It started with a leak.
An anonymous exposé posted on a niche investor forum at 2:17 a.m. It included transaction screenshots, falsified invoices, doctored pitch materials, and internal memos—everything Yifeng thought he buried, revealed piece by piece.
Two hours later, tech Twitter caught wind. By noon, half the city's founders were whispering his name like it was cursed. By the end of the day, every VC who had ever considered backing Lumis Tech had pulled out.
I watched it all unfold with my coffee in hand and a calm heart.
The best part? He couldn't blame me.
Not without exposing himself.
I made sure all the breadcrumbs led back to him and him alone. I hadn't stolen. I hadn't lied. I'd only watched and documented and waited—for the truth to implode.
And when the news broke that the government had launched an investigation into "Lumis Tech's financial misconduct," I finally, finally felt like I could breathe again.
He tried to call me.
I didn't answer.
Instead, I sent a final email—one sentence, no sign-off.
You should've known the moment you made me the villain, I'd never play fair.
Then I turned off my phone.
And walked away.