last night, it means someone at that location is already under watch.”
Kai opened his mouth, then shut it. He could see it in her posture. She was steady, not shaken. Focused. Determined.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Let me pack the laptop.”
She was already tying her hair back. “We check it out. If it’s nothing, we walk away. If it’s something, we adapt.”
Kai zipped the laptop into his bag. “You know this could be a trap.”
“It could also be a person who doesn’t know they’re on a list.”
He paused. “So we’re saving them.”
Lian gave him a look that was matter-of-fact. “If we can.”
He nodded once. “Alright then.”
They slipped out of the hostel quietly, walking down the narrow stairs and into the bright Hong Kong morning that already smelled like humidity and street food and gasoline.
No dramatic music. No rush of adrenaline.
Just the two of them, side by side, heading toward a blinking red dot on a stolen map.
Toward whatever it meant.
