11:30 AM — Shen Corporation, Parking Basement
Shen Hao checked his watch.
Ten minutes to noon.
The message from his uncle, Shen Jinghai, was clear: "Alone."
But Shen Hao wasn't stupid. He had brought backup. A friend from university, hiding in a nearby car with a recording setup.
He rehearsed his pitch: stolen funds, falsified reports, and shadow accounts. All pinned on Zhenyu.
He didn't know this entire route—garage to elevator—was being recorded by Zhenyu's private system, not the building's.
Zhenyu's Monitoring Room – Penthouse
He leaned forward, watching Shen Hao on the screen.
"Pathetic," he murmured.
Yinyin, lounging nearby in an oversized shirt, smirked. "He always tried too hard to prove himself. Daddy's approval junkie."
Zhenyu glanced at her. "That makes him predictable."
With a swipe, Zhenyu altered two reports on Shen Hao's personal cloud—he made it appear as though Shen Hao had been embezzling company funds into foreign accounts.
He sent an anonymous tip to Shen Jinghai.
Noon – Shen Jinghai's Private Office
Shen Hao entered, sweating.
"I have proof. About Zhenyu. He's the one draining the company."
Jinghai leaned back, expression unreadable.
"I've already seen the documents, Hao."
"You have?" His face brightened.
"Yes," Jinghai said coldly. "The ones showing you funneled over ¥18 million into dummy companies?"
Shen Hao froze.
"What…? No, I didn't—!"
Jinghai slammed a folder down.
"All signed under your credentials. Log-in history. IP trace. You even used your own alias."
Panic. Desperation.
"This isn't real. He faked it—he set me up!"
Jinghai stood. "Then prove it. In court."
Two security men walked in. Shen Hao was dragged out, screaming.
Outside the office, a cleaning woman wheeled her cart away.
Hidden in the towel rack was a transmitter.
Zhenyu heard it all.
Later That Night – Li Family Residence
Ruolan stood in the hallway, watching her brother emerge from the shower. A towel draped low on his hips, droplets running down his chiseled chest.
"You're enjoying this a little too much," she murmured.
Zhenyu arched an eyebrow. "You mean justice?"
She walked closer, slow and feline. "I mean control. Power. Watching them break."
She traced a line on his collarbone with her fingernail. "Does it turn you on?"
He didn't flinch. "Does it turn you on?"
Silence.
Then she leaned in, lips brushing against his jawline. "I've always loved how dangerous you are."
His hand closed around her wrist—not gently.
"You're my sister," he said.
Her smile didn't fade. "We share blood, not limits."
And she walked off, hips swaying, vanishing into her room.
Zhenyu stood there, unmoved.
But in his eyes — a flicker.
"She's starting to remember."
Midnight. Private server room.
Zhenyu sat alone, screens glowing around him.
He stared at one particular photo — a black-and-white image of a woman in her twenties.
His mother.
Next to her, a man.
The father he never met.
His fingers hovered over the name: "Li Xiuyuan. Died 2004. Cause: Classified."
He whispered to himself, "One day, I'll know what really happened. And when I do…"
His phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
"You're not the only one playing chess.See you soon — FY."
Zhenyu's eyes narrowed.
"Feng Yun," he whispered.
Another piece just moved.