The private dining room on the third floor of the Cantonese restaurant along Guangming Road was filled with the faint scent of sandalwood. Steam rose lazily from the teapot on the solid oak table. Across from each other sat Su Tiannan and Wang Daolin—silent, yet both weighed down by their own turmoil.
Sweat dotted Su Tiannan's brow. He leaned forward and spoke in a low, steady tone.
"Uncle Wang, you and my father fought shoulder to shoulder once. As his son, I'll speak openly—no need for pretense between us."
Wang Daolin took a slow sip of tea, his expression giving nothing away.
"I've already handed one of Lu Feng's men over to you," Su continued. "If you could tighten the screws on Changqing Company, make it look like a serious probe, they'd panic. Meanwhile, the Liu, Bai, and Kong families can stir up noise from the outside. I'm not asking for miracles—just enough to get my father out safely."
He paused, watching Wang's reaction. "If it works, I'll see to it that thirty percent of our annual profits go to you—and I'm sure the other three families will gladly match that."
Wang gave a quiet laugh. "Do you think I've been meeting you these past few days because I want your money?"
"Of course not," Su said quickly. "You're helping for my father's sake. The thirty percent isn't a bribe—it's our way of showing gratitude."
Wang set his cup down with a soft clack, thoughts already turning behind his calm exterior. "Changqing has a man in the Sanitation Bureau—Zheng Fuan. His brother-in-law, Li Xing, runs the Anti-Smuggling Division under Dragon City Police… and he's a key member of the Fu Chamber of Commerce."
He gave a thin smile. "My office? Just one door down from Li Xing's. We have tea together almost every morning."
Su froze.
"Xiao Nan," Wang sighed, "some things can't be solved with either money or sentiment. If I take your side, do you know how many people I'd be offending?"
Su said nothing.
"Even setting that aside," Wang continued evenly, "inside the system, everything runs on decorum. Changqing hasn't crossed me directly or touched my interests. If I step out unprovoked, I become the troublemaker—and nothing kills a career faster than that. When the storm hits, even your allies will leave you standing alone."
Su's jaw tightened.
"My advice hasn't changed," Wang said quietly. "Let it go. Hand over the company, bring your father home. You still have family. Even without the sanitation business, you'd survive. Sometimes being an adult means knowing when to bow."
"I understand, Uncle Wang," Su replied softly. Pressing further would only make things worse.
The air turned heavy. Just as Su reached to refill Wang's cup, his phone buzzed.
"Sorry, Uncle Wang—one second." He stepped into the hallway and answered.
"Brother, how's it going?" came Su Tianyu's voice.
"No deal," Tiannan said. "I even offered thirty percent, and he still refused."
"Can you raise it?"
"It's not about money," Tiannan sighed. "He said Changqing's roots go too deep. If he moves, he looks like he's picking a fight. There's no gain in that."
"Alright. Come home. We'll talk later."
"Okay."
He hung up, frustration rising in his chest. After all that, Wang still wouldn't budge. Without help from inside the system, their only remaining weapon was public pressure—and that was a double-edged sword. If it failed, their father's sentence could double.
Because in Dragon City, guilt wasn't decided by truth—it was decided by convenience.
He took a long breath. "Ah…"
Pushing the door open, he forced a smile. "Uncle Wang, shall we head out?"
"Sure."
The older man rose, hands clasped behind his back as they walked out together. "Xiao Nan," he said quietly, "If your family decides to yield, tell me early. I can speak to Li Xing. He'll give me that much face. Your father won't get off scot-free, but in a year or two—he could be home. That's just how Dragon City works. Fairness doesn't exist here."
"Yes, sir. I'll talk to my family," Su replied.
They were still walking when a man in a baseball cap came up the stairs—head down, moving fast.
Wang didn't notice. Su did. Something in the man's stride set his nerves alight. Instinct took over—he yanked Wang back.
The man closed in, and in one swift motion, drew a black pistol.
Su's face drained of color. He lunged forward, grabbing the man's wrist. "Uncle Wang—he's got a gun!"
Wang stumbled back against the wall.
The two men struggled fiercely in the narrow corridor.
The gunman grunted—and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The shot split the air. Screams erupted from the dining room.
Su wrestled the man backward toward the stairs. They slammed into the railing, grappling for control.
THUD!
The gunman's knee drove into Su's stomach. Pain exploded through his body; his grip faltered.
Then, inexplicably, the man didn't fire at Wang—who stood frozen just feet away—but grabbed Su's collar and shoved him toward the stairs.
Su's back hit the banister. Their eyes locked. For a split second, realization flashed between them.
The man's left hand pushed harder. His right hand twisted the gun, almost deliberately aiming away.
And Su Tiannan made a choice. He seized the barrel—and wrenched it toward himself.
The shooter hesitated—then fired.
BANG!
Blood sprayed across the stairwell. Su's body lurched backward, tumbling down the steps.
The gunman vaulted after him, landing halfway down, and fired again.
Three more shots shattered the building's silence.
Panic tore through the restaurant.
Just as the gunman turned to flee, a man burst out from below—Wang's driver, pistol drawn.
"Fuck!" the shooter spat, spinning and sprinting back upstairs.
Wang, trembling, bolted toward the nearest private room—but the terrified diners inside shoved furniture against the door.
"Open up!" he roared.
The gunman rounded the corner. For a heartbeat, the two locked eyes—one masked, one pale with fear.
"Brother—it's not about me," Wang stammered, hands raised. His voice cracked.
The man raised the gun.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Wang flinched violently. For a moment, he thought he was dead. But when he opened his eyes, there was no blood.
The shooter was already gone—through the window, down the metal stairs, vanishing into the night.
Wang stood frozen, drenched in cold sweat. Slowly, he lifted a trembling hand to his head—no wound. Nothing.
He looked up. Three neat bullet holes lined the wall just above where his skull had been.
A chill crawled down his spine.
A senior police official of Dragon City—attacked during dinner.
This would not stay quiet.
A storm had just broken.
Half an hour later, on a seaside cliff, the gunman disassembled his weapon with mechanical precision, tossing each part and bullet into the crashing waves.
Ten minutes after that, he reached a second hideout. Clothes, shoes, cap, mask—all burned beside a reservoir. The ashes scattered into the water, carried away by the current.
Meanwhile, the Cantonese restaurant had been sealed off. Patrol cars lined the street, their lights flashing red and blue across the night.
Wang Daolin and the wounded Su Tiannan were rushed to the hospital.
Before the operation even began, half a dozen mid-level officers from the Northeast faction stormed in, furious.
"Changqing's lost their damn minds! You want to go after Su Tiannan fine—but shooting at a bureau director too?!"
"They've gone too far!"
Wang sat pale and trembling, voice shaking. "That gunman… he knew who I was. He missed me on purpose. Three shots—over my head. You know what that means? It was a warning."
Across town in Zhanan District, Lu Feng was unraveling. He'd called every contact he had, but his man in the floral shirt was nowhere to be found.
"Where the hell is he?!" he roared, slamming the table. "Are you all dead?" Keep calling!"
One of his men hesitated. "Boss, maybe he's still in the Su family's yard. If Amin was caught, he wouldn't dare reach out. Maybe we should ask Director Li from the police bureau to step in—"
THUD!
Lu's kick sent the man sprawling. "Are you fucking stupid?! Might as well hand the cops a confession! You think Li Xing can move without exposing us?!"
The room went silent.
Then the phone rang.
Lu snatched it up. "Hello?"
"Lu Feng, have you lost your goddamn mind?!" was Li Xing, shouting through the line. "It's one thing to go after Su Tiannan—but why the hell did you shoot at Wang Daolin?" Are you insane?
Lu froze. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Later that night, beneath the dim glow of Zhanan's streetlights, a man walked alone. His face was clean, calm, unreadable.
The balance of Dragon City had been shattered—
By a single gunshot.