Chapter Forty-One: Traces and Clues

Chapter Forty-One: Traces in the Web

To investigate the personnel files of everyone in the Special Operations Bureau was no simple matter. The protocols for confidentiality were numerous, especially in an office such as this, where far stricter rules governed the preservation and perusal of internal records. It was not merely beyond Bai Zeshao’s authority—even Qian Yihai lacked such clearance. What Bai Zeshao wanted was access to all files within the Bureau, but he had barely begun to make his request when Qian Yihai refused him outright.

“Xiao Bai, it’s not that I won’t give you permission, but this is far more complicated than you imagine,” Qian Yihai said with a genial smile.

“Chief, I’m not asking for access to the classified files. I just want to get a general sense of our members’ backgrounds and social histories—simply those files that aren’t confidential,” Bai Zeshao explained, still pressing his case.

For Bai Zeshao, this was a rare opportunity: to browse the files of the Bureau’s members on a large scale could prove invaluable for his future work in covert operations, the benefits of which were difficult to estimate.

“Very well, I’ll speak to the Director. If he agrees, you may look through them; if not, you’ll have to make do with the files I can give you,” Qian Yihai said, then strode out of the office.

Bai Zeshao did not linger either. Along with Yang Miao and Qin Shuai, he went to the archives department. They did not enter immediately, for the records room was one of the Bureau’s most secure areas, off-limits to ordinary staff.

The three entered Yang Miao’s office, adjacent to the archives. As Bai Zeshao settled onto the sofa, his gaze fell on a bookshelf crowded with volumes. Curiosity piqued, he reached for one and was surprised. “Yang Miao, you read Japanese books?”

“Only when I have spare time. You know as well as I do—the situation between China and Japan grows ever more tense. All kinds of intelligence point to the strong possibility of a full-scale war breaking out. It never hurts to learn more,” Yang Miao replied.

“True,” Bai Zeshao nodded, inspiration flashing in his mind. “You have quite a few Japanese books here. Why not lend them to me? Who knows, they might come in handy someday—better to be prepared.”

“Of course. If you’d like, take them all—I’ve just about mastered their contents,” Yang Miao said offhandedly.

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Bai Zeshao replied with a smile.

Just then, someone arrived on Qian Yihai’s instructions to summon them to the records room. There, Bai Zeshao and his companions were granted permission to examine the personnel files of all members of the Operations Team, the Intelligence Section, and Administration. However, these files could only be read within the archives; none could be taken away.

Still, Bai Zeshao considered this a satisfactory outcome. The Intelligence Section, the Operations Team, and Administration were core units of the Bureau, and gaining an understanding of their personnel was no small achievement.

And so, Bai Zeshao, Yang Miao, and Qin Shuai sat down and began sifting through the mountain of files. Compared to Bai Zeshao’s and Yang Miao’s composure and patience, Qin Shuai seemed restless and irritable.

He flipped through the files carelessly, barely glancing at the contents, the rustling of papers breaking the quiet of the records room.

“Qin Shuai, perhaps you’d better wait outside rather than distract yourself and slow us down. Go find Xiao Bing and the others—join them in tracking down leads on Mr. Li,” Bai Zeshao suggested, glancing up.

“Really? That’s great! I’m just not cut out for this. I’ll leave you to it,” Qin Shuai replied, not waiting to finish his sentence before hurrying to the door.

Watching him, Bai Zeshao shook his head. He didn’t believe Qin Shuai lacked patience—he simply preferred the liberty and potential rewards of field investigation to the tedium of reading files.

Bai Zeshao and Yang Miao returned to their work. Despite their brisk pace, Bai Zeshao’s memory was exceptional—a gift in its own right. While not truly photographic, he rarely forgot what he read, especially when the files included photographs, personal histories, and social connections. Though these were only brief summaries, and could not fully capture a person’s reality, Bai Zeshao could still glean much—habits, temperament, weaknesses, even secrets.

In the hush of the records room, the two bent over their files as time slipped by and file after file was examined.

“It’s closing time. You’ll have to come back tomorrow,” an abrupt voice startled Bai Zeshao. He twisted his stiff neck and glanced at the clock; it was already seven in the evening.

He hadn’t realized how quickly the afternoon had passed. Nodding to the archivist, he rose with Yang Miao and left.

On the way home, Bai Zeshao collected the Japanese books from Yang Miao. As Yang Miao had said, it never hurt to know more—who could say when such knowledge might prove useful?

Over the next two days, Bai Zeshao and Yang Miao buried themselves in the endless files, while Liu Xiaobing and his team continued to track Mr. Li, never crossing paths with Bai Zeshao’s group, each busy with their own tasks.

In these two days, Bai Zeshao gained a general understanding of the personnel in the Operations Team, Intelligence Section, and Administration, though he found no clues. Rubbing his weary eyes, he pressed on, opening yet another file from the Intelligence Section, only to see the bold, red word “DECEASED” stamped across it.

He hesitated. That meant the person had died in the line of duty. Why was this file here? Usually, the Bureau’s files of the fallen were handled separately, never mingled with those of the living.

Was this a mistake by the archivist? He doubted it. The removal of such files was a standard procedure—an archivist would not err so carelessly. The presence of this file here was, at the very least, suspicious.

With this thought, Bai Zeshao bent over the file, reading carefully—and immediately noticed several unusual details.