Chapter 13 — From Collapse to Brilliance: I Don't Need You

For nearly two months, Trịnh Ý Nhi patiently weaved her information network. She started by proactively getting to know Khuong, a doctoral student specializing in molecular biology in Diệu Kỳ's group, through a seminar they both attended. With a gentle appearance and eagerness to learn, Ý Nhi easily creates sympathy, often texting Khuong to ask about the professional knowledge that she says she is learning more about to "expand her knowledge beyond medical expertise".

Khuong, without any suspicions, accidentally shared with Ý Nhi some information about the project's progress — not confidential data, but just general details such as what stage the project was in, a mid-term report to the institute's scientific council was coming up, and Diệu Kỳ was the main person in charge of data control. Those seemingly harmless pieces of information, when skillfully pieced together by Ý Nhi, gradually paint a detailed picture of the project's structure and operating procedures.

One evening, while chatting via text message, Ý Nhi cleverly asked Khuong about the data storage system the group was using, with the reason "I'm doing an essay on biomedical research data management, and want to refer to a real-life example". Khuong, without any suspicion, briefly described how the team organized the report files, even accidentally mentioning the names of some files and the standard report formats the team used.

With that information, Ý Nhi began researching how to create a fake document that looked exactly like the research team's real report format. She taught herself how to use image and text editing tools, spending hours practicing recreating the font, layout, even the standard logo and title of the Dawn Institute that she found on its public website.

Her goal was to create a fake report, which showed that the safety threshold of an important biochemical index in pre-clinical testing had been abnormally adjusted, with Diệu Kỳ's name and fake electronic signature in the confirmation of the change. This is exactly the trick Ý Nhi used successfully in her previous life — no need to change the real data, just create a version that looks authentic, enough to sow doubt and make others spend time and effort to prove innocence.

After many revisions, she ended up with a document that looked convincing — enough technical detail to not be immediately detected by those not directly involved in the project, but vague enough to avoid being compared too easily with the actual source data. She saved the document to a temporary email account, created under a completely anonymous, untraceable identity.

There were nights when Ý Nhi sat alone in front of the computer screen, editing every little detail in the fake document. She wondered if she was going too far, if this action was any different from what she had done in the medical lab before. But every time I think of the image of Diệu Kỳ confidently standing in the middle of the hall, admired by everyone, jealousy rises stronger, extinguishing all remaining conscience. She told herself that this was not an act of malice, but simply a way to "test" whether Diệu Kỳ's current position was really as solid as it seemed — an excuse that she herself knew was false, but still tried to cling to so she could continue to act.

She also carefully calculated the moment to strike. Through seemingly accidental chat messages with Khuong, Ý Nhi learned that the mid-term report to the institute's scientific council, where the project needed to present all pre-clinical results to ask for approval to move to the next stage, would take place in less than two weeks. This is the perfect time — if suspicions about edited data surface at this time, the entire project's progress will be stalled, and Diệu Kỳ's reputation will be seriously damaged right before the eyes of the scientific council and the investment fund that is sponsoring the project.

One evening, right when she knew the project was about to have an important mid-term report to the institute's scientific council, Ý Nhi sent that fake document to the general email address of the school's inspection department, along with a brief anonymous letter written in a worried, responsible tone: "I am a student who accidentally learned this information and feel responsible for reporting it. I am concerned that the safety data of the biotherapy research project at the Dawn Institute may have been illegally altered, potentially affecting the test results and the safety of the next steps."

She pressed send, turned off the computer, and sat silently in the dark for a long moment, her heart beating fast but also filled with a strange feeling of excitement — the familiar feeling she had experienced when she first successfully sowed the first suspicions about Diệu Kỳ in the medical lab, many years ago.

A few days later, news that the school inspection department received an anonymous report related to suspected data violations at the Dawn Institute project began to spread internally, although it was not widely publicized. Mr. Thái Bình Nguyên, head of the inspection department, after preliminary review of the attached documents, found that there was sufficient basis to conduct an internal investigation, and contacted Nhan Bách Sơn directly to inform about this issue.

Bách Sơn, when receiving the information, could not help but be shocked. He immediately convened an emergency meeting with the entire research team, including Diệu Kỳ, to inform them of the situation and ask everyone to prepare to cooperate with the upcoming investigation.

"The inspection department received an anonymous report," he said, his voice serious and different from his usual calmness, "that there were signs that the project's safety data had been illegally edited, and that the edited document had the name of the confirmer named Diệu Kỳ."

The entire meeting room fell into heavy silence. The two remaining graduate students looked at Diệu Kỳ with confused eyes, unable to hide their surprise. Khuong, in particular, had a pale face, his hands clasped together on the table, as if trying to remember what information he had accidentally revealed that might be related to this. Diệu Kỳ sat silently for a moment, feeling a familiar chill spread throughout her body — a feeling she had experienced, in her previous life, right before the storm that destroyed her life struck.

But in just a split second, that chill gave way to a strange alertness. She remembered every night she stayed up researching digital forensics, every line of hash code she learned to compare, every layer of protection she personally built for the project's data system — not because of a vague hunch, but because she knew for sure that sooner or later, a plot like this would happen. And now, that moment has come, she is no longer a passive victim without an inch of iron in her hands like in her previous life.

But this time, different from the panic and helplessness of her previous life, Diệu Kỳ felt a strange calm gradually taking over her mind. She had been preparing for this moment, not knowing exactly what form it would take. She took a deep breath, raised her head, looking straight at Bách Sơn.

"Can I see that document?" she asked, her voice so steady it surprised even herself.

Bách Sơn looked at her for a moment, his eyes complicated and unpredictable, then nodded and moved the laptop towards her. Diệu Kỳ looked at the screen, at the fake document that Ý Nhi had painstakingly created, and immediately, the knowledge she had diligently learned over the past many months about digital forensics, about how to verify the integrity of data, began to operate sharply in her mind.

She immediately noticed a few small irregularities — the font format was subtly different from the standard the team was using, the digital signature confirmation didn't match the internal system's standard format she had previously set up, and most importantly, the timestamp on the document fell on a day when, according to the automated logging system she had built, there were no logins or edits recorded from her account.

"This is a fake document," Diệu Kỳ said, her voice firm, without any hesitation. "You can prove this with the logging system you set up for the entire project."