Huo Jingran's breath hitched as Lu Mingxu's motorbike roared outside Teng Haoran's safehouse, its headlight cutting through Shanghai's rain like a blade. The safehouse's panic room—steel walls, buzzing drones on the feeds—felt less like safety and more like a boss fight loading screen. That greater fox construct had nearly shredded them, and now Mingxu, the hacker with glowing eyes in her vision, was here. Friend? Foe? Her pendant wasn't spilling that tea.
"Perfect timing, mystery nerd," Jingran muttered, clutching the USB of HuoTech logs. "What's next, a dragon crashing the party?"
Her jade pendant pulsed, its voice annoyingly smug: Jade Whisper alert: Lu Mingxu's intent unclear. Task update—Regroup and plan Bei estate infiltration. Safehouse no longer secure. Suggested destination: Huo family estate.
Jingran snorted, ignoring Shao Lanyi's raised brow. "Huo estate? Yeah, because nothing screams 'safe' like my family's personal hate club."
Caution, Host. Huo estate offers resources. Risk of exposure: 42%.
"Resources like migraines," Jingran whispered, but the system had a point. Xiwen's latest text—Come play—meant her apartment was a no-go, and Haoran's safehouse was fox bait. Her adoptive family's mansion, as much as it sucked, had security and old HuoTech files she needed. Plus, Jingran's memories screamed neglect, not danger. Yet.
Haoran, at the control panel, glanced over, his face all sharp angles and zero patience. "Miss Huo, your muttering's louder than the drones. Care to share?"
Jingran flashed a grin, dodging the Mingxu question. "Just planning my Oscar speech for 'Best Gala Crasher.' You in?"
His eyes narrowed, but a crash outside cut him off—drones downing the construct, from the sound of it. Lanyi's feed showed Mingxu dismounting, hoodie soaked, his glasses glinting as he scanned the gate.
"We can't stay," Jingran said, decisive. "Xiwen's got eyes everywhere. I'm heading to my family's place—Huo estate, Jiading district."
Haoran's brow arched. "Your family? The ones who disowned you in every tabloid?"
Jingran winced—Jingran's memories stung: cold dinners, colder glares. "Yeah, well, their security's top-notch, and I need… stuff. You coming or staying to flirt with Foxzilla?"
Lanyi choked back a laugh, packing her laptop. Haoran's lips twitched, but he grabbed a key fob. "I'm driving. Try not to bleed on my seats."
"Aw, you care," Jingran said, following him out, Lanyi in tow. Mingxu's bike was gone—vanished like a glitch. Her pendant hummed, uneasy, but she shoved it down. One crisis at a time.
The drive to Jiading was tense, Shanghai's neon fading into quieter suburbs. Rain hammered the car, and Jingran's arm throbbed under its bandage. Lanyi scrolled X posts, muttering, "You're trending again—'Huo Jingran's Redemption Arc?'—but Xiwen's fans are out for blood."
"Let 'em cry," Jingran said, but her gut twisted. Xiwen wasn't just a social media queen—she was a sorceress with a grudge, and Jingran was playing catch-up in her game.
The Huo estate loomed ahead—a fortress of glass and stone, surrounded by manicured gardens and laser-tripwire vibes. Jingran's memories painted it as a gilded cage: her adoptive parents, Huo Guangli and Mei Qiongyu, had taken her in for optics, not love, after their tech empire needed a "charity case" poster child. Their real daughter, Huo Meilin, was the golden heir; Jingran was the spare who kept screwing up.
"Home sweet hell," Jingran muttered as Haoran parked. The system chimed: Task addendum: Secure Huo family files on Jade Protocol. Hostile reception likely.
"No kidding," she said, stepping into the rain. The front gates scanned her face—retina tech, fancy and cold. They opened, but the guard's sneer said it all: You're not welcome.
Inside, the foyer was a museum of wealth—jade sculptures, silk tapestries, and a chandelier that screamed we're better than you. A maid froze, eyes wide, then scurried off, probably to snitch. Jingran's pendant pulsed, sensing… something. Old magic? Or just her nerves?
Haoran scanned the space, all predator calm. "Cozy. Where's the firing squad?"
"Give it a minute," Jingran said, grinning despite the dread. Lanyi clutched her laptop like a shield, muttering, "This place feels like a corporate horror flick."
Footsteps echoed, sharp and deliberate. Huo Meilin descended the grand staircase, her silk dress screaming young miss perfection. At 22, she was everything Jingran wasn't—poised, adored, and viciously smug. Her smile was a blade, honed by years of outshining her adopted sister.
"Jingran," Meilin said, voice syrupy with venom. "Crawling back after your gala tantrum? Bold, even for you."
Jingran's grin didn't waver. "Missed you too, Meilin. Love the dress—steal it from Xiwen's closet?"
Meilin's eyes flashed, but she turned to Haoran, all charm. "Mr. Teng, a pleasure. Ignore my sister's… mess. Why are you here?"
Haoran's tone was ice. "Business. With Jingran."
Meilin's smile tightened, and Jingran mentally high-fived him. Score one for Team Loose End.
Huo Guangli entered next, a bear of a man in a tailored suit, his graying hair doing nothing to soften his glare. Mei Qiongyu trailed him, her qipao elegant, her face a mask of disdain. Jingran's memories screamed: Guangli's lectures, Qiongyu's silence, endless comparisons to Meilin. They'd cut her off after HuoTech's crash, leaving her to drown in tabloids.
"Jingran," Guangli barked, "you've got nerve showing up. After shaming us—again."
Jingran crossed her arms, channeling every defiant RPG hero she'd played. "Shame? I'm here to fix things. HuoTech's crash wasn't my fault, and I've got proof."
Qiongyu's laugh was brittle. "Proof? You're a walking disaster. Leave before you drag us down further."
Lanyi stepped forward, bristling. "She's got more guts than your PR team combined. Back off."
Jingran shot Lanyi a grateful look, but Meilin smirked. "Guts? She's delusional. Running to Mr. Teng for pity, are we?"
Haoran's voice cut through, low and dangerous. "Careful, Miss Huo. I don't pity liabilities—I manage them."
Meilin flinched, and Jingran bit back a laugh. "Burn," she whispered, earning a glare from Qiongyu.
Guangli waved a hand, dismissive. "Enough. Jingran, you're not welcome. Leave, or security escorts you."
The system pinged: Opportunity: Leverage HuoTech files. Appeal to Guangli's pride.
Jingran straightened, voice steady. "Kick me out, and you'll never know who tanked HuoTech. I've got logs—real ones. Help me, and we clear the family name. Or keep playing Xiwen's game."
Guangli's eyes narrowed, but greed flickered—HuoTech was his legacy. Qiongyu scoffed, but Meilin's smirk faltered, like she knew more than she let on.
"Files?" Guangli said, skeptical. "Show me."
"Not here," Jingran said, nodding at Meilin. "Private office. Unless you trust Little Miss Smug with trade secrets."
Meilin gasped, but Guangli grunted, gesturing to a hallway. "Fine. Five minutes."
As they followed, Haoran leaned close, whispering, "Bold. Don't choke."
"No promises," Jingran whispered back, her grin masking nerves. The pendant hummed, sensing… eyes. Not the family's—something else, lurking.
Guangli's office was a tech mogul's shrine—holographic displays, a safe bigger than her old apartment. He sat behind a desk, Qiongyu at his side, Meilin hovering like a vulture. Haoran and Lanyi flanked Jingran, silent backup.
Jingran handed over the USB, Lanyi's laptop showing the logs—Bei Innovations' IP, the breach's fingerprints. "Xiwen's crew did this," she said. "Not me."
Guangli scrolled, his face unreadable. Qiongyu's lips thinned, but Meilin laughed, sharp. "You expect us to believe this? You're desperate, Jingran."
Jingran's temper flared, but the pendant burned, and the system warned: Anomaly detected—Huo estate compromised. Spirit signature present.
"Crap," Jingran muttered, glancing at the windows. Shadows moved outside—fox tails, flickering in the rain. Her family didn't notice, too busy sneering.
Haoran did, his hand brushing her arm, voice low. "Trouble?"
"Always," she said, grinning to hide panic. The system urged: Neutralize threat before exposure. Use runes.
Jingran gripped the pendant, runes flickering faintly. She couldn't blast foxes here—not with Meilin waiting to call her insane. "Guangli," she said, stalling, "give me access to HuoTech's old servers. There's more—stuff you'll want."
He leaned back, skeptical. "Why should I?"
"Because I'm your daughter," she said, the words bitter. "Or does that only count for Meilin?"
Qiongyu's face twisted, but Guangli hesitated—pride, maybe guilt. Meilin stepped forward, venomous. "You're no Huo. You're a stray we pitied."
Jingran's grin turned feral. "Funny, 'cause this stray's about to bite."
The windows rattled, and a growl shook the room. Meilin screamed as a fox construct—bigger, meaner than the safehouse one—crashed through, claws gleaming. Xiwen's voice echoed: "Time's up, Huo."
Jingran dove, runes flaring. "Guess who's back, you furry spam bot!"
Lanyi yanked Meilin down, Haoran shielding Guangli. Jingran threw a blade rune, hitting the fox's flank. It roared, pain spiking her head—mana drain, brutal as ever.
Guangli gaped, Qiongyu frozen. "What is that?"
"Long story!" Jingran yelled, dodging claws. The system blared: Construct tied to estate—Huo family artifact. Find it.
"Artifact?" she muttered, scanning the room. The safe—glowing faintly behind Guangli—pinged her pendant. Bingo.
She lunged, runes shielding her as the fox swiped. Haoran joined her, slamming a chair into its side. "Move!" he barked.
Jingran reached the safe, pendant blazing. The system coached