43: Chapter 43 Information and Spark

At three o'clock on Monday afternoon, Alex appeared punctually in Detective Chen Zhiming's office.

There was a third person in the office: a man who looked to be in his early forties, wearing an ill-fitting suit and looking nervous. He sat in a chair, his knuckles white as he gripped a disposable coffee cup.

"This is Ron," Detective Chen Zhiming introduced briefly. "A former investigator for Greystone Security, and now our witness."

Ron looked up at Alex, quickly diverted his gaze, and said in a dry voice, "I... I'll only say what I know. Then I'm leaving."

"As we agreed," Detective Chen Zhiming nodded, turning on the recording device. "Let's begin."

Ron took a deep breath and began his account.

On the surface, Greystone Security conducted corporate background checks and business intelligence, but they had a "Special Operations Group" that specialized in gray-area tasks: tracking, surveillance, information gathering, and occasionally "psychological pressure"—strategic harassment designed to make a person feel uneasy without leaving any evidence for a legal case.

"The legal counsel for Senator Winston's office is a major client of ours," Ron said. "There were two cases last year, both involving investigating the 'weaknesses' of political opponents. But this time is different... this time, the target is a student."

He pulled a tablet from his briefcase and brought up several documents. Alex saw his own photos, home address, school information, and daily itinerary—detailed to a chilling degree. It even included which supermarket he frequented, his favorite brand of coffee, and how many times a week he went to the gym.

"Phase one is information gathering." Ron swiped the screen. "Standard procedure: establish the target's behavioral patterns, identify weaknesses, and assess risks. But I wrote in the report, 'The target has a regular lifestyle, simple social circles, and no obvious exploitable weaknesses.'"

He paused and looked at Detective Chen Zhiming. "Usually, when such a report is submitted, the client either gives up or asks to escalate tactics. But this time... they requested to continue, and the budget was tripled."

"Why?" Alex asked.

Ron brought up another document, an internal communication record. "There's a direct quote here: 'The client requests the creation of a plausible incident to discredit the target in front of the public. No physical harm is required, but he must be made to look... untrustworthy.'"

Detective Chen Zhiming's expression turned serious. "The specific plan?"

"There's no written plan," Ron shook his head. "But we had a meeting. Several options were discussed: forging evidence of academic misconduct, manufacturing plagiarism allegations, or arranging an 'accidental' mishap during his filming to make him look reckless and irresponsible. But in the end..."

He paused again, longer this time.

"Go on," Detective Chen Zhiming said.

"In the end, they decided to exploit the 'Reality Maze' project." Ron's voice dropped. "The plan was to arrange for someone to ask some... professional but misleading questions during his academic seminar to make him look foolish in public. Then, they would use media channels to spread the narrative that 'this so-called genius creator actually knows nothing about science and just got lucky.'"

Alex remembered that sharp question at the seminar—"Do you think it's possible for a creator to intentionally trigger a neurological state of epiphany?" Looking back, although the white-haired professor who asked was professional, the angle of the question was indeed... pointed.

"Why are you telling me this?" Alex looked at Ron.

Ron set down his coffee cup, his hands trembling slightly. "Because last month, I refused to participate in another case. The target was another young man, an artist, who was envied by a politician's son. They wanted to... stage an overdose scene."

Silence fell over the office.

"I have a daughter, seventeen years old," Ron said, his voice hoarse. "I imagined if something like this happened to her... I couldn't do it. So I resigned and took these backup materials with me."

Detective Chen Zhiming took the tablet and browsed through it quickly. "Is this evidence enough to build a case?"

"Not enough for a direct conviction," Ron admitted. "There are no explicit criminal orders; it's all gray-area operations. But it's enough to cause Senator Winston's office a world of trouble—if it's exposed."

Alex understood. This wasn't evidence that could send someone to prison, but it was scandal material that could ruin a political career: a senator's office systematically abusing power, hiring a private firm to harass a private citizen, and attempting to destroy a young man's life and career.

In the current political climate, the destructive power of such a scandal was sometimes greater than an actual crime.

"What do you want?" Alex asked Ron.

"Protection," Ron said. "I'm blowing the whistle under my real name, so I need witness protection. And... I need a job. Any job, as long as I can leave California."

Detective Chen Zhiming looked at Alex. "What do you think?"

Alex pondered. Crisis Prediction hadn't alerted him to Ron, which meant the man was sincere. But how should this evidence be used?

Direct exposure? It would cause a political earthquake, but it would also thrust him completely into the spotlight, making him a pawn in a partisan struggle.

Private negotiation? Exchange the evidence for the other party to stop the harassment? But an old-school politician like Winston might be more inclined to eliminate the source of the evidence.

"I need time to think," Alex finally said. "Can I have a copy of the evidence?"

Detective Chen Zhiming nodded. "Yes, but it must be kept encrypted. Ron will stay in a safe house for a few days until you decide."

When he left the police station, Alex carried an encrypted flash drive. Inside were not just Greystone Security's files, but something else Ron had provided: a list documenting the client codes and brief descriptions of all "gray-area operations" Greystone Security had conducted over the past three years.

This was a nuclear bomb. It wasn't just for dealing with Winston; it could take down many people on that list.

---

On Tuesday, Alex didn't go to school. He stayed in his apartment, studying the list.

Code "C-7": CEO of a tech company, investigating a business rival's family issues.

Code "L-12": Entertainment lawyer, gathering dirt on clients for use in negotiations.

Code "P-3": Senator's office, investigating investigative journalists' backgrounds.

...

The list wasn't long, only seventeen items, but each one was shocking. Dirty deals involving power, money, and privacy.

Alex opened a new page in his "Taylor Project" notebook and wrote:

"Options for using the evidence:

1. Public exposure -> Triggers a political storm, making myself the center of attention.

2. Private negotiation -> Demand Winston stop the harassment, but risk being backstabbed.

3. Third-party intervention -> Apply pressure indirectly through media figures or lawyers.

4. No action for now -> Use as a deterrent, observe the other party's next move."

Every choice had risks. He needed more information to make a judgment.

In the afternoon, he called Attorney Li Zhiming and described the situation. Attorney Li Zhiming fell silent for a long time after hearing it.

"First, do not keep the original evidence yourself," the lawyer said. "Hand it over to me; it will be stored in the firm's safe. Second, the complexity of this matter is far beyond your imagination. Once a political scandal is ignited, many people will be sucked in, not just Winston."

"Your suggestion?"

"Caution," Attorney Li Zhiming said. "I suggest holding our ground for now. If the other party continues to harass you, then we use the evidence to counterattack. Before that, we'll prepare a full set of legal documents, including potential indictments, media statements, and witness testimony. Let them know we have the capability to fight back, but are choosing not to act for the moment."

"A deterrence strategy."

"Exactly," Attorney Li Zhiming said. "Also, I need to meet with this Mr. Ron. There are some legal details to confirm."

Alex agreed. After hanging up, he felt the pressure on his shoulders lighten a bit. Having a professional involved was much safer than going it alone.

He summoned the system interface. The recent series of events—the success of the short film, obtaining the Greystone evidence, and the formal launch of the Taylor Project—had brought another surge in his popularity.

He redeemed [Information Integration and Pattern Recognition (Beginner)].

Description: Enhances the ability to process complex information, allowing for more efficient identification of patterns, correlations, and underlying logic within data. Cost: 28,000 popularity points.

This ability took effect immediately. When Alex studied the list again, his brain automatically began cross-referencing: correlating client codes with public figures' timelines, matching business types with political cycles, and even identifying regular patterns in fund movements.

He noticed a detail: the business of Senator Winston's office was concentrated before election years, and the targets were mostly journalists, activists, or supporters of political opponents who could influence the election.

This wasn't a personal vendetta; it was part of a political operation.

And he, Alex Su, an eighteen-year-old content creator, had been sucked into this massive machine simply because he had unintentionally become a target of Derek Winston's jealousy.

Ironically, this machine had now left a crack—Ron, and that evidence.

---

On Wednesday, Alex began working on the Los Angeles chapter of "city portraits".

This was the "personal warm-up" he had promised Taylor, and also his own soulful gaze at this city. It wasn't a tourism promo or a scenery showcase, but the hidden textures of Los Angeles through the eyes of a creator.

He chose six locations, filming at each for one day:

Day one: A farmers' market at four in the morning. The hands of vendors moving vegetables, the mist-filled air in the morning light, and the sleepy faces of the first batch of customers.

Day two: Venice Beach in the afternoon. A skater boy falling and getting back up, the raspy voice of a street performer, and the moment a seagull snatched a tourist's fries.

Day three: The downtown financial district at dusk. Crowds in suits pouring out of office buildings, a homeless man rummaging through a trash can, and neon lights gradually lighting up to divide the sky.

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

Day 4: Koreatown late at night. The smoke from barbecue restaurants, the faint singing from KTVs, designated drivers waiting by the roadside.

Day 5: Griffith Observatory in the rain. Tourists appearing and disappearing in the mist, the city turning into blurred spots of light beneath the clouds.

Day 6: His own apartment window. The changing sky from sunrise to sunset, flocks of birds flying by, occasional contrails passing through.

For every day of filming, Environmental Interaction Intuition played a huge role. He could intuitively find the best shooting angles, predict changes in light, and even capture those fleeting "decisive moments" in the crowd.

During editing, [Information Integration and Pattern Recognition] allowed him to quickly identify segments with emotional resonance and visual tension from hundreds of hours of footage. He wasn't just piling up images; he was weaving the breathing rhythm of a city.

Friday night, the first cut was finished. Twenty-four minutes, no dialogue, only ambient sound and occasional musical embellishments. Alex watched it three times himself, and each time he had new feelings.

This wasn't his best work—technically not as refined as "echo gallery," and narratively not as complete as the Horizon short film. But it was the most "honest" work: a lonely observer trying to understand this massive, complex, and beautiful monster he lived in.

He sent it to Taylor with a postscript: "Los Angeles chapter. Nashville chapter starts next week."

Ten minutes later, Taylor called directly.

"Alex." Her voice was a bit distorted over the phone, but the excitement was clearly discernible, "This is too... I don't know how to say it. This isn't about Los Angeles; this is about 'watching' itself. You are teaching the audience how to look at a city."

Alex smiled: "That is exactly what I wanted to do."

"That last segment with the apartment window... the twenty-four-hour compression. How did you think of that?"

"I wanted to show that the most beautiful scenery is sometimes right there in the daily routine, but we are too busy and don't have time to stop and look."

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds, then Taylor said: "This is exactly the core that the genesis project wants to explore—those ignored, daily, but magical moments. You are already on the right track, Alex."

They discussed the next steps. Taylor suggested that Alex come to Nashville early, not rushing into the official project, but first doing a "Nashville chapter" city portraits as a warm-up.

"I want to see Nashville through your eyes," Taylor said, "what is different from Los Angeles, and what is the same."

Alex checked his schedule: "After next Thursday is fine. There is some follow-up promotion to film for Horizon, and on the school side..."

"On your time," Taylor said, "I am ready anytime on my end. Oh, right—I showed 'beyond the echo' to a few friends. A curator from an independent film festival is very interested and asked if it could have a special screening at next year's festival. What do you think?"

Alex thought for a moment: "Okay, but it has to wait until the genesis project has preliminary results. I don't want to label our experimental works too early."

"Agreed," Taylor said, "Then it's settled. See you next week?"

"See you next week."

Hanging up the phone, Alex felt a burst of creative impulse. He opened his Taylor Project notebook and began to write down his initial ideas for the genesis project:

"If creation is a life process, then: · Inspiration is conception · Conception is gestation · Execution is childbirth · The work is the newborn · The audience's interpretation is growth. We can track this entire process, using sound, images, text, body..."

As he wrote, he suddenly realized something: the abilities the system bestowed upon him—those redeemed skills and enhancements—were essentially part of "creation" too. It's just that the object of this creation wasn't a work, but himself.

He was creating a better creator.

This thought made him stop his pen. He looked out the window; the night in Los Angeles was as deep as the sea.

---

On Saturday, Alex went to Tom's modification shop for his second defensive driving training.

This training was more in-depth. Tom taught him vehicle control in extreme situations: center of gravity transfer during high-speed lane changes, braking techniques on slippery roads, and even how to protect himself to the maximum extent when a vehicle loses control.

"Most traffic accidents are not accidents," Tom said while adjusting the tire pressure of the training car, "they are judgment errors or reactions that are too slow. And your reaction speed... God, are you sure you haven't received professional training?"

"Maybe it's because I play a lot of games," Alex said half-jokingly.

When the training ended, Tom handed him a small box: "This is for you."

Inside the box was a black device the size of a car key.

"A GPS tracker and emergency alarm," Tom explained, "Press the button, and it will send your real-time location to me and Sarah. If things get really bad... press it for three seconds, and it will automatically dial 911 and play a pre-recorded distress message."

Alex took the device, feeling it was very light, but it carried a heavy weight: "Tom, this..."

"Don't thank me," Tom waved his hand, "Sarah asked me to prepare it. She said your current situation... needs an extra layer of protection. And," he looked at Alex seriously, "I know that feeling—being watched, not knowing when something might happen. I spent time on the streets when I was young, and only later turned over a new leaf. So... be careful, okay?"

"I will," Alex said solemnly.

On the way home, he attached the device to his keychain. Crisis Prediction had been very quiet today, but that was no reason to relax.

He knew that the calm before the storm is often the most dangerous.

---

On Sunday, Attorney Li Zhiming came to Alex's apartment.

"I've met with Ron," the attorney sat down and opened his briefcase, "His testimony is credible, and the chain of evidence is complete. I have already stored all the materials in the law firm's safe and backed them up in a bank safety deposit box."

"Is there any movement on Winston's side?"

"Yes," Attorney Li Zhiming's expression was serious, "One of my sources said that Senator Winston's office has recently been contacting several crisis PR firms. Usually, this means they have a premonition that a scandal might be exposed."

"Did they find out about Ron?"

"Not necessarily," Attorney Li Zhiming said, "but politicians have a keen sense of smell. It could just be routine caution, or it could be that they've heard wind of something."

He took out a document: "This is the 'deterrence document' I drafted. It details all the legal actions and media strategies we would take if we were to sue or expose them. Of course, no actual evidence is attached—it just shows what we are capable of doing."

Alex quickly scanned the document. Professional, rigorous, and full of legal deterrence.

"Next step?"

"I suggest leaking this document 'inadvertently' to Winston's legal team through an intermediary," Attorney Li Zhiming said, "Let them know we have evidence in hand, but aren't acting immediately. This is a high-pressure negotiation strategy—we don't fire, but we keep them looking down the barrel of the gun."

"Is the intermediary reliable?"

"Reliable. A retired judge, with no interest in either side, but with enough prestige to ensure the message is taken seriously."

Alex pondered. The risk of this strategy is that if Winston decides to "strike first"—destroying him before the evidence is exposed—then the conflict will escalate immediately.

But he remembered what Ron said: "The client requested to create a reasonable incident to make the target lose credibility in front of the public."

This shows that the other side is also avoiding direct violence. Politicians' methods are more refined, more covert, but therefore also more predictable.

"It can be done," Alex finally said, "but I want to add one condition."

"What condition?"

"If they stop all harassment, I am willing to sign a confidentiality agreement, promising not to proactively expose the evidence. But the premise is—stop permanently."

Attorney Li Zhiming nodded: "A reasonable condition. I will convey it."

After the attorney left, Alex stood at the window, looking at the street below. The sun was setting, casting long shadows.

He thought of his past life, himself lying on the hospital bed. The fear back then was the fear of death, the fear of losing everything.

But now, the fear had turned into another form: the fear of losing the life he had worked so hard to build, the fear of being watched by an unknown enemy in the dark.

But interestingly, this fear actually made him more clear-headed, more focused, more... alive.

His phone vibrated; it was a message from Sarah: "Dinner? I stewed some beef."

Alex replied: "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He turned off his computer and picked up his keys. The small black device swayed gently on the keychain.

When he walked out of the apartment door, Crisis Prediction was still quiet.

But Alex knew that the quiet would not last forever.

And before that, he would eat well, create well, and live well.

Because in this complex world, sometimes the most powerful counterattack is to live better than those who want to destroy you.

The aroma of the beef was already wafting out from the crack in Sarah's apartment door.

Alex smiled and rang the doorbell.

The door opened, and warm light and the aroma of food poured out.

He walked in and closed the door.

Leaving the shadows temporarily outside the door.