The air in the conference room wasn't tense—it was still. Too still.
Lin Feng sat alone at the long glass table, the blinds drawn, the city skyline muted behind frosted panels. A single dossier lay in front of him, unopened. Not digital. Not shared.
Private.
Confidential.
A red-stamped envelope bearing only three words:
"Internal Surveillance Report"
He'd received it less than an hour ago through a trusted signal channel used only for high-level alerts. Inside: timestamps, bank pings, conversation logs flagged for pattern shifts.
The subject: Guo Yuwei.
His closest legal strategist. One of the few people who never asked for favors—only results.
And now someone was watching her.
He finally opened the file.
Inside, the evidence was clinical:
A pattern of late-night encrypted calls from a disposable overseas number
Subtle activity from an IP address linked to a known offshore pressure agency—one previously used by Zixuan's media shells
