Morning light sharpened every edge of Luminar Tower.
The city had stopped raining, but inside the building the storm still raged.
Shen Qiao stood at the glass wall of the CEO office, arms crossed, watching the live chart fluctuate in angry bursts of red.
"The statement calmed investors for half a day," she said. "By closing, they'll panic again."
Gu Ze Yan adjusted his watch, the single gesture neat, deliberate.
"No statement fixes fear, only proof does."
Shen Qiao turned. "Then let me give you the latest fear. The board invited an external investor this afternoon. They say we need 'confidence money.'"
He looked up slowly. "Who invited them?"
She hesitated. "Director Liu and maybe Director Han. Off the record."
A faint smile touched his mouth—more ice than amusement.
"Then we'll meet their miracle investor."
---
Afternoon – The Boardroom
The conference room smelled of lemon polish and new flowers—someone's idea of reassurance. Extra chairs had been added.
When Ze Yan entered, a dozen heads turned. Conversation froze.
Then, the door opened again.
Click—click—click.
Heels on marble, unhurried.
Jiang Yi Rong appeared in an ivory suit, silk blouse the color of moonlight. She carried no folder, only a slim phone and the calm of someone who already owned the room.
Every man at the table rose instinctively, as if responding to a quiet command.
"Miss Jiang," Director Liu said too warmly. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
She smiled. "When something valuable trembles, who wouldn't come running?"
Her voice was low, melodic, and precise; every word felt edited for elegance.
Ze Yan gestured toward a chair. "Please."
She sat opposite him, folding her hands, eyes clear and direct.
"It's been a while, Ze Yan."
"Five years," he said evenly. "And today you appear with flowers and hope."
"I came with capital," she corrected. "Hope is just good marketing."
---
The Offer
A screen flickered to life behind her, showing the clean blue logo of Meitian Capital.
"Meitian," she began, "is prepared to invest five billion yuan immediately to stabilize Luminar's stock, assuming board approval."
Gasps fluttered down the table.
Yi Rong continued smoothly, "We ask only two seats on the board, temporary oversight on financial compliance, and the right to review major executive decisions until confidence returns. A partnership, not a purchase."
Her assistant distributed the printed terms—heavy cream paper, faint scent of bergamot, expensive enough to seduce before anyone read the fine print.
Director Han leaned forward. "This is generous. Market sentiment will shift overnight."
Another nodded. "Two seats is nothing compared to the trust it restores."
Ze Yan stayed silent, expression unreadable.
Yi Rong's gaze rested on him, patient, almost affectionate.
"You built Luminar with precision, Ze Yan. It deserves to live, not be bled by panic. Let me help."
---
Pressure
The discussion turned to numbers—valuations, timelines, compliance guarantees.
Words collided like currencies: dilution, control, survival.
Director Liu said, "CEO Gu, pride doesn't pay audits. Take her offer."
Another voice: "If the Bureau freezes assets, this company's done!"
Yi Rong simply watched, serene in the chaos she had created. She touched the rim of her glass, waiting for silence to fold back toward her.
---
The Duel
Finally Ze Yan spoke.
"Miss Jiang," he said, tone calm, "your timing is impressive."
She tilted her head. "Timing makes the difference between rescue and eulogy."
"Or between coincidence and orchestration," he replied.
A ripple of tension crossed the table.
Yi Rong's smile didn't move. "You think I caused the rumors?"
"I think you arrived too perfectly dressed for coincidence."
She laughed softly. "And you still see monsters in mirrors. I came because the market asked me to."
He leaned forward. "The market doesn't send text messages from an old number."
Her eyes flickered—the smallest break in composure—but she recovered instantly. "So you did read it. I was worried you'd forgotten my handwriting."
"Forget?" He exhaled once, almost a sigh. "Some lessons don't fade."
Silence stretched, electric.
Finally he said, quietly but clearly,
"Luminar's strength isn't for sale—not for comfort, not for control."
The sentence landed heavy, final.
---
Exit and Echo
The board dissolved into murmurs. Some angry, some fearful.
Yi Rong rose gracefully. "Then I'll leave the offer open. Sometimes, survival requires letting someone else hold the umbrella."
She stepped closer, stopping beside his chair.
"It's still raining, Ze Yan. You'll remember that when you're wet again."
He looked up at her. "Better rain than poison."
Their eyes held for a beat too long—familiarity, unfinished war—and then she turned, perfume trailing behind her like the end of a symphony.
---
Aftermath
The directors argued long after she left.
"We could have secured the company!"
"You heard his tone—he'll sink it before bowing to her."
"She was offering salvation!"
Shen Qiao raised her voice, calm but firm. "Enough. The decision stands. Meeting adjourned."
When the door finally shut, only Ze Yan remained.
Chen Rui hovered at the threshold. "Boss… she's dangerous."
Ze Yan loosened his tie, eyes still on the city below. "So am I."
"Should we counter her offer?"
"No." His voice was low, even. "We counter the fear. She feeds on it."
---
Yi Rong
Her car slid through evening traffic like a black ribbon. City lights reflected off tinted glass, catching the pale line of her throat.
The assistant in the front seat spoke carefully. "He refused."
"Of course he did," Yi Rong murmured. "He's still addicted to dignity."
"Should we keep pressure through the board?"
"No." She smiled faintly. "Pressure is too kind. Let's humiliate him instead."
The assistant hesitated. "How?"
Yi Rong turned her face toward the window, watching Luminar Tower glow faintly through the mist.
"People worship their heroes," she said softly. "But they love to watch them fall more."
Her hand brushed the window glass, leaving a print that vanished instantly.
"Gu Ze Yan once told me truth is his religion. So let's make him question what's true."