Siheyuan came through and sent Jia Zhang to prison

Ma Xin nodded readily, her eyes gleaming with a competitive light, like a small beast poised to pounce, its claws almost ready to be unleashed: "No problem! I haven't been idle lately. I've learned several tricks from my dad, like whether to use fermented rice or rapeseed cake for baiting, how to adjust the float to find the water layer, and when to cast the line to avoid small fish. I know it all. Who will win or lose is still uncertain!" As she spoke, she proudly raised her chin, as if she could already see herself catching a big fish.

The atmosphere in the office lightened considerably. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the floor like scattered gold dust, swaying gently in the breeze. The gloom weighing on their hearts—about Liu Li's death and the traitor's whereabouts—seemed to have been somewhat lessened by this unexpected fishing agreement. He Feng looked at the smile in Ma Xin's eyes, like starlight, dazzlingly bright. He picked up his slightly chilled coffee and took another sip, finding it bittersweet. He thought to himself that perhaps going out for some sunshine and a river breeze would really relax his tense nerves—even just for a day would be better than being cooped up in this office filled with documents and suspicion.

He Feng figured he might as well have a good competition with Ma Xin since he was free anyway, just to clear his head and relax. He chatted with Ma Xin for a while, from the fishing spot to what equipment to bring. Ma Xin listened attentively, occasionally chiming in with suggestions, and finally nodded: "Then I'll go finish up the report I have on hand first, and we'll meet at the company gate first thing tomorrow morning?" After receiving a positive reply, she went out with light steps, the sound of her high heels clicking on the ground carrying a hint of joy.

He Feng watched her disappearing figure through the doorway, then turned to look out the window. The setting sun was sinking behind the building, painting the sky orange-red. He suddenly felt a little dazed, unsure of his true feelings for Ma Xin—was she just a colleague? There seemed to be an inexplicable closeness; was it the care of an elder for a younger person? Yet, the resilience in her eyes and the occasional hint of dependence stirred strange waves within him. It felt as if, with Ma Xin present, even the most thorny problems could find a solution, and even the most oppressive atmosphere could be brightened.

The day passed quickly. The office was quiet, with no unexpected incidents and barely any phone calls. As the workday drew to a close, He Feng looked at Zhao Lei, who had just finished organizing the files. Zhao Lei had dark circles under his eyes, clearly indicating he'd been up many nights. He said, "Alright, you've been working hard lately. Tomorrow's the weekend, go home and rest, spend time with your family."

Zhao Lei nodded, his face showing obvious fatigue, but also a hint of anticipation: "Thank you, Director. To be honest, I've been working non-stop these past few days, and I'm really at my limit. At least I can sleep in tomorrow." He paused, as if making up his mind, and took another half step forward, "Director, there's actually something I want to tell you."

He Feng gestured for him to continue: "Just say what's on your mind, no need to beat around the bush."

Zhao Lei looked at He Feng, his eyes filled with seriousness: "Director, I always felt that Liu Li's death was not simple. We covered it up very tightly; very few people knew the exact time and place, but in the end, Liu Li still died, so decisively, and the scene was cleaned up perfectly. I now seriously suspect that there are enemy spies within our ranks—otherwise, how could they know so much? Several times, as soon as we had planned an operation, it was as if the other side had received advance notice; they either withdrew in advance or set traps for us to fall into. This is too abnormal."

He Feng's heart skipped a beat; he hadn't expected Zhao Lei to have figured this out as well. He tapped his fingertips lightly on the table, his face remaining calm, but his mind was racing—even Zhao Lei could detect it, so the mole's actions were no longer discreet. But would the mole, now discovered, simply go into hiding? If he retreated into the shadows and never showed himself again, it would be incredibly difficult to find him. This was no good; it was like having a time bomb buried nearby that could explode at any moment.

But He Feng didn't say any of this in front of Zhao Lei. After what happened with Zheng Qiang, he was now more wary of everyone, even Zhao Lei, whom he had personally promoted and who had risked his life with him. These recent events were too strange; any slight movement could alert the enemy. Therefore, He Feng could only hide his true thoughts for now; these things couldn't be told to anyone. He softened his tone: "Alright, I understand what you mean. Let's not rush this. Without sufficient evidence, making hasty guesses will only lead to chaos. Go back and get some rest, recharge your energy, and we'll discuss this further later."

A barely perceptible hint of disappointment flashed across Zhao Lei's face; he was somewhat displeased—he had expected Director He to have a deep conversation with him, given the importance of this matter to the entire bureau, but it seemed he hadn't gained complete trust. However, he dared not ask further, and could only nod obediently, replying, "Okay, then I'll head back now. Director, you should get some rest too." With that, he picked up his coat and left.

He Feng watched Zhao Lei's figure disappear through the door, and the office returned to silence. He leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh—some things he still had to investigate himself. Before finding solid evidence, anything he said was just empty talk, and might even backfire. Outside the window, darkness completely fell, and the streetlights flickered on, casting blurry halos on the glass like an impenetrable mist.

Life in the courtyard house has lately felt more and more like a simmering pot that never boils. Steam is plentiful under the lid, but it's always just a little bit off, making people feel suffocated. Especially in the Jia family's courtyard, there are undercurrents, and even the moss at the base of the walls seems to be holding back an indescribable tension.

Xiao Dang huddled in the corner of the kitchen, picking at the yellowed vegetable leaves. She angrily threw the rotten vegetable stalks into the slop bucket, splashing up a few drops of murky water. Her ears, however, were perked up like a wary little animal, listening to Qin Huairu's coaxing voice as she peeled candy for Jia Cai in the outer room—"Oh, my dear grandson, eat slowly, don't choke." The voice was sickeningly sweet, making Xiao Dang feel as if she were being pricked by needles. With a "snap," the vegetable stalk in her hand snapped in her hand.

She had thought that after Banggeng's incident, she could finally breathe a sigh of relief in this family. After all, her brother had always been a troublemaker, doing all sorts of petty theft and more trouble than he was worth, but her parents always treated him like a precious gem, giving him the best food first and being reluctant to punish him severely for his mistakes.