At Campus - Saturday - 8: 30 AM
The morning sun filtered through the glass-paneled corridors of Shanghai University, illuminating a scene that felt like a snapshot from a high-budget cinema production.
Zhao Wei walked with a measured, rhythmic stride, staying exactly two paces behind Lianhua. He wore a crisp, dark suit that clung to his broad shoulders, his posture so rigid and alert it felt as though he were a coiled spring ready to snap. His eyes, sharp and unblinking, scanned every passing face with the clinical precision of a professional operative.
He didn't look like a student. He looked like a storm in a tailored jacket.Nearby, a group of female students froze in their tracks, their textbooks forgotten as they stared at the pair.
"Who is that?" one girl whispered, clutching her friend's arm. "Look at his face. Is he an actor? He looks exactly like one ."
"He's so handsome, ," her friend breathed, mesmerized by his sharp jawline and the intense, brooding depth of his gaze. "But he looks so scary... like he'd kill you for even standing in his way."
"Is that girl his boss?" a third student murmured, looking at Lianhua. "She looks like some pampered heiress from a conglomerate. Look at that bodyguard; that's elite security."
Walking ahead of the whispers, Lianhua was a stark contrast to Wei icy shadow. At twenty-two, she possessed a classic, youthful Chinese beauty—bright, sparkling eyes, a soft, round face, and a smile that seemed to radiate genuine warmth. She looked every bit the 'cute genius,' her vibrant energy making her seem even younger than her years, despite the heavy bag Wei insisted on carrying for her.
"Wei, you're scaring them again," Lianhua murmured playfully over her shoulder, oblivious to the fact that her 'bodyguard' was currently breaking the hearts of half the girls in the hallway.
Wei didn't answer. He simply shifted his weight, subtly shielding her from a group of running students, his gaze enough to send them scurrying to the other side of the hall.
From a balcony overlooking the basketball courts, Principal Shu Zhen watched the pair approach. A woman in her fifties with a sharp, discerning eye, she leaned against the railing, her expression souring.
"Arrogant," Zhen muttered to her assistant, Rou. "They haven't even joined the project yet, and they're already bringing this kind of heavy-handed atmosphere to my campus. This cooperation is going to be a headache."
Turning away, she sat on a bench to watch her students play. The thud of the basketball and the cheers of the crowd usually brought her peace, but today, she felt the intrusion of the 'outsiders.'
Assistant Rou soon returned, leading the two visitors. "Principal Shu Zhen, this is the team from the JING-WEI project."
Lianhua stepped forward, extending a hand with a polite, respectful bow. "It is an honor, Principal. I am Zhao Lianhua, twenty-two years old. I've recently graduated from Beijing University and have transferred here to Shanghai University as a post-graduate researcher. I am also the founder and senior researcher for the JING-WEI AI project."
Shu Zhen's eyes softened slightly at Lianhua's credentials—graduating with special honors reserved for national defense contributors was no small feat. "Take a seat, Lianhua," she gestured.
Lianhua sat, but Wei remained standing directly behind her, his arms crossed, his eyes darting across the basketball court as if checking the players for hidden weapons. Shu Zhen's brow furrowed. She glanced at Rou, who stood quietly by her side, then back at the intimidating man.
"I have heard much of your brilliance, Lianhua," Shu Zhen said, forcing a smile. "A 'tech genius,' as the journals call you. My university and its students are honored to host the AI project. This is a golden opportunity for our researchers to grow and secure a future that brings glory to our country."
"Let's do our best," Lianhua replied with a light smile. "I had hoped to explore the campus quietly before my official start on Monday, but I didn't expect to meet the Principal herself so soon."
Shu Zhen chuckled softly. "Every Saturday, I come here. I like to watch the students escape their stress through the game. I try to motivate them when I can." Her gaze then flickered to Wei, who was currently staring down a student who had wandered too close to Lianhua's chair.
The Principal's patience snapped. Her voice turned icy. "Lianhua, let me be clear. In my college, everyone is equal. I don't care how important your project is; I will not have an intimidating presence like that hovering over my students. Do not ever bring your bodyguard here again."
The silence that followed was broken by a sudden, airy laugh. Lianhua tilted her head back, her eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. "Bodyguard? Oh, Principal, you've misunderstood." She nudged Wei's arm with her elbow. "He's my brother. It's just one of his very bad habits. Go on, brother—introduce yourself properly."
Zhao Wei stiffened. He adjusted his suit jacket, his expression remaining as cold and intense as ever, though he gave a curt, military-style nod. "Pleased to meet you," he said, his voice a deep, resonant baritone. "I am Zhao Wei. Lianhua's brother."
Both Shu Zhen and Rou blinked in synchronization, their mouths slightly agape. "I... I see," Shu Zhen stammered, clearing her throat to hide her embarrassment. "A pleasure to meet you, Zhao Wei."
Lianhua stood up, her smile brightening to smooth over the awkwardness. "My team will be joining us on Monday as well. We are very excited to get started."
"Well then," Shu Zhen said, standing up and smoothing her skirts. "Since you are family, and soon to be part of our university family... let me show you the campus myself."
As they walked into the heart of the university, the whispers followed them like a trailing wind, all centered on the beautiful girl and her dangerously handsome 'protector.'
Alleyway Dead End - Saturday, 9:00 AM
The morning sun failed to reach the bottom of the narrow alleyway, leaving it draped in a cold, grey mist. But it wasn't the shadows that made the scene haunting—it was the inexplicable destruction.
Detective Shan stood at the edge of the police cordon, his sharp, pragmatic eyes scanning the dead end. He had seen bombings, gas explosions, and heavy machinery accidents, but this defied logic. The asphalt wasn't just cracked; it was gouged by deep, unnatural furrows, as if a giant beast had used the ground as a sharpening stone. The brick walls were pulverized into fine red dust, yet there was no shrapnel, no debris, and most unsettlingly—no bodies.
"It looks like a controlled demolition, sir," Officer Yang muttered, his voice trembling. He was new to the force, and the sheer wrongness of the scene had him visibly rattled. "Except… everything is gone. The forensic report says the residue isn't C4 or any known explosive. It's—"
"I don't care what the lab says it is, Yang," Shan interrupted, his voice like flint. He kicked a jagged piece of concrete, watching it skitter across the gouged floor. "There are no witnesses, no identifiable victims, and the blood samples we found registered trace elements that the computer couldn't even categorize. I need a starting point, not a science fiction lecture."
Shan's gaze turned upward, tracing the walls. "Did you check every scrap of technology? Every camera in a fifty-meter radius?"
"Yes, sir," Yang replied, pointing toward a dilapidated, boarded-up storefront at the very edge of the alley. Tucked beneath a rotting awning was a small, cheap security camera, its lens coated in grime. "It was barely connected to the grid, but it was running."
Shan gestured toward the store. "Collect it. Every frame."
Yang nodded and hurried away. Shan remained behind for a moment, sitting in the driver's seat of his idling patrol car. He stared into the mouth of the alley through the windshield, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the steering wheel. Something felt different about this case. The air in that alley felt heavy, like the static before a lightning strike. With a sharp turn of the key, he roared the engine to life and headed back to the station.
By 11:00 AM, the atmosphere in Shan's private office was thick with the smell of stale coffee and tension. A knock at the door preceded Yang, who entered carrying a blackened hard drive.
"I managed to extract it, sir," Yang said, his face pale.
Shan didn't say a word; he simply gestured toward his laptop. Yang plugged the drive in, his fingers flying across the keys to stabilize the grainy, shaky footage. The video was dark, plagued by digital artifacts, but the scene was clear enough to chill the blood.
On the screen, a woman in a torn, expensive power suit—Le Mei—stumbled into the alley. She was breathless, her hair disheveled, pursued by a wave of thugs armed with pipes and jagged knives.
"Look! An ambush," Yang whispered. "Organized crime? A corporate hit?"
The footage showed Le Mei reaching the dead end, her back against the wall. The goons closed in, their faces twisted with malicious intent. A second later, their leader stepped into the frame, shouting something inaudible. He raised a hand, walking toward her with the confidence of a predator.
Then, the screen erupted into static.
"What happened?" Shan leaned in so close his breath fogged the screen. "Why did the feed cut?"
"The camera hardware spiked," Yang explained, sweating as he typed. "It was like a massive electromagnetic surge overloaded the circuit. But wait… I managed to recover a single frame from the microsecond before the blackout."
With a final keystroke, the image froze. It was a jagged, distorted still, but the details were terrifying.
The thugs were frozen in mid-motion, their faces no longer showing malice, but a sudden, paralyzing terror. Le Mei was in the corner, her mouth open in a silent, desperate warning. She wasn't looking at the men. She was staring at something that had manifested directly behind the lead goon.
It was a large, distorted shape—an impossibly black silhouette that seemed to absorb the light around it, a void in the shape of a nightmare.
"What... what is that?" Yang's voice was a mere breath. "And why did they all stop moving?"
Detective Shan leaned back, his face grimmer than Yang had ever seen it. The reflection of the black shape danced in his dark pupils.
"Find out who that woman is," Shan commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "And find out why they stopped. Something broke every law of physics in that alley last night, Yang. And I have a feeling this is only the beginning."
At Mei's Home - Saturday - 8AM
Morning sunlight streamed into the lavish, minimalist suite, casting long, golden rectangles across the polished floor. The space was a sanctuary of silence, smelling faintly of expensive lilies and cold air conditioning.
Le Mei lay still on the floor beside her king-sized bed. She was still wearing the structured power suit from the night before—now rumpled, torn, and heavily stained with dark, copper-scented blood. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking against the harsh brightness of a world that didn't know how close it had come to ending.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
An insistent pounding vibrated through the heavy oak door.
"Le Mei! I swear, if you don't answer right now—I'm coming in!" Jiang Min's voice drifted from the hallway, sharp with a frantic edge.
Min didn't wait for a second invitation. She slid her spare key into the lock and pushed the door open, her tailored silk separates rustling as she stepped inside. She held a tablet like a shield, her face set in a mask of professional sternness that couldn't quite hide the terror in her eyes.
She stopped dead.
Le Mei was already on her feet, standing before a floor-length mirror. She swayed slightly, her hand gripping the dresser for balance, but she was upright.
Min stepped closer, her breath catching in her throat. She scanned Mei's body with a clinical, desperate intensity. Mei was already dressed in a fresh, sharp-cut suit, the charcoal fabric looking untouched by the world. But Min's eyes weren't on the clothes—they were searching for the aftermath of the night's horror.
She looked for the jagged wounds that should have been there. She looked for the deep, purple bruises and the horrific, web-like marks left by the sword's agonizing healing ritual.
There was nothing. The flesh beneath the sleeve, visible at Mei's wrist, was flawless. The skin was radiant and smooth, without even a faint white line to mark where she had been pierced only hours before. It was a miracle that felt like a crime; the sword had stolen the evidence of her pain, leaving only the memory of the scream.
"Are you truly okay?" Min's voice was low, trembling with a worry she tried to suppress.
Mei turned away from her reflection. A genuine, luminous smile broke across her face, chasing away the lingering shadows of exhaustion. She reached up, lightly touching the corner of her eye as if assessing a work of art.
"Do I look good, Min?"
Min stepped up beside her, looking into the mirror at Mei's radiant, recovered face. The transformation was nothing short of miraculous; the woman in the mirror looked as though she had spent the night at a spa, not in a death match with demons.
"You look like a goddess, Le Zǒng," Min breathed, finally allowing herself a small, shaky smile.
Mei laughed—a full, relieved sound that echoed through the quiet room. "Then let's go conquer the world."
Min nodded, handing her the tablet as her expression hardened back into her formidable professional composure. As Mei exited toward the bathroom to change, Min turned to follow—but her foot caught on something. Following a trail of dark droplets on the ivory carpet, she knelt and reached under the bed. Her hand brushed against stiff, cold fabric. She pulled out the discarded suit Mei had been wearing. In the light of day, the damage was sickening. Min traced the long, jagged rents in the reinforced fabric, her fingers lingering on the spots where the blood was thickest.
How much pain did she suffer? Min thought, a single, hot tear spilling over and splashing onto the ruined silk. I can't even imagine. She remembered the last six months—the muffled screams she heard through the walls, the way Mei would lock herself away for hours after every battle, refusing any help. To the world, Le Mei was an invincible titan of industry. To the sword, she was just a vessel to be broken and remade. I've spent so much time banging on that door, Min thought, her jaw tightening as she wiped her eyes. As a friend, I haven't had the courage to truly face her pain or support her in the agony she hides. I've failed her as a friend.
She carefully tucked the blood-stained suit back under the bed, hiding the evidence of the night's horror. When she stood up, her eyes were no longer wet. They were filled with a fierce, iron resolve. If I've failed as a friend, I will not fail as her assistant. I will give her my one hundred percent. I will be the bridge she needs, even if she never asks for one.
With a firm step, Min exited the room, leaving the ghosts of the night behind.
The lead BMW hummed smoothly, cutting through morning mist on their way . Le Mei reclined in the backseat, power suit crisp despite yesterday's dust, eyes distant on passing industrial sprawl. Up front, Jiang Min gripped her tablet like a battle standard, silk separates immaculate, jaw tight.
Min glanced back, voice edged with rare accusation. "Le Zǒng. If I'd been there last night..."
Mei arched an eyebrow, meeting her eclipse gaze in the rearview.
"Those thugs," Min continued, tablet forgotten. "If I'd accompanied you to the ports—if business hadn't chained me to HQ—I'd have crushed their windpipes before they drew steel."
Le Mei's expression flickered—sacred awe beneath CEO steel. "You definitely would have, Min." Her voice held reverence, remembering Min's ring-pin dominance. "Their bones would be gravel by now."
Silence settled, broken only by highway rush. Min's fingers drummed tablet edge. "Business complete? Ports secured?"
Mei sighed, rubbing temple. "Not yet. Supplier negotiations stalled—ghost assets pivot processing. Tariff sabotage runs deeper than intel showed. Triple-A routes live, but..."
Brake Lights flared. Driver twisted back. "Reached , Madam." Doors clicked open. Mei stepped out first, followed Min.