Sui Yuesheng was an atheist, but when he found a chip card in the hidden compartment of Tao Zhixing’s nightstand, successfully opened the secret door behind the bookshelf, and entered a narrow secret room, he couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful to the divine.

The secret room was simply arranged; apart from a safe in the corner, the only thing left was a wooden table in the center.

On the wooden table sat a closed laptop.

Although the laptop was still off, Sui Yuesheng felt a strong intuition that this was it.

He quickly stepped forward, opened the laptop, and pressed the power button.

It took a while for the computer to boot up, and Sui Yuesheng had already been awake for over thirty hours. Besides his mental fatigue, the physical pain, especially in his eyes, was also hard to ignore.

He took a moment to close his eyes, trying to ease the pain that made his vision unfocused.

Yu Hebai glanced at Sui Yuesheng’s pale face and cautiously asked, “Are you praying?”

With his eyes closed, Sui Yuesheng replied, “If it helps me find Tao Fengche, then I would.”

“Have you thought about who you’re praying to?” Yu Hebai deliberately tried to ease the tension, steering the conversation in a different direction. “I have a rather immature suggestion: Isn’t there a Buddhist hall in the courtyard? Why not try praying to the Tathagata?”

Sui Yuesheng: “…”

He opened his eyes in silence and shot Yu Hebai a glance. He intended to roll his eyes but was suddenly captivated by the password prompt on the screen, responding absentmindedly, “Let’s talk about it later.”

Following his gaze, Yu Hebai looked at the screen and immediately gasped in horror, “No way?! Finding this secret room nearly took half our lives, and he actually set a password for the laptop?! Does Tao Zhixing have paranoia or something?!”

The secrets in Tao Zhixing’s room couldn’t be known to outsiders, so the task of searching fell solely on them. The two of them had locked the door and spent nearly an hour rummaging through Tao Zhixing’s room inch by inch. Even now, Yu Hebai felt he couldn’t stand up straight.

Sui Yuesheng’s physical discomfort was even greater than Yu Hebai’s, but he didn’t respond. He merely pursed his lips, indicating it was a good joke, then focused intently on the computer screen.

To aid memory, most people tend to set passwords as a string of characters with special significance. It could be the initials of a phrase, meaningful dates like birthdays and anniversaries, or simply the last few digits of an ID…

Jing Ning’s guess wasn’t wrong; Tao Zhixing was, at his core, someone who valued family. The social circle in Jingpu knew well that Tao Zhixing was deeply devoted to his deceased wife. Sui Yuesheng initially thought the password might relate to Madame Tao but then reconsidered.

If things were as they suspected, and this computer had a positioning program for the chip implanted in Tao Fengche’s body, then the password was likely connected to Tao Fengche.

A ten-digit password—what could it be?

Sui Yuesheng tried entering the last ten digits of Tao Fengche’s ID number, but it said the password was incorrect. He thought about entering Tao Fengche’s birth date but realized he was missing two digits.

He furrowed his brow in thought for a moment, typed in “13,” then, realizing it was wrong, changed it to “14.”

This time, after he pressed the “enter” key, the computer emitted a barely audible hum and then entered the boot-up screen.

The two exchanged glances, a mix of excitement and anxiety in their eyes.

Yu Hebai, puzzled, asked, “I can guess the first few numbers; they must be Tao Fengche’s birth date. What about the last two digits you entered?”

“It’s the hour. Tao Fengche once told me he was born in the afternoon, so I tried it.”

Moments later, the computer finished booting, and a positioning software automatically started. Soon, a small red dot appeared on the screen.

Sui Yuesheng instinctively held his breath, staring at the lively little red dot, almost doubting his eyes.

Time ticked away—perhaps it was only a few seconds or maybe a long time. The red dot remained in place, not disappearing or moving, and Sui Yuesheng finally exhaled, feeling as if he had come back to life.

Having been back in the country for less than half a year and relying on drivers for transportation, he wasn’t very familiar with maps. Just as he was about to take out his phone to pull up a mapping app, Yu Hebai quickly noted down the coordinates, then minimized the map to take a closer look.

“This location is still within Jingpu city limits. If we leave now, we should arrive by around four in the afternoon,” Yu Hebai said, glancing at his watch. “It’s currently twelve thirteen.”

“Okay.” Sui Yuesheng nodded, grabbing the laptop and cradling it in his arms as he headed outside. He added, “Send this address to Jiang Jingyun too, let him notify the task force.”

“Are you questioning my professionalism? I’ve already sent it to him.”

As they talked and walked outside, Xu Song, who had been waiting at the third-floor stairs, hurried over to meet them, his face filled with concern. “Young Master Sui, do you have any leads on Young Master’s whereabouts?”

“We’ve found Tao Fengche.” Sui Yuesheng hurried down the stairs, his pace and words rapid enough to take off. After saying that, he thought for a moment and casually reported the coordinates to Xu Song.

Xu Song, who had been following them downstairs, suddenly stopped, a look of astonishment flashing across his face.

This expression came and went quickly but didn’t escape Sui Yuesheng’s keen eye. Sui Yuesheng halted on the steps, turned to Xu Song, and asked suspiciously, “Uncle Xu, is something wrong?”

Xu Song hesitated for a moment. Sui Yuesheng stared directly into his eyes, his gaze sharp and penetrating: “Uncle Xu, do you know this place?”

Yu Hebai was stunned, looking back and forth between the two, momentarily unsure how to speak.

“…Yes.” Xu Song knew time was pressing. After a moment of standoff, he sighed and softened, “Young Master Chu, that is, Chu Yin, his mother used to live nearby. But Mrs. Chu was sent to a nursing home many years ago, and she has since passed away. If you count it, she died just a few days after Young Master Chu.”

Now, it was Sui Yuesheng who looked astonished: “Is it the kind of nursing home I’m thinking of?”

“Yes.” Xu Song nodded, not elaborating further, only saying, “Mrs. Chu… had some mental instability.”

Sui Yuesheng nodded, not pursuing the topic any further. He had a vague feeling that he had touched upon a sealed wooden box named the past, about to unveil the light veil covering it, but after a moment of stillness, he chose to turn and leave.

—Time was pressing; he had no leisure to explore Zhao Jiayang’s inner world, nor was he concerned about these past affairs.

Regardless of Zhao Jiayang’s reasons for his actions or his motives, it was not justification for kidnapping Tao Fengche as a bargaining chip and endangering his life.

A flash of coldness crossed Sui Yuesheng’s eyes. The hair that had been pinned back fell forward due to inertia, covering part of his face. He reached up to tuck it behind his ear, nodded at Xu Song, and prepared to leave with Yu Hebai, but Xu Song suddenly spoke up.

“Young Master Sui, is there anything I can help with?”

Sui Yuesheng pondered for a moment: “Help us prepare a helicopter.”

“Okay.”

Xu Song nodded in agreement, preparing to turn away, but Yu Hebai hurriedly stepped forward and stopped him.

“Wait!” Yu Hebai looked at Sui Yuesheng, his expression particularly serious. “This is Kyushu, not the Western Continent. I know you’re anxious, but whether as a friend or as Jiang Jingyun’s assistant, I advise against calling a private helicopter. It’s not a good idea.”

Sui Yuesheng glanced at Yu Hebai, his expression calm, but the latter instinctively leaned back.

Sui Yuesheng noticed the subconscious reaction and eventually nodded: “Alright.”

Yu Hebai exhaled deeply. He had been friends with Sui Yuesheng for many years; the latter had never laid a hand on him, and even arguments were rare, usually limited to minor bickering. But in that fleeting moment, he felt an unfamiliarity about Sui Yuesheng and sensed a feeling of being watched by a fierce beast.

Fortunately, Sui Yuesheng returned to normal.

“Shall I find a driver to take the car? That way, both Young Master Sui and Mr. Yu can rest for a bit.”

Sui Yuesheng smiled and agreed.

Xu Song escorted the two to the main house entrance, personally opening the back door of the car for them and asking, “Is there anything else I can do?”

Sui Yuesheng had slightly bent down, preparing to get in the car, but he suddenly stopped, turned back, and looked at Xu Song.

He was a bit taller than Xu Song, and from this angle, he could see the gray strands mixed in with the black hair of the old butler. Time was unforgiving; Xu Song, after all, was in the prime of life. Even though he looked energetic, handling the affairs of the Tao family, time had still left its traces on him.

Just before they left, Xu Song insisted on giving Sui Yuesheng a new coat. The one he wore now was much warmer than the previous one, and the smell of nicotine soaked in the conference room was replaced by the familiar scent of sandalwood incense.

Sui Yuesheng thought for a moment, bent down to get into the car, as if the earlier pause had never existed: “Uncle Xu, after we leave, please light some incense for me in the Buddhist hall.”

Xu Song slightly bowed, replying, “Okay.”

He stood in place, watching as the vehicle carrying Sui Yuesheng and Yu Hebai drove away, then turned and instructed the servants to fetch the keys, open the long-closed doors of the Buddhist hall, clean up, and prepare offerings.

His thoughts were clear, his steps steady, just like when he arrived at the Tao family forty years ago to raise Tao Zhixing, Zhao Jiayang, and Chu Yin.

Only the lines on his face and his slightly curved back indicated the fact that he was no longer young.

And those past memories sealed in time had long since changed beyond recognition.