Feng Yizhou glanced at her. "Your system?"
"It doesn’t know the exact location, but what I’m looking for is definitely here."
He nodded, taking another careful step forward. "Then we find it the old-fashioned way."
She sighed, knowing that ant more risk. The longer they stayed inside, the more likely they were to be caught. But they had no choice.
"We should start where the administrative offices are," she said. "A place like this keeps records sowhere, and that ans soone has to access them."
Feng Yizhou smirked. "Good thinking. Let’s go."
They moved deeper into the facility, their footsteps silent against the sterile floors. The air slled faintly of antiseptic and sothing tallic, a scent Qingran had long associated with laboratories and hidden horrors.
She didn’t know what they would find in those archives, but whatever it was, she had a feeling it would change everything.
The hallway stretched before them in eerie silence, the dim overhead lights casting long shadows along the floor. Qingran kept her steps light, her ears straining for any sound of movent. The facility was too quiet, and that never ant anything good.
Feng Yizhou moved beside her, his posture relaxed, but she knew better. His every step was deliberate, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. He was just as on edge as she was.
They reached a set of double doors at the end of the corridor. The small plaque beside them read: Administrative Wing.
Qingran exchanged a glance with Feng Yizhou. This was the best place to start.
She pressed her hand against the door handle, testing it. Locked.
"Of course," she muttered under her breath.
Feng Yizhou stepped forward, pulling a small tool from his pocket. "Give a second."
Qingran watched as he worked, the faint click of tal against tal filling the silence. His hands were steady, practiced. She wondered where he had learned how to pick locks but decided against asking. They all had their pasts.
A soft click sounded, and the door creaked open.
"After you," Feng Yizhou said, gesturing with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes but stepped inside.
The administrative offices were lined with rows of desks, papers stacked neatly on so while others were left in disarray. Filing cabinets stood against the far wall, their drawers partially open as if soone had left in a hurry. The faint hum of a computer monitor was the only sign that this place was still in use.
Qingran turned on her earpiece. "Lingquan, if the archive is here, where would it be?"
[The likelihood of archive storage being within the main administrative office is high. Search for secure filing units, electronic databases, or restricted-access rooms.]
That narrowed it down. She glanced around the room, her eyes settling on a heavy tal door in the back, different from the standard office doors. It had a keypad next to it.
"There," she said, pointing.
Feng Yizhou followed her gaze and nodded. "Looks promising."
They approached the door. Qingran examined the keypad. It was an older model, one that required both a keycard and a passcode. Without either, they weren’t getting in.
Feng Yizhou sighed. "We need an access card."
Qingran scanned the desks, her eyes narrowing. If soone here had the clearance, they would likely keep their card close.
"Search the desks," she said, already moving toward one.
Feng Yizhou didn’t argue. He started rifling through drawers, checking under stacks of paper and inside filing cabinets.
Minutes passed.
Then—
"Got sothing," Feng Yizhou said, holding up a card. It was clipped to an ID badge. The na read Dr. Ming.
"Let’s hope Dr. Ming was important enough," Qingran muttered as she took the card and moved to the keypad. She swiped it. A small beep sounded, and the screen flashed:
ENTER PASSCODE
She bit back a curse. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.
"Figures," Feng Yizhou muttered. "Looks like we need to dig a little deeper."
Qingran’s gaze flickered toward the desk where he had found the card. If Dr. Zhao had left their ID here, maybe they had left sothing else behind.
"Check their workspace," she said. "Maybe they wrote it down sowhere."
Feng Yizhou was already ahead of her, searching through stacks of docunts. Qingran moved to the desk’s drawers, flipping through papers. Most were standard reports, nothing useful.
Then she found it—a small sticky note tucked beneath a folder. The handwriting was hastily scribbled, but the numbers were clear: 739210.
She held it up. "This might be it."
Feng Yizhou grinned. "Let’s find out."
Qingran returned to the keypad, her fingers flying over the numbers.
7-3-9-2-1-0.
The screen blinked.
ACCESS GRANTED.
This was surprisingly easy no wonder he was fired.
With a low hiss, the door unlocked.
Feng Yizhou pulled it open, revealing rows of neatly organized filing cabinets and a single humming server.
Qingran stepped inside, her pulse quickening.
This was it. The archive.
Now, they just had to find what they were looking for.
Qingran moved quickly, her eyes scanning the rows of labeled files, searching for anything that could give her answers. The archive was a maze of docunts, locked drawers, and coded entries, but her hands were steady as she flipped through them.
"Lingquan," she whispered, her voice low. "Where’s the research archive?"
[Unable to determine exact location. However, records confirm that this facility contains classified virology docuntation.]
Virology? She was getting a bad feeling now.
Qingran’s jaw clenched. It was here, but she would have to find it herself.
She skimd through the cabinets, her fingers grazing over labels—Military Personnel Records, Bioengineering Trials, Chemical Warfare Projects. Nothing that fit.
Then she saw it.
A plain, unassuming drawer at the bottom of the archive shelf. Unlike the others, it had no external label.
Her instincts scread. This is it.
Qingran crouched down and tugged at the handle. It was locked. Of course it was.
She pulled a knife from her boot and jamd it into the narrow space between the lock and the tal fra, twisting hard. The chanism resisted, but with a sharp snap, it gave way.
She yanked the drawer open.
Inside were thick files, bound together with security seals. Her breath caught when she saw the header on the first docunt.
PROJECT GENESIS
Her fingers trembled as she flipped it open, eyes darting over the contents. The first few pages detailed research conducted over the past five years.
The goal: A Bio collapse test.
The words sent ice through her veins.
Test?
Her hands moved faster now, flipping through the pages. Test subjects, virus samples, genetic mutations, they had engineered everything.
The sourc𝗲 of this content is free(w)𝒆bnov(𝒆)l
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