The elevator chimed softly as Li Mei and Li Ruolan left the penthouse, their heels fading down the hallway. The air inside turned still, but Li Zhenyu remained standing in front of his wall of city views, hands behind his back, watching the world he silently ruled.
Every day was like this: no alarms, no calls, no meetings. He didn't need them. The strings were already in his hand.
He spoke without turning. "Luo Industries' legal team—buy them. Quietly. Through Haiya Holdings."
A soft voice crackled in his ear.
"Understood, Chairman. Executing under shell entity 'Shenzhen Green Leaf Fund.' Completion in 36 hours."
He never needed to lift a finger. The empire moved beneath his silence.
Across the city, Shen Yinyin sat alone in her executive office. The men had left. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for her glass of water.
The meeting had gone well. Too well.
She stared out at the skyline. A faint memory from last night clawed at her thoughts—the way Zhenyu's hands wrapped around her hips, the raw way he whispered her name as if tasting it.
She had never been like this before—never this weak, never this desperate. She had run billion-yuan mergers, destroyed rivals with a sentence, and sent executives crawling back to their provinces in shame.
But with him… she was helpless.
Back at home, Zhenyu turned his attention to his real war.
He sat in a leather chair inside his underground study, hidden two floors beneath the penthouse. No one—not even his mother or sister—knew about this room.
The walls were lined with data displays: stock graphs, criminal records, financial chains, and personal histories.
He tapped a screen.
A photo appeared.
Shen Jinghai – 61. Chairman of Shen Holdings. Father-in-law.
Zhenyu stared at the man's face coldly. "You tried to break our marriage six times. Planted a spy in my wife's office. Moved her cousin into R&D. Still think I don't know?"
He pulled up a second window: live footage from a hidden camera inside Shen Jinghai's home study.
Zhenyu leaned back and smiled.
"Soon, you'll kneel."
By evening, the penthouse was lit with soft golden light. Shen Yinyin returned home just past 7 PM, her heels clicking on marble.
She dropped her bag and stormed straight to the living room.
Zhenyu was sipping tea on the couch, barefoot, wearing loose grey loungewear, looking like a harmless dream. She climbed into his lap without a word, straddling him.
He didn't flinch.
"I missed you," she whispered.
"You saw me this morning."
"It's not enough."
He took a slow breath, brushing her cheek. "Then stay tonight."
"I live here."
"Stay like you mean it."
She looked into his eyes, that bottomless black—sharp, unreadable, like a still pond with a monster lurking beneath.
"I belong to you," she whispered.
He leaned in, kissed her slowly. His hands traveled with purpose—claiming, not exploring.
And as her moans filled the room, his eyes never closed. Even in love, Li Zhenyu watched everything.
Far below, in a luxury villa district on the west side of Suzhou, Shen Jinghai stood by his window, frowning.
He picked up the phone.
"Move forward with the background investigation. My daughter's husband is not who he says he is."
A voice answered, "Yes, sir."
But what Shen Jinghai didn't know—could never know—was that the very investigator he hired now worked for Zhenyu.
And Li Zhenyu was already watching him through the very lens he had planted.
"Checkmate in ten moves, old man," Zhenyu whispered, pressing his lips to his wife's neck as she melted against him.