8:45 AM – Nancheng District, Elite Private Café: "Glass Orchid"
A narrow café tucked between old European-style villas in a quiet part of the city — Glass Orchid was designed for discretion. No signs. No walk-ins. The kind of place used by old-money families and black-market brokers alike. Qiulan stepped through its frosted glass door and was greeted by silence and the faint smell of roasted oolong.
A young hostess in a cheongsam bowed and gestured without a word, leading her to the secluded greenhouse lounge. The temperature shifted slightly as she stepped through glass walls into a lush miniature garden—ferns, mosses, and the sweet aroma of orchids blooming under UV lights.
Feng Yun was already seated in the center booth. No guards, no briefcase. Just a man in a pressed grey suit, his fingers gently stirring a cup of wolfberry tea.
"You're early," Qiulan said, not smiling.
"I respect punctuality. Especially when meeting someone whose mind is harder to read than her eyes."
Qiulan sat, keeping her back straight. Her phone, turned off, remained in her bag. Her watch, stripped of any tracking tags, had been switched before she left.
Feng Yun set his tea down and leaned forward slightly. "Let's not waste time. I don't need your soul, just your lens. Tell me what Zhenyu sees. Who he trusts. Who he doubts. That's all."
Qiulan tilted her head. "And in return?"
"A seat of your own. In the open. No shadows. You've worked too long as a whisper behind his throne."
He leaned closer. "I can make you the queen. Not the queen behind the curtain."
She gave a quiet, humorless laugh. "What makes you think I want a throne?"
Feng Yun smiled. "Because you're still here."
A pause.
She didn't deny it.
But before she could speak again, she sensed something… off. The air shifted. A light, buzzing silence. No sound from outside the glass. No birds, no wind.
Her eyes narrowed.
Feng Yun noticed her tension and chuckled. "You think he's watching us? Even here?"
Qiulan stood. "With Zhenyu… if you're not sure you're being watched, you already are."
She left the café without looking back, her heartbeat steady — but her thoughts anything but.
Meanwhile — 10:00 AM, Shen Group HQ, Legal Department
Yinyin sat across from Mei Lixue, Shen Group's in-house legal advisor, who wore a deep plum suit and unreadable expression. The door was locked. The curtains were drawn.
A file sat between them — thick, red-tagged, confidential.
"What you're looking at," Mei said slowly, "is an internal report submitted by one of our junior finance analysts. He uncovered a looped transaction pattern between Shen Group and a subcontractor. On paper, everything looks legal."
Yinyin flipped a few pages. "But?"
"Off-paper, the subcontractor is a shell entity tied to… your uncle. Shen Hongfei. Millions routed in inflated invoices. Over six years."
Yinyin's jaw tensed.
"Why are you bringing this to me directly?"
"Because the analyst submitted this with a request for whistleblower protection. He didn't know who the shell was tied to — but I did. And I need to know: do I let the investigation proceed, or do we bury this and transfer him?"
Yinyin looked down at the report.
Exposing the fraud could destroy her family's internal image… and trigger a shareholder revolt.
But covering it up would make her no better than the system she once swore to fight.
Mei added gently, "Your father is still Chairman. This could destabilize him — and empower those circling his position. Including your cousin."
Yinyin closed the file.
"I'll handle it personally."
Elsewhere — 11:00 AM, Inside "The Black Archive"
In a facility hidden deep beneath a repurposed metro station in the old city, Li Zhenyu entered what only three people in China knew existed: The Black Archive.
No cameras. No digital access. No internet. Just physical files, sealed recordings, and off-grid backups of every potential threat Zhenyu had ever identified — friends, enemies, even allies.
He walked past shelves labeled with clean, minimalist symbols:
Red Iris: Political scandals.
Blue Crane: Corporate corruption.
Grey Mask: Private surveillance.
Yellow Fang: Compromising secrets.
He stopped at a sealed drawer marked: White Vine.
Inside were the dossiers on Qiulan Wei, Shen Yinyin, Shen Jinhai, and… Mei Lixue.
He lingered on Qiulan's file.
An old photo. Her recruitment file. First loyalty test. Emotional pressure points. Psychological assessment.
He studied it all again, slower this time.
Chen Luo, standing behind him, finally spoke. "Sir, you never reviewed the full Vine batch in person before. Is something wrong?"
Zhenyu's answer was quiet.
"Something isn't adding up. They're playing moves I predicted — but the rhythm is off."
He placed Qiulan's file into a black envelope and handed it to Chen. "Have 'Zhou Xi' shadow her. Full civilian cover. No contact."
"And if she makes a move?"
Zhenyu turned.
"Watch. Record. Then wait."