The suffocating air of the grand hall clung between polished wood and dim chandeliers, where men in sharp suits sat like monarchs over a crumbling empire.
Their faces, weathered by power and age—most in their forties to sixties—carried the weight of authority.
These were the investors, board directors, and commissioners of the company. Among them sat Tang Shilin, her perfectly tailored blazer and cold, regal air making her presence impossible to ignore. She was a commissioner, and though her exterior remained polished, there was a quiet storm brewing beneath her still features.
At the head of the table sat Jiang Yanxu—the youngest among them, yet undeniably commanding. He wore his authority like a second skin, calm and unreadable, his sharp gaze slicing through the room. Despite the age gap, no one dared undermine him. Their respect, or perhaps their fear, was palpable.
