The lights in the office were dim, save for the soft golden glow streaming from a wall sconce and the dull illumination of a towering cityscape behind floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
The room was spacious, immaculately arranged — sleek black furniture, a deep jade carpet, and minimalist decor that whispered luxury instead of shouting it. Everything inside spoke of control. Precision. Power.
At the head of the long conference table sat a man shrouded in shadow, his face obscured by the angle of light, yet his presence dominating the entire room.
He leaned back in his chair, one hand resting loosely on the armrest, fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat.
A knock came. Then the heavy door opened, and a man in a neatly tailored suit stepped in, head bowed slightly in respect.
"Sir," the secretary began, his voice low, careful. "We've confirmed it. The original documents… including the transfer rights... they're in the possession of Shen Weimin."
The fingers on the armrest stopped tapping.
The secretary swallowed and continued, "But we haven't been able to locate them. He was extremely cautious. No digital backups. No copies. No trace. As of now, the only possible lead is…"
He hesitated.
"Speak," the man at the head said, his tone steady but cold. Impossibly cold.
"…His daughter. Shen Fuyue. She might know something. But her condition…" The secretary trailed off, his words slipping into silence.
For a long time, nothing happened. The air felt heavy. Dense.
Then the man in the shadows moved.
It was a subtle shift — spine straightening, chin lifting — but it changed the entire atmosphere of the room. The temperature seemed to drop.
"Then we alter the plan," he said finally, voice smooth as marble, yet carrying the weight of thunder. "Keep eyes on both of them — Shen Weimin and the girl. No mistakes."
"Yes, sir," the secretary nodded, almost too quickly.
"And start surveillance on the Mo family."
The pen the secretary was holding slipped slightly between his fingers. He blinked, not sure he'd heard correctly.
"…The Mo family, sir?"
The man's eyes lifted — not threatening, but sharp enough to leave a sting.
"Both sons," he said calmly. "Trail them. Observe everything. No interference unless necessary."
For the first time in years, the secretary found himself hesitating mid-nod.
The Mo family?
Of course, given current events, they were high-profile. Especially after Mo Ziqian's public backing of Gu Shuli. But why both brothers? The elder one was constantly in the media now — but the younger…
There was no logical reason.
Why trail the Mo brothers… unless—
The thought froze in his throat. His mind turned, but he kept his face blank.
"Yes, sir," he said instead, eyes respectfully lowered.
The man's gaze swept toward the window as if reading the stars beyond the polluted glow of the city. He was silent again, before—
"One more thing," the secretary added, hesitantly. "Miss Shen Yuhuan, President Shen Weimin's youngest sister… she's in Xingzhou."
That made the man turn fully. From relaxed command to alert stillness.
"What of it?" he asked, voice tightening. "What does she have to do with the matter at hand?"
The secretary licked his lips, choosing his words carefully. "Apparently… the man who was staying beside Shen Fuyue — has gone missing. Disappeared without a trace. It seems Shen Yuhuan went to look for him. Personally. He might have a lead."
Another silence.
And then — a low chuckle. Short. Dangerous.
The man's fingers curled slightly on the polished wood of the table.
"Have a few men follow her. Discreetly. I want hourly reports. If she finds something... I want to know before she does."
"Yes, sir."
With a respectful bow, the secretary left, the soft sound of the door closing echoing in the silence that followed.
The man leaned forward at last, reaching out for the only personal item on the table — a photo frame. Within it was a woman, elegant and poised, smiling gently in a way that no longer existed in this world.
His thumb brushed the glass slowly.
"Mother," he murmured, voice low enough to vanish beneath the hum of the city.
"I told you I would avenge you."
He set the frame back down, the steel in his eyes gleaming even in the dark.
"And it's already begun. With the fall of Shen Weimin… and his daughter."
***
Rain pattered gently against the windowpane of the small, dimly lit café tucked into one of Xingzhou's older districts. The scent of coffee hung thick in the air, tinged with the bitterness of roasted beans and something far heavier: despair.
Shen Yuhuan sat at the corner table, shoulders hunched, her fingers wrapped tightly around her phone as if her grip alone could force someone to answer.
But there were no answers.
Only silence.
Since she arrived in the city two days ago, she'd exhausted every contact, scraped through forgotten connections, old favors—and still, nothing. No leads. No clue.
Not even a whisper of the man who had vanished when Shen Fuyue had needed him the most.
All she knew was that he had left the city on the promised day, yet he never set foot back home. It was as if he had vanished—like he never existed.
She could still hear Shen Yuri's frantic voice from the night before, trembling with panic through the phone:
"Yuhuan-Gūgu, she wouldn't stop screaming… I-I didn't know what to do… she was calling out for Uncle Weimin — over and over — and then she just kept repeating her name like she didn't recognize herself…"