Chapter 41: Ministry of State Security Inquiry, Where Did This Algorithm Come From?

The atmosphere in cyber police officer Liu Jie’s office was compressed to a dangerous breaking point. He stared intently at the encrypted directive from the capital resting on his desk. Each printed character on the thin A4 sheet carried an unspeakable weight, pressing against his chest until it felt stifled, making every breath burn.

Overnight, the nature of the case had escalated from mere "suspected fraud" to a level that, in his twenty years of police service, he hadn't even encountered in his worst nightmares: a threat to national information security. These eight words, devoid of shouting or fury, collapsed like an invisible mountain within his psyche, grinding all his experience, judgment, and common sense into dust.

The next morning, as the sky just began to reveal a pale, fish-belly white, Liu Jie and his direct superior—the city bureau’s deputy director, a man usually imposing without even speaking—behaved like two green recruits. Holding their breath and maintaining a posture of extreme deference, they drove personally to escort two middle-aged men toward the dust-choked "Valley of Hope."

The two men had arrived overnight on a special flight from the capital. Their attire was so plain it was nearly invisible: grey jackets and dark trousers that would go unnoticed in any crowd. Yet, the intangible aura they exuded caused the heart of Liu Jie, a seasoned investigator who had licked blood off knife blades for two decades, to twitch uncontrollably. It was not the scent of violence, nor the weight of bureaucratic power. It was an extreme, piercing composure—like a sharpened blade hidden within the most modest of sheaths; the edge remained concealed, yet the chill already bit to the bone. When they were silent, the air in the car carried a metallic coldness that rendered the heater’s warmth futile.

The National Cybersecurity Center. The name alone represented the vanguard of the nation's information defenses, the true guardians of the digital national border.

He Yu’s temporary office was a container abandoned at the edge of a construction site. It stood alone, jarringly out of place amidst the bustling forest of steel and concrete. When heavy, rhythmic footsteps sounded on the wooden steps and the door was pushed open, four figures crowding into the cramped space, He Yu was hunched over a massive engineering blueprint. He held a red marker, rapidly annotating the design, so focused that he did not look up immediately. The small space was filled with the scent of soil drifting in from outside and the distinct smell of ink from the blueprints. In the corner, an old window-unit air conditioner hummed with a monotonous, weary drone, fighting a losing battle against the sweltering heat.

"Comrade He Yu, greetings."

The man in the lead spoke. His voice was devoid of emotional inflection—flat, icy, each word like a cold steel ball striking the membranes of everyone present. He bypassed any pleasantries, his gaze moving past Liu Jie and the deputy director to lock directly onto He Yu. "We are from the National Cybersecurity Center."

The tip of the pen in He Yu’s hand paused abruptly. He finally looked up, his gaze sweeping calmly over the four men at the door. His eyes were clear, showing neither confusion nor panic, as if he were merely looking at visitors who had taken a wrong turn.

The lead man continued, his pace unchanged, yet the sense of oppression mounting with every syllable. "We would like you to explain: where did this 'Distributed Resource Recycling' AI algorithm you published on your website come from?"

This question was like a massive boulder thrown into a deep pool. No, it was more like a silent bomb detonating in the minds of Liu Jie and the deputy director, leaving their ears ringing. Their breathing ceased entirely.

Another expert, slightly thinner in build, stepped forward. His eyes were sharper, seemingly capable of piercing flesh to stare at the secrets hidden in the depths of one's soul. He took a tablet from his briefcase; the screen glowed with dense streams of data and architectural diagrams. "According to our model cross-referencing and reverse-engineering of your public algorithm, the underlying architecture of your system shares over seventy percent structural similarity with a military-grade urban management AI currently under secret development by a major Western power, codenamed 'Genesis'."

Seventy percent!

The number acted like an electric shock, sprinting from the base of Liu Jie’s spine to the top of his skull, making every follicle on his scalp contract. The expert’s gaze remained fixed on He Yu, each word squeezed through his teeth with the weight of an indisputable judgment. "We require you to explain the origin of this algorithm immediately!"

He spoke slowly, word by word, the sound echoing within the small container and bouncing off the tin walls with a dull thud. "I hope you understand the gravity of this matter!"

As his voice fell, the hum of the old air conditioner became jarringly loud in the office. Aside from that, there was not a sound. Liu Jie felt his back soaked through with cold sweat, the fabric of his uniform clinging to his skin, damp and icy. The deputy director’s complexion could no longer be described as pale; it was a greyish, bloodless decay. He pressed his lips together, the muscles in his jaw taut as a wire.

They understood. This was no longer a suspicion of fraud. This was an accusation of stealing, or perhaps even... leaking, the highest-level military secrets of a foreign power! This charge required no trial. The "suspicion" alone was enough to wipe a person, and every trace of their existence, from the world, as clean as if they had never been born.

All eyes—four from the officials, two from the locals—totaling six gazes, were focused on He Yu. They waited. They waited for his defense, his panic, or his collapse.

Yet, faced with this lethal interrogation, He Yu’s reaction was terrifyingly calm. He slowly, gently, placed the red marker down beside the blueprint. The movement was unhurried, possessing an almost rhythmic grace.

*Tap.*

A soft sound. In the deathly silence, the click was so clear it made Liu Jie’s heart jolt.

He Yu looked up, meeting the scrutinizing, icy gaze of the two experts—the kind of look that could shatter any criminal’s psychological defenses. His face held not a hint of panic, nor even a flicker of surprise. It was a pure, unadulterated calmness.

He spoke softly, as if stating the simplest of objective facts. "It’s just a coincidence."

He paused, as if organizing a more precise vocabulary that they might understand. Then, with a tone of near-pity—much like a university professor looking at a primary schooler's homework—he added, "That AI of yours is riddled with holes; it’s completely unusable."