Chapter Seven: The Hidden Master

Zhao Zhijie arrived at the appointed place, a quiet open-air café where mellow jazz floated through the air. A few people sat scattered about, leisurely sipping their coffee.

The conversation with “Black Widow” the previous night had gone smoothly. Zhao Zhijie had thought he’d need to travel far for this meeting, but to his surprise, “Black Widow” was also in Ming City.

The internet truly was a remarkable thing, turning distance into proximity, allowing strangers to become the closest of friends.

Zhao Zhijie hadn’t expected “Black Widow” to agree so readily to meet. Only yesterday had he revealed his identity as a police officer for the first time. He was prepared for the possibility of losing this friend—after all, one walked in shadow, the other in light. It would be natural for “Black Widow” to vanish upon learning he was police; Zhao Zhijie could understand that.

Yet “Black Widow” seemed utterly unfazed by his confession, as if she’d known all along. Zhao Zhijie racked his brain, but couldn’t recall ever hinting at his occupation, nor did he believe he’d slipped up during their many online battles. He couldn’t fathom her calm—perhaps she simply didn’t care that he was a cop.

Zhao Zhijie shook his head. “No point overthinking it. I’ll ask her directly when we meet. Looks like ‘Black Widow’ is even sharper than I imagined. Old friend, here I come!”

They’d only agreed on the time and place, not what to wear. “Black Widow” had said that with their connection, they’d recognize each other at once. But as Zhao Zhijie looked around, he couldn’t tell who she was.

It was the appointed hour. Zhao Zhijie was sure “Black Widow” wouldn’t stand him up—she was probably already there. He glanced around. “Could it be the man with black-rimmed glasses using a MacBook? Doesn’t quite fit—he’s browsing financial pages, and his female companion makes it unlikely he’s ‘Black Widow.’”

“Maybe the balding man drinking coffee on the left? He looks the part of an IT guy, but the cold woman across from him suggests a blind date. ‘Black Widow’ should be alone—I can rule out groups. That leaves hardly anyone here as a candidate.”

He grew a little frustrated—why hadn’t they agreed on a way to recognize each other? They’d never met; relying on fate was hardly reliable.

Zhao Zhijie scanned the café again but still couldn’t spot “Black Widow.” Suddenly, he noticed someone sitting alone in the corner, quietly drinking coffee.

He walked over and sat opposite the figure.

Before him sat a woman in a black dress, her skin pale and luminous. Zhao Zhijie smiled, amused at how simple the answer was—he’d overthought things. Smiling, he greeted her, “Hello, ‘Black Widow.’ I’m Zhao Zhijie. Pleased to meet you.”

The woman in black glanced at her dress, then looked up at him. “I’ve just divorced, not widowed. But I might as well consider him dead. So there’s nothing wrong with you calling me ‘Black Widow.’ You have a unique approach—do you always chat up girls this way? High risk of getting slapped, you know.”

Zhao Zhijie felt a twinge of confusion—had he mistaken her? Trying to remain composed, he continued, “I’d thought you were a man. Didn’t expect you to really be a woman—and a beauty at that. You truly live up to your name, ‘Black Widow!’”

The woman regarded him, annoyance flashing across her face. “Are you out of your mind?” she snapped, then stood and strode away, leaving Zhao Zhijie sitting there bewildered.

He couldn’t fathom why she was so angry. Had he really mistaken her identity? But there was no one else here who could be “Black Widow.”

Still dazed, Zhao Zhijie suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a figure flit past—a young woman in a red floral pleated dress sat down across from him.

With a teasing glint in her eye, she grinned at him. “Nice taste. She was pretty, a real beauty. But your approach needs work—you scared her off in two sentences. Aren’t you a bit old to still be single?” She burst into cheerful laughter.

Awkwardly, Zhao Zhijie said, “I thought that was you. You’re late—and why are you in red?”

Feigning indignation, she replied, “I’m a girl—is being a little late a crime? Besides, you’re the one who wanted to meet, not me. It’s only fair you wait for me.” Leaning back with her arms crossed, she continued, “Who says I have to wear black? Just because my nickname’s ‘Black Widow,’ do I have to be widowed too?”

Seeing her puffed-up indignation, Zhao Zhijie felt embarrassed. Unable to meet her gaze, he said, “Sorry, I was being thoughtless. Don’t be angry. Let me buy you a coffee.”

Her mood shifted instantly. “Sure, I’ll have a latte.”

He called for the waiter and ordered two lattes.

As they sipped their coffee, Zhao Zhijie asked, “After knowing each other so long, I still don’t know your name. Would you mind telling me?”

She shook her head. “Zhao Zhijie, you really don’t know how to talk to people. Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first before asking someone’s name?”

Startled, Zhao Zhijie corrected himself. “Sorry, my name is Zhao Zhijie.”

She immediately replied, “I know. I’m Li Weiwei. Pleased to meet you.” She extended her hand, and they shook.

Looking at Li Weiwei, Zhao Zhijie could hardly believe it. The formidable hacker he’d sparred with for years was this young woman—proof that appearances can be deceiving. Who would associate this stylish, sweet-faced girl with a hacker?

Li Weiwei noticed him staring and waved a hand before his eyes, amused. “What are you thinking? You didn’t ask me here just to daydream, did you? I’m not that bored. Say what you want to say.”

Zhao Zhijie got to the point. “I do have something to discuss. Like I told you yesterday, I’m a police officer. Our team is recruiting, and we need a top-notch hacker. You’re the best I can think of. I hope you’ll consider joining us.”

Li Weiwei replied bluntly, “No.”

Zhao Zhijie pressed, “Aren’t you even curious what the team does, or what your role would be? Your skills are excellent. We want to use your abilities to fight crime.”

He paused. “With us, you can use your talents legally and make a real contribution to society.”

“I refuse,” Li Weiwei said coolly, sipping her coffee. “Don’t talk to me about making a contribution. You’re a cop, I’m not. I don’t like being tied down—I prefer my freedom. If I want to practice, I can always find companies that need penetration testing. Why join your team?”

Zhao Zhijie hurried to explain, “You won’t be constrained. Our team is different from ordinary police departments. The people here are interesting—you’ll enjoy working with us. And you’ll be paid, of course.”

Li Weiwei couldn’t help but laugh. “You think you can tempt me with a salary? Do I look like I need money?”

Zhao Zhijie felt awkward—he knew she was nothing like him, and bringing up pay was ill-considered. Her expensive outfit alone showed she wasn’t in want, and with her skills, making money would be easy.

He persisted, “I still hope you’ll give it some thought. It’s a perfect fit for you. And fighting crime, seeking justice—shouldn’t that appeal to you? Aren’t you ‘Black Widow’? A superhero should stand for justice.”

Li Weiwei laughed again. “Oh, you’ve watched The Avengers, I see! But your team doesn’t interest me. You’re not the Avengers.”

“We’re not the Avengers,” Zhao Zhijie replied, “but we’re the Justice League. Great power comes with great responsibility. With your abilities, you should do something for humanity. On behalf of our Justice League, I sincerely invite you to join us.”

Li Weiwei laughed even harder. “You’re good at naming things! But I’m really not interested in police work. I like my life the way it is.” She stood to leave.

Zhao Zhijie didn’t try to stop her, but couldn’t help asking, “You knew I was a police officer all along, didn’t you? I thought I’d covered my tracks during our duels. I never found any trace of you on my computer. How did you know?”

Li Weiwei shot him a mischievous smile. “Is your funding that tight? Renting a server in your own name?” And with that, she walked away.

Zhao Zhijie sat watching her go, regretting his failure to recruit her and his carelessness in their technical battles.

As soon as Li Weiwei returned to her office, Secretary Zhou knocked at the door.

“Director Li, here’s the performance review for this month. Please sign it.”

“All right.”

“And the personnel adjustments for this month—please take a look.”

“Okay.”

“This afternoon you have a group meeting at four. I’ll remind you. Manager Liu from HR wants to discuss team-building for the new hires at three, Manager Zhao from Internal Audit wants to talk about this year’s audit at three-thirty, and Manager Zhang from Marketing wants to discuss the marketing budget at five-thirty. Would you like to adjust any of these?”

“No, that’s fine.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

As the general manager of a department store, “All right,” “Okay,” and “No, that’s fine” were the three phrases Li Weiwei said most often.

She’d majored in business administration in college, but her real passion was computers. She spent her college days writing code in her dorm, hunting for bugs, or sneaking into computer science lectures. Business administration became her minor by default.

After graduation, she worked as a test engineer at a foreign software company in Tanghua City. Her family was not happy with this—she was the apple of their eye, and her parents and siblings didn’t want her so far from home. They constantly urged her to return to Ming City, leading to arguments over the phone.

A year ago, yielding to their pressure, she finally returned. Her father, Li Shaoxian, was chairman of a major conglomerate in Ming City. As soon as she came back, he arranged for her to work at one of the group’s subsidiaries. She didn’t object; though she had no interest in inheriting the family business, once home, she simply went along.

Since returning, she’d rotated through three subsidiaries, always as general manager. In name, she was the boss, but in truth, she was a figurehead—the real work was handled by her staff, and her family didn’t expect her to do much. She was provided with capable assistants and only needed to familiarize herself with the business and listen to departmental heads lecture her.

But Li Weiwei was far from happy. It was not a role she ever wanted. Her daily schedule, packed by her secretary, left her feeling like a puppet with no agency. Only at night did she find joy, slipping into her other life as an elusive hacker, savoring her freedom.

She’d infiltrated every company in the group, many businesses in Ming City, and even some large firms in Jinghua. She often participated in cybersecurity tests arranged by specialist companies, but those opportunities were too few. She wasn’t out to steal data or cause harm—she simply relished the thrill of coming and going as she pleased.

Zhao Zhijie counted as an old friend. Back when she was a test engineer, she enjoyed technical battles with him online—she attacking, he defending, tracing her back. She considered his defenses weak—better than most company techs but no match for her, often breached in an hour or two. But his tracking skills were first-rate; no matter how she tried to hide, he could always find traces of her intrusions. Fortunately, his offensive skills were average—he might know how to track her to her location, but he could never breach her first line of defense.

That afternoon, Li Weiwei drifted through her duties, Zhao Zhijie’s words echoing in her mind.

“Justice League?” she mused. “It does sound fun—like being a superhero. I may not have Black Widow’s martial prowess, but in cyberspace, I’m better than the comic book version.”

Secretary Zhou, a longtime family employee and friend who had watched Li Weiwei grow up, noticed her absent-mindedness. She had mixed feelings about the new general manager—her own position had been downgraded from manager to secretary. As Li Shaoxian put it: “Secretary in name, manager in fact. Just keep an eye on Weiwei.” Still, she’d suffered—once called “Manager Zhou,” now “Secretary Zhou,” her title laced with sarcasm. Subordinates who once bowed and scraped now whispered she’d been sidelined, replaced by the boss’s new favorite. Even department heads treated her with disdain.

Yet she loved this clever, mischievous girl she’d watched grow up, always clinging to her as a child, calling “Aunt Zhou” every day. Her affection outweighed her resentment.

Seeing Li Weiwei so lost, Zhou felt sorry for her. Once a cheerful little girl, now shackled to a general manager’s desk, doing work she neither liked nor excelled at, forced to sit on pins and needles every day.

“It’s time to go home, Director Li. No more work tonight. We can head back early,” Secretary Zhou said.

“All right,” Li Weiwei replied, still absent-minded.

“You’ve been distracted all afternoon—did something happen?” Zhou asked gently.

Glancing around to make sure they were alone, Li Weiwei confided, “Aunt Zhou, I met an old friend today. It was funny—he wants me to join some team, says it’s the Justice League, wants me to be a superhero and fight for justice. Don’t you think that’s funny?”

Seeing Li Weiwei’s animated expression, Zhou realized she hadn’t seen the girl this happy since her return from Tanghua. She said, “Then what are you waiting for, Miss Superman?”

Li Weiwei beamed, “Right? Justice League—sounds fun!” Then her face fell. “But would my family approve? They’ll just say I’m a spoiled princess, that I should work in the group. Any outside job is beneath me—they’d never support it.”

Zhou asked, “But do you want to go?”

Li Weiwei nodded. “Yes, I want to see if it’s as interesting as he says.”

“Then go!” Zhou smiled warmly. “Follow your heart. I’ll keep it from your family for now. When you’re sure, you can tell them yourself.”

“Really? You’d help me? Then I’ll do it! But you must keep it secret!” Li Weiwei’s face shone with anticipation.

“I will. Go on,” Zhou nodded.

Watching Li Weiwei leave, Zhou shook her head and murmured, “Old Li, you’ve really put this child through the wringer.”

Li Weiwei dashed out of the office, pulled out her phone, and, suppressing her excitement, called Zhao Zhijie.

“Hello, who is this?”

“Zhao Zhijie, it’s Li Weiwei.” She tried to sound composed. “Is your Justice League really as amazing as you say, or are you just fooling me?”

“I’m not lying. Our team is truly special—you’ll enjoy working with us. I really hope you’ll join.”

Li Weiwei replied coolly, “I haven’t agreed to join. I just happen to be free lately, and my curiosity got the better of me. I just want to see if your team is as special as you claim.”

“That’s fine—if you’re willing to come, that’s enough. I’ll call our team leader right now.” His joy was evident.

“I said I’d take a look, not that I’m joining—don’t get so excited.” Li Weiwei rushed to correct him.

“I know, I know. I’m just happy you’re interested. I’m sure our leader will be thrilled. Wait a moment, I’ll call him and get back to you.” And with that, he hung up.

Hearing the dial tone, Li Weiwei was momentarily at a loss, then grinned with delight. “Didn’t think he’d be so eager,” she muttered.

Less than ten minutes later, Zhao Zhijie called back. “Li Weiwei, I spoke with our leader. He sincerely welcomes you to come and check out the team. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Sure, I have nothing planned,” she replied.

“Great. Let’s meet at Ming City University at eight in the morning. Don’t be late!”

“All right, see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, see you tomorrow.”

Even over the phone, she could sense his excitement. She herself was equally exhilarated. The thought of tomorrow’s meeting filled her with joy.

As the sunset painted the sky crimson and a gentle breeze brushed her face, Li Weiwei felt happier than she had since returning to Ming City. “Today really is a good day. Tomorrow’s weather should be great too,” she murmured.

Humming a tune, she raised her arms, twirled, and danced away from the company.