Shen Zhaoyi was driving an unremarkable Buick, slowly easing onto the airport overpass.
It was the first day Planet No. 8 entered Jingshi, with the air pressure soaring to 110 Pa.
The plane trees flanking the airport road were battered into shambles by the typhoon. Shen Zhaoyi flicked the wipers countless times, only barely able to make out the road ahead. The weather was vicious, and Terminal T8 kept looping the same weather broadcast.
> “Typhoon No. 11 of this year made landfall along our city’s coast at 12:11 this morning.”
“Due to convection, the strongest wind near the outer ring has reached level 8. Heavy rainfall and lightning are expected within the next five hours. A yellow alert has been issued—departments and staff are advised to take precautions.”
She glanced at her watch, circled once, and turned into the B5 parking garage. She chose a quiet corner to park, leaned against the seatback—one hand resting on the window, the other lighting a cigarette to stay awake. She hadn’t slept much last night, and today she had to get to the airport before the typhoon fully struck. Her posture seemed relaxed, but her eyes were fixed ahead.
It was the kind of storm that made traveling unthinkable. Here and there, a passenger rushed to catch a flight or stepped off an arrival, but none of them were the one Shen Zhaoyi was waiting for.
Soft music floated in the car. Shen Zhaoyi switched the channel.
> “News report… Longshen has recently completed… an acquisition…”
Her phone buzzed. Lan Yu was checking if the welcome banquet was ready.
The young master’s return was no trivial matter—even Lan Yu dared not be careless.
Shen Zhaoyi sent over a few photos.
> “Jinyu Hautecourt, mountain-side villa.”
Lan Yu glanced at them, satisfied. Shen Zhaoyi was always reliable, someone you could trust to get things done.
Business settled, Lan Yu slipped into gossip.
> “I heard he came back with Miss Wang of Jingshi?”
> “No.” Shen Zhaoyi stubbed out her cigarette, shifted gears smoothly, and stepped on the accelerator. “He came back alone.”
Lan Yu instantly sobered, shoving aside the person in his arms and sitting up.
> “Wait—you went to follow him?”
Shen Zhaoyi’s eyes stayed fixed on the tall figure stepping out of B5. Only when he slid into a black Phaeton did she reply,
> “Not following. Meeting him at the airport.”
One-sidedly.
Lan Yu was silent for a while, then muttered like it was second nature,
> “Shen Zhaoyi, do you have a death wish?”
Keeping a steady distance behind the Phaeton, she said,
> “I don’t trust it. Jingshi hasn’t been safe lately.”
The Chamber of Commerce elections were drawing near, and the Ximen, Dongmen, and Xialong factions were already stirring.
Since last month, rumors of hijackings and crashes had spread.
And that man’s series of acquisitions and takeovers abroad had already set off a storm.
The memory of the attack a few years ago was still vivid. Shen Zhaoyi had felt uneasy for days.
It was the first day of Typhoon No. 11’s landfall, with flying conditions abnormally severe. She guessed he must have come back on that Falcon 800 private jet.
Lan Yu was at a loss, then laughed in disbelief.
> “You think it’s your job to worry? You’d better worry about yourself.”
Shen Zhaoyi just smiled gently, saying nothing.
After all, Lan Yu had known her for over a decade. Old classmates, he knew her inside out. Shen Zhaoyi was always proper, measured—everyone else’s idea of a well-behaved girl. But whenever she crossed the line, it meant something big.
> “How did you know where he’d disembark?” Lan Yu pressed.
Jingshi Airport was a hub for many international flights, with multiple new exits. Important figures often left through unmarked gates.
Shen Zhaoyi was silent for a moment before answering vaguely,
> “I have my ways.”
They were all adults living on the knife’s edge. Lan Yu didn’t press further, only warned,
> “If you push it too far, I might not be able to save you.”
Her voice was calm, steady.
> “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on doing anything.”
And she meant it.
With his bedmate tugging at him, Lan Yu just left her with a few reminders about the banquet before hanging up.
Shen Zhaoyi trailed the Phaeton until it cleared the tunnel. Then, with a sharp turn, she switched lanes, overtook cleanly, and disappeared down the road.
The sky grew darker.
She turned off the stereo, leaving only the white noise of rain pounding the windshield. The plane trees lining the road bent and swayed helplessly in the wind.
---
A few days later, at the Jinyu Hautecourt mountain-side villa restaurant.
Jingshi’s Xiaotai Mountain was surrounded by sea on three sides. In the typhoon’s grip, night brought no moonlight—only the lighthouse glowing over waves crashing at the mountain’s base.
Outside, wind and rain howled. Inside, chandeliers gleamed.
The glittering banquet looked refined, but beneath the surface it was as turbulent as the stormy sea outside.
Lu Yanzhou arrived neither early nor late, with Shen Nian and Sun Ming at his side. Even Lan Yu had to step back, for one was the youngest son of the Gambling King, the other the eldest grandson of Jingshi’s former Party Secretary. Compared to them, he was just a spoiled heir to a department store fortune—not even close.
Shen Zhaoyi had arrived much earlier. She stood in an inconspicuous corner, quietly reviewing the menu and wine list with the manager. In a low voice, she reminded him to lower the temperature, move the roses under the chandelier, and not to let the wine breathe completely—eighty percent was enough. She was like a cautious director, finalizing every detail.
The guest list wasn’t long. Most were young heirs from Jingshi’s most prominent families. But Shen Zhaoyi knew none of them belonged to Lu Yanzhou’s true inner circle.
In recent years, Lu Yanzhou had grown more low-key, more mysterious. A dragon seen but never caught. His circle was sealed tight, a pyramid within the arena of power and money—unchanged since childhood. Someone like Shen Zhaoyi, the illegitimate daughter of a second-rate businessman’s concubine, couldn’t even dream of reaching it.
The only reason she stood here was because Lan Yu had been her classmate for more than a decade. And within every princeling circle, someone had to be the one arranging drinks and entertainment, running errands.
Shen Zhaoyi was a natural at dealing with people—smooth, reliable, composed. That was why she had earned a place among them.
It had to be said, many occasions called for someone exactly like her. Long-sleeved, graceful, knowing when to advance or retreat. Wherever she was, people felt at ease. Everyone thought she was pleasant, and so they counted her as half a friend.
