The late-night silence inside Yang Muchen's private villa was heavy and still. High above the sleeping capital, the study was dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft, steady glow of multiple computer monitors and tablets scattered across the massive mahogany desk.
Yang Muchen sat behind the desk, his tailored suit jacket thrown over the back of his chair and his crisp white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His usually perfect hair was slightly messy, a clear sign that he had been running his fingers through it in frustration. His sharp, handsome face was completely set in a deep frown, his dark eyes fixed intensely on the security footage playing on the main screen.
