At around nine-thirty in the morning, while An Yunxiu was in her rented apartment, thinking over certain plans and losing herself in wild fantasies, two middle-aged men sat facing each other in an office on the third floor of a certain agency building—one with a square face, the other bald and wearing glasses.
"Old Zhang!"
"Have a seat first. What would you like to drink?"
"Anything!"
"Bring out that treasured Da Hong Pao of yours!"
"By the way!"
"Old Wang, what's so urgent?"
"You have no idea. The work on my end has me completely swamped!"
As Old Zhang spoke, he sank deep into the sofa, put a cigarette between his lips, and reached for the lighter in his pocket.
Old Wang did not answer immediately. He merely shook his head, took the document from the manila envelope on the desk, and passed it across the desk.
"Read this first. We'll talk after you've finished."
"I'll make you some tea."
With that, he stood and walked toward the office tea area.
Old Zhang took the document and muttered something under his breath. Then, without wasting words, he lowered his head and began flipping through it quickly.
"!!"
Very soon!
His expression changed from perfunctory to surprised, then from surprise to something strange.
After that, he furrowed his brow and sat up slightly straighter.
As he kept reading, the unlit cigarette between his fingers was unconsciously crushed into the ashtray. He did not even notice it himself.
He read quickly, but not in the casual way of merely skimming pages. It was the trained sort of rapid reading that could swiftly seize upon key points amid a vast amount of information.
Finally, more than ten minutes later, he turned the last page. With an odd expression, he slowly placed