The nights in Shanghai carried a weight all their own. Unlike Zhonghai's brash energy, this city's heartbeat was older, deeper. The Bund gleamed with towers that whispered of centuries of trade, dynasties of wealth, and rivalries honed sharper than blades. Every street seemed to echo with deals struck behind closed doors and fortunes won or lost with a single signature.
Tonight, Liang Chen walked straight into that world.
Fleur de Lune, an exclusive French restaurant tucked in the Bund, stood like a jewel by the riverside. Its windows spilled golden light onto cobblestone streets polished by rain, chandeliers flickered inside, and violin music drifted out faintly whenever the doors opened. It was the kind of place where Shanghai's elites sealed marriages, mergers, or whispered betrayals. Reservations stretched months in advance.
Too intimate for business. Too polished for coincidence.
Liang adjusted his cufflinks as he stepped in, his expression calm but eyes scanning everything. No Duan enforcers lurking in the shadows, no Roth men at the bar. Just laughter, French murmurs, Mandarin whispers, and servers gliding in silence.
Then he saw her.
Lin Xinya sat at a corner table, posture elegant, a faint smile curving her lips.
The girl once called the "ice queen" of their class—distant, cold, untouchable. Back then, she barely spoke unless it was to cut someone down with a glance. Yet tonight, her eyes sparkled with something else entirely. Playfulness. Teasing. A warmth so out of character that Liang almost paused mid-step.
For a moment, memory blurred with the present. His mind flicked back to the lantern festival months ago. Back then, she had already surprised him with a rare smile, her voice lighter as they lit lanterns by the river. Playful, yes… but still restrained, careful not to reveal too much. Tonight, that playfulness had sharpened into something bolder. Almost flirtatious.
Now here she was, beckoning him with a look.
Liang crossed the floor and sat opposite her, every movement measured.
"So," he said evenly, "the mysterious invitation was from you."
Her smile widened, light dancing in her eyes. "Disappointed? You were expecting someone scarier?"
"I was expecting a trap," he replied flatly.
Her gaze held his, gleaming with mischief. "Maybe you walked into one anyway."
A waiter appeared with impeccable timing, uncorking a bottle with a flourish. "Our finest couple deserves a vintage from Bordeaux."
"This is a business dinner," Liang corrected curtly.
Xinya didn't even blink. She let the waiter pour, then raised her glass, tilting it toward him. "Business, dinner, date… it's all just conversation with the right person."
The words lingered heavier than wine. Liang didn't immediately raise his glass. He studied her instead. The Lin Xinya he remembered would've skewered the waiter with a single look for presumption. This one? She was enjoying herself.
Interesting. Dangerous.
She let the silence stretch before finally speaking, her tone soft but sharpened with steel. "You must be wondering why I asked you here."
"Obvious enough," Liang said. "You wouldn't risk your name for dinner unless you had something I needed."
Xinya swirled her wine, watching it spin. "The Duans aren't acting alone anymore. They've joined hands with Alexander Roth—and the Harlan Group."
The name hit like a hammer. Liang's jaw tightened imperceptibly. Alexander. The arrogant foreigner who had tried to outshine him at the Zhonghai Innovation Challenge. Defeated, yes—but never truly gone. And Harlan Group? One of Europe's most aggressive luxury houses, a wolf cloaked in velvet.
"You're certain?"
"I don't speak without proof." She slid a slim folder across the table. Their fingers brushed as he took it. Unlike the Xinya of old, she didn't retreat instantly. She lingered, just long enough for him to notice.
Inside: customs documents, wire transfers, meeting logs. Names of suppliers that had gone cold in recent weeks stared back at him. The pattern was clear.
"They're strangling you with velvet gloves," she said quietly. "Suppliers. Shipping lanes. Even regulators. All pressed just enough to choke your growth without leaving fingerprints."
Liang read without betraying emotion. But his eyes sharpened, the pieces aligning. His factories were running at full tilt, yet still failing to meet demand. Now he understood why.
"And you?" His voice was low, measured. "Where do you stand in this?"
Her lips curved. "At your table, apparently."
She leaned forward, resting her chin lightly on one hand. The gesture was casual, almost playful. To anyone watching, it might have looked like a date. To Liang, it was a dance with knives.
"You offer me a rope," he said, eyes narrowing. "But I don't know if it's silk or a noose."
"Why not give it a try." Her gaze sparkled with amusement.
Liang studied her. This wasn't the aloof, untouchable Lin Xinya from their youth. This was someone enjoying herself, teasing, prodding. Dangerous in a way he hadn't expected.
"Why help me?" he pressed. "The Duans are old money. It would be safer for you to stay out."
Her eyes glittered like shards of glass catching light. "Safe is boring. Besides…" She let the pause linger just long enough. "The Duans think they can monopolize the industry. That hurts everyone, including me. And you—" her voice dropped a shade, "—are interesting."
The word slid between them like a blade.
"Interesting isn't a reason," Liang said coolly.
Her smile deepened, enigmatic. "Maybe not. But it's enough for me to pour your wine."
Before he could stop her, she lifted the bottle herself, refilling his glass. When she set it down, her fingers lingered on the stem of his glass. She didn't move until he finally raised it.
"To cooperation," she said.
Their glasses touched with a soft chime.
Ding!
The sound echoed in Liang's mind, overlaying the violin's notes.
Achievement Unlocked: "First Alliance Forged."Reward: ¥20,000,000 + Skill: Negotiator's Instinct (Basic).
Negotiator's Instinct (Basic): Enhances ability to perceive hidden motives in conversation. Increases chance of securing favorable terms.
Knowledge surged through him—patterns of speech, flickers of expression, the rhythm of hidden bargains. Subtle cues he hadn't noticed before sharpened into focus.
Perfect. Business was war, and war demanded allies.
He looked back at her. She raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering like candlelight.
"You're hard to read, Liang Chen."
"You too," he said calmly. "But I make a habit of knowing my allies—and my enemies."
Her smile curved, playful and dangerous. "Then perhaps you'll enjoy figuring me out."
The rest of the evening moved in that strange rhythm: graphs and contacts slipped across the table, fingers brushing deliberately, her voice veering from hard business to teasing remarks. Each time he thought he had her pinned as pragmatic and cold, she laughed softly at something trivial, catching him off guard.
For the first time in years, Liang found himself unsettled—not by threat, but by intrigue.
By the time the plates were cleared and the bottle emptied, the foundation was laid for something larger than dinner. An alliance, uneasy yet powerful.
Liang stood first, buttoning his jacket with quiet finality. "Thank you for the information. I'll consider your offer."
Xinya leaned back in her chair, eyes following him with that unreadable smile. "You'll consider, but you'll say yes. You don't have a choice."
He didn't answer.
As he reached the door, a waiter rushed after him. "Sir, Miss Lin asked me to give you this."
A folded card, faintly perfumed.
Liang opened it.
Next time, don't wait for an invitation. Come on your own.
His face remained unreadable as he tucked it into his pocket. But as the cool river breeze of Shanghai brushed his skin, a rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
The war with the Duans had just escalated. But perhaps, so had something else entirely.
The nights in Shanghai held a different kind of weight compared to Zhonghai. Here, the streets pulsed not just with neon but with centuries of wealth and rivalry woven into every building, every deal, every glance exchanged between families that had ruled commerce for generations.
Tonight, Liang Chen walked into the heart of it.
Fleur de Lune, an exclusive French restaurant tucked in the Bund, glowed like a jewel by the riverside. Chandeliers scattered golden light across velvet curtains, and violins murmured above the low hum of laughter and clinking glasses. Too intimate for business, Liang thought. More like the kind of place couples booked months in advance.
Which only made him more suspicious.
He adjusted his cufflinks, expression neutral, gaze sweeping the room. No obvious threats. No lurking Duan thugs. Just moneyed elites swirling wine and murmuring in French and Mandarin. Then, in the far corner, he saw her.
Lin Xinya.
The so-called "ice queen" of their class, the girl who once carried herself like no one in the world could touch her. But she wasn't icy tonight. She sat at a corner table, posture elegant, lips curved in a faint, teasing smile as she caught him looking.
Liang's steps slowed. For a moment, memory blurred with the present—the aloof class goddess who never joined school festivals, never indulged in gossip, now sitting in a silk dress that caught the light like water. Her presence drew eyes, but she ignored them all, waiting for him.
He approached.
"So," Liang said evenly, sliding into the seat opposite. "The mysterious invitation was from you."
Her smile widened, playful. "Disappointed? You were expecting someone scarier?"
"I was expecting a trap."
Her gaze sparkled, a glint he'd never seen before in her. "Maybe you walked into one anyway."
Liang frowned slightly. She was different. Not unrecognizable, but disarmingly different.
A waiter arrived immediately, uncorking a bottle of red wine with the kind of flourish only places like this demanded.
"Our finest couple deserves a vintage from Bordeaux," the man said warmly as he poured.
"This is a business dinner," Liang corrected curtly.
Xinya didn't even blink. She let the waiter finish pouring, then tilted her glass toward Liang, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Business, dinner, date… it's all just conversation with the right person."
The words hung heavier than they should have. Liang didn't raise his glass immediately. Instead, he studied her, calm and unreadable. The Lin Xinya he remembered would've cut the waiter cold with a look. This one? She was enjoying herself.
Interesting.
She let him stew for a moment before shifting gears. "You must be wondering why I asked you here."
"Obvious enough," Liang said. "You wouldn't risk your name for dinner unless you had something I needed."
Xinya swirled her wine slowly, her reflection dark in the liquid. When she looked up, her tone had sharpened, businesslike.
"The Duans aren't acting alone anymore," she said softly. "They've joined hands with Alexander Roth—and the Harlan Group."
Liang's jaw tightened. He'd suspected Roth wasn't finished, but to confirm… and with Harlan Group's shadowy European wealth backing them? That changed the board.
"You're certain?" he asked.
"I don't speak without proof." She slid a slim folder across the table. Her fingers brushed his when he took it. The contact was fleeting, but she didn't move away instantly. "Customs documents. Wire transfers. Meetings logged under shell corporations. They're tightening their grip—suppliers, shipping lanes, even regulators. That's why your factories are choking on demand. They're strangling you with velvet gloves."
Liang scanned the top sheet, recognizing several supplier names that had gone cold in recent weeks. His expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened.
"And you?" he asked quietly. "Where do you stand in this?"
Xinya's lips curved. "At your table, apparently."
She leaned forward, resting her chin lightly on one hand. To anyone watching, it might have looked like a date. To Liang, it was a dangerous dance.
He narrowed his gaze. "You offer me a rope, but I don't know if it's silk or a noose."
Her smile didn't falter. "Then hold onto me instead. I'll decide which it is."
That playful tone again. He couldn't reconcile it with the aloof Lin Xinya from their youth. Yet here she was, teasing, laughing softly, drawing the attention of the waitstaff with her change in demeanor.
"Why help me?" Liang pressed. "The Duans are old money. It would be safer for you to stay out of this."
Her eyes glittered. "Safe is boring. Besides…" She let the pause hang just long enough before continuing. "The Duans think they can monopolize the industry. That hurts everyone, including me. And you—" she gestured lightly at him "—are interesting."
The word lingered, sharp as a needle, soft as silk.
Liang met her gaze steadily. "Interesting isn't a reason."
"Maybe not." Her lips curved again, faint and enigmatic. "But it's enough for me to pour your wine."
Before he could object, she lifted the bottle and refilled his glass herself. Her hand was steady, but when she set the bottle down, her fingers lingered against the stem of his glass. She didn't pull away until he raised it slightly.
"To cooperation," she said.
Their glasses clinked softly.
Ding!
The familiar chime echoed in Liang's mind, overlaying the soft strains of violin music.
Achievement Unlocked: "First Alliance Forged."Reward: ¥20,000,000 + Skill: Negotiator's Instinct (Basic).
Negotiator's Instinct (Basic): Enhances ability to perceive hidden motives in conversation. Increases chance of securing favorable terms.
Liang's pupils contracted slightly as knowledge flooded his mind—new pathways of reading microexpressions, subtle tones, the rhythm of negotiations.
Perfect.
Business is war. And war needed allies.
He looked back at Xinya. She raised an eyebrow, as though amused by a secret joke.
"You're hard to read, Liang Chen," she said.
"You too," he replied calmly. "But I make a habit of knowing my allies—and my enemies."
She tilted her head. "Then perhaps you'll enjoy figuring out which I am."
The night stretched on in that rhythm—business talk laced with playful barbs, moments that blurred the line between a meeting and something more personal. She passed him notes, graphs, contacts, and each time their hands brushed, her smile flickered as if she enjoyed his tension.
And through it all, Liang remained composed, though inside he admitted: this was not the Lin Xinya he thought he knew.
By the time the clock neared eleven, their plates were cleared, the wine bottle empty. The conversation had laid the foundation for something far larger than a simple dinner.
Liang stood first, buttoning his jacket. "Thank you for the information. I'll consider your offer."
Xinya leaned back in her chair, eyes following him with that same unreadable playfulness. "You'll consider, but you'll say yes. You don't have a choice."
He didn't answer.
As he reached the door, a waiter hurried after him. "Sir, Miss Lin asked me to give you this."
A folded card, faintly perfumed.
Liang opened it.
Next time, don't wait for an invitation. Come on your own.
His expression didn't shift. He folded the card, slid it into his pocket, and walked into the Shanghai night.
But as the cool river breeze brushed past him, a rare smile tugged at his lips.