Two in the morning.

There were rustling sounds in the old house’s living room.

Lin Qing couldn’t help getting out of bed.

In the living room, a dark figure — startled by her footsteps — and Lin Qing locked eyes in an instant. Both of them nearly frightened each other half to death.

“Oh good lord! You scared me! You’re my own mother and you still scared me half to death!”

Lin Qing clutched her chest, her heart hammering.

“You’re telling me people can be scared to death?!”

“You already know that — and you’re still doing it!” Mom grumbled, continuing to sort through her things. “Middle of the night, not sleeping — wandering around like a ghost, giving people heart attacks!”

Lin Qing suddenly felt completely wide awake.

“Mom! I think you might be describing yourself? It’s the middle of the night — why are you still packing?”

“I remembered something I hadn’t grabbed yet. Didn’t want to forget it. Figured I’d pack it now so I can sleep easy.”

Mom pressed down on the contents of the suitcase.

Lin Qing sighed and urged her to go get some rest. “Mom, moving to Shanghai isn’t that urgent, is it?”

“I’m going to be with my own daughter — how could I not be in a hurry?” Mom said. “I’ve already announced it in the square-dancing group chat! I told everyone I’m going to Shanghai to live the good life with my daughter, they can have fun without me from now on. I made a big declaration — three days at the most. I absolutely must leave this town in three days!”

Mom held up three proud fingers.

In the dead of night.

“Mom, you said yourself it’s living the good life — not fleeing a disaster. Why does it have to be as intense as a New Year’s Eve countdown?!”

Lin Qing didn’t dare go back to sleep. She was worried that if she did, Mom would keep working in the dark without turning the light on, which would be even more dangerous.

So Lin Qing decided to keep her company by scrolling through her phone for a while.

#LiangMengLongquanGroupTwoMinuteAudioLeak

#TooOld

#ZhouZelongSponsorshipReplaced

#WhoIsLiangMeng

#WhoDoesLiangMengActuallyLike

Lin Qing shot up from her stool and rubbed her eyes with every ounce of strength she had.

Had she been half-asleep and dreaming?

In the middle of the night, over a dozen trending topics — every single one of them about her future boss.

“Mom! Turn on the main light!”

Fully awake now, Lin Qing went for her laptop.

She quickly pulled up the web browser and confirmed it — she hadn’t been drowsy, and her phone wasn’t randomly pushing notifications.

The top three trending topics were all marked “Blazing Hot.”

Lin Qing clicked in immediately to listen to the leaked audio.

“I think he’s… too old!… The audience has watched him from twenty to forty — aren’t they tired of him? Longquan Group needs fresh, young blood… The most honest reason? I simply don’t like this person. I. Don’t. Like. Him!… Buy that one!”

The audio had been clipped and spliced together by whoever leaked it, but Liang Meng’s enunciation and attitude came through crystal clear.

Lin Qing immediately opened the 12360 railway booking app and purchased the earliest available high-speed train ticket — departing at 5:21 AM for Shanghai.

“Mom! I bought my ticket. Leaving at five.”

Lin Qing turned around and called out.

“What? Sweetheart, what did you say?!”

“I said I’m leaving at five!”

Lin Qing clattered away at the keyboard — pulling data, building models — without looking up.

Mom turned the tables right back at her and came over to ask: “Are you the one fleeing a disaster now? Or are you in a rush to ring in the New Year somewhere?”

“Mom, stop joking. My future boss just went trending. I need to get over there and help her deal with it.”

“Isn’t the interview at three in the afternoon? And besides, you don’t even know yet if they’ll hire you. What if they don’t — you’d just be working for nothing.”

Mom pressed her hand over Lin Qing’s clicking mouse.

Lin Qing looked up. Their eyes met. She squeezed out five words from between her teeth: “One. Hundred. And. Forty. Thousand.”

That money — she was going to get it, no matter what.

Mom had nothing left to say.

During the half hour it took Mom to boil the eggs, Lin Qing sorted through her data at top speed and ran it through the model to calculate the results.

The presentation slides would have to wait until the train.

Lin Qing grabbed her luggage, took the boiled eggs Mom pressed into her hands, and rushed out the door at full speed.

Six in the morning.

The high-speed train hadn’t yet pulled into the station.

Lin Qing could already hear the passengers in the neighbouring seats talking.

“Hey, hey — look at what’s trending! Someone actually thinks Zhou Zelong is old.”

“Who?”

“Some female CEO of a company. There’s even audio. Let me play it for you.”

“Sure. Zhou Zelong is old? He looks pretty young to me.”

And then Liang Meng’s audio clip began playing on a loop throughout the entire carriage.

No — it was playing on full speaker, for the whole cabin to hear.

Trending topics spread far faster than any high-speed train.

Lin Qing tightened her fist and stared out the window in silence, sending up a quiet prayer.

Liang Meng cannot collapse.

If Liang Meng collapses, that 140,000 goes up in smoke along with her…

On the other side of the city.

Seven in the morning.

Tanshan Villa.

Inside a traditional Chinese courtyard.

Jiang Han was dressed in a silver-white traditional Chinese outfit, standing on the bluestone path and practicing the Eight Brocades Qigong.

Thirty-eight was perhaps a bit young to take up the Eight Brocades, but compared to the intensity of competitive sports, he now preferred this kind of movement — calm, inward, and self-challenging.

“Director Jiang.”

Jiang Han had just reached the sequence called “Sway the Head and Wag the Tail to Expel Heart-Fire” when his secretary came hurrying over in all black, interrupting him.

Jiang Han’s displeasure was unmistakable. He turned slowly and said in a cool voice: “Whatever you’re about to say had better be important enough. If it isn’t, you won’t see this month’s salary.”

“Director Jiang.”

The secretary dipped his head, apparently already resigned to the likelihood that he was doomed either way, and simply held up his phone.

“Miss Liang has gone trending.”

“Which Miss Liang?”

Jiang Han glanced up at the second-floor bedroom, and gave his secretary an impatient look for being unclear.

“Miss Liang Meng.”

A faint flicker moved through Jiang Han’s eyes. He immediately cut the movement short and took the phone.

“There are ten trending topics in total. The top five are all about Miss Liang.” The secretary noted.

In the quiet morning light, beneath the dappled shadows of the trees, Jiang Han held the phone to his ear and listened to Liang Meng’s audio clip — once, then again, and again.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” the secretary asked respectfully. “Should I reach out to our PR firm? Sansheng has suppliers who can help.”

Jiang Han raised a hand — a gesture that meant don’t bother — then drew a slow breath and said nothing.

The secretary hesitated for a moment, then sensibly took his leave.

Jiang Han lifted his gaze to the dawn light. The eastern horizon had turned a pale white, its glow falling across his striking, upright face.

In the thin mist, something behind his brow stirred. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh.

A few seconds later, the figure standing in the morning light steadied himself, drew a breath, and resumed the Eight Brocades sequence.

Blue brick and green courtyard.

One movement, one stance, one gesture at a time.

All of it was watched — in its entirety — by a pair of eyes as deep and still as a cold lake, from behind the bronze-green curtain on the second floor.

Liang Xing stood in a white silk sleep robe, her long, slender neck extended, bare feet on the deep red floor, looking down over every corner of the courtyard below.

Liang Xing — slender, pale, with delicate, refined features.

Her beauty was flawless, yet not striking.

Liang Meng’s quiet aloofness and subdued manner meant that whenever she appeared alongside Jiang Han, something always felt slightly off — like one breath of distance between them.

“Go wake Liang Meng.”

Liang Xing lowered her arm and turned to give instructions to her personal assistant.

“Tell her to check the trending topics.”

The assistant nodded and went off to do so.

Five minutes later, Liang Meng slowly opened her eyes in bed.

“President Liang, you’ve gone trending.”

“I know.” Through the gap in the doorway, Liang Meng leaned against the door frame, still half-asleep. “For breakfast, I want…”

The assistant stood at the door, unmoved.

Liang Meng extended a slender finger. “Write this down! For breakfast I want: pan-fried buns, omakase, fruit tarts, a bagel, bird’s nest soup, and an Italian espresso with five grams of raw cane sugar… Yes! Raw cane sugar!”

“President Liang, slow down — let me write this!”

The assistant only then realized her mistake and frantically dug out her phone to open a notes app.

“That’s all.”

Liang Meng yawned and slammed the door shut.

She stretched lazily, glanced at the clock — not yet seven-thirty — and went right back to sleep.

By the time she had freshened up and come downstairs, Jiang Han and Liang Xing had already finished breakfast and were seated at the dining table — one watching the financial channel, the other scrolling through her phone — waiting for her.

Liang Xing’s assistant looked genuinely apologetic as she pointed at the dishes on the table. “President Liang, I’m so sorry. I did my best to remember everything. These should all be items you requested — please forgive me if I missed anything.”

Liang Meng casually lowered her head and took a sip of her coffee, then let out a cool, unbothered smile: “No worries! This ‘raw cane sugar’ — just right.”

Raw cane sugar — a homophone in Chinese for absurdity and outrageousness.

Having said it, Liang Meng deliberately shot a long, meaningful glance at the “sister” and “brother-in-law” sitting across from her.

They sat in silence while Liang Meng ate at her own provocative pace. It wasn’t until they heard the roar of her sports car engine that Jiang Han finally rose from his seat as well.

“Already leaving?” Liang Xing called after him with an air of casual indifference.

“Want a goodbye kiss?”

Jiang Han didn’t even pause to think — he turned on his heel, walked straight back, bent down, and brought his face close to his “wife’s” cheek.

Liang Xing’s instinct was to pull away.

But then she remembered there were others in the room, and she couldn’t make it too obvious — so she reluctantly turned back toward him.

“Keep your people in line,” Jiang Han said in a low, controlled voice close to Liang Xing’s ear. “Tell Daiwei and the others not to go too far.”

It was a coded message. And a warning.

With that, Jiang Han straightened up and immediately switched his tone, calling out warmly: “Darling, I love you. Chef — please make silver fish with eggs tonight, my wife loves it!”

Liang Xing watched with a composed smile as Jiang Han’s proud, upright figure disappeared into the black Maybach.

Ha.

Silver fish with eggs.

That was Liang Meng’s favourite dish.

Had been since she was a child.

Outside the Longquan Group headquarters.

A sea of people.

Reporters with long lenses and cameras, all set up and ready.

Zhou Zelong’s fan support group had their banners flying high:

“Boycott Longquan Group! Give us back our quality idol!”

“Liang Meng, you old hag!”

“Zhou Zelong! Descendant of the Dragon! Rise and soar!”

“A jumping ‘Liang’ clown — ‘dreaming’ of bringing down Longquan!”

Liang Meng, in sunglasses and an Hermès silk scarf, passed through the crowd from behind.

She scanned the banners and muttered under her breath: “What on earth is all this nonsense?”

These banners couldn’t have been made overnight.

The audio leaked at one-thirty in the morning.

What print shop opens in the middle of the night to produce this many banners?

And then have them all organized into formation, lined up in a welcoming guard of honour by early morning?

Print shops weren’t some kind of charitable small commodity market that could predict the future.

Liang Meng paid it no mind. She could see that the front entrance was blocked — so she’d go around to the back. She yanked the steering wheel hard.

Perhaps it was the blazing colour of Liang Meng’s sports car, or perhaps the timing was just too spot-on.

Zhou Zelong’s fans and the reporters spotted her almost immediately.

Liang Meng figured her driving was good enough — she could pull off a fast getaway.

She had underestimated Zhou Zelong’s fans.

A flash of red light swept across her eyes.

Her vision felt as though it had plunged into a sea of blood.

Liang Meng had let her guard down.

In the age of AI and intelligent technology, throwing eggs or rotten vegetables was the stuff of a decade ago.

Today’s obsessive fans went straight for laser pointers — aimed directly at Liang Meng’s eyes.

On top of that, six drones boxed in her sports car, pointing their cameras straight into the driver’s cabin, bombarding a flustered Liang Meng with relentless filming and flashing lights.

It was lucky that the scissor doors had auto-locked — otherwise, she might have been physically dragged out by the paparazzi.

A banner slowly slid up over the front windshield, blocking the sky from Liang Meng’s view.

Just when Liang Meng was certain she was going to be finished off here today, there came a resounding BANG!

Liang Meng lurched.

The red Ferrari felt as though something had just rear-ended it.