The Qin estate was nestled in the hills just beyond the city limits, where the skyline turned into jagged silhouettes and the air smelled like secrets. Gated, guarded, and gilded in every sense, it had once been the symbol of a future Xinyue was groomed to inherit—through marriage.
But now, Li Xinyue stood at its gates not as a bride, but as an adversary.
Her heels clicked against the marble pathway as she entered the inner courtyard. Her assistant had set up a business meeting under the guise of discussing land redistribution contracts. She knew better. This wasn't about land. This was about territory.
Qin Liang waited inside the east parlor, sitting beneath a portrait of his late grandfather, sipping tea as if he weren't a thorn from a past she'd long buried. His tailored suit was sharp, his eyes sharper.
"Xinyue," he greeted with a polite bow of the head. "I was surprised you reached out."
"Were you?" she replied coolly, taking her seat without being offered. "I thought you'd be expecting me after the last quarterly collapse of your logistics wing."
His smile never quite reached his eyes. "You always had impeccable timing."
"I always had impeccable foresight."
There was a silence between them—the kind laced with too many memories, not all of them pleasant. Once, he'd held her hand with promises of empire. Now, he only held grudges.
"Let's speak plainly," she said. "You're bleeding clients. You need Xu Corporation's logistic cover or your next fiscal report will hit the floor like a guillotine. And I need to know if you're rerouting our confidential cargo manifests to Xiang Group."
His expression twitched. Barely.
"Is that what this is about?"
"Don't pretend innocence. You're not very good at it."
Qin Liang set his teacup down with a soft clink. "If you're going to accuse me of corporate treason, at least have the decency to wear the engagement ring I bought you."
Xinyue stood, placing both hands flat on the glass table. "If I wore every symbol of my past mistakes, I'd rattle like chains."
His eyes darkened. "Still sharp. Still cold. You never change, do you?"
She leaned closer. "You mistook survival for coldness. That's your failure."
He stood too, now inches away. "And you mistook manipulation for love. That's yours."
The air buzzed between them, unspoken threats draped in satin tones.
Then, her phone buzzed.
Jiayan.
She stepped away without a word, turning her back to Qin Liang as she answered.
"Jiayan?"
His voice was low, urgent. "They made contact. A man named Ren from the sub-chain company. He wants to meet. Tonight. Says he has an alternate offer."
"Take it. Record everything. I'll have Weilan prep legal netting. Don't agree to anything. Just listen."
"Got it."
"Jiayan… be careful."
He was silent for a beat. "You too."
She hung up, turning back to Qin Liang with a face carved from marble. "This meeting is over. If I find so much as a shadow of your fingerprints on my accounts, I will ruin more than your quarterlies. I will shatter your legacy."
Qin Liang chuckled, slow and bitter. "You already did, years ago."
Outside, the wind howled against the hills, carrying the scent of rain and old regrets.
---
Meanwhile, at a small tea house masked by alley shadows, Han Jiayan entered alone.
A man was already waiting—greasy suit, nervous fingers, breath laced with cloves.
"Mr. Han," the man said with a toothy smile. "Or should I say... husband of Li Xinyue? That title opens more doors than I expected."
Jiayan didn't flinch. "You said you had an offer."
The man handed him a thin black envelope. "It's a counterproposal. Your boss loses too much. Our group—let's call it the Network—offers protection. Asset rerouting, cleaner books. Less noise. More profit."
Jiayan opened the envelope, scanning quickly. Embedded in the document was a QR code. He tapped it under the table, signaling Shanshan's analyst through the burner.
"If I refuse?"
The man smiled. "Then you die poor, Mr. Han. Or worse, your wife does."
That word. Wife.
Jiayan's jaw flexed. "We'll consider it."
He rose to leave.
"One more thing," the man said. "Be careful who you trust in your own office. Ghosts don't always wear enemy faces."
Jiayan exited the tea house into the smog of early evening, the weight of a threat coiled around his ribs.
---
Back at Xu Corporation, Feng Shanshan watched as her analyst decrypted the code from the burner.
Her eyes narrowed. "This isn't just a ghost contractor. It's a hydra. Seven shell companies tied to one account. All routed through an offshore trust. And guess whose name popped as the overseeing partner?"
Weilan looked up from the screen. "Qin Liang."
"He never really left the table," Shanshan muttered.
Weilan stood. "Time to flip it."
In the background, the screen refreshed.
And one more name blinked into view.
Han Jiayan.
Linked.
If only for a moment.
But sometimes, a phantom thread is all it takes to unravel the gold.
---