6:00 AM – Li Family Mansion, Command Room (Sublevel)
The average visitor to the Li family's top-floor penthouse would never imagine what lay beneath it. Hidden two levels below, buried behind biometric locks and false architecture, was "The Orchid Room" — Zhenyu's private surveillance and data war-room.
The walls were lined with dark glass displays. Screens showed city-wide traffic cams, trading floors, encrypted messages between executives, and audio snatches pulled from intercepted calls.
Zhenyu stood in the center, his fingers interlocked behind his back, staring at the live feed from Huaxi Securities' 19th-floor executive lounge, where Qiulan was currently working.
His assistant, Chen Luo, stood by his side — loyal, young, and handpicked from Zhenyu's university years.
"She entered the private server room at 1:12 AM," Chen reported, eyes flicking between the displays. "No unusual access logs, but the cameras picked up hesitation. She stopped for 11 seconds outside the backup terminal."
Zhenyu said nothing at first.
Then, quietly: "People only hesitate when they're thinking about breaking something."
He walked to the central terminal and pulled up a profile file: Qiulan Wei, 30, ten years of service, formerly a top graduate of Fudan University's behavioral economics program.
"She knows how to cover her tracks," Zhenyu murmured. "That makes her dangerous. Watch her heartbeat metrics next time she visits the servers."
Chen frowned. "We're going to let her continue? Should I tighten access?"
"No. A frightened mole runs faster into the trap. Let her think she's safe." Zhenyu's eyes narrowed. "I'll decide if she's salvageable… or replaceable."
Meanwhile – Shen Group Tower, Executive Floor
Shen Yinyin stood at the head of the Monday boardroom meeting, her posture composed, her expression unreadable. The table was full — regional heads, marketing directors, legal counsel, and seated at the far end, her cousin: Shen Jinhai, newly promoted VP of external operations.
The meeting had gone smoothly until a minor item surfaced: a proposed acquisition of a failing logistics company in Suzhou.
Jinhai leaned forward. "It's a bad bet. The company's financials are trash, and their CEO is tied up in three lawsuits."
Yinyin, however, had already done her homework.
"That's the surface view," she replied coolly. "But dig deeper and you'll find that they hold patents on a warehouse AI tracking system that Shen Group's competitors are quietly bidding on."
Jinhai smiled thinly. "And how did you come across such insight? Private research, or… a husband's whisper?"
The jab hung in the air like a knife.
Some of the board members glanced down. Others shifted uncomfortably.
Yinyin's eyes met Jinhai's — calm, steady. "From intelligence gathered through legally approved internal channels. But if you're questioning my ability to lead without personal bias, feel free to submit your concerns in writing."
She turned back to the board, continuing as though the moment hadn't happened. But the silence that followed was thick.
Later, as the room emptied, Jinhai lingered near the window.
"You play a dangerous game, Yinyin," he said without turning around. "You pretend the board respects you, but the whispers grow louder every quarter. Your husband's shadow is long."
She approached him slowly. "And yet, even you can't bring yourself to challenge me openly."
He finally turned, smirking. "I prefer to win quietly."
Elsewhere – Qiulan's Apartment, 9:00 PM
Qiulan sat alone on her balcony, the cold wind of late spring brushing her arms. She clutched a warm cup of green tea, staring blankly out at the glittering skyline.
Her thoughts drifted — to Zhenyu's cold, sharp eyes. To Feng Yun's offer. To her own fear of irrelevance, of being outmaneuvered, discarded after years of silent loyalty.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
"Still thinking? Time doesn't wait, and neither do enemies. — F.Y."
She stared at it for a long while.
Then typed a reply:
"Meet tomorrow. Alone. No names."
She hit send.
Midnight – Rooftop of Shen Group Tower
A drone hovered silently above the Shen Group Tower, its camera feed transmitted to a secure relay node far across the city. Inside his hidden sublevel, Zhenyu watched as the drone locked onto a figure entering the rooftop garden: Feng Yun, flanked by two bodyguards.
Zhenyu's voice was barely audible. "Why would he go to my wife's tower… at midnight?"
Chen Luo zoomed in the feed.
"Heat signature says he's alone now. Bodyguards waited in the elevator. He's making a call."
They listened.
"…If she falters, remove her. I want the wife broken before the boy even realizes it."
Zhenyu's eyes sharpened, but he remained quiet.
Then, turning toward the map of the city and his growing web of surveillance points, he whispered:
"Feng Yun thinks he's playing chess. But I am the board."