Director Han's office had gone quiet in a way that rarely happened.
Not the productive quiet of concentration.
The other kind — the one that settled after irritation had nowhere left to go.
Han Yusheng stood near the window with his back turned, hands clasped behind him, staring down at the traffic far below. His jacket was still on. He hadn't sat since returning from his last meeting.
Behind him, his son finally broke.
"He did it again."
The words came clipped, controlled — which only meant Han Ming was holding himself together by habit, not calm.
Director Han didn't turn. "Say it once. Properly."
Han Ming exhaled through his nose. "Jason Yun scheduled a meeting for this morning. Ten sharp. He confirmed it last night. My assistant rearranged two other calls to accommodate him."
Silence.
"He didn't show."
Director Han's fingers tightened slightly.
"No message. No delay notice. No explanation." Han Ming hesitated, then added, "He didn't answer when I called."
"How many times?" his father asked.
"Three."
Director Han turned slowly.
"And the fourth?"
Han Ming's jaw tightened. "Straight to voicemail."
The room felt smaller.
Director Han walked back to his desk, picked up the tablet resting there, and scrolled. His expression didn't change, but the rhythm of his movements did — slower now, deliberate.
"This is the third time," Han Ming said. "In two weeks."
Director Han nodded once. "I know."
Han Ming took a step forward. "Then why are we still pretending this is coincidence?"
Director Han finally looked at him.
"Watch your tone."
"I'm not angry," Han Ming said immediately — too quickly. "I'm insulted."
That earned a faint reaction.
Director Han leaned back against the edge of the desk. "Explain."
Han Ming straightened. "We gave him access. We adjusted timelines. We smoothed introductions. And now he schedules meetings like he's the one doing us a favor."
Director Han studied his son carefully.
"Do you think he's doing it on purpose?" he asked.
Han Ming didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"And why would he do that?"
"To remind us he has leverage."
Director Han's gaze sharpened. "What leverage?"
Han Ming paused.
The answer came slower this time. "Phoenix. Momentum. The fact that we don't fully understand how he's moving as fast as he is."
Director Han let out a short breath. "So your conclusion is that he's disrespecting us."
"Yes."
"No," Director Han corrected calmly. "Your conclusion is that you feel disrespected."
Han Ming stiffened. "There's a difference?"
"There is," Director Han said, pushing off the desk. "And you need to learn it."
He walked past his son, grabbed his coat from the chair, and shrugged it on.
"Where are you going?" Han Ming asked.
Director Han picked up his keys. "To confirm."
Jason Yun didn't keep visitors waiting on purpose.
If someone arrived unannounced and important, they either saw him quickly — or not at all.
Director Han arrived unannounced and important.
Natalie intercepted him at the entrance before he'd even given his name. One look at the way he carried himself, and she stepped aside.
"I'll let him know you're here," she said.
Director Han nodded. "Tell him I didn't come for tea."
She didn't smile.
Jason was already standing when Natalie entered his office.
"Director Han," he said. "I was wondering how long it would take."
Natalie glanced between them once and quietly closed the door behind her.
Director Han didn't sit.
Jason didn't offer.
They regarded each other for a moment — two men measuring not status, but intent.
"You missed three meetings," Director Han said without preamble.
Jason nodded. "I did."
"You set the times."
"Yes."
"You confirmed."
"Yes."
Director Han waited.
Jason continued evenly. "And then I didn't attend."
That earned a thin smile — not amused.
"Do you know what that looks like?" Director Han asked.
Jason considered. "To some people? Carelessness."
"To others?"
"Arrogance."
Director Han's eyes narrowed slightly. "And to me?"
Jason met his gaze. "A decision."
Silence stretched.
Director Han finally stepped forward. "Then let's talk about decisions."
Jason gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Please."
Director Han sat. Slowly.
Jason took his own seat.
"Why?" Director Han asked.
Jason didn't deflect. "Because every time we met, we circled the same topics. Risk mitigation. Public alignment. Long-term optics."
"And those are problems?" Director Han asked.
"They're conversations," Jason replied. "Not obstacles."
Director Han folded his hands. "You think I waste my time?"
"No," Jason said. "I think you protect it."
That paused him.
Jason continued. "Which means when a conversation doesn't move forward, you revisit it until it does. I respect that."
"Then why stop showing up?" Director Han pressed.
"Because I needed to see whether the meetings mattered," Jason said calmly. "Or if my attendance was just reassurance."
Director Han leaned back slightly. "And?"
"And the calls came faster when I didn't."
The air cooled.
"That's a dangerous way to test people," Director Han said.
Jason nodded. "Agreed."
"Then why do it?"
Jason's gaze sharpened. "Because I don't need comfort. I need alignment."
Director Han stared at him for a long moment.
Finally, he exhaled. "You're either very confident… or very stupid."
Jason smiled faintly. "That's what makes it interesting."
They didn't speak for a while.
Director Han broke the silence first.
"My son believes you're disrespecting him."
Jason's expression didn't change. "Your son wants predictability."
"That's not an insult."
"It's not," Jason agreed. "But it's not what this stage allows."
Director Han tapped the armrest once. "You could have explained."
"Yes," Jason said. "And then nothing would have changed."
Director Han laughed — quietly, despite himself.
"You're frustrating," he admitted.
Jason inclined his head. "I've heard that."
Director Han's tone shifted. "You've gained attention you didn't ask for. Phoenix accelerated things. Now people want to know whether you're substance or coincidence."
"And you?" Jason asked.
Director Han looked at him directly. "I want to know whether you understand what happens if this breaks."
Jason didn't answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was lower. "Then we're finally talking about the same thing."
Director Han's eyes flicked, sharp. "Explain."
Jason stood, walked to the window, and looked out over the city.
"If Phoenix fails," he said, "I lose momentum. Credibility. Access."
Director Han waited.
"But if it succeeds," Jason continued, "it won't belong to one family. Or one board. Or one generation."
He turned back.
"And that scares people."
Director Han studied him carefully. "You're young."
"Yes."
"You're moving fast."
"Yes."
"And you're already thinking past them."
Jason didn't deny it.
Director Han stood.
"Next time you set a meeting," he said, "you show up."
Jason nodded. "Next time I set one, it'll matter."
Director Han paused at the door. "You're walking a thin line."
Jason smiled faintly. "I know."
Director Han opened the door, then stopped.
"One more thing," he said.
Jason looked up.
"My son isn't wrong to be angry."
Jason nodded. "He shouldn't be."
Director Han left.
Later that evening, Han Ming listened in silence as his father recounted the meeting.
When Director Han finished, Han Ming frowned. "So what now?"
Director Han poured himself tea. "Now we stop assuming he needs us more than we need him."
Han Ming hesitated. "And if he pushes too far?"
Director Han's eyes were calm. "Then he'll learn where the edge actually is."
Jason returned to his desk, checked his phone, and finally sent one message.
Jason:
Meeting confirmed. Friday. No delays.
He set the phone down.
This time, he meant it.