Jiang Cheng huddled in his seat, maintaining a stiff posture as he dozed. In his half-awake state, he finally heard the flight attendant announce their arrival in San Francisco. Feeling as though he had been granted a reprieve, he crawled out from under his blanket. He first checked on Stanley, and seeing the old man unbuckling his seatbelt, Jiang Cheng straightened his formal wear, folded the blanket neatly on the seat, and stretched his stiff muscles. The people around them began to stand, but seeing that Stanley remained seated, he waited calmly. Only when the cabin had mostly cleared did he stand up to help Stanley retrieve his luggage before pulling out his own backpack, which held nothing more than two changes of clothes.
Stanley’s expression was weary, and his entire demeanor seemed subdued. It was understandable; losing two friends in such a short span of time was hardly news to be happy about. Once they cleared customs, Stanley turned to Jiang Cheng. "I’m sorry for dragging you to San Francisco on such short notice and disrupting your plans."
Jiang Cheng trailed behind, pulling Stanley’s suitcase. "It’s no trouble. I’m also very saddened by Professor Worth’s passing."
Stanley sighed. "When you get to be my age, seeing your old friends off one by one is truly a miserable experience."
Stanley was a few years younger than Tao Minxing. The two had met after becoming university professors and had maintained a good friendship ever since. Worth had also met Stanley through Tao Minxing, and they had known each other for decades. With both Tao Minxing and Worth passing away within a few months of each other, it was no wonder Stanley seemed so withered after receiving the news. Walking beside him, Jiang Cheng couldn't find the right words of comfort, so he remained in silent companionship.
"I shouldn't have asked you to come with me, but I thought about it—the sooner your paper is promoted, the better," Stanley said, forcing himself to rally his spirits. "Regardless, if Worth knew such a paper existed, he would have been very pleased."
Jiang Cheng had received Stanley’s notification five hours before the flight, asking him to accompany him to San Francisco for Worth’s funeral. The news had come so suddenly that he hadn't even had time to process when Worth had passed. He had hurriedly booked a ticket, packed a few clothes, and followed Stanley onto the plane.
By the time their car reached the cemetery, the viewing was just beginning. Looking at Worth lying in the casket, Jiang Cheng finally realized with a dull shock: Worth was gone.
Worth had wasted away to a shadow of his former self. Even with the mortician’s makeup, he no longer looked like the man in Jiang Cheng’s memory. An indescribable feeling rose in Jiang Cheng’s heart—it seemed that ever since the seminar, people around him had been disappearing one after another for no apparent reason. This strange sensation haunted him until Dean, Worth’s younger son whom Jiang Cheng had previously met via video call, approached him.
"Jiang Cheng?" He struggled slightly to pronounce the name.
It was now the luncheon following the funeral. Jiang Cheng had accompanied Stanley as he greeted acquaintances, and once Stanley decided to go rest, Jiang Cheng had found a corner to gather his thoughts. He hadn't expected this man, whom he had only seen once before, to seek him out.
"That’s me." Jiang Cheng stood up straight. "Is something the matter?"
Dean held a letter in his hand, his expression an indescribable mix of confusion and gravity. "It’s like this. We found this while sorting through my father’s effects." He handed the letter to Jiang Cheng. "It has your name on it, along with a sticky note."
Jiang Cheng took it. The note hadn't been removed; it was still stuck to the envelope. It read: *Do not call, do not email, do not contact Jiang Cheng. If the opportunity arises, deliver this to him in person.*
After reading it, Jiang Cheng looked at Dean in confusion. "This is...?"
Dean had been watching his expression closely. Seeing Jiang Cheng’s bewilderment, he looked even more perplexed. "Strange, isn't it? But that’s exactly what the note says. We discussed what my father meant, and we figured it meant we couldn't take the initiative to contact you by any means. If we didn't happen to cross paths, then perhaps this letter was never meant to be delivered. Fortunately, you actually came to his funeral. Since this wasn't us initiating contact, we felt we could give it to you under these circumstances."
Jiang Cheng looked at the letter in his hand. The simple white envelope now seemed profoundly eerie. He made a gesture as if to open it, and Dean said, "Go ahead. My task is done. Thank you for coming."
Jiang Cheng found a secluded corner and opened the letter. His face turned deathly pale after reading only the first few lines. Inside was a printed email. The sender was Tao Minxing, and the recipient was Worth. The content concerned the Hughes data tampering incident, but contrary to Jiang Cheng’s long-held understanding, Tao Minxing didn't just suspect Luo Jia in the letter—he pointed the finger directly at Jiang Langmin, suspecting him of orchestrating the entire affair.
Jiang Cheng was stunned. He looked closer; the email hadn't been printed directly. It appeared to be a screenshot that had been printed out. He checked the timestamp: December 22nd, midnight. At that time, Tao Minxing should have already been dead for two days.
Jiang Cheng instinctively scanned the room and easily spotted Dean in the crowd. He stared at him for a moment, unable to find any reason why the man would play a prank on him—not only was this only their second meeting, but they were currently at his father’s funeral.
Frowning, Jiang Cheng withdrew his gaze and composed himself to read the rest. The letter was long. Jiang Cheng read slower and slower as a chill crept over his body. By the end, he felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar. His brain felt as though it had been struck by a hammer—muddled and nearly incapable of thought.
Dean was chatting with someone who bore a resemblance to him. Jiang Cheng, casting politeness aside, walked straight up to Dean and asked in a trembling voice, "Mr. Worth, may I ask a question?"
Dean exchanged a look with the man beside him. "Of course."
"Would it be possible for me to see Professor Worth’s inbox?" Jiang Cheng said, noting both men’s deepening frowns. "The letter the Professor left me contains a printed email sent to him by Professor Tao. But the date on this email is clearly two days after Professor Tao passed away. I want to confirm that this isn't some kind of prank!"
Dean and the man beside him looked astonished. Then Dean spoke. "Well, it’s not that we wouldn't let you, but my father’s computer suffered a technical accident. Most of the data was lost."
"What?"
The man who had been chatting with Dean added, "A while back, there was a very troublesome strain of ransomware—the kind that deletes your files if you don't pay. My father’s computer was infected. But he was in the ICU, and we were busy taking care of him, so we only discovered it when we were organizing his files after he passed. Because the ransom wasn't paid, the attackers wiped everything on his computer. They didn't even spare the emails. They locked the computer down, too; it took a lot of effort to get it open, but everything inside had been cleared. My father’s private photos and notes... nothing was left."
As Jiang Cheng listened, a specific passage from the letter looped repeatedly in his mind: *“Although I haven't found concrete evidence yet, based on the timeline and those strange details, I cannot believe Jiang Langmin could remain untainted by this incident. In fact, he may be more dangerous than anyone. I cannot guarantee the security of my communications, nor do I know if I am already under surveillance. I only hope that upon receiving this letter, you will be careful in all things. I am sorry; it was I who caused all of this.”*
Jiang Cheng’s face was so pale that Dean and Chris waved their hands in front of his eyes with concern. "Are you alright?"
Jiang Cheng snapped out of it and nodded frantically. His first instinct was to leave. His feet shifted slightly, then he stopped and asked, "One more question. Did the Professor fall ill after attending Professor Tao’s funeral?"
Dean thought for a moment. "Yes. He got sick right after getting off the plane."
"We found out later that there were others on the plane infected with the same virus, but they were all young people, so..." Chris shrugged. "It’s likely because my father was the oldest, and he had just suffered a great shock."
Jiang Cheng forced himself to apologize and take his leave. He didn't know how he made it out of the room. A flood of images surged through his mind in a short span of time, and a terrifying thought coiled in his heart, refusing to dissipate. In the warm early spring sun, Jiang Cheng’s back was drenched in cold sweat, and his body shook uncontrollably. By the time he regained his senses, he had already pulled up Lu Linjiang’s number on his phone. Just as his thumb was about to press down, Jiang Cheng stopped himself abruptly.
He stared at the name on the screen, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. In the end, his finger did not press down. Using every ounce of self-control to stop himself from making the call, he exited the interface and found a way to buy the earliest flight back to China.
Despite his efforts to control himself, he found he was still shivering involuntarily. He no longer cared if he wrinkled his clothes; he simply wrapped himself tightly in a blanket. Jiang Cheng stared blankly at the white clouds outside the window, finding his mind completely stalled. He could only pray: *Faster, just a little faster!*
When Jiang Cheng finally knocked on the door of Lu Linjiang’s apartment, the anxiety circling his heart finally eased slightly. However, the person who opened the door wasn't Lu Linjiang, but a young woman with curly hair.
Jiang Cheng’s heart sank. Looking at her, he found he didn't know what to say. She spoke first. "Are you... looking for Lu Linjiang?"
He nodded mechanically. The young woman smiled. "He sold this place to me. He doesn't live here anymore."
"..." Jiang Cheng stared at her. His subconscious fear hadn't come true, yet he didn't know if he should feel relieved. He had only been gone for a few days, and Lu Linjiang had already sold his apartment! He forced a smile, and feeling it was inappropriate to stay, he turned to leave.
"Wait a second," she called out to him. "He said he’d be staying downstairs for the time being, though I don't know exactly which unit."
"Downstairs?" Jiang Cheng walked downstairs in a daze, standing before his own front door with a sense of disbelief.
***
