13: Chapter 13 The Phone is Taken

"The quality of intelligence these past two days has been high! Please keep it up."

The cleaners would arrive before 6:30 this morning.

He had to set off now.

Jiang Chen sprang out of bed, pulled on his black hoodie, unplugged his phone charger, and stuffed it into his pocket.

The streets in the early morning hours were very empty.

Jiang Chen stood by the roadside for five minutes before he managed to flag down a night-shift taxi.

"Where to?"

"West side of the city, Xizi Garden."

The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "That neighborhood isn't cheap. You live there?"

"No, looking for someone."

Jiang Chen leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes, no longer interested in further conversation.

The taxi crossed more than half the city.

Streetlights glided past the car window one by one, their orange glow flickering across his face.

The shops on both sides of the road were closed, their rolling shutters covered in small advertisements; only the 24-hour convenience stores still emitted a ghastly white light.

The heater in the car was blasting, the air thick with the smell of cigarettes and cheap air freshener.

A woman was crying on the radio, saying her husband had cheated and she didn't know what to do.

The host comforted her in a deliberately gentle voice, telling her to be strong, to be independent, and to live for herself.

As Jiang Chen listened, he suddenly felt like laughing.

Infidelity.

Female executive.

Throwing a phone away.

This world is really a damn circle.

...

Forty minutes later, the taxi stopped outside the eastern perimeter wall of Xizi Garden.

Jiang Chen paid the fare and got out.

Streetlights illuminated the empty road. Occasionally, a sprinkler truck would drive by, playing 'Orchid Grass' and leaving the road surface soaking wet.

He walked along the wall for a few steps until he found the location mentioned in the intelligence.

East wall, near Building 8.

The wall was made of wrought iron, with black railings topped with pointed decorations that glinted coldly under the streetlights.

The gaps between the railings weren't narrow. He turned sideways and tried; he could squeeze through.

But he didn't move in a hurry.

He took two steps back, leaned behind a sycamore tree by the roadside, and observed for a while.

The neighborhood was very quiet.

Building 8 was just twenty meters inside the wall—an eighteen-story residential building with grey-white exterior walls.

Most of the windows were dark, with only a few scattered lights on, likely belonging to night owls or early risers.

A row of osmanthus trees was planted in the green belt below the building.

It happened to be the blooming season. The fragrance could be smelled even across the wall, mixing with the early morning dampness, sweet to the point of being cloying.

The intelligence said: East wall, large osmanthus tree.

He scanned the area and locked onto his target.

The osmanthus tree closest to the wall was thicker than the others, its canopy spreading out wide, crouching there in the darkness like an old night watchman.

That's the one.

He took a deep breath, looked left and right to confirm no one was around, and then squeezed sideways through the gap in the iron railings.

He crouched low and moved quickly to the base of that osmanthus tree.

The canopy draped down, forming a natural concealed space.

A layer of tiny osmanthus flowers had fallen on the ground, golden and densely packed, feeling soft underfoot like stepping on a carpet.

He squatted down and began to search.

The weeds in the green belt were quite tall, reaching past his ankles. He pushed aside the grass, his eyes scanning the ground inch by inch.

Nothing.

He changed direction and continued searching.

Still nothing.

Could someone have picked it up already?

But he had rushed over as soon as the intelligence appeared.

Unless the female executive came down to look for it herself.

Otherwise, the probability of someone else taking it was extremely small.

Jiang Chen didn't doubt the accuracy of the intelligence at all.

This was his bread and butter, after all.

The large osmanthus tree.

He looked up at the tree above him.

The canopy was dense, branches and leaves interlacing, looking like a mass of inseparable shadows in the dim morning light.

Could it be?

Jiang Chen grew suspicious. He stood up and shifted his gaze from the ground upward.

On the blades of grass, on the forks of branches, in the piles of fallen leaves.

Then he saw it.

On the side of the osmanthus tree facing the wall, about half a meter off the ground, a dark object was wedged in a fork of the branches.

The phone's frame was stuck in the gap of the branch, hidden by a few leaves; it was impossible to find without looking closely.

It didn't land in the green belt.

It landed on the tree and then got caught on the way down.

Jiang Chen reached out, his fingertips touching the cold metal frame of the phone.

He plucked the phone from the branch fork.

Huawei Mate X6 Collector's Edition.

A foldable screen.

It felt heavy and substantial in his hand, the metal frame so icy it was almost stinging.

Huawei Mate X6 Collector's Edition

He unfolded the screen and pressed the power button.

The Huawei logo lit up, like a small lamp in the dim green belt.

Then it entered the system.

The screen was intact, without any signs of cracking, and the display quality was incredibly fine.

There were indeed a few minor scuffs on the frame, but they were barely noticeable unless one looked closely.

He swiped the screen a few times; it was incredibly smooth—more than a level above his laggy second-hand Dami phone.

He did a quick check.

No account was bound.

No lock screen password.

It could be used directly.

"Damn, rich people really are something, throwing away a phone worth ten or twenty thousand just like that."

He cursed softly.

He stuffed the phone into his pocket, crouched back the way he came, squeezed through the gap in the iron railings, and landed on the road outside the neighborhood.

The whole process took no more than three minutes.

On the way back, Jiang Chen hailed a taxi.

Sitting in the car, he lowered his head and examined the new phone over and over.

When unfolded, the screen was like a small tablet; the hinge was tight and had a quality feel to its opening and closing, making a slight 'click' sound.

He opened the app store and randomly clicked on a game.

The loading speed was like heaven and earth compared to his old phone.

Smooth.

So smooth.

He suddenly felt a bit reluctant to sell it.

By comparison, it felt like evolving from a feature phone to a smartphone.

His old phone was a second-hand Dami discarded by a senior when school started. He had used it until now; the battery needed three charges a day, it lagged even when watching videos, and it took three seconds just to open WeChat.

But the one in his hand now was picked up for free.

Didn't cost a cent.

He tried logging into his own WeChat, and the interface popped up, as silky smooth as touching a piece of ice.

Then he paused.

Wait.

daily wealth intelligence.

That intelligence that appeared exactly at midnight every day was sent to his old phone.

If he changed phones, would the intelligence still appear?

Jiang Chen hesitated for a moment.

Ultimately, he decided that at worst, he'd use the old phone for the intelligence and the new phone for daily use.

In any case, it was impossible for him to sell it.

Back at his rental room, he closed the door and placed the two phones side by side on the table.

The broken one had two cracks on the screen, the paint was peeling off the frame, and a corner of the glass back was shattered, held together with clear tape.

When using it to set an alarm at night, he had to press it three times just to get it to light up.

The new one was shiny all over; the unfolded screen looked like a butterfly spreading its wings, and the metal frame glinted with a cold grey light under the lamp.

Holding it felt like holding a piece of ice, or a piece of jade.

"Is this what they mean online by 'three years of rain and three years of sun, whoever is poor uses a foldable screen'? The feel is indeed quite good."