Ming Su sat in the center of the boardroom, the silence of the high-rise suite matching the lethal precision of her movements. She didn't look up as she examined her nails. The polish was a deep, predatory red.
The heavy doors slammed open.
Naina, her assistant, stumbled inside. Her breathing was ragged, her face a mask of frantic desperation. She didn't wait for permission to speak.
"Madam Su!"
Ming Su's gaze remained fixed on her manicure. "What is it?" her voice was a low, dangerous.
"Mr. Niklas and his wife... they returned to China this morning."
Ming Su snapped her head up. The composure shattered. She stood so abruptly her chair skidded across the polished floor with a piercing screech.
"What?" she barked.
Naina trembled, clutching her tablet to her chest. "They were spotted leaving the airport twenty minutes ago. From the private terminal."
Ming Su didn't hesitate. She grabbed her designer purse, her movements sharp and jagged.
"Follow me, Naina.
They tore through the office, a blur of expensive fabric and frantic footsteps. Ming Su ignored the stares of employees as she exited the Rothenberg Industries lobby. The air outside was crisp, but she didn't feel it. Her velvet-colored sedan was already idling at the curb.
She lunged into the backseat. Naina scrambled in beside her.
Ming Su's jaw was a rigid line of bone. "How did they return without a word? Bai Qi told me nothing."
Her fingers dug into the leather upholstery. The realization hit her like a physical blow: with Niklas back, her unrestricted access to the company was effectively severed. She was no longer the shadow hand.
The car merged into traffic. She smirked. "Drive. We need to see how things stand."
Across the city, the Rothenberg villa was a hive of sudden, disciplined activity.
Bai Qi stood in the foyer, adjusting the cuffs of a pristine, charcoal-grey suit. He looked at his watch, the hands ticking toward a meeting he had no intention of missing.
"Late," he muttered. "Always behind."
He turned toward the grand entrance, intent on reaching his car, but the massive doors swung inward before he could reach the handle.
The air in the foyer shifted.
Niklas stepped inside first. He was a pillar of cold authority, his blue eyes scanning the room with the precision of a predator.
Beside him, Bai Mingzhu radiated a vibrant, chaotic energy that contrasted sharply with her husband's icy demeanor. Behind them, Charles and a small army of servants struggled with a mountain of luggage and wrapped gifts.
Bai Qi froze.
The "Monarch" vanished. In his place stood a son caught in the crosshairs of his parents' sudden return. He searched for an excuse, a way to bypass the confrontation, but it was too late.
It was his mother as she reached for her son,
"Oh! My dear little Qi!"
Mingzhu's voice echoed off the marble walls. She squealed with delight, ignoring the formality of the house as she rushed forward. "Come here! Come and hug your mama!"
Bai Qi stayed rooted for a second, his eyes darting toward the exit. But he loved his mother. He forced his feet to move, stepping into her suffocating, perfume-scented embrace. He looked away, his expression a mixture of genuine affection and intense embarrassment.
Mingzhu pulled back, her eyes sparkling. She looked at him with a mother's scrutiny, noticing the subtle tension in his frame.
Niklas remained by the door, his posture stiff, his eyes fixed on his son. The servants moved in the background, unloading crates of German imports and whispering congratulations to the returned masters.
"How was my little Qi while I was away?" Mingzhu asked, her tone playful eyes searching.
Bai Qi couldn't meet her gaze. He shifted his weight, his silence becoming an admission of guilt.
Suddenly, Mingzhu's hand shot out. She pinched his ear, twisting it with practiced accuracy.
"Ow! Mom! It hurts!" Bai Qi hissed, wincing as he tried to pull away.
Mingzhu chuckled, though she didn't let go immediately. "I did that because you underestimate me. You thought you could keep your troubles secret?"
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" Bai Qi relented, rubbing his ear as she finally released him. "I... I missed you. Satisfied?"
Mingzhu laughed, a bright sound that filled the heavy room.
The laughter died when Niklas spoke.
"Now, Bai Qi," Niklas began, his voice a low, resonant rumble. "How are you going to explain everything?"
Bai Qi straightened his suit, the childishness evaporating. He met his father's cold, piercing blue eyes. "What do you want me to explain, Father?"
"You disappointed me," Niklas said. He didn't raise his voice, which made the indictment worse. "Your management of the internal affairs while I was in Germany was... lacking."
Bai Qi scoffed, his defense mechanism kicking in instantly. He became the defiant son, turning his head away with a sharp, dramatic flick.
"Why are you blaming me?" Bai Qi demanded. "Wasn't it your choice to give Shu Yao the Assistant title? You put him in that position. If you want an explanation, go ask him."
Niklas, a man of pure logic and frozen resolve, merely shook his head. He watched his son with a weary sort of disbelief. Years had passed, but Bai Qi's first instinct was still to deflect, to throw others into the line of fire before admitting his own hand in the chaos.
Mingzhu stepped between them, placing a softening hand on Niklas's arm. She smiled at her son.
"Okay, okay," she said soothingly. "My baby didn't do anything wrong."
Niklas looked at his wife, his brow furrowing. "Mingzhu, you cannot coddle him through a corporate crisis
"You can't lecture him now," she countered, her voice firm despite her smile. "He is still sad about what happened. He's grieving in his own way."
Bai Qi looked at his mother, his jaw tightening. "I'm not grieving. I'm fine."
Mingzhu chuckled again, a knowing, maternal sound. From the top of the grand staircase, Armin watched the entire display. He leaned against the railing, letting out a long, silent sigh. Seeing Bai Qi act like a stubborn child the moment his parents arrived was a reminder that for all his power, the young master was still tethered to the family's.
"Oh! Wait!" Mingzhu suddenly exclaimed. She grabbed Bai Qi's cheek, squeezing it. "Since my baby was so lonely and sad, see what your mama brought for you!".
She gestured toward the massive pile of gifts Charles was sorting.
"I bought you every cute thing I could find in Munich," she chirped. "And I have a separate trunk for Shu Yao, too. Where is he? I have things he'll love."
The mention of Shu Yao's name hit Bai Qi like an electric shock.
"I'm off to work, Mom," Bai Qi said, his voice clipped and urgent. "I'm getting late."
Niklas lifted a single, skeptical eyebrow. He crossed his arms over his chest, blocking a portion of the path to the foyer. "When did you take such a sudden interest in punctuality, Bai Qi?"
"I know how to handle my business," Bai Qi snapped, his eyes flashing. "In my own way."
He didn't wait for a rebuttal. He sidestepped his father, his stride long and determined.
Mingzhu watched him go, her smile fading into something more contemplative. She rested her hand on her husband's chest, feeling the tension in his muscles.
"Calm down, darling," she whispered to Niklas. "They're just children."
Niklas looked down at her, his expression unyielding. "They are adults running a multi-billion dollar empire. They cannot afford to be children."
"Once they understand their purpose," Mingzhu said, watching Bai Qi disappear through the front doors, "they will know exactly how to handle everything. I believe in our children."
Armin descended the grand staircase with the measured gait of a man who calculated every step. At 198 centimeters, he was a towering presence, nearly matching his father's imposing height. He was the antithesis of Bai Qi—disciplined, silent, and surgically precise in his conduct.
As he reached the final tier, Mingzhu's head snapped toward him. Her eyes lit up with a fresh wave of maternal fervor. She abandoned the luggage and sprinted toward her eldest son.
"Oh! My my Come, come, come, closer!" she cried. "Come hug your mama!"
Armin stopped dead. His expression didn't flicker, but his posture shifted into a formal stance. As she approached, he lowered his head in a sharp, respectful bow.
"Welcome home, Mother," he said. His voice was a deep, resonant baritone.
Mingzhu didn't care for the protocol. She bypassed his bow and grabbed him by the forearms. Even with her reaching up, the height difference was comical. Armin stood like a monolith while she beamed up at him.
"Don't worry, dear," she said, her voice softening. "You don't need to be this polite. Mama loves you all equally."
A faint, localized heat climbed Armin's neck. He remained perfectly still, his arms rigid as she pulled him into a crushing embrace. He was a giant being treated like a toddler, and the indignity of it sent a ripple of discomfort through his stoic exterior.
Mingzhu pulled back, still holding his arms. "Don't forget to take your gifts, Armin. I brought so many special things—though nothing is as special as my boys."
Armin blinked, his gaze shifting toward the mountain of crates. "There is no need for gifts, Mother. Your return is sufficient."
"Nonsense," she countered. She looked up at his face, then gestured downward with a demanding flick of her wrist. "Armin, darling, would you please bow a little? You're far too tall."
Armin hesitated. He glanced at his father, who was watching the exchange with an unreadable expression. With a quiet sigh, Armin leaned forward, bending at the waist until his face was level with hers.
Mingzhu didn't waste the opportunity. She reached out and pinched his cheeks with a firm, playful tug.
"Still so soft," she cooed.
The blush hit Armin's face like a physical blow. He pulled back slightly, his ears turning a deep shade of crimson. "It's not funny, Mother."
"Of course it isn't," she laughed, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Now, do as your mama says. Go check your luggage. See what I brought you."
Armin nodded, though he stayed rooted to the spot for a moment, trying to regain his composure. The blush remained, a vivid contrast to his usual pale, untouchable demeanor. He turned toward Niklas, his movements regaining their professional edge.
He walked toward his father. There was no hugging here. Instead, Armin stopped three feet away and offered a sharp, decisive nod.
"Welcome home, Father."
Niklas returned the nod, his blue eyes assessing his eldest son's performance.
"I have to go as well, Father," Armin stated, his tone shifting to business. "The quarterly reports are due, and the board is expecting—"
Mingzhu interrupted, stepping between them once more. She placed a small, warm hand on the small of Armin's back. "Bai Qi is a little childish, Armin, we know this. But you are far too smart. Wouldn't you spend just a little time with your parents?"
Armin looked down at her. He drew a long, slow breath, his logic warring with the guilt her tone provided.
"If you truly wish me to stay," Armin began, his voice trailing off as he looked at the door.
Mingzhu didn't wait for him to finish the sentence. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him again. Against her small frame, Armin looked like a massive, displaced statue. He looked down at the top of her head, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air before he finally, tentatively, patted her shoulder.
Niklas stood by the foyer doors. He didn't speak. He didn't join the embrace. But as he watched his wife cling to their eldest son, the icy lines of his face finally cracked.
It was a small, fleeting thing—a ghost of an expression that disappeared as quickly as it had arrived—but it was there. He watched the "giant baby" surrender to the maternal whim, and for a moment, the weight of the Rothenberg empire seemed to lift from the room.
Armin caught the smile. He looked away immediately, his face burning hotter than before.
"Fine," Armin muttered, his voice thick with embarrassment. "I will stay for breakfast."
"Wonderful!" Mingzhu chirped, releasing him and clapping her hands. "Charles! Bring the German tea! We're having a family morning!"