Detonate

At exactly eight that evening.

Han Luyi sat before his computer and refreshed the 36 Degrees Tech channel page.

The report was live.

Title: <Exclusive Investigation: Flash Tech's Core Operational Data Suspected of Large-Scale Fabrication; Privacy of 23 Million Users May Have Been Leaked>.

He did nothing. He neither shared it nor commented, and he did not mention it on any platform.

Ten minutes later, the tech media sphere exploded. Ma Xiaofei sent a string of exclamation marks in the Dorm 404 Group, Zhang Haoran sent a period, and Han Luyi did not reply.

Thirty minutes later, it was ninth on Weibo's trending list.

An hour later, it had climbed to third. The topic's views surpassed 200 million, and comments were pouring in by the second.

"Flash Tech just stole the privacy of 23 million users? Are you serious?"

"The people at Starlight Capital probably can't sleep now. Their Series B money hadn't even had time to warm up before this blew up."

"They even sent the data overseas??? This isn't a leak, it's selling it, isn't it? No wonder I've been getting scam calls lately—the kind that accurately call me by name."

Two hours later, Flash Tech released an emergency statement. Its wording was vague, neither admitting nor denying anything: "We are currently verifying the relevant information and will inform the public at the earliest opportunity."

Translated, that meant: "We're figuring out how to spin this."

Three hours later, Starlight Capital issued a brief statement: "We have taken note of the relevant reports and are communicating with Flash Tech's management."

The capital market reacted faster than public opinion. Flash Tech's Series B closing was suspended, and Tuesday's closed-door investor meeting was canceled outright.

Han Luyi opened the report page, then opened Sight.

[Report views: 2.87 million (rising)]

[Public opinion impact rating: A]

[Flash Tech real-time valuation fluctuation: -22% (falling)]

He closed Sight.

His phone rang.

Gu Siyue.

"Did you see the news?" Han Luyi asked as he picked up.

"I saw it. It was written with restraint, relying entirely on the data to speak." Gu Siyue's voice betrayed no emotion. "Don't worry about the legal side. They won't be able to trace it back to you."

Gu Siyue paused for two seconds on the other end.

"Good job."

Then she hung up.

Han Luyi stared at his phone, taking several seconds to process those two words. Gu Siyue saying "Good job" was probably the equivalent of Ma Xiaofei saying, "Holy shit, that's badass."

He smiled and set down his phone.

The comments were still growing at a double-digit rate every minute.

Meanwhile, the tech community began trying to track down the author of the anonymous technical analysis.

Some people analyzed the report's writing style and technical perspective paragraph by paragraph on forums. Some guessed it was a security engineer from a major company; others guessed a competitor was stirring up trouble. Some even guessed it was a whistleblower within Flash Tech. "They're too familiar with the underlying technical architecture. Doesn't look like an external intrusion."

A user called "Reverse Engineering Old Wang" posted a lengthy thread, profiling the author from three angles: the way the report mocked Base64, its habitual descriptions of data pipelines, and the depth of its technical understanding of privacy compliance. His conclusion was: "The author is most likely a backend or algorithm engineer at a major company, with over five years of experience and hands-on experience in APP behavior analysis."

They were still a few steps away from guessing Han Luyi.

But no one considered the possibility of "a former Dingsheng P7 who had just been laid off." An unemployed programmer had been excluded from everyone's sight, not even making the list of candidates.

Han Luyi bookmarked the post and closed his browser.

Gu Siyue's words still echoed in his ears. "You're clean from a legal standpoint. They can't trace you."

But doxxing did not follow legal procedures.

He needed to remain hidden.

Just then, Sight opened on its own.

A massive system notification flooded his vision, golden and occupying half his field of view.

[Assistance in Major Vulnerability Remediation Completed]

[Scope of impact: Privacy security of 23 million users]

[Your actions pushed forward the disclosure and remediation of this vulnerability]

[Experience +200]

[Current experience: 212/200]

[Level-up requirements met!]

[Leveling up... Lv.1 → Lv.2]

The world before his eyes shattered, like a computer forcibly rebooting. Every image flickered, fractured, and reassembled. He felt as if his brain had been formatted, then had its operating system reinstalled.

The reboot lasted several seconds.

When everything stabilized, the Sight panel had changed.

[Level-up complete]

Han Luyi stared at the panel for a while.

That was it?

His level had gone from 1 to 2, his energy cap had more than doubled, and then... nothing?

But he immediately noticed the difference.

There was more information in his field of vision. Previously, he could only sense things within a few meters of himself. Now, data from the entire building flooded into his eyes. The panel in Lin Wanqing's apartment next door faintly appeared at the edge of his vision, while the data of residents upstairs and downstairs overlaid the space in translucent layers.

The amount of information was more than ten times greater than before. He quickly turned off the full-range scan, retaining only close-range passive perception.

There was another, more important change.

He opened his laptop and clicked into the code repository for a recent freelance project.

Back at Lv.1, when he looked at code, the location of a bug would glow red, with a short warning floating beside it to label the type of error. But after seeing it, what then? He still had to analyze it himself, devise a solution himself, and fix it himself.

Now, it was different.

Behind every red marker was an entire expanded repair path. Which file to change, which line to change, how to change it, and what impact the changes would have afterward—it was all laid out clearly, like a ready-written prescription.

Han Luyi scrolled up and down the screen.

He casually opened a bug marked severe. It was a database connection pool leak. He had already fixed it manually when taking on the project, but the repair path offered a better solution than his—it not only patched the leak, but also optimized the connection pool's reclamation strategy.

If, before leveling up, he had been someone using a magnifying glass to hunt bugs, then now he had an Pest Control Guide in his hands.

He glanced at the panel again. His energy was slowly decreasing. Deep scans consumed more energy than before, but the cap had more than doubled too. It was enough.

Han Luyi closed the code repository and leaned back in his chair.

Only after closing his eyes did he realize how exceptionally good his physical condition was. He had spent days rushing the report, getting the notarization done, and running back and forth, leaving him exhausted to death—but now, all that fatigue had vanished.

Was this a bonus from leveling up?

Han Luyi sprang from his chair, feeling completely refreshed.

It was time to get down to business.

Han Luyi picked up his phone.

He wanted to say something to Ma Xiaofei and Zhang Haoran, but then he remembered Gu Siyue's words: "Assume that every word you say to anyone could be used as evidence."

Forget it. Better not say anything.

As he exited WeChat, a new message notification popped up at the top of the screen.

An avatar he had not seen in a long time.

Su Niannian.

"Luyi? Long time no see. I heard you left Dingsheng?"

Han Luyi stared at the message, stunned for two seconds.

Su Niannian...

They had not been in touch for over two years. The last time they had interacted was during National Day in 2023, when he posted a photo of his workstation while working overtime, and she replied beneath it, "Take care of yourself."

His fingers hovered over the screen without typing. A few images flashed through his mind: her waving at him outside the third cafeteria, her sleeping with her head on the table in the library, the noisy scene of the whole class raising glasses at their graduation dinner.

They quickly swept past like scrolling comments.

In the end, he typed four words.

"Yeah, I left."

Less than two seconds after he sent the message, Su Niannian's name in the chat window changed to:

The other party is typing...