Xie Yong was a manager at a foreign trade company.
After graduating from New York University five years ago, he had taken his résumé and found his current job. He had then been transferred to Shangjing for work and had lived there ever since.
Five years had passed, and he had gone from a young man in his twenties to a successful middle-aged man. He owned a spacious two-hundred-square-meter home within Shangjing's Second Ring Road, earned an annual salary of over a million, drove a BMW 730, and never lacked beautiful women in the passenger seat. He had a life that others envied...
At least, on the surface.
Behind that glamorous façade, almost no one knew that aside from the countless accolades envied by his friends and relatives, he had another, hidden identity.
He was a CIA field intelligence operative—
Commonly known as a spy.
Though it sounded rather absurd, it would have been difficult for anyone to associate a social elite with a million-yuan annual salary with a spy engaged in furtive, underhanded work.
But looking at it another way, it was precisely because he had exploited people's ingrained assumptions that he had handled his work so smoothly over the past five years without exposing the slightest flaw.
As usual, on Sunday afternoon, he brewed himself a cup of rich coffee, downloaded a compressed file from his email labeled "Jinling City New Materials Enterprise Operations Survey Report," and entered the password on his keyboard.
Every weekend, his subordinates would compile the intelligence they had gathered and send it to him. After he sorted through and verified it, he would report it to his overseas handler—the CIA headquarters.
At the same time, he would spend two hours following the CIA headquarters' instructions to issue new assignments to the various units