Thursday – 9:06 AM, Shen Group Tower – Legal Affairs Division
A low hum of conversation hovered through the glass corridors as morning meetings began.
Zhou Xi sat alone in the conference room, tapping his pen against the report marked Confidential: Lang Wen – Activity Resurgence. The shadowy threat from last night's message replayed in his mind. The man's voice. That single line.
"He's not the only one with archives."
Who else had records?
More importantly—how much did they know?
His eyes scanned the final paragraph of the document. A single word had been handwritten in red ink:
"Decoy?"
Zhou Xi's breath stilled.
Someone wanted him to question the evidence trail he had traced to Lang Wen.
And that someone knew how to get inside Zhenyu's inner circle.
Meanwhile – 10:45 AM, Shen Family Estate – Inner Courtyard
Shen Jinhai adjusted the cuffs of his pale blue shirt as he stood on the stone path between koi ponds. Across from him stood his cousin, Shen Ruohan, 35, lean and sharp-eyed — a regional vice-president in the company and former military logistics specialist.
"Yinyin's getting too close to the whistleblower case," Ruohan said.
Jinhai didn't respond immediately. He gazed down at the koi, their bright red and golden bodies shifting beneath the surface like secrets under silk.
"She always had that weakness," Jinhai finally said. "Justice. Like our father."
Ruohan raised a brow. "And your plan?"
"I let her dig a little deeper. She needs to feel like she's uncovering something. But when she pulls the veil, she'll find exactly what I placed behind it."
He looked up, smiling faintly.
"She still doesn't realize her husband is the one who controls the boardroom."
Ruohan gave a small grunt. "You're playing a dangerous game."
"All games worth winning are."
Same Day – 12:15 PM, East District – Old Factory Basement
Qiulan stepped carefully down the stairwell, flashlight in hand.
The air was thick with mildew and rust. She moved through columns of old machinery covered in tarps, past crates marked with faded export codes.
Then — the faintest hum of power.
She turned a corner.
A laptop sat on a steel table. Screen on. Battery running.
A single file folder:
"Project: Chrysalis."
Inside it, a list of names.
High-ranking Shen executives. City officials. Journalists. Activists.
And then — her own name.
A shadow passed behind her.
She spun, flashlight raised.
No one.
She turned back — and the screen was black.
Her heart pounded. She reached forward — but the laptop was already powering down.
In the dark reflection of the screen, she saw her own face. Then… a second face behind her.
She turned again—
Empty space.
But the fear remained.
Later – 3:40 PM, Zhenyu's Penthouse
Zhenyu sat in his personal study. The curtains were drawn, his phone on silent.
He reviewed the footage from a hidden camera placed in the Shen Group garage — the one where Zhou Xi had been approached.
He paused the video.
Zoomed in on the car. License plate masked. Standard.
But the tire pattern? Unique. He had a photo of that tread in a different file — an old surveillance job from two years ago.
"Guo Ze," Zhenyu muttered.
The man was a ghost now, but not invisible.
He tapped a command on the keyboard.
Initiate Ghost Protocol Level 2: Chrysalis Cleanse
The system beeped confirmation.
Meanwhile – 6:15 PM, Shen Group – Media Department
Wen Liang sat in front of his monitor, fingers frozen on the keyboard.
He'd spent the afternoon trying to justify uploading the edited whistleblower file. His thoughts bounced back and forth — duty versus fear, exposure versus protection.
Then a ping.
A new file in his secure inbox.
Subject: "Just in case."
Attached was a raw copy of the real report — unedited, unfiltered.
Sent from a dead address. No trace.
He looked around the room nervously. No one was watching.
He opened the file anyway.
As the data unfolded, his hands trembled.
The report wasn't just about Shen Group corruption.
It included a coded reference to Project Chrysalis.
And next to the name "Qiulan"...
Another name stood out:
Li Zhenyu – Hidden Majority Shareholder, Proxy Web Owner.
Wen Liang swallowed hard.
His entire worldview shifted.
Evening – 9:30 PM, Zhenyu & Yinyin's Bedroom
Yinyin stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a silk robe, her damp hair falling past her shoulders. Zhenyu stood by the window, a glass of wine in his hand, shirt unbuttoned halfway.
The lights of the city reflected in his eyes.
She walked up behind him, arms encircling his waist.
He didn't move.
"You're colder lately," she whispered.
"I've been... focused."
"On what?"
He turned.
"You."
She smiled, but the warmth didn't reach her eyes.
"You know I can smell lies now."
"Good," he murmured. "Then you'll know when I mean it."
He kissed her deeply, one hand gripping her neck gently, possessively. She melted into it, but tension still lingered beneath her touch — a subtle warning.
And neither of them noticed the blinking LED on the inner shelf — Qiulan's old spy recorder, planted days ago, now quietly uploading every word, every breath, to a remote cloud.