Friday – 8:20 AM, South Media Towers – Level 16, Editorial Floor
Yan Meilin closed her lipstick-red laptop with a soft click. Her black pencil skirt hugged her hips as she moved across the newsroom, heels echoing like clockwork in the open space.
"Meilin-jie," one of the interns called nervously, holding out a new briefing packet.
She waved it away.
"I only deal in stories no one wants printed."
Her eyes scanned the stack of files on her desk — old dossiers of executives, deep research on Shanghai's industrial corruption web, and several discreet photos of Shen Jinhai taken over the last five years.
But today's attention was on someone else.
Li Zhenyu.
She hadn't spoken his name in two years.
Not since her younger sister, Yan Suying, had suddenly vanished—after a quiet, strange internship at a "shell company" buried within Zhenyu's web of businesses.
And now, Zhenyu's name appeared in a confidential tip sent to her anonymous inbox.
"Project Chrysalis," she whispered.
Something was bubbling beneath the surface of Shen Group.
And Yan Meilin would expose it all—brick by bloody brick.
Same Morning – 10:35 AM, Qiulan's Apartment
"Zhou Xi, this isn't a game anymore."
Qiulan tossed the printed pages across the coffee table.
Zhou Xi flinched as the document scattered: Board Shadow Holdings, Offshore Assets, Chrysalis Triggers.
"This is a full system of shadow finance," Qiulan continued. "Zhenyu controls not just Shen Group, but half a dozen corporations under false names. Look at the signatures—see the same stylized crescent on the bottom? That's him."
Zhou Xi's mouth went dry. He leaned closer, eyes racing over shell company names—Baihua Logistics, Crimson Venture, Lantern Edge Holdings…
"…He's creating a firewall," he murmured. "Even if Shen Jinhai tried to remove him, the financial collapse would destroy half their family's network."
Qiulan stared hard. "And you still trust Yinyin?"
Zhou paused.
"No," he said finally. "But I trust what she's capable of when she finds out the truth."
11:50 AM, Shen Group Executive Lounge
Yinyin stirred her jasmine tea, face unreadable. Across from her, Ruohan spoke in a low voice.
"...your husband's name came up again during our audit of internal investments. There are patterns too clean to ignore. Diversion of pension fund equity. Staged volatility in small-cap firms Shen Group acquired. That's not 'instinct,' Yinyin."
She didn't look up.
"I'll handle it."
"Are you sure you can?"
"I said—" her voice snapped like a whip, "—I'll handle it."
A pause.
Then a soft smile.
"Thank you for bringing this to me, ge."
Ruohan studied her.
"You're either in love, or you're in denial."
Yinyin sipped her tea again. Her silence was answer enough.
1:20 PM, Wen Liang's Office
The file was open again.
His finger hovered over the upload button.
Anonymous Publish – PressNetwork Internal Leak
One click would send it.
One click would ruin Zhenyu.
Or… make Wen Liang disappear.
He remembered the cold sensation of being followed this morning.
The subtle blink of a street camera.
A van with a cracked side mirror parked near the café for too long.
Then he thought of Qiulan. Of how her hands had trembled.
He clicked Save Draft.
Not yet.
Evening – 8:10 PM, Zhenyu's Apartment – Private Study
Zhenyu read the latest dossier from his network.
Yan Meilin.
He leaned back in his chair, lips slightly curved.
"So the dragon wakes," he murmured. "I wondered when you'd resurface, Meilin."
His eyes moved to the second page — a surveillance photo from this morning.
Meilin had met with Tang Guozhi, a corrupt ex-investigator with ties to Shen Jinhai's secret fund.
And worse—Guozhi had once worked under the same task force that investigated Project Chrysalis in its infancy.
He tapped the table, once.
Then twice.
Then turned to his secure laptop.
"Activate: Phase Three – Smoke Veil. Surveillance deep trace on Yan Meilin. Limit to non-lethal unless target contacts Qiulan or Zhou Xi."
He folded his fingers.
Time to draw her in.
Late Night – 11:23 PM, Rooftop Balcony
Yinyin stood against the railing, wind teasing the hem of her robe. She stared out over the lit skyline, her mind swimming in data, inconsistencies… and emotions.
Zhenyu stepped behind her, arms wrapping around her waist. She didn't flinch.
"Do you regret marrying me?" she asked softly.
He kissed her shoulder. "No."
"Even though I'm your superior at work? Even though my family is—"
"Enemies?" he whispered. "They're not enemies."
She tilted her head back against his shoulder.
"Then what are they?"
"Tools," he said gently. "And I only use them because I want to protect you."
She didn't respond.
Not right away.
Then: "If I find out you've been lying to me… I won't forgive you."
He nodded slowly.
"I wouldn't expect you to."
Their lips met — intense, drawn, deep with unspoken truths.
But somewhere far below, in a dark alley outside the Shen Group archives, a man dropped a USB drive into a public mailbox. It would reach Meilin in two days.
The storm was coming.