Day 15 back in the squad, routine resumed its proper rhythm.
06:30, ten-kilo weighted vest, Tang Lan's combat training. Today she used a real blade—oscillating sword, edge unsharpened but coated with rule-interference laminate. A hit would briefly paralyze nerves. She slammed me nine times. On the last fall, my derivative workbook spilled from my bag, opened to the "implicit differentiation" page.
Tang Lan glanced at it: "You got this one wrong last time."
"Fixed it this time." I got up, stuffing the workbook back.
"Good." She sheathed the blade, "Remember in combat—if you mess up, fix it. Once fixed, don't repeat."
08:00, theory class. Old Chen lectured on Rift Zone ecology, the PPT showing a complex topological map of how Rift Zones "take root" in reality.
"Rift Zones don't appear from nothing." He said, "They need an anchor—a reason for reality to loosen. Accidents, deaths, intense emotions... or transactions."
"Transactions?" A new adaptoid raised his hand, "Rift Zones can be traded?"
"The Rift Zone itself can't, but Rift Zone items can." Old Chen's prosthetic leg tapped the blackboard, "Black market, students. Remember that word. The Administration's greatest enemy isn't Rift Zones—it's human nature."
I lowered my head to take notes, using my pencil to underline "black market" three times.
The cracks on the barrel left silvery-white traces on the paper like scars.
---
14:00, I requested leave to return to school.
Changzheng High's 63rd monthly exam results were posted. I ranked second overall, first in English. The homeroom teacher called me to the office—university admissions wanted to meet me.
"Student Lin Jin, your improvement is remarkable." The admissions officer was polite, "We'd like to invite you to our chemistry competition summer camp, direct admission."
"Thank you, sir." I said, "But I want to take the Gaokao normally."
"Why?" He was stunned.
"Because someone's waiting for me to finish." The image of B-07's four-person table flashed through my mind, "I can't leave early."
Leaving the office, Li Ming waited in the hallway.
"Lin Jin, you've been off lately." He lowered his voice, "Chemistry competition? You used to score 38 in chemistry."
"People change."
"Not this drastically." He leaned in, "You haven't... encountered something unclean, have you?"
My heart skipped: "What do you mean?"
"Someone's been selling these at school." He pulled a purple crystal from his pocket, nail-sized, "Called wish stones—grant any wish. I tried it, it works—I wished for +20 in math, and yesterday's test was exactly the set I'd memorized."
The crystal burned hot in my hand. The sync monitor buzzed: 40.1%.
"Where did you get this?" My voice tightened.
"Abandoned market in the old district." He scratched his head, "The vendor wore a black mask, a cloak, voice was weird—synthetic-sounding. He said they're 'Rift Zone souvenirs,' 50 yuan each."
"Anything else?"
"Nope." He paused, "Oh—he left a weird line before leaving: 'Tell Lin Jin his pencil needs replacing.'"
I squeezed the crystal. It cracked in my palm, golden liquid flowing out like molten rules.
Li Ming's face paled: "This is..."
"Don't touch." I threw the remains in the trash, "This is Administration contraband."
"Administration? What administration?"
"The one that runs your life." I patted his shoulder, "Remember—don't touch."
I turned and left without looking back. But I knew Li Ming stood there for a long time, clutching another crystal—he hadn't told me he'd bought two.
---
17:00, I returned to headquarters, storming straight into the briefing room.
"Rift Zone black market in the old district." I slammed the crystal shards on the table, "Selling unrefined Rift Zone core fragments disguised as wish stones, targeting students."
Gu Yan already had surveillance pulled up: "We knew earlier."
On screen, the old district's abandoned market—three vendors in black masks, matching cloaks, hawking purple crystals to passersby. The footage was from three days ago, seventeen transactions logged, all buyers students.
"Why no action?" I asked.
"Can't trace the source." White Gloves emerged from shadows, "These fragments are C-level Rift Zone remnants, but the purification traces are A-level. Means someone inside Administration is involved."
"Who?"
"Don't know yet." The chief entered, face grim, "But discovered one thing—those black masks are standard-issue gear from Logistics scrapped three years ago, serial numbers B-07 through B-11."
"Our squad's equipment?" Tang Lan frowned.
"Scrapped equipment, to be precise." Zhou Fang adjusted his glasses, "I transferred to frontlines after discovering Logistics using scrapped gear for trading. Only caught a small fish then—didn't realize the scale."
"How big now?"
"Seven sites in the old district, daily revenue exceeds 500,000." Gu Yan said, "Buyers range from students to executives. Worst part—the fragments are reprocessed. Won't spike normal people's sync rates, just makes them... dependent."
"Like drugs." I murmured.
"Worse than drugs." White Gloves said, "Drugs destroy the body—this destroys existence. Overuse turns people into part of the Rift Zone, but they don't know. Then one day they vanish, and everyone else gains a memory of 'he never existed.'"
The briefing room fell silent.
"So," the chief spoke, "We need a mole."
He looked at B-07 Squad: "You're perfect. You have the masks, cloaks, equipment. Most importantly, you have Lin Jin."
"Me?" I froze.
"You're a student—target customer for the fragments." The chief said, "Your infiltration is most natural."
Shen Xingyao didn't speak, just looked at me like assessing risk. After three seconds, she nodded: "Fine. Condition—I maintain spatial lock the entire time. Any anomaly, I pull him out immediately."
"No." The chief said, "Spatial lock will be detected. Image Master can sense any rule-level interference."
"Then use a mark." She insisted, "I place it on his heart—shatter, and I'll tear the black market apart."
"Approved."
"Also." She looked at me, "During the mission, homework continues as normal."
"What homework?"
"Specialized Derivative Training Set 11." She said, "Due tomorrow."
---
22:00, dormitory.
B-07 Squad tried on black cloaks.
The cloaks were special material, could block 90% of rule detection, but movement slowed while wearing. Tang Lan swirled one on—it looked like a blanket, she frowned: "Slows draw speed by 0.5 seconds."
"Then don't draw." Zhou Fang adjusted the jammer inside the cloak, "Use fists, blade flats, teeth."
"I don't bite people."
"I do." He grinned, "Biting equipment—I'm used to it."
Gu Yan's cloak was shortest, only to his knees, convenient for accessing his tablet. He sewed a pocket inside the cloak lining, perfectly sized for the tactical board: "Rule writer's also blocked—inside, I can only handwrite formulas."
Shen Xingyao didn't wear a cloak. She said: "I don't need it."
"Why?"
"My space needs no hiding." She said, "I myself am the rule."
She looked at me: "Does your cloak fit?"
I tried it—black fabric over school uniform, like a second skin. The hood was large, could cover my face, showing only eyes.
"It fits." I said.
"Good." She turned, "Tomorrow 19:00, see you at the old district market. You go alone, we four are 500 meters out. Remember—don't die."
"Copy that."
She left, cloak billowing behind like black flame.
---
23:30, dead of night.
I finished Specialized Derivative Training Set 11, got two wrong, scratched them out, rewrote. My pencil scratched paper, silvery-white traces flickering and fading.
The dorm was mine alone, the other three asleep, snores rising and falling. I quietly got out of bed, walked to the window—the old district direction was dark.
I took out my pencil, wrote on the glass:
[Under the black mask, whose face is real]
The text lingered three seconds, then seeped into the glass like last time, vanishing.
But this time, I didn't leave.
I crouched, lightly drew a circle in the corner dust with my pencil, writing inside:
[Lin Jin, B-07 Squad, S-07 shadow line, going to black market tomorrow]
Then, I held the pencil in my mouth like a cigarette, biting a new crack into the barrel with my teeth.
Not deep, but enough for silvery-white light to seep through.
I stared at that light for a long time, until it breathed in sync with my heartbeat.
Then I stood, pocketed the pencil, returned to bed.
The bracelet vibrated once in the darkness.
Sync rate: 40.0% → 40.1%
I smiled in the dark.
Because just now, the line I'd written had quietly turned golden inside the glass.
[Lin Jin, your mask needs changing]
Image Master is waiting for me.
And we, are also waiting for him.