In the billiard-room of the Grand Gaming and Recreation Club, ten senior directors of the Fu Corporation sat in heavy silence. Rain lashed violently against the reinforced floor-to-ceiling glass, but inside, the air was dense with bitter frustration.
"We miscalculated," Director Zhang growled, slamming his glass of vintage scotch onto the rosewood table. "Six years ago, when the Old Man retired, we thought backing Jiyan was our winning move. A sickly weakling! Only 18 years old , no backing, no deep roots in business,always stayed abroad for treatment,completely dependent on the family's goodwill. We assumed he'd be desperate for our political backing, malleable, and eager to please."
"Instead, the moment the Old Man stepped back, Jiyan gave control of the pen to Chengzhi the loyal adopted son and his best friend," Director Liu spat, rubbing his temples. "Chengzhi became the authorized signatory for the entire empire, while Jiyan sat at the top as the nominal heir—a sickly young master rumored to be half-dead from some hidden, incurable affliction! We thought it was a puppet government, but Chengzhi turned out to be an absolute wall."
"And yet," murmured Old Mr. Zhao, the eldest and most dangerous of the conspirators, his eyes narrowing beneath heavy lids, "every time we attempt to drain capital through the offshore subsidiaries or force a vote on the European division, a hidden hand strikes back with lethal precision. Accounts frozen overnight. Shell companies audited in secret. Our loyalists exposed in the press before our legal team can even draft a statement. But whenever we had sent someone to spy on Chengzhi it failed.It looked like some hidden hand was backing him all along. We have to make Jiyan and Chegzhi fight and put an leash on Jiyan."
"Before Jiyan came back we almost had cornered Chengzhi in the heir battle. He and Jiyan were always rivals in everything.It's surprising to see them as friend now."Fu Mian,the second heir to the corporation chimed in.
"Fu Jiyan is twenty-four. Unmarried, weakling but spends lavishly,donates highly. He has no vices. No gambling, no women, no public weaknesses.Public loves him for donating so much in public welfares, hospitals,researches,orphanages and old-age homes but every man, no matter how cold, must settle down when the family elders step in."
Zhao slid a thin, navy velvet dossier across the table.
Director Zhang flipped it open. Inside was a single summary, topped by a photo of a young woman with serene, clear eyes, delicate features, and an aura of quiet, unpretentious elegance.
"Su Nian," Liu read aloud. "Twenty-two.Currently temporary general manager and troubleshooter of Su Corporation . Her grandfather passed away years ago, and her parents died long ago, no details of her maternal family in record. Her uncle is the sole management of the Su Corporation who is trying to get rid of her."
"She's a nobody," Zhang sneered. "How does a nobody help us control Fu Jiyan?"
"Precisely because she is a nobody," Zhao countered smoothly. "If we push an ambitious socialite from the Gu or Lin clan onto Jiyan, he will smell a trap and reject her outright. Su Nian has no powerful family to back her up.But she is intelligent. She was the mind behind the Lin Corporation's uplift in short five years and now Su Corporation got out of the major trouble it faced and almost have no trouble from when she took the job of troubleshooting but never took credit for her hardworks.She is easy to control too.She didn't take any revenge after the Lin guy and her sister betrayed her.She is till thinking good for their companies. She will be our eyes and ears inside his private life."
"And Jiyan?" Liu asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why would he agree to marry her?"
"Elder Fu values 'modesty and clean background' above all else," Zhao chuckled darkly. "We will have the family matriarchs present Su Nian to the Old Man as a gentle, virtuous girl untainted by corporate greed. Elder Fu will order the match. And Jiyan? As a son who lives to fulfill his duty, he won't dare openly rebel against the Old Man over a mere marriage arrangement."
The quietest corner of the Provincial Museum's archival wing smelled faintly of old parchment, aged oak, and herbal varnish.
Su Nian sat at her worktable, meticulously cleaning the edge of a faded Qing-dynasty silk scroll with a camel-hair brush. Her hands were steady, her breath soft and measured. For her, this quiet workshop was a sanctuary away from the chaotic life.Spending time here is her hobby.
She was so focused that she didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching down the stone corridor.
The heavy wooden door opened, and a tall, imposing figure stepped inside. Fu Jiyan had slipped away from his security detail on the floor below, seeking a quiet space away from the pompous museum donors and corporate sycophants attending the Fu Foundation's annual gala. He hated these public displays, but Chengzhi forced him to come and enticed him with huge collection of antiques of this museum.
He expected an empty archive room. Instead, he found a young woman bathed in the soft afternoon light filtering through the high arched window.
Jiyan stopped in his tracks. His sharp, dark eyes—usually cold and unreadable—scanned her slender frame, her simple linen blouse, and the calm, utter concentration on her face. She looked like a painting herself, completely untouched by the noise of the world outside.
Su Nian paused, sensing a presence. She set her brush down carefully and turned around.
Standing in the doorway was a man who looked like he belonged on the cover of an elite financial magazine. His suit was dark, impeccably tailored, and his presence carried an air of absolute, unconscious authority. Yet, there was an unmistakable exhaustion hidden deep behind his piercing gaze.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. They were complete strangers—neither knew the other's name, let alone the hidden plots already spinning around them in the gilded halls of high society.
"This area is restricted to restoration staff," Su Nian said softly, her voice clear and gentle, breaking the stillness. She didn't sound intimidated, merely polite and composed.
Jiyan looked at her, his expression relaxing by a fraction—a rare occurrence for a man whose life was a constant war of corporate espionage and family politics.
"My apologies," Jiyan said, his voice a low, smooth baritone. "I was looking for a moment of quiet."
Su Nian looked at his expensive cufflinks, then at his shadowed eyes, guessing he was one of the overwhelmed guests from the gala downstairs. A faint, subtle smile touched her lips. "If you need quiet, the west balcony at the end of the hall is usually completely empty. The guests rarely wander up here."
Jiyan stood still for a second longer, studying her face. In a world full of people screaming for his attention, money, and influence, this stranger in the quiet archive room treated him like nothing more than a lost visitor.
"Thank you," Jiyan said softly, giving a slight, courteous nod.
Before he could say another word, the heavy footsteps of his assistant echoed down the hallway.
"Mr. Fu!" the assistant called out anxiously from around the corner. "Old Master Fu's car has arrived. The matriarchs are waiting in the main reception hall—they say they have an important family matter to discuss regarding your personal arrangements!"
Jiyan's face instantly hardened, the brief moment of calm vanishing like smoke. The cold, impenetrable armor of the Fu family's proxy king slammed back into place.
"I'm coming," Jiyan responded coldly to the assistant.
He gave Su Nian one last, unreadable glance before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room, his dark coat tailing behind him.
Su Nian watched the empty doorway for a long moment, feeling a strange, lingering chill in the air. She picked up her camel-hair brush again, unaware that the powerful "Mr. Fu" who had just stepped out of her sanctuary was the very man the board was maneuvering to bind her to—and that their peaceful encounter in the archives was the calm before an absolute storm.