The metal door to the database slammed shut behind him, shutting out the piercing alarm. Su Wanwan's sobs sounded exceptionally clear in the confined space, like a dull knife repeatedly cutting into Lin Zhengguo's eardrums.
The old man waved for the last guard to leave, and the fingerprint lock clicked to activate, ensuring that no one could disturb this conversation that was five years overdue.
"I'm not going!" Su Wanwan abruptly shook off Lin Zhengguo's hand, taking two steps back and bumping into a file shelf. "Today you have to tell me why you haven't told me the truth for so long!" Her voice was hoarse. "I was so naive, thinking Mom and Dad were still on a mission, but it turns out you were lying to me!"
Lin Zhengguo stood rooted to the spot, his impeccably tailored military uniform appearing particularly stiff under the cold, white light. He had witnessed too much life and death, and handled the aftermath for too many families of martyrs, but he had never been so speechless as he was now.
Su Wanwan was almost hysterical. She was tearing at her hair, her nails digging deep into her scalp, as if trying to distract herself from the tearing pain in her heart with physical agony. Every birthday wish of the past five years, every late-night wait, had become the cruelest joke.
"Wanwan..." Lin Zhengguo took a step forward.
"Don't call me Wanwan!" The girl curled up in the corner like a wounded cub. "You knew all along...you knew perfectly well..." Her voice suddenly weakened, turning into fragmented murmurs, "They're not coming back..."
Lin Zhengguo took a deep breath and turned to walk towards the terminal at the deepest part of the database. His fingerprint unlocked the highest level of access, and the blue light from the screen reflected on the old man's deeply lined face, making each wrinkle appear even deeper.
"Come here," he said without turning his head.
Su Wanwan didn't move. It wasn't until Lin Zhengguo brought up the holographic projection—which was the last photo of her parents together, with Su Qiming in casual clothes, his arm around his wife Lin Yan's shoulder, both smiling brightly at the camera—that she looked up as if struck by lightning.
\"This is......\"
"Your parents' mission files." Lin Zhengguo's voice was low. "I can't show you the classified parts, but these... you have the right to know."
Su Wanwan stumbled and slumped in front of the screen. The projector automatically played a mission briefing:
[“Chasing the Wind” Action Team: Su Qiming (Team Leader), Lin Yan (Technical Advisor)]
[Mission Objective: Escort top-secret documents back to the country]
[Last communication: September 14, 200x, 23:17, Target acquired, expected to arrive at the border in 4 hours]
[Accident Report: A transport plane was shot down by a surface-to-air missile in the airspace of country Y. There were no survivors. The wreckage contained...]
The text that followed suddenly turned into a mosaic. Su Wanwan frantically clicked the screen, but only received a cold "Permission denied" message.
"Who did it?" She turned to Lin Zhengguo, her voice suddenly becoming frighteningly calm. "Who launched the missile?"
Lin Zhengguo shook his head: "The other side has perfectly evaded all monitoring systems. Our technicians have been tracking them for three years, and all they know is that they don't belong to any defense force. But they do possess surface-to-air missiles."
"This is absolutely impossible! This couldn't possibly be equipment that armed forces could use." Su Wanwan mechanically repeated the word, as if she wanted to etch it into her very bones. The projected light cast shifting shadows on her face, and tears silently streamed down her cheeks, gathering into a line on her chin.
Lin Zhengguo wanted to pat her shoulder, but he pulled his hand back halfway through. Any comfort seemed pale and laughable at this moment. He had seen too many eyes like this—from grief to emptiness, and then to a kind of terrifying resolve. This girl he had watched grow up was undergoing some kind of transformation before his eyes.
"Your parents are heroes," the old man could only say in the end. "The data they protected saved the lives of hundreds of agents."
Su Wanwan suddenly laughed, a cold laugh: "What's the use of heroes? Can they bring them back to life?"
She reached out and turned off the projector. At this moment, Su Wanwan was calmer than a girl who had just had a breakdown.
"I need to see the debris analysis report," Su Wanwan said, her voice unusually calm. "Data on all the missile fragments we could find, the trajectory simulation, and all flight records from that airspace at the time."
Lin Zhengguo frowned: "These are top secret—"
"Give it to me." Su Wanwan looked up, her pupils filled with an unusual determination. "I can find what you can't."
The two stared at each other for a long time before the old man finally sighed and operated the terminal again. A new file package was decrypted, and massive amounts of data scrolled across the screen like a waterfall—radar scans, missile debris analysis, satellite infrared images...
Su Wanwan's eyes followed the information with superhuman speed. Her superpower, "Data Synchronization," was operating at full power, etching every byte of information deep into her memory. When she saw a map showing the distribution of wreckage, she suddenly froze.
"This trajectory angle..." She zoomed in on the image, "It's not a surface-to-air missile."
Lin Zhengguo leaned closer: "What?"
"It was an attack trajectory from a high-altitude dive." Su Wanwan's voice trembled with excitement. "It was a fighter jet! Country Y didn't have any fighter jets patrolling that airspace at the time!"
She pulled up another set of data, her fingers flying across the virtual keyboard. A few minutes later, a blurry satellite image was enhanced, revealing a small black dot swooping down from the clouds.
"Someone has tampered with the data..." Su Wanwan's fingernails scraped against the control panel, making a harsh sound. "This is definitely not a surface-to-air missile; Country Y has definitely intervened!"
Lin Zhengguo's expression turned serious. If what Su Wanwan said was true, then there was a deeper conspiracy behind the accident five years ago. And the tampering that could be concealed from Longyuan's technical department was something no ordinary force could accomplish.
"Wanwan, this matter needs careful consideration—"
"No." Su Wanwan closed all the files, turned, and walked towards the door. "I've waited five years." She stopped at the door, her back slender yet straight. "From now on, I'll find the answer myself."
Lin Zhengguo didn't stop her. He watched the girl, who had grown up at the base, walk straight out of the database, and knew that some irreversible change had occurred. The cheerful, playful computer genius had vanished, replaced by a hunter filled with deep-seated hatred.
The corridor lights cast Su Wanwan's shadow long, like a wound that never heals. An encrypted USB drive had appeared in her hand—no one saw when she copied the data.
"Mom and Dad, I'll find the murderers who killed you." She whispered, etching it into the deepest recesses of her soul. "I'll find them, and then make them experience a death a hundred times more painful than mine."
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