Zhu Yujian followed Qi Cheng into yet another workshop, curiosity written plainly across his face.
At the entrance, two newly hired "workers" were pushing a cart stacked high with thick iron plates.
They looked miserable.
Sweat soaked their backs. Veins bulged at their temples. Their breathing came in ragged gasps.
In truth, both men were seasoned Imperial Guards. Martial artists capable of flipping that cart with one arm if they wished.
The exhaustion was pure theater.
Across the workshop, the director of the armored vehicle division, once a spy of the Jin state and now a model pillar of Chang'an Factory, observed them from the corner of his eye.
He let out a faint cold snort.
"As expected," he muttered. "The boss's judgment never misses. Those two are no real laborers. And now they're studying Deputy Director Qi Cheng."
His gaze sharpened.
Qi Cheng was not just another technician.
He was the core.
The spine.
The man who had boldly declared that heavy industry was the foundation of national strength. The one who dreamed aloud of turning Chang'an Factory into an industrial hegemon. Recently he had even begun exploring materials science, talking about building a materials empire.
His ambition was so grand it made ordinary men feel small.
If enemy spies were targeting someone, Qi Cheng would naturally stand at the top of the list.
—
Zhu Yujian toured workshop after workshop.
Steel shaping. Engine assembly. Precision machining.
His eyes widened again and again.
By the time he stepped out of the last one, his mind felt fuller than a scholar's library.
There was no need to rush onward.
He decided to stay the night.
—
That evening, Zhu Yujian entered the employee cafeteria.
The place was lively. Workers laughed, bowls clattered, steam rose from fresh dishes.
A woman steadily carried large serving bowls to the counter.
Her movements were practiced and efficient.
Sweat glistened on her forehead, but her expression was calm.
Other women teased her.
"Yanzi, you're the deputy director's wife now. Why are you still carrying heavy bowls?"
Yanzi wiped her forehead and smiled.
"What's wrong with being the deputy director's wife? My husband works alongside the laborers. If I start acting like some arrogant landlord's madam, wouldn't that embarrass him?"
The women burst into laughter.
"Yanzi, you and your husband are truly something."
Zhu Yujian, who had been listening from nearby, felt a stir in his chest.
He approached respectfully and bowed slightly.
"Madam, I could not help overhearing. You are the deputy director's wife?"
Yanzi waved him off. "No, no. I'm just a cafeteria worker."
Just.
The word echoed in Zhu Yujian's mind.
He stood there silently for a moment.
Since childhood, he had been taught hierarchy. Imperial bearing. Distance from commoners. How to sit. How to speak. How to command.
Status defined a person.
Yet here was the wife of a high-ranking factory official carrying bowls beside ordinary workers, laughing without reserve.
This was not merely sharing hardship.
This was blending with the people.
And the people loved her for it.
Zhu Yujian felt something inside him shift.
"So those in positions of authority should not float above the masses," he thought. "They should stand among them."
He returned to his seat, eating slowly, lost in contemplation.
In the distance, the two Imperial Guards watched him carefully.
And further still, the former Jin spy observed everything.
He quietly scribbled a note.
"These two spies appear to have set their sights on Bin Sheng's wife."
—
Half an hour later.
In the factory's back garden, beneath dim electric lamps, Bin Sheng sat with his ten trusted veterans.
One by one, they reported.
"Boss, the two under my watch are focusing on Deputy Director Qi Cheng."
"Mine are sniffing around the steam engine blueprints."
"Two of mine keep circling the employee dormitories."
Bin Sheng listened, face tightening.
"This group is ambitious," he said slowly. "They are not targeting one secret. They want everything. It appears we are facing a long battle."
He looked at each man in turn.
"We cannot act rashly. If we move too soon, we alert them."
Another subordinate stepped forward.
"Boss. The two I'm monitoring were watching Lady Yanzi in the cafeteria."
Silence.
Then Bin Sheng exploded.
"What?!"
His eyes turned red instantly.
"Come. We cut them down now. Contact Security. Close the net immediately!"
Two men grabbed his arms.
"Boss, calm yourself!"
"You just said we cannot alert them!"
"They're targeting my Yanzi!" Bin Sheng's voice trembled with fury. "Forget startling snakes. I'll slaughter those dogs and feed them to pigs!"
All ten men had to restrain him.
"Boss, we still do not know their mastermind."
"We cannot move yet."
His breathing was heavy.
Slowly, painfully, he forced himself to calm down.
"Intensify surveillance," he ordered coldly. "Not a single movement escapes our eyes."
"Understood."
Boundless Hell had just grown personal.
—
Night fell.
The factory closed.
Workers streamed into the residential area.
Electric lamps illuminated every corner. Bright, steady, unwavering light.
Some workers played cards beneath the lamps. Others tossed a ball across the courtyard. Elderly family members sat under trees, sipping tea and telling stories.
It was lively. Warm.
Alive.
Zhu Yujian smiled as he greeted a few of them before heading toward the guesthouse arranged by Logistics.
The guesthouse stood within the residential compound, a quiet detached building.
Peaceful.
Ordinary.
Mi Qianhu and his twenty-four subordinates also entered the residential area.
As newly hired workers, they had no private housing yet. They were assigned to employee dormitories not far from the guesthouse, separated by a single courtyard.
Each room housed four men.
Seven rooms total.
Now, at least, they no longer had to pretend to be strangers. In groups of four they could openly act as dorm mates. Casual introductions. Light chatter. Harmless laughter.
Mi Qianhu walked slowly with three subordinates.
"This," he murmured, "is where the people of this strange factory live. Zhu Yujian is likely somewhere among them."
One subordinate glanced upward.
"Boss… these lights. They do not burn. Yet they shine brighter than torches. How?"
Mi Qianhu snapped quietly, "Focus on the mission. We are not here to solve ten thousand mysteries. We are here to capture Zhu Yujian."
"Understood."
Another subordinate lowered his voice.
"Boss… ever since we entered this enormous factory, I feel like someone is watching us."
Mi Qianhu did not answer immediately.
Because he felt it too.