Hey! The Criminal Assistance System Can Even Be Used Like This? 107

Li Qing packed her things efficiently, grabbing them and leaving quickly.

Xu Zhizhi answered the phone. “What’s wrong?”

“Be careful, they’re onto you!” Qin Su said.

Xu Zhizhi looked at the phone. It was indeed Qin Su calling. She asked doubtfully, “Of course I know that. Tell me something I *don’t* know.”

Qin Su was silent for a while before saying, “It’s not just them. There’s a hacker group behind them, about a dozen people, from several different countries. They’re very skilled and plan to harass you online. Be careful.”

“Ah…” Xu Zhizhi’s gaze went blank. “Damn hackers.”

Qin Su remained silent, then said softly, “…Don’t curse yourself.”

“I understand. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” Xu Zhizhi sighed.

These people were incredibly reckless. Did they really not expect to be outmaneuvered? Or did they simply look down on her?

Xu Zhizhi suspected the latter.

Qin Su thought for a moment and said, “If possible, if they’re in the country, can we handle the arrest?”

“Okay.” Xu Zhizhi replied crisply.

Qin Su felt relieved and hung up, starting to work on the case, organizing evidence. After finishing, he felt he should stay close to Xu Zhizhi, in case she needed support.

Xu Zhizhi put away her phone and looked at Feng Jie. “Jie jie, get me my laptop. I need to use it.” (She prefers calling Feng Jie “Jie jie,” which sounds like calling her an older sister; calling her “Feng jie” feels too formal to Xu Zhizhi.)

They still had half an hour before filming the afternoon scenes, which should be enough time.

As a competent assistant, Feng Jie naturally carried a laptop. She turned to get her bag, pulled out the laptop and handed it to Xu Zhizhi.

Xu Zhizhi opened the laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard, implanting viruses into her various platform accounts. She also caused the computers and phones around her, along with those of her close associates, to crash, simultaneously plugging a loophole in the Jiang City fingerprint system.

Feng Jie didn’t watch Xu Zhizhi’s movements; she stood in front of Xu Zhizhi, shielding her from prying eyes.

This time, Xu Zhizhi’s virus was simple: an advanced version of the V-Chat counterattack virus program she had previously created. During her spare time, she had improved it so that anyone attempting to log into her accounts would have all collectable information from their computer sent back to her. In other words, whoever dared to attack would have to bear the consequences.

This virus was the culmination of hacking skills; if anyone dared to attack, they would learn to cry for their mothers. If they wanted to harass her online, let’s see how they liked being harassed back.

Xu Zhizhi felt that if there were a mirror nearby, she would certainly see a cunning smile on her face.

After finishing, Xu Zhizhi rehearsed her lines and prepared to go on set. This scene was at the courthouse entrance, where they were reshooting the smiling scene—the one where the character is released and looks at the only police officer who still suspects them.

Xu Zhizhi had filmed it once before with the original supporting male lead. Now it was Wu Su, requiring a reshoot.

Xu Zhizhi’s shots went smoothly; she just had to recreate her previous expressions and actions. Any mistakes resulted in an NG.

However, Wu Su wasn’t doing well. He struggled to get into character, even flinching at Xu Zhizhi’s gaze.

Chu Lu, a patient director, personally guided Wu Su through his movements and acting.

In film and television, the director, screenwriter, and crew are paramount. The actors are secondary. A director’s fundamental skill is to bring out the best in each actor. Great works are often made this way.

Of course, character suitability and acting skill are also crucial; they add the finishing touch.

After explaining it patiently three or four times, Wu Su finally passed the take.

One second they were getting into a car; the next, the fake car was pushed to the other side, transforming into a press interview scene.

Wei Qunqing, full of confidence, and Xu Xu, unjustly accused but luckily possessing “evidence” upon her return.

Xu Xu didn’t accept interviews from reporters and internet celebrity broadcasters. She stood silently, looking utterly heartbroken.

Wei Qunqing said, “Many key details are difficult to explain briefly here. I will post everything on my Weibo later; please check it then.”

Then, protecting his client Xu Xu, he left, his expression lighter than ever before.

This group consisted of online media reporters and internet celebrity broadcasters. They weren’t worried about not getting an interview; they started chattering amongst themselves.

Despite their seemingly frivolous chatter, this was their method of gaining views. They would exaggerate, set the mood with background music. A little video was all it took to fabricate a story.

“Hee hee hee, the despairing, daughter-murdering mother returns; the father’s seventh day of mourning.” An internet celebrity broadcaster showed off their edited video title, proudly boasting to their colleagues.

Another one laughed, “The daughter-murdering mother was innocent; the father was driven to suicide by netizens. Mine is clearly better.”

“Mine, mine…”

The scene was full of one-upmanship; they continuously boasted about their sensational titles that would attract viewers.

The only seemingly serious news media outlet, looking at their proper, subject-object-clear titles and factual reports, wore a wry smile.

These people now boasted about their follower counts. One person, seeing their own ten thousand followers, hung their head.

They left in a group, saying they were going to have dinner and network. Their assistants were enough to edit and send the videos; their appearance was all that was needed.

Watching the departing crowd, the only serious media outlet looked at their phone, still editing, still working on the title. After thinking for a moment, they took a deep breath and changed the previously dull title. Even the content changed significantly.

After posting it, the likes and views surged. Although some previous fans complained in the comments section, compared to the increase in new viewers, those comments were insignificant.

Looking at the video, the man let out a sigh of relief, tinged with sadness.

“Good! Excellent! Passed!” Chu Lu said with a smile.

This scene was highly ironic, seemingly foreshadowing change. Bad money drives out good; the online ecosystem was chaotic. But Chu Lu wouldn’t let it develop like this; she would plant a hidden clue, hinting at future leads in Xu Xu’s daughter’s murder case. However, this clue would be subtle; she would film it, but whether the audience could guess it was up to them.

At the end of the film, she would also revert that trend-following news media account’s title back to its original form, telling everyone that good ultimately triumphs over evil. Part of it was for censorship reasons, and part of it was her way of giving the film a relatively happy ending.

This scene was relatively important, requiring several NGs. After filming, it was 4 PM.

There was still time, so Director Chu started filming close-ups of the previous scene, focusing on Xu Zhizhi and other actors.

After finishing today’s filming, tomorrow they would start shooting the courtroom scenes.

Filming was unexpectedly smooth, making Chu Lu happy because, if it continued like this, they could finish half a month early.

Xu Zhizhi had few close-ups to shoot, so she finished quickly. Afterward, she happily checked her accounts. She was excited, like a fisherman who had cast their net, wondering how much fish they had caught, and how many were big ones. Most importantly, what interesting things would these fish have? Of course, she filmed seriously; Xu Zhizhi was never careless about her work.

Feng Jie seemed to know what Xu Zhizhi was looking forward to. When Xu Zhizhi returned, her laptop was already on the camping table, next to a water glass; a camping chair was in front of the table—it looked very comfortable.

Xu Zhizhi’s jaw dropped. Feng Jie was so thoughtful.

Not only that, but she also leaned close to Xu Zhizhi and said, “I saw Li Qing looking at your phone just now. I’ll stand next to you and watch over you, don’t worry!”

“Wow! Jie jie, you’re amazing!” Xu Zhizhi’s eyes widened, not concealing her praise.

Feng Jie smiled happily and raised an eyebrow at Xu Zhizhi, implying “Of course.”

Xu Zhizhi scanned the scene, her gaze lingering on Li Qing for a moment. After pondering, she decided to check the online situation first.

Xu Zhizhi opened Weibo and quickly found the fish that had been caught. The data from the other party was surprisingly several gigabytes, stunning Xu Zhizhi.

What had they done to have so much data?

Xu Zhizhi’s virus program was designed to filter data; it wouldn’t copy everything; meaningless data would be filtered out. Instead of tracing the network to find the person, she took a moment to prepare mentally before opening the files.

After all, it was hacker material. Xu Zhizhi was a little afraid that the sheer amount of data might hurt her precious, sparkling eyes.

Unexpectedly, it was full of landscape photos. Serene clouds, tranquil sunsets; the user seemed to have a great appreciation for life.

Xu Zhizhi scrolled down; there were also some landscape videos. Bored, she randomly clicked on a video of a sunset recording. It showed a distant island; it seemed that a plane was flying over.

Xu Zhizhi closed it and scrolled down, looking for something different. These were uninteresting; she had seen enough scenery.

Unfortunately, the person seemed to be a pure landscape photography enthusiast; several gigabytes were all scenery, nothing else.

Xu Zhizhi went back to check and slightly furrowed her brows. It was strange; the program showed that these pictures were recovered from the recycle bin.

“All deleted?” Xu Zhizhi froze, muttering to herself. Why would they be deleted?

Xu Zhizhi looked at other things, feeling a headache coming on; it was a bit too complex. It was a series of text messages, cryptic, full of formulas and a long string of technical terms.

Xu Zhizhi was just a law intern; the original Xu Zhizhi was just an ordinary student from a regular university. She couldn’t understand any of it.

Without any leverage, Xu Zhizhi closed the folder, feeling unhappy.

She had originally thought she could find some explosive gossip, then trace it back to the people behind it, expose them spectacularly, let them experience public shaming, and then get arrested by the police.

Now it seemed that this idea was destined to fail.

Xu Zhizhi couldn’t hide her disappointment. She closed the laptop and started scrolling through short videos on her phone. She hadn’t used her phone in a long time; scrolling through it was fun! Simple joy!

Seeing that she wasn’t using the laptop anymore, Feng Jie sat beside her, offering her a small fan to cool off. She was still wearing her spring and autumn two-piece costume; wasn’t she hot?

After giving Xu Zhizhi the small, hand-held electric fan, Feng Jie took out a large palm leaf fan and fanned herself vigorously. She was healthy but couldn’t stand the heat. At four or five in the afternoon, she was sweating profusely; only a fan larger than her face would suffice.

Xu Zhizhi looked at the small fan, its airflow minimal and rather noisy. She decisively turned it off and put it aside, sitting next to Feng Jie to enjoy the breeze.

Feng Jie glanced at Li Qing, who occasionally looked over, and observed, “I think that kid is acting strange; he seems very interested in you.”

Occasionally glancing at Xu Zhizhi was normal; who doesn’t like pretty girls? But the intentional way he scanned the room, his gaze always settling on Xu Zhizhi, then leaving at regular intervals, told Feng Jie that he was deliberately watching her.

“True, but I didn’t sense any malice,” Xu Zhizhi frowned.

Qin Su had said that Xu Zhizhi was a walking crime detection machine; people in front of her were like glass. If she didn’t sense anything wrong or malicious from them, she wouldn’t notice them.

Feng Jie fanned herself vigorously, continuing, “Later, when you go back, I’ll check out that guy.”

“Ah?” Xu Zhizhi was startled. Was that really okay?

Feng Jie glanced at Xu Zhizhi, “I think this guy is like a paparazzi.”

“Paparazzi?” Xu Zhizhi’s expression turned strange. Paparazzi following them to the set?

Feng Jie said, “Yes, I think he’s a veteran paparazzi, constantly observing things, watching your daily activities. I just don’t know why he infiltrated the crew as a post-production worker.”

Xu Zhizhi nodded, half-understanding. She didn’t know much about how the entertainment industry worked.

Soon it was time to leave work. Feng Jie, feigning something to do, let Xu Zhizhi and the others go back in their car and stayed behind.

Xu Zhizhi wasn’t too worried: first, this person was probably not bad; second, even if he brought two more people, they couldn’t beat Feng Jie. She was an avid fitness enthusiast; years ago, she studied weightlifting but stopped due to some incident. But to be safe, she decided to keep in touch with Feng Jie constantly and check the situation after returning.

Around 6 PM, Feng Jie came back and pulled Xu Zhizhi to the balcony.

“I found that guy; he’s a paparazzi, or at least a part-time one,” Feng Jie said quickly.

Xu Zhizhi was still stunned when Feng Jie pointed to an empty room across the way. It was an unfinished apartment, level with Xu Zhizhi’s balcony. In the dim light, she could vaguely see a photography tripod. It was shadowy and indistinct; if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t notice it was photographic equipment.

During the day, she rarely looked out the window; she had looked once at night but found it a bit frightening and stopped. She never expected that someone would be filming her from across the way.

Xu Zhizhi covered her face. Thankfully, she was very careful about her privacy; otherwise, it would be easy to capture some unpublishable photos.

Feng Jie frowned, “I confronted him directly, asking him to give up and delete all the material. But it seems he won’t cooperate.”

Paparazzi, literally, wasn’t a good word. Regardless of privacy, they would steal photos, hype up news, and make things up to get views and make money. Secondary gray income was also a major source of their income because if they captured something explosive, celebrities would contact them to buy the scandal. This led to a considerable number of paparazzi.

The most famous one should be “Zhou Yi Jian” (Zhou sees you on Monday), even using the tactic of creating teasers, subtly hinting at people to “pay to redeem the material”. If they didn’t pay, he would post it on his account and let netizens eat the gossip. Either way, he would make money.

“I’ll call Yun jie first,” Xu Zhizhi didn’t understand the entertainment industry’s processes and decided to ask Yun Ziwei how to handle this.

Feng Jie agreed with Xu Zhizhi’s approach; Yun Ziwei, her manager, was responsible.

Yun Ziwei’s call went through quickly. After listening, she didn’t say anything but asked for Li Qing’s number. Feng Jie had it and gave it to Yun Ziwei.

After Yun Ziwei took over, she reassured Xu Zhizhi, “You don’t have any exploitable material. This guy is probably a small-time paparazzi; I’ll handle it.”

“Okay, Yun jie,” Xu Zhizhi replied concisely.

Yun Ziwei told Xu Zhizhi to focus on filming and wait for her good news.

Feng Jie nodded. Yun jie, as a manager, worked efficiently and was experienced in dealing with such matters. Therefore, she didn’t get entangled with the other party and came back after saying what she needed to.

However, she wasn’t sure how it would be handled: ignored or ordered to stop the illegal photographing. This definitely needed handling; no one could remain indifferent to being secretly filmed.

After dinner, Xu Zhizhi received a call from Yun Ziwei.

“It’s handled. That person deleted all the material, promised to stop filming you and will apologize later.” Yun Ziwei stated the results directly.

Sitting on the sofa, Xu Zhizhi was curious, “Yun jie, how did you do it? Feng Jie couldn’t get him to listen.”

“Simple. If he didn’t agree, tell Director Chu,” Yun Ziwei said with a hint of amusement. Chu Lu brought the person into the crew. If Chu Lu knew, he would be in trouble. Daring to secretly film and refuse to delete the material? That’s incredibly reckless.

Xu Zhizhi smiled, “Great! Thank you, Yun jie.”

“It’s nothing. If I wasn’t busy, I would have dealt with it myself,” Yun Ziwei said apologetically.

Xu Zhizhi sighed, “No need. Jie jie is enough at the set; I’m not a popular starlet who gets constantly followed and hounded every day.”

“Okay.” Yun Ziwei said softly.

Xu Zhizhi hummed, hung up the phone, and ended the call. The film’s popularity was gradually declining, and her attention was also slowly decreasing. Simply put, Xu Zhizhi took the acting route: filming, promoting, and endorsing products when there was work; she was quiet as a chicken otherwise.

This was the route Yun Ziwei approved of, because that’s how to have a longer career. If she constantly bought hot searches on Weibo, hyped up news about outshining others, created CPs (couple) stories, and spread rumors, Xu Zhizhi would be exhausted. Moreover, she would become a short-term commodity, fading into obscurity in less than two years.

Looking at the entire entertainment industry, those who laughed last were those who gradually established themselves through their works. The audience also appreciates this.

Xu Zhizhi felt her mindset changing. She thought that perhaps she could have her own small business. After buying a house and saving enough money to retire comfortably, maybe she could gradually choose the scripts she liked and play the best roles.

But this was just a simple thought; the most important thing now was to be able to retire comfortably. Everything else was too far away. She hoped to achieve financial freedom before the age of thirty.

Getting sidetracked, Xu Zhizhi opened her laptop, curious if anyone else had fallen into her trap. She hadn’t given Qin Su the previous person’s address, mainly because she wasn’t sure if they were really the mastermind. There was no evidence! She looked at the traces; there was no trace of contact with Song Yang.

Unexpectedly, Xu Zhizhi found another victim. This one was more “normal”; their computer contained programs, videos, pictures, and even novels. Xu Zhizhi didn’t dare to look closely; following the trail, she found it was a college student.

She also unearthed their fragmented online persona, various internet trolls, personal attacks, and even… harassment of ordinary girls. Using their hacking skills to hide their tracks, this person harassed many people simultaneously on various platforms—a wide net to catch more fish.

Xu Zhizhi checked; this person still wasn’t connected to the one who contacted Song Yang.

If hackers have levels, this would be a small fry, a scout. The brilliance of her software lay in the fact that the other party couldn’t detect her presence; she could do it without alarming them.

Two were not the right ones. After backing up the data, Xu Zhizhi decided to continue fishing until she caught the right person and then sent them all to jail together.

Feng Jie was tidying up her clothes and belongings in her room. She had moved in with Xu Zhizhi, but because she was so busy, everything was a mess.

After Xu Zhizhi finished, she started practicing her disguise skills. Money-saving skills were good skills.

Qin Su was still investigating; Xu Zhizhi didn’t ask; if the case was closed, Qin Su would tell her.

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