The interior of the Maybach was a pressurized vault of black leather and glowing digital screens. Outside, the city blurred into streaks of neon and gray rain, but inside, the air was heavy with the silence of a looming disaster.
Lin Jue sat in the passenger seat, his posture as rigid as the car's frame. His eyes were fixed on the rapid scroll of data on his tablet, his thumb moving with a frantic, mechanical precision.
Lu Wei was in the back, his shadow swallowed by the tinted windows. He had loosened his tie, the silk hanging limp around his neck, but his expression remained a slab of cold marble.
He was staring at his own reflection in the glass, his hand resting over his left shoulder where the phantom heat was starting to pulse again—a low, rhythmic throb that felt like a warning.
"Wei," Lin Jue said, his voice dropping into that quiet, urgent frequency he used when the "Secretary" became the "Strategist."
"Report," Lu Wei rasped.
"The Zhaos aren't waiting for the merger to fail. They've already moved." Lin Jue turned the tablet around, sliding it onto the center console so Wei could see the grainy surveillance footage. "This was taken ten minutes ago by the museum's perimeter security."
Lu Wei leaned forward. The screen showed a black SUV idling near the Museum's service entrance—the private gate that led directly to the sub-basement elevators. Three men in charcoal suits were standing by the gate, one of them holding a briefcase with the unmistakable gold insignia of the Zhao Legal Group.
"They're serving a 'Preservation Order,'" Lin Jue explained, his jaw tight.
"They're claiming the Lu Group has 'insufficient environmental controls' for the Yan collection. They've petitioned the Cultural Bureau for an emergency audit. If they get inside, they have the right to halt all restoration work and seal the crates under their own locks."
Lu Wei's hand tightened into a fist, his knuckles white against the black leather. "They want the Eye. They know it's the heart of the collection."
"They know you're distracted," Lin Jue countered, his eyes meeting Wei's in the rearview mirror. "They saw you leave the board meeting early. They saw the way you looked at the heiress. They think the 'Butcher' has lost his edge, Wei. They think you're chasing shadows while they're measuring your coffin."
"Speed up," Lu Wei commanded, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that seemed to make the car's engine growl in response.
"Sir, the speed limits—"
"I don't care about the limits!" Wei roared. "If those lawyers touch that gate before I get there, I'll personally ensure the Zhao family name is erased from every shipping manifest in this hemisphere. Drive."
Lin Jue didn't argue. He signaled the driver, and the Maybach surged forward, weaving through the afternoon traffic like a predator.
As they neared the museum, Lu Wei looked out at the looming stone structure.
He wasn't thinking about the Zhaos anymore. He was thinking about Yilin, alone in that basement with the third crate—a girl who didn't know that the "textiles" she was supposed to be cleaning were currently the target of a corporate war.
"Lin Jue," Wei said, his voice suddenly deathly quiet as they pulled into the alleyway, bypassing the lawyers at the front.
"Sir?"
"If the Bureau gets inside, you handle the paperwork. I don't care what it costs—bribe them, bury them in motions, buy the building if you have to." Lu Wei stepped out of the car before it had even fully stopped, his coat billowing like a dark shroud. "But no one... no one... touches the third crate except the restorer."
Standing by the gate were three men in charcoal suits, looking like polished vultures. One of them, a senior partner from the Zhao Legal Group, held a thick, wax-sealed envelope. They were already arguing with the museum's frightened night security guard.
"We have a court-mandated preservation injunction," the lawyer was saying, his voice oily and triumphant. "The Lu Group is in violation of—"
"The only thing the Lu Group is in violation of," a voice rasped from the shadows, "is my patience."
The lawyers froze. Lu Wei stepped into the harsh glare of the security floodlights. He looked nothing like the polished CEO from the morning news. His tie was gone, his top button undone, and his eyes—flat, dark, and void of any warmth—were fixed on the lead lawyer's throat.
"Mr. Lu," the lawyer stammered, clutching the briefcase tighter. "This is a legal procedure. We have reason to believe the Yan artifacts are being mishandled—"
"You have thirty seconds," Lu Wei interrupted, his voice a low, terrifying vibration that seemed to vibrate in the very concrete beneath their feet.
"Thirty seconds to get back in that car and tell the Zhao family that if they ever step on my property again, I will buy their debt, liquidate their holdings, and ensure their children are working in my warehouses by the end of the fiscal year."
"You can't threaten us! This is a court order!"
Lu Wei stepped forward, closing the gap until he was inches from the man's face. "I'm not threatening you. I'm giving you a professional courtesy. Twenty seconds."
He didn't look at the paper. He didn't look at the briefcase. He simply stared them down with the "Butcher's" intensity—the look of a man who had absolutely nothing left to lose because he had already decided to burn his bridges.
The lawyers looked at each other. They saw the Maybach, they saw the silent, lethal presence of Lin Jue stepping out of the car behind them, and they saw the look in Lu Wei's eyes—a look that said he was perfectly willing to go to jail if it meant breaking their bones first.
They scrambled back into their SUV. The tires chirped as they sped away, leaving the preservation order fluttering in the mud of the alleyway.
The elevator doors hissed shut, cutting off the noise of the city and the lingering scent of rain.
Lu Wei stood at the edge of the lab, his silhouette sharp and imposing against the sterile white light. He watched her for a long minute without saying a word.
To any observer, he looked like a shark circling a reef, but his mind was a cold calculator, running through the threats the Zhaos had just leveled at the gate.
Yilin didn't look up. She was hunched over a workstation, her magnifying visor pushed up onto her forehead. She was working on a series of bronze coins from the second crate, using a surgical scalp to flake away a century of calcification. The "scritch-scritch" of the metal was the only sound in the room.
Lu Wei walked forward, his boots heavy on the industrial flooring. He stopped just behind her, his presence looming over the desk.
Yilin flinched, her hand jerking just a millimeter before she caught herself. she slowly laid the pick down and turned her chair. Her face was pale, shadowed by exhaustion, but her eyes were alert—fixed on him with a wary, professional sharpness.
"The oxidation on the bronze is more aggressive than the initial scans suggested," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her fingers. "If I don't stabilize the patina tonight, the moisture from the unsealing will cause irreversible pitting."
"The Zhaos were at the gate," he said, his voice a dry, level rasp. "They brought a legal team and a preservation injunction. They're claiming this facility isn't equipped to handle a find of this magnitude."
Yilin's hand paused. She didn't turn around, but her shoulders went rigid. "They want the collection."
"They want the leverage," Wei corrected. He stepped around the desk, leaning his hip against the edge of her workstation. He ignored the delicate tools and the ancient metal, his eyes fixed entirely on her face.
"My grandfather is ready to hand it to them if I don't follow his script. The board is looking for any reason to claim professional negligence."
He reached out, his long fingers picking up a small, corroded fragment she had already cleaned. He turned it over, his expression unreadable.
"Everything is riding on the speed and quality of this restoration, Miss Su," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intense frequency. "If you slip, if one piece is damaged, or if the timeline stays this slow, the Zhaos will use it as a crowbar to pry this museum out of my hands."
He leaned in closer, his shadow falling over her work.
"Look at me," he commanded.
Yilin finally looked up. Her eyes were tired, underlined by dark circles, but they were steady.
"Tell me the truth," Lu Wei said, his gaze searching hers with a brutal, clinical focus. "I'm putting a billion-dollar legacy and my family's reputation on your desk. Do you actually have the confidence to restore every single item in these crates? Or are you just a hobbyist out of her depth?"
Yilin didn't flinch. She met his stare with a coldness that matched his own. "I'm not a hobbyist, Mr. Lu. I'm a professional. And I don't care about your family's reputation. I care about the integrity of the metal."
She gestured to the rows of organized fragments on her tray. "If you can keep the lawyers and the heiresses out of my lab, I will finish the restoration. Every piece will be stabilized. Every surface will be preserved. I don't miss details."
Lu Wei stared at her for a heartbeat longer than necessary. He didn't see a girl who was afraid; he saw a technician who was as obsessed as he was. The tension in his jaw relaxed, just a fraction.
"Good," he said, dropping the bronze fragment back onto the tray with a soft clink. "Because I've just staked my entire career on that confidence. Don't make me regret it."
He turned to Lin Jue, who was standing by the door with his tablet already out. "Jue. Lock the elevators. No one enters this level without my biometric bypass. Not the board, not the Zhaos, and especially not my grandfather."
"Understood, Wei," Lin Jue replied, his thumb moving across the screen to update the security protocols.
Lu Wei looked back at Yilin, his face returning to its mask of cold iron. "Get back to work, Miss Su. You have a long night ahead of you."