Chapter Two: A One-Pixel Target

He enlarged his screenshot of NULL. Most people would have seen only gray, but Lin noticed a cyan-violet fringe repeating every seven pixels. It was not ordinary compression. It was a watermark. He wrote the pattern in a paper notebook. If electronic records could be rewritten, perhaps paper and the human eye would last a little longer. That afternoon, Zhou Kuo called. Zhou was a director at Obsidian Advertising and the man who had withheld ¥180,000 from Lin three months earlier. “Emergency job,” Zhou said. “Hengyao Jewelry needs its launch visual. Be here by eight. Do it well and I’ll pay you fifty thousand.” “Pay the old invoice first.” Zhou laughed. “You think you can negotiate?”