Chapter 54 – Lin Nuo's Misdirection
~500 words
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At precisely 6:03 a.m., Lin Nuo arrived at Mo International in a panda hoodie, flip-flops, and carrying a suspiciously large cardboard box labeled "Organic Seaweed Chips – Extremely Unnecessary Quantity."
The receptionist blinked. "Uh… Director Lin?"
He saluted with a two-finger tap to the forehead. "Top secret mission. Kindly pretend I'm invisible."
He waltzed through the lobby and straight into the server room.
Meng Zhihao was already there, surrounded by cables and coffee cups. "You're late," he said without looking up.
"I was sourcing critical supplies." Lin Nuo dropped the box dramatically. "And no, you can't have any."
"You mean the chips or the chaos you're about to cause?"
"Both."
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By 6:15, Lin Nuo had wormed his way into the local data grid like a mischievous eel. He pulled up a mock satellite trace, layered with fragments of the gloved man's last known activity.
"Watch this," he said, typing rapidly.
On the screen, several icons blinked and began to scatter—a pattern forming in erratic pulses. Then they clustered again, this time around a specific zone.
"District C, Building 11," Meng said. "But that building's abandoned."
Lin Nuo grinned. "Exactly. And we're going to let them think we're dumb enough to believe that's where he is."
Meng tilted his head. "You're setting bait?"
"Double bait. One for the mole still hiding in our team. One for the gloved man himself."
He sent an encrypted memo marked "CONFIDENTIAL: Possible Hideout Located" and ensured it was accidentally seen by two junior agents known for nosy habits.
Within twenty minutes, a chain reaction had started—word leaked, speculation surged, and somewhere out there, the enemy began to stir.
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Back in the Bai residence, Xueqing paced the living room as Mo Chen stood by the French windows, arms folded.
"You trust Lin Nuo's trick to work?" she asked.
Mo Chen smiled slightly. "You don't understand. Lin Nuo doesn't play tricks. He builds entire theatre shows."
Her brows lifted. "And we're the unwilling audience?"
"No," he said. "We're the playwrights."
Just then, Lin Nuo's voice buzzed through Xueqing's phone. "Bait deployed. Drama initiated. Spies trembling. Do I get a raise?"
"Only if someone takes the bait."
"Oh, ye of little faith," he said smugly. "Someone already has. I just intercepted a ping to an offshore server… same encryption fingerprint as the one Qiao Lan's phone used."
Mo Chen's eyes darkened. "He's still watching us."
Xueqing's voice was cold. "Good. Then let's give him a show he won't forget."
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Across town, in an unmarked van, a man in a mask stared at a blinking dot on his monitor.
He frowned.
"She's toying with us," he muttered.
The driver turned. "Want to pull out?"
"No," the masked man said slowly. "I want to meet the puppeteer."
He leaned back.
"And then, I'll burn the stage."
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