No one answered.
A black vehicle was already waiting in the shadows. Its engine humd softly, headlights off, windows tinted so dark they reflected nothing but distorted shapes.
The irony of the mont went unnoticed by her—but it was there, sharp and undeniable.
Just hours ago, she had abducted Hua Jing and taken her deep into Silian Forest, refusing to disclose her location when confronted. She had mocked the police, dismissed their questions, and withheld the one piece of information that mattered most.
Now, she was the one being moved in silence.
Now, she was the one demanding to know where she was being taken.
"Tell !" she scread again as they opened the rear door. "You can’t just—"
One of the n had had enough.
Her voice grated against his patience like tal scraping concrete. In one swift, almost invisible motion, he shifted his hand from her arm to the back of her neck. His fingers pressed with precise force against a nerve point just below the base of her skull.
Hua Ling felt it before she understood it—a dull, spreading ache blooming behind her neck.
Her words cut off mid-sentence.
The world tilted.
The parking lot lights blurred into streaks.
And then everything went black.
Her body went limp instantly, collapsing forward. The n caught her before she could hit the ground and lifted her effortlessly into the back seat of the waiting car.
Ling Wei stepped forward slowly, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve as though this were a routine inconvenience rather than a turning point in soone’s life.
"So noisy," he remarked calmly.
He brushed at the front of his coat, dusting away particles that were not even there, his movents ticulous and composed. There was not a single crease out of place in his attire, not a hint of the chaos that had just unfolded.
He looked at the unconscious woman sprawled across the seat, her hair disheveled, her earlier arrogance erased by sudden vulnerability.
Then he turned to the two n.
"Let’s go."
...
On the other side of the city, far from the flashing sirens and the tightening noose around Hua Ling, Mao Li was preparing to disappear.
The villa that once bustled with assistants, managers, stylists, and drivers now felt hollow. The marble floors echoed faintly with every step he took. Expensive décor remained untouched, yet the atmosphere carried the unmistakable scent of abandonnt. Blue Entertainnt—the empire he had spent years building—was collapsing in real ti, and he had no intention of going down with it.
Most of his liquid assets had already been transferred. The remainder were in the process of discreet liquidation through interdiaries he had paid generously for their silence. By the ti he landed in Norway, the final funds would reach offshore accounts under a different structure, carefully layered and nearly impossible to trace without ti—ti he believed he still had.
Blue Entertainnt was finished. The scandal had destroyed it from the inside out. The affair between Hua Ling and the business manager, Joe, had detonated like a bomb in the public eye. Endorsents vanished overnight. Long-term partners severed contracts. Investors withdrew support. Artists began quietly terminating agreents. Staff mbers resigned in waves, unwilling to be associated with a sinking ship.
The company that once glittered under spotlights was now bankrupt in everything but paperwork.
And Mao Li had already chosen survival.
He zipped his suitcase shut with deliberate calm and glanced around his study one last ti. No guilt crossed his face. No visible remorse. He had convinced himself that he was rely adapting to circumstances. A businessman does not drown with a company—he preserves himself.
Yet as he reached for a folder resting near the edge of his desk, sothing slipped free and drifted to the floor.
A photograph.
He bent down to pick it up.
It was old. The edges slightly worn.
In the picture, Hua Jing stood beside him, years younger, her face radiant with a smile so genuine it almost seed to glow. She had been at the very beginning of her career then—bright-eyed, ambitious, raw with talent. He rembered the day clearly. He had poached her from her previous agency because he believed they were wasting her potential. He had seen sothing in her before the rest of the industry fully understood it.
Back then, Blue Entertainnt was not the powerhouse it later beca. It was modest. Struggling even. Hua Jing’s rise had lifted them all. Her projects succeeded one after another. Endorsents followed. Revenue surged. The company expanded.
She had beco the pillar.
The na everyone chanted.
Hua Jing this.
Hua Jing that.
Mao Li stared at the photograph longer than he intended.
He had worked tirelessly too. He had negotiated contracts, expanded networks, cultivated partnerships, secured investors. His fingerprints were all over the company’s growth. But when praise ca, it almost always gravitated toward her.
And though he acknowledged—grudgingly—that she deserved much of it, a quiet resentnt had begun to take root over ti.
Why didn’t they see him?
Why was he rely the man behind the star?
That lingering dissatisfaction had made him vulnerable. It had clouded his judgnt in subtle ways he did not fully recognize until it was too late.
Then Hua Ling had appeared with her anger, her manipulation, her carefully planted suggestions. She had fed his insecurities, nudged his frustrations, convinced him that aligning with her was strategic rather than reckless.
In a single mont of weakness, he had made a choice.
And that choice had spiraled into this.
A faint lancholy flickered across his features as he traced the edge of the photograph with his thumb. For a brief second, he wondered what might have happened if he had simply remained loyal. If he had resisted resentnt. If he had not allowed ambition and ego to overtake reason.
But the past could not be revised.
Ti did not bend backward.
He exhaled slowly, placed the photograph face down on the desk, and turned away.
There was no point in sentint now.
He picked up his suitcase and walked toward the entrance of the villa.
The silence struck him imdiately.
It was too quiet.
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