---
The man in the video—tall, poised, face obscured by shadows yet distinct enough to stir unease—was a complete stranger.
She didn't recognize him at all.
He looked foreign, but not unfamiliar. A Lianhaian. That much was clear.
That meant he was from the Lianhai Republic.
Her jaw tightened as she reached for her phone and dialed a secure number. It rang once.
"Boss?" came the crisp voice of a man.
"Investigate this man," she said, her tone calm. "I just sent you the footage. I want everything—his name, background, affiliations... if he even sneezed in Lianhai, I want to know."
"Got it."
She ended the call, shoved the phone into her purse, and stood up, brushing a hand through her hair.
Her heels clicked sharply on the marble floor as she exited her office.
---
The hospital smelled of disinfectant and sterilized air.
She stepped into the ward, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.
Her grandfather, Old Master Su, was sitting upright in bed, spooning porridge from a delicate porcelain bowl.
Beside him sat her mother, still elegant despite the long days of worry.
Her mother looked up first, a soft smile on her face. "You're here."
"Mother, Grandfather," she greeted warmly, approaching.
"Meilin," he said, setting down the bowl. His eyes gleamed with pride. "You came."
"Of course," she smiled, sitting beside him. "How are you feeling today?"
"Better," he nodded. "I want to be discharged tomorrow morning. I'm tired of these white walls."
She chuckled softly. "Okay, we'll arrange that."
Old Master Su squinted at her, then frowned. "You've gotten thinner. Why do you look so pale? Is someone bullying you? What's bothering you, girl?"
Her breath hitched.
Thinner?
Was it that obvious? The fatigue under her concealer? The weight of secrets resting on her shoulders?
She blinked, pasting a calm smile on her lips.
"I'm fine, really. Nothing's wrong."
But inside, her thoughts spiraled.
Eric. William. Obsidian Fangs.
The name alone sent chills down her spine. She hadn't even begun to figure out her next move.
Were they still in the country? Would they retaliate for what she had overheard?
A knot of fear twisted in her stomach.
You walked right into their den, Meilin. And now what?
"Meilin… Meilin…"
The voice pulled her back.
"Meilin!"
She blinked. Her mother was staring at her.
"Yes, Mother?"
"What's wrong? I called you three times. You didn't hear me."
Su Meilin forced a smile. "Nothing. Just... thinking about the product launch. It starts today."
Her grandfather's face lit up. "That's my girl! My granddaughter, Su Baotian's blood runs strong in you. Remember, if there's anything you can't handle, tell me. You're the Su family's only pearl. I'll crush mountains for you."
Su Meilin's eyes softened. "I know, Grandpa. Thank you."
Her mother nodded approvingly. "Speaking of which, have you talked with Liang Yexuan?"
Su Meilin's smile faltered a bit. "Not yet."
"Well, do it tomorrow. You two still have engagement clothes to choose. The hall is almost finished. Your Aunt Liang and Uncle have been working so hard on the venue. All that's left are the lovebirds," she said with a wink.
Su Meilin blushed and nodded. "Okay. I'll go see him."
---
Meanwhile, in Yunhe Garden, Lin Yue was hunched over her sketchpad. Her fingers, smudged with graphite and ink, moved with calculated grace.
The sketch in front of her was complete.
She studied it.
Done.
A perfect fake version of the Chenhua Renovation Bid sketch.
Down to the precise lines, the texture, the ink pressure.
It was perfect.
She smiled wryly, tapping her pen against the desk.
Xu Mingze wanted a sketch?
Fine.
Here's one.
She was Yue. Not some pawn to be played.
—
She set her pen down, wiped her hands on her apron, and stretched. Her stomach grumbled softly.
Time to eat.
She padded to the kitchen, tied her long hair into a messy bun, and began slicing vegetables.
As the aroma of garlic and sesame oil filled the room, she grabbed a carton of milk and took a sip.
I should call Uncle Song, she thought.
The phone rang three times before he answered.
"What happened? Did the sun rise from the west today? You're calling me on your own?"
She chuckled. "Can't I check in?"
"You can, but you never do. What's up?"
"How's the gallery?"
"Thriving," he replied. "I sent you an email with this month's summary report."
"I'll check it."
She stirred the pan absently. "I'll come over this week. After that, we can go back to the Capital for the new store opening."
"Excellent," he said. "We're ready when you are."
A pause.
"Did the Lin family come by again?"
"Not them. But Li Meihua did drop by, asking for you. I told her you weren't around. She left quietly."
Lin Yue frowned.
What did she want?
"Likely. Oh, by the way, a collector came recently. Bought three paintings."
"Really?"
"Yeah. He's pretty famous in Zhongwen District and the Capital. Works with the government."
"What's his name?"
"Master Chen."
"Master Chen... I'll remember that," she murmured. "I sent over a few more pieces this week."
Uncle Song's excitement crackled through the phone. "Excellent! That'll drive the buzz up!"
They talked a little longer, slipping into comfortable rhythm before hanging up.
Yue leaned back on the kitchen counter, sipping milk while her rice simmered.
And then, her phone rang again.
She stared at the screen.
An unknown number.
Brows furrowed.
Her gut twisted.
She hesitated.
Who would call me at this hour...?
The phone continued to ring, persistent.
---