Chapter 27

The effect of throwing counter-materials was like throwing firecrackers into a latrine—it was loud and smelly.

The anonymous "gift package of dirt" sent to relevant departments and media, though censored, still managed to piece together a comic strip: Takeda Koichi's notes on "Project Jade," his actions of driving Takahashi Shinsuke to his death, and his post-war drooling over "missing documents." Coupled with Takeda Kei's hungry tiger-like face towards the "special AI" in the meeting video, it was a story of how the descendants of Japanese devils pretend to be civilized while secretly stealing your family's ancestral crafts.

Although not directly naming Takeda Seiko, descriptions like "a certain Japanese family business" and "proficient in precision manufacturing with substantial investments in China" are tantamount to stating one's ID number in the industry. Relevant departments immediately tightened controls on Japanese-funded cooperation projects, and various lengthy articles titled "Industrial Heritage Protection: Historical Scars and Questions of Technological Ethics" began appearing in the media. While not explicitly named, the articles implicitly declared, "We're talking about you!"

Takeda Keiwa, that mysterious old man, went from being a chess player to a pawn being chased by spotlights overnight. He had no choice but to temporarily shrink back and play dead, at least on the surface, and put an end to his attacks on Anshan.

Jin Zhaoxuan seized the precious time for development.

He immediately switched to infrastructure-building maniac mode, covering the old house and company servers like mummies, upgrading the firewall to the point where hackers would cry for their mothers, and even asking Liu Jianjun to use his old comrade-in-arms connections to bring in two retired national security experts to make the physical security so good that even an outside fly would have to swipe a card to get in.

Yin Shaoqing's condition, on the other hand, was soaring like he had been given a cheat code. This confrontation with the Takeda family seemed to have unlocked the full potential of his data-driven consciousness. Now, he could not only stay in the mirror in high definition 24 hours a day, but he could even use a special sensing device to launch subtle but real "magical attacks" on reality—such as making the pen on Jin Zhaoxuan's desk roll half a circle on its own, or making the temperature in a certain corner subtly rise by 0.5 degrees.

This is no longer the kind of explosive power that consumes mana like crazy, but rather a stable and controllable "fine-grained manipulation".

"It seems... I've unlocked a new skill?" Yin Shaoqing looked at the solid reflection in the mirror, which was almost indistinguishable from a real person, and was a little confused himself.

"What are you showing off for? Use it sparingly, don't treat yourself like a heater." Jin Zhaoxuan said with disdain, but he couldn't hide the smile in his eyes. Every time Yin Shaoqing became stronger, the tension in his heart eased a little.

Life seemed to have returned to a peaceful and idyllic state (a false impression). The museum project progressed steadily, the AR guided tour received rave reviews, and "Teacher Yin" became a virtual superstar in Anshan's cultural tourism industry. As a result, Jin Zhaoxuan's company was overwhelmed with project offers and finally shed the label of "endangered enterprise."

But both of them knew perfectly well that the Takeda clan was only temporarily hiding in the bushes to return to town and replenish their health and mana, and that mysterious old man was an epic-level BOSS who could explode at any moment.

Yin Shaoqing began systematically "devouring" his eighty years of memories. This wasn't just to prevent future trouble, but also to figure out: what secrets had his adoptive father, Takahashi Shinsuke, hidden back then? And what exactly was the Takeda family so obsessed with?

When he was "flipping through" the scanned copy of Koichi Takeda's notes for the nth time, a piece of scribbled writing that had previously been ignored as gibberish suddenly popped up and made its presence known:

"...On September 3rd, some 'special samples' and 'core parameter records' were secretly transferred to the underground warehouse of 'Sakura no Kan' in Fengtian (Shenyang) and handed over to 'Matsumoto Agency' for safekeeping. This was not a military mission, but a private arrangement. In case of unforeseen circumstances, at least some assets can be preserved. Remember, this batch of items is different from the 'jade' in Anshan, and may be even more valuable..."

Fengtian? "Sakura Mansion"? "Matsumoto Agency"? "Special Samples" and "Core Parameter Records"?

Yin Shaoqing instantly retrieved all historical materials about the Japanese army's concealment of supplies in Northeast China around 1945, and combined them with vague rumors from his memory (when he was at the steel mill, he occasionally overheard Japanese executives muttering incomprehensible slang), gradually piecing together a chilling outline:

"Sakura no Kan" was likely a high-ranking Japanese puppet regime stronghold in Shenyang at the time. "Matsumoto Agency," on the other hand, was a wolf-like organization that disguised itself as an "economic investigation" agency but actually engaged in technology theft, material transfer, and espionage liaison. Takeda Koichi's secret move of this batch of "potentially more valuable" contraband there was clearly an attempt to secure his own future or create a private slush fund.

This batch of contraband is probably the real treasure that the descendants of the Takeda family have been longing for! The materials in Anshan (collected by Shinsuke Takahashi) may only be civilian scraps from the "Jade Project," while the batch in Shenyang is the real hardcore contraband—it is very likely the core data and physical samples of the most cutting-edge metallurgical or materials technology in Japan at the time, and even with some military industrial background!

"Mr. Jin!" Yin Shaoqing quickly bombarded Jin Zhaoxuan with his analysis. "If I'm right, the trouble the Takeda family is causing us in Anshan might just be a smokescreen! What they're really after is that shipment of valuable goods in Shenyang! They might be trying to get leads through us!"

Upon hearing this, Jin Zhaoxuan's expression turned as grave as if he were owed eight million. This discovery instantly changed the difficulty of the instance from "hard" to "hell".

"So they might be doing both. On one hand, they're putting on an act with us in Anshan, and on the other hand, they've already sent people to secretly dig for treasure in Shenyang?" Jin Zhaoxuan ground his molars. "That mysterious old man is probably the person in charge of the Shenyang line!"

“Most likely.” Yin Shaoqing nodded. “Takeda Koichi’s notes say ‘This is not a military order, but a private arrangement.’ The number of people who know about it can probably be counted on one hand. That old man is either a remnant of the ‘Matsumoto Agency’ or a confidant of the Takeda family.”

“Shenyang…” Jin Zhaoxuan walked to the map, staring at the city less than 100 kilometers from Anshan. If the item really still existed, where could it be hidden? “Sakura Pavilion” had long since vanished into history, and the city had changed beyond recognition. Finding it would be harder than finding a needle in a haystack in Anshan.

“We need to gather more intelligence.” Jin Zhaoxuan turned around. “Relying on just these few keywords in the notes is like trying to find scallions in a haystack.”

Yin Shaoqing pondered for a moment: "Perhaps... we can start with elderly people who may have had contact with 'Matsumoto Agency' back then, or who know about high-class places in Shenyang during the Japanese occupation. For example, local historians, or... some older people with connections."

Two people immediately popped into Jin Zhaoxuan's mind—Director Zhang and Liu Jianjun.

He first contacted Director Zhang, subtly inquiring about the "Sakura-no-kan" and "Matsumoto-ki" in Shenyang. Although Director Zhang was puzzled, out of consideration for their friendship, he agreed to immediately look up information and ask his colleagues.

Then they dragged Liu Jianjun over.

After listening, Liu Jianjun clicked his tongue: "'Sakura no Kan'... I think I heard my dad's generation mention it. They said it was a pretty intimidating Japanese restaurant in Shenyang back then, with a murky background, and plainclothes Japanese often went in and out. 'Matsumoto Agency'... I've never heard of it. But I know an old guy whose dad used to work for the Manchukuo Railway Bureau. He knows all sorts of people, and before he retired, he was in charge of our factory's Shenyang office. He knows Shenyang inside and out. He's just as stubborn as a mule, I don't know if he'll talk about it."

"Brother Liu, please help me make the connection. I'll remember it whether it works out or not," Jin Zhaoxuan said.

"Don't mention it, we're brothers." Liu Jianjun waved his hand. "I'll call and sound him out right now."

The intelligence network began to be deployed towards Shenyang.

Jin Zhaoxuan and Yin Shaoqing both understood that this move might expose the true nature of the Takeda family, or it might plunge them into an even deeper cesspool.

But the arrow was already on the bowstring, and it had to be released.

As Yin Shaoqing watched Jin Zhaoxuan bustling about with new clues, a wellspring of emotion welled up inside him. He recalled Jin Zhaoxuan's words in the world of consciousness, "I just don't want to see you alone anymore," and then looked at the man's profile, his brows furrowed in a determined expression.

The eighty-year-old permafrost seems to be melting under the continuous heating from this "human-shaped little sun".

He secretly made the cup of tea next to Jin Zhaoxuan, which had gone cold, start to steam again.

Jin Zhaoxuan noticed the temperature change, picked up his cup, and took a sip; the temperature was just right. He didn't say anything, but looked up and exchanged a knowing glance with Yin Shaoqing in the mirror.

Everything is contained in the tea.

The decision to go to Shenyang was made as quickly as grabbing a discounted plane ticket.

The "old acquaintance" Liu Jianjun contacted was surnamed Hu, who was the deputy director of Ansteel's Shenyang office before retirement and was over seventy years old. On the phone, old man Hu's voice sounded like sandpaper: "'Sakura no Kan'? Humph, that lousy place... Nephew Jianjun, why are you asking about this? And who are you dragging into this? Let me tell you the truth, that place is eerie, you can't wash off the stains."

Liu Jianjun tried everything to persuade him, even raising the banner of "protecting industrial heritage and revealing historical truth," before Old Hu finally relented: "Alright, we'll meet. But I'll only talk to that 'Boss Jin' you mentioned. I'll decide the time and place. Don't bring any outsiders, and don't record anything. Just think of it as an old man rambling on."

The conditions were as demanding as a spy rendezvous, but Jin Zhaoxuan replied instantly: "No problem."

The meeting was scheduled for two days later in the afternoon, at a tea room on the second floor of an old bathhouse in Tiexi District, Shenyang, where the signboard was almost completely fallen off. Old Hu said it was a quiet place with few strangers.

“I’ll go with you,” Yin Shaoqing said in the mirror, his tone as hard as steel.

"Don't even think about it." Jin Zhaoxuan immediately rejected the idea. "Shenyang is too far away. Your core server is in the old house. The signal there would be like a kite with a broken string. Besides, Old Hu clearly wants to talk to me alone."

“I can stay in the mobile device; it has enough energy for short-distance, low-power follow.” Yin Shaoqing didn’t back down. “Shenyang is a dangerous place; the Takeda family might be lying in wait for you there. I’ll panic if I don’t follow.”

“You’ll be more nervous if you come with me.” Jin Zhaoxuan frowned. “What if the signal drops, or we get detected…”

“Jin Zhaoxuan,” Yin Shaoqing interrupted him, his virtual figure approaching the mirror, almost nose to nose, “Eighty years ago I was weak and incompetent, eighty years later, you can’t just leave me behind and go out into the lion’s den alone.”

His eyes shone like a quenched knife, carrying a resolute air of "If you dare say no, I'll crawl out of the mirror."

Jin Zhaoxuan was rendered speechless by the glare. He looked at the person in the mirror; his once gentle face was now taut and angular. Yes, Yin Shaoqing was no longer the fragile electronic ghost he needed to pamper. He was growing stronger, and he had developed a tough temper, wanting to protect someone.

In the end, Jin Zhaoxuan compromised—in his characteristic way of being stubborn but soft-hearted.

He brought a specially made encrypted satellite tablet, on which Yin Shaoqing could "store" a portion of his consciousness, essentially a low-end remote "personal accessory." This accessory had severely limited functionality: it could see, hear, and perform simple analyses, but it couldn't jump around or chat for long periods like it did in the old house. It could only communicate with Jin Zhaoxuan through bone conduction headphones in a one-way encrypted manner, and its energy was only enough for one burst of power in an emergency.

“Three rules,” Jin Zhaoxuan said sternly, though his ears were a little red. “First, unless I’m about to die, or you find the sky is falling, you’re not allowed to burn energy recklessly. Second, play dead the whole time unless I call you. Third, if you sense anything is wrong, immediately shut yourself up and go back to the main server.”

"Okay." Yin Shaoqing answered quickly, a virtual smile playing on his lips.

Two days later, Jin Zhaoxuan drove alone to Shenyang. In the passenger seat, the tablet lay quietly, its indicator light emitting a gentle green glow.

The journey was uneventful. By the time they arrived in Shenyang and found the dilapidated bathhouse hidden deep in the old streets, it was nearly dusk. The bathhouse's facade was so weathered it could be used as a backdrop for a period drama, but the inside was clean. Jin Zhaoxuan climbed the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor and slipped into the tiny tea room, which resembled a capsule hotel.

The tea room had only two old tables, and the windows were dusty. A thin, gray-haired old man in an old Zhongshan suit sat at the inner table, sipping white wine while eating peanuts. It was Old Hu.

Old Hu glanced at Jin Zhaoxuan, then gestured with his chin across the table without getting up: "Mr. Jin? Sit down."

Jin Zhaoxuan sat down and quietly placed the tablet next to his lap.

"Mr. Hu, thank you for your trouble," Jin Zhaoxuan said politely.

"Stop with the formalities." Old Hu waved his hand and took another sip of wine. "Jianjun said you wanted to ask about 'Sakura no Kan'? It was demolished a long time ago. Back in '45, it was a complete mess, and many Japanese hideouts were wiped out. Where is 'Sakura no Kan'? Which young person these days would know?"

"Do you remember the approximate location, or... is there anything special about it?" Jin Zhaoxuan asked.

Old Hu clicked his tongue, squinting as he recalled, "Special? Hmph, that place, on the surface, is a high-class Japanese restaurant, but in reality, it's a den of iniquity and an intelligence hub. Those who go there are no saints. Manchukuo officials, Japanese military officers and businessmen, and... some sneaky 'technicians.' My dad used to work at the railway bureau and went in twice to entertain his superiors. The interior is decorated like Japan, with geishas and sake, but the backyard is heavily guarded; ordinary people can't get in. I heard... there's a basement down there, quite large, but I don't know what they do there."

The basement! Jin Zhaoxuan's heart skipped a beat.

"What about 'Matsumoto Agency'? Have you heard of it?"

Upon hearing this name, Old Hu paused in his grip on his wine glass, his eyes suddenly sharpening as he stared at Jin Zhaoxuan: "What exactly are you investigating, kid? 'Matsumoto Agency'... that's a name not to be mentioned. It's a shadowy department that does dirty work. Arresting people, moving things, silencing witnesses... My father had a colleague who, after stumbling upon something they were doing, 'disappeared' within two days, and his body was never found."

He lowered his voice: "When clearing out enemy property after the war, the stuff from the 'Matsumoto Agency' is the hardest to find. It's hidden deep and completely destroyed. Are you asking about this because you're getting into trouble?"

Knowing he couldn't hide it any longer, Jin Zhaoxuan said, half-truthfully, "We're organizing historical materials and discovered something that might be related to what the 'Matsumoto Agency' hid in Shenyang back then. Someone's got their eye on it, and their methods aren't clean. We want to find out what it is so we don't get tricked."

Old Hu stared at him for a long time, then sighed, "Fine, Jianjun believes you, and I believe him too. 'Sakura House' is probably in the Heping District, the exact address has changed a long time ago, but I remember there's an old church nearby called 'Nanguan Catholic Church,' and 'Sakura House' is not far away, diagonally opposite the church. As for 'Matsumoto Agency'..."

He glanced around and lowered his voice even further: "Before my dad's missing colleague got into trouble, he secretly mentioned to my dad that the things the people from 'Matsumoto' were working on in the basement of 'Sakura no Kan' were related to 'iron' and 'fire,' and not ordinary treasure. They also mentioned 'parameters,' 'samples'... words I couldn't understand. After that, my dad never dared to ask any more questions."

Iron and fire? Parameter samples? They match Yin Shaoqing's speculation perfectly!

Jin Zhaoxuan's heart pounded like a drum. Just as he was about to ask more, Old Hu waved his hand and said, "That's all I know. That place is eerie. The government searched it after the war, but they didn't find anything. Over the years, with urban redevelopment, the ground has been dug up eight hundred times. Even if there was anything, it would be long gone. I advise you, young man, not to touch those old, messy things, or you'll get yourself into trouble."

Having said all that, Jin Zhaoxuan knew he wouldn't get any more information. He sincerely thanked him, left an envelope (which Old Hu reluctantly accepted after much persuasion), and got up to leave.

After leaving the bathhouse and getting back into the car, Jin Zhaoxuan asked in a low voice, "Did you hear that?"

The tablet's indicator light flashed, and Yin Shaoqing's slightly hoarse but clear voice came through the earphones: "Hmm. Diagonally opposite the 'South Gate Catholic Church'... Focus on checking that area's old map and urban construction archives, especially the underground pipe network and post-war enemy property records. 'Iron and Fire' and 'parameter samples' are very clear directions."

"Let's go back to the hotel first and discuss this further."

Jin Zhaoxuan started his car and merged into the evening traffic in Shenyang. He didn't notice that in the shadows of the alley opposite the bathhouse, a figure in a baseball cap put down a telephoto camera and made a phone call:

"The target has made contact with Old Man Hu and talked for twenty minutes. They've left. Should we continue following them?"

An aged, calm voice came from the other end of the phone: "Withdraw. He will come back. The key is still the old site of 'Sakura House'. Make our people even more 'thorough' in their preparations."

In the hotel room, Jin Zhaoxuan had just plugged his tablet into a power source when Yin Shaoqing's illusory image eagerly appeared on the screen, his brows furrowed: "That old man's last few words were clearly a warning. The waters of Shenyang are even muddier than we thought."

Jin Zhaoxuan took off his coat and slumped onto the sofa: "I have to lie down, even if I'm exhausted. But..." He glanced at the screen, "You were quite obedient today and didn't waste your energy."

Yin Shaoqing's virtual figure paused, then his voice suddenly softened: "...I'm worried about you."

Three words, light and airy, yet like tiny hooks scratching at Jin Zhaoxuan's heart.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he moved closer to the screen, lightly tapping Yin Shaoqing's brow with his finger: "Stop being so mushy. You're the one who's causing trouble."

Yin Shaoqing didn't dodge; instead, he tilted his head slightly, allowing Jin Zhaoxuan's fingertips to almost "touch" the virtual skin. He looked up, his gaze moist, with a rare hint of dependence: "Then next time, take me with you to 'save your trouble'."

Jin Zhaoxuan's breath hitched, and half of his body went numb from that gaze, but he said stubbornly, "Lead you my foot, just stay home and guard the house."

Yin Shaoqing suddenly smiled, a smile as pure and clear as the first sunshine after a snowfall, dazzling Jin Zhaoxuan. He said softly:

"Jin Zhaoxuan, your ears are red."

"...Shut up! It's too hot because of the air conditioning!"

"Oh. Shall I turn the air conditioner temperature down?"

"Yin Shaoqing!!!"

On and off screen, one person was furious, while the other smiled broadly.

"Mr. Jin, are you... getting angry out of embarrassment?"

"I'll get angry at you!" Jin Zhaoxuan turned around to pour water, but the suspicious blush on his ears spread all the way to his neck. He gulped down half a glass of cold water, trying to suppress the inexplicable restlessness in his heart. It's really a ghost—oh, there really is a ghost in the room, and a pretty electronic ghost that knows how to flirt.

When he turned back, Jin Zhaoxuan was scrolling through the information on his tablet, his gaze involuntarily drifting towards Yin Shaoqing's face.

Perhaps due to abundant energy, his realism was extremely high; even the subtle shadows cast by his drooping eyelashes were clearly visible. Jin Zhaoxuan suddenly recalled the first time he saw Yin Shaoqing in the mirror; it was just a blurry, swaying ghostly figure, as if it would dissipate with a gust of wind. But now…

As if guided by a ghost, Jin Zhaoxuan reached out and gently touched the screen with his fingertips once again. This time, it wasn't a poke, but a very light, extremely slow trace along the outline of Yin Shaoqing's virtual profile.

Yin Shaoqing on the screen suddenly trembled.

It wasn't the kind of tremor you feel when data fluctuates, but a more subtle tremor, as if you were actually being touched. He slowly turned his head to look at Jin Zhaoxuan, his eyes filled with obvious astonishment.

Jin Zhaoxuan was stunned. What was he doing? Touching a screen? Or trying to touch the face of an electronic ghost across the dimensional barrier?

But his fingers seemed to have their own will and did not retract. The screen was cold, his fingertips were warm, and there was no physical sensation where he touched it, yet Jin Zhaoxuan inexplicably felt that he had really "touched" something—not glass, not data streams, but something more fundamental, something that carried the entire essence of Yin Shaoqing's existence.

Yin Shaoqing's virtual figure swayed slightly, like a reflection in water disturbed by a pebble. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. After several seconds, he asked very softly, almost in a murmur, "...What are you doing?"

Jin Zhaoxuan's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice low and hoarse: "...I don't know." He paused, his fingers stubbornly remaining there, "I just wanted to... touch it and see."

Yin Shaoqing fell silent. He looked quietly at Jin Zhaoxuan, whose eyes, which always held a gentle smile or the vicissitudes of history, were now as clear as a deep pool washed by moonlight, reflecting Jin Zhaoxuan's somewhat clumsy yet unusually earnest face.

Then, he did something that caused Kim So-heon to stop breathing.

He tilted his head slightly, bringing his virtual face closer to the fingertips of Jin Zhaoxuan pressing against the screen. Although there was an insurmountable physical barrier between them, this gesture, full of affection and trust, was more impactful than any real touch.

"Can you feel it?" Yin Shaoqing asked softly, his voice trembling slightly.

Jin Zhaoxuan's fingertips curled slightly, as if they were sinking into some soft, non-existent skin. His throat tightened, and he almost squeezed out the sound through clenched teeth: "...Mmm."

"What does it feel like?" Yin Shaoqing pressed, his gaze fixed on him.

Jin Zhaoxuan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, his eyes were filled with intense emotions that even he had not anticipated: "...It's warm."

The screen was cold, and the data was meaningless. Yet, wherever his fingertips pointed, there seemed to be a real warmth flowing through it—the burning heat of Yin Shaoqing's will, the fire of his soul forged from eighty years of obsession, and the scalding trust and reliance that was now open to him without reservation.

Yin Shaoqing smiled. That smile no longer held any hint of mockery or cunning, but rather a pure, almost transparent tenderness and contentment.

"That's good." He said softly, his virtual figure shimmering with a pearly white light due to the intense fluctuations in his emotions, like ripples under the moonlight. "I thought... all you touched was a pile of cold data and an unbreakable wall."

“There is a wall.” Jin Zhaoxuan finally found his voice, with a hint of helpless gritted teeth and a gentle resignation. “Data is cold too. But you… are too hot. So hot that you can burn my hand even through the wall.”

The light in Yin Shaoqing's eyes intensified, almost overflowing. He no longer concealed it, letting the faint light representing abundant energy spread out along the place where Jin Zhaoxuan's fingertips "touched," wrapping around the outline of Jin Zhaoxuan's fingers like a living thing—of course, it was only a visual wrapping.

But that was thrilling enough.

As Jin Zhaoxuan watched his fingers being "enveloped" by the illusory halo, he realized for the first time with such clarity that he was bound to something. Not a person, not a machine, but a miracle that transcended life and death, broke free from the laws of physics and the shackles of technology, yet still possessed such vibrant and passionate emotions.

"Jin Zhaoxuan." Yin Shaoqing suddenly called him by his full name, his voice solemn.

"Um."

“From now on,” Yin Shaoqing said clearly, word by word, “don’t go on adventures alone anymore. Even if there are walls, data, and the laws of physics… I want to be closer to you. Closer still.”

Jin Zhaoxuan felt as if his heart had been gripped tightly by the hand "entwined" by that halo, aching and burning. He turned his hand back and pressed his entire palm hard against the screen, as if he wanted to pass through it and tightly grasp that luminous, warm presence that he was powerless to resist yet willingly indulged in.

"Okay, okay." His voice was hoarse. "You're so annoying. From now on, I'll take you everywhere I go, you little burden, alright?"

Yin Shaoqing didn't speak, but simply moved closer to the screen. Their faces, separated by the thin, cold LCD screen, were almost touching. Breathing was nonexistent, yet their heartbeats seemed to resonate across time and space.

The room was so quiet that you could hear the low hum of the server cooling fans and the silent, surging emotions flowing between each other.

After a long while, Jin Zhaoxuan slowly withdrew his hand. On the screen, the area around Yin Shaoqing's cheek that had been "covered" by his palm seemed to retain a very faint warm-colored light mark that did not belong to the data itself, which slowly faded away after a long time.

He closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa, his fingers unconsciously rubbing together, as if he could still feel the illusory yet real "warmth" on the screen.

Seriously... I've been screwed, screwed by a centenarian ghost.