Location: West Garden Gallery, 4:42 PM
The late afternoon light filtered through old glass panes, casting fractured golden patterns across the floor. The gallery was empty, save for a few lingering guests and a courier delivering espresso in an ivory cup.
Ye Yuyan stood at her usual corner — near the wide painting with no signature. Her own.
She wasn't looking at it.
She was watching the wall behind it, as if she could see through the paint, through the concrete, into the deeper system Lin Feng walked within.
"So he bought the port before the auction?" the gallery assistant whispered from behind.
Yuyan didn't answer.
She already knew.
On her desk sat three things:
A silver flash drive
A folded slip of handmade paper
And a sealed red envelope, marked with a name:
Zhou Anliang
Curator of the Crimson Circle's Cultural Value Archive.
She'd spent the past few days listening. Watching. And learning.
It wasn't about business.
Not like Lin Feng's world.
