The neon-drenched grid of the capital's central corporate district gradually faded into the rearview mirror, replaced by the narrow, maze-like streets of a traditional residential sector on the city's eastern outskirts. Here, the glittering glass skyscrapers gave way to low-slung, gray-brick courtyard houses sheltered by ancient weeping willows. The morning fog hung thick over the stone alleyways, damp and heavy, acting as a natural buffer against the chaotic world outside.
The nondescript black utility van rolled quietly down a dead-end lane, its engine humming in a low, muffled frequency before slipping smoothly into the open gate of an unassuming, weathered courtyard.
This was not a Yang family stronghold, nor was it a registered medical facility. This property belonged entirely to Chen Yan.
