Shanghai never truly slept.
Even in the early hours of the morning, the towering buildings glowed with cold lights, reflecting ambition, power, and secrets. Inside one of the most prestigious corporate buildings in the city, a man sat alone in a silent office.
Zichen Mo was dressed in a deep black suit—sharp, flawless, and heavy with mourning. The color suited him too well these days. In his hands rested an old photograph, its edges slightly worn. It was a picture of his father, Jingyan Mo.
The man in the photograph smiled confidently, his eyes filled with pride and authority. Jingyan Mo had once been a legend in the business world—respected, feared, and admired. Now, he was nothing more than a memory framed in silence.
Zichen's fingers tightened around the photograph.
Just a few days ago, his father had been alive. Just a few days ago, his voice still echoed in this world. And now—he was gone. Murdered.
The pain settled deep in Zichen's chest, heavy and suffocating. He had not cried. He had not screamed. Instead, he carried the grief quietly, like a shadow stitched into his soul.
A knock suddenly broke the silence.
Zichen inhaled slowly, placing the photograph carefully on the desk, facing him as if his father were watching. He straightened his posture, masked his emotions, and spoke in a calm, professional tone.
"Come in."
The door opened.
A woman stood at the entrance, holding a bouquet of white lilies. Her expression was gentle, yet cautious. She smiled faintly as her eyes fell upon Zichen.
"Please come in, Mrs. Wang Shen," Zichen said politely.
Wang Shen stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She moved quickly toward him and, without hesitation, held his hand.
"Mr. Zichen Mo," she said softly, her voice filled with sympathy, "I am truly sorry for your loss. The death of your father, Jingyan Mo, shocked me deeply. I still can't believe it. Who could possibly murder such a man?"
Her grip tightened slightly.
"Don't worry, my child. The police will surely find the truth."
Zichen lifted his gaze and offered a restrained smile—polite, controlled, distant.
"I appreciate you coming," he replied.
Wang Shen handed him the bouquet.
"I believe in you," she said firmly. "You will succeed. Your father raised you well."
"Yes," Zichen responded. "I will."
There was a brief silence. The room felt heavier than before, as if the walls themselves were listening.
Wang Shen glanced around nervously before lowering her voice.
"Please make sure your uncle, Zeyu Shen, doesn't find out that I came here to meet you."
Zichen's eyes darkened for a split second before returning to calm.
"Don't worry," he assured her. "No one will know."
Satisfied, Wang Shen nodded and left the office.
Once the door closed, Zichen stood still.
The smile vanished.
He looked back at his father's photograph.
"Father," he murmured silently, "I've taken my first step."
Scene Shift — Mo Residence
The Mo family home felt emptier than ever.
The lights were on, yet warmth was missing. The moment Zichen stepped inside, a figure rushed toward him.
"Zichen!"
His mother, Yueran Mo, wrapped her arms tightly around him, her body trembling as she broke down in tears. The strength she had pretended to hold all day finally collapsed.
Zichen hugged her back, resting his chin lightly on her head. His hand moved gently through her hair, slow and reassuring.
"Trust me, Mom," he whispered.
"I will fix everything."
Her sobs gradually softened. He pulled back slightly and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Trying to steady herself, Yueran Mo forced a weak smile.
"Leave everything else for now," she said. "Tell me… how was your first day at the company?"
Zichen held her hand and guided her to the sofa. He sat beside her, his posture relaxed but his eyes serious.
"Better than the past few days," he replied.
"Today… I saw Father within myself."
Yueran's breath hitched.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"He was watching me," Zichen said quietly.
"Reminding me that this company is not just his legacy—it's my responsibility."
Tears welled up in Yueran's eyes again.
"And what was he saying?" she whispered.
Zichen looked straight ahead.
"He said that one day, I will surely succeed."
At those words, Yueran Mo finally lost control. The pain she had buried burst forth. Losing her husband, facing uncertainty, and watching her son shoulder such pressure—it was all too much.
Zichen stood and helped her up.
"Come," he said gently. "You need rest."
He guided her to her room, tucked her into bed, and waited until her breathing slowly calmed.
As he turned to leave, Yueran reached out and held his hand.
"Zichen," she said weakly, "be careful."
He nodded.
"I will."
Outside the room, Zichen's expression hardened.
The boy who once lived under his father's protection was gone.
What remained was a man standing at the edge of power, surrounded by hidden enemies, betrayal, and unanswered questions.
His father's murder was no accident.
And he would uncover the truth—no matter the cost.
Under the cold Shanghai sky, Zichen Mo silently made a promise.
This was not the end.
It was only the beginning.