Just as Lín Zhènghóng’s pen tip landed on the signature line of a multi-billion dollar contract, the conference room door was suddenly flung open. Xiǎo Zhào from the technology department rushed in, clutching a laptop. He stumbled, his knee hitting the table leg, and the computer skidded to a halt in front of Lín Zhènghóng. The screen displayed a surveillance feed with a figure in a white lab coat copying files to a USB drive—it was the technical director, Old Zhang.
"President Lin! The core data... it's been stolen!" Xiǎo Zhào's voice trembled as he clutched his chest, gasping for air. "The finance department just sent word: within half an hour of opening, the stock price has dropped 12%. And Dingsheng Group has suddenly released technical parameters identical to ours!"
Lín Zhènghóng’s fingers tightened around his pen, the barrel leaving red marks on his palm. He ignored Xiǎo Zhào, his gaze fixed on the surveillance footage. Old Zhang's slow-motion movement of unplugging the USB drive was agonizing to watch. "Zhāng Qǐmíng!" he called out, his voice an octave lower than usual, but it made every executive in the room straighten their backs.
Zhāng Qǐmíng scrambled forward from the back row, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "President Lin, I checked Old Zhang's access logs. He entered the lab yesterday at six p.m. with an unfamiliar USB drive. We... can't reach him now!"
"Can't reach him?" Lín Zhènghóng shot up from his seat, the office chair screeching backward and hitting the wall with a dull thud. He grabbed the internal phone on his desk and dialed Old Zhang's extension. The receiver only offered a robotic "The user you have dialed is switched off." "Have the legal department freeze all of his accounts immediately. Zhōu Míng! Take two people to his house. Dig three feet deep if you have to, but find him!"
Zhōu Míng acknowledged with a "Yes" and bolted out the door, his leather shoes pounding the floor like a frantic drumbeat. Silence filled the conference room, broken only by the sound of Lín Zhènghóng’s fingers tapping on the tabletop, each strike landing heavily on everyone's hearts.
"President Lin," Manager Wáng from procurement said softly, "Dingsheng Group just sent a cooperation invitation. They're willing to acquire our new energy project at a 50% premium..."
"Acquire?" Lín Zhènghóng suddenly laughed. He snatched a document from the desk and tore it in half with a "shua" sound. Paper scraps fluttered onto the surveillance screen. "Tell them if they want our project, they'll have to answer to my patents first! Now, everyone, keep an eye on the research and development department. Without my permission, not a speck of dust is to leave the laboratory!"
The executives scrambled to their feet in agreement and filed out, leaving only Lín Zhènghóng and Zhāng Qǐmíng in the conference room. Zhāng Qǐmíng picked up the torn paper scraps from the floor and said quietly, "President Lin, should we postpone this afternoon's investor meeting? The stock price has fallen this much, they're bound to cause a scene..."
"Let them cause a scene, the meeting will proceed!" Lín Zhènghóng grabbed his suit jacket and slung it over his shoulders, stopping halfway through buttoning it. "You keep an eye on the company. I'm going to the lab to check the surveillance myself."
As he reached the elevator, he saw Sū Wǎn standing in the lobby. She wore an off-white trench coat and held a manila envelope. Seeing Lín Zhènghóng, she didn't move but held the envelope out in front of her.
"Why are you here?" Lín Zhènghóng frowned. The elevator doors "dinged" open, but he didn't step inside.
Sū Wǎn pushed the envelope towards him. The flap was slightly torn, revealing its contents: a divorce agreement. "I came to deliver this," she said, her voice flat and even. "You didn't take seriously what I told you yesterday, so I had to come in person."
Lín Zhènghóng's gaze fell on the words "divorce agreement." He reached out, his fingertip brushing the edge of the paper before withdrawing. "Sū Wǎn, don't make a scene. The company has an urgent matter right now..."
"I'm not making a scene," Sū Wǎn interrupted him. She raised a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and a jade bangle on her wrist slid down, hitting the envelope with a crisp sound. "Lín Zhènghóng, we've been married for twenty-five years. How many complete meals have you eaten with me? Xiǎorǎn studied abroad for three years. Did you ever pick her up from the airport? All you care about is your company, your contracts, your money!"
"Isn't the money I earn for this family?" Lín Zhènghóng's voice rose. He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a black card, and shoved it into Sū Wǎn's hand. "What do you want? Another mansion? A vacation abroad? I have the money, don't talk about divorce!"
Sū Wǎn batted his hand away. The black card fell to the floor with a "pa" sound, sliding into the elevator gap. She bent down to pick it up. Her fingernail scraped the metal edge, drawing blood, but she didn't seem to notice. She merely retrieved the card and placed it on the reception desk nearby. "Lín Zhènghóng, I don't want money. I've had enough of you treating our home like a hotel and ignoring me and Xiǎorǎn."
She turned and walked away. The hem of her trench coat brushed against a potted plant on the reception desk, sending succulents crashing to the floor, their leaves shattering. Lín Zhènghóng started to chase after her, but his phone suddenly rang. It was Zhōu Míng. "President Lin! No one's at Old Zhang's house. Fifty thousand was withdrawn from his bank card last night, and the surveillance footage shows him heading towards the airport!"
Lín Zhènghóng's feet felt rooted to the spot. He watched Sū Wǎn’s retreating figure disappear through the glass doors. Then he looked down at the scattered succulent leaves on the floor. His throat bobbed. He finally answered the phone. "Tell the airport police to intercept him. Even if they can't detain him, they must retrieve that USB drive!"
He hung up and picked up the divorce agreement from the floor, his fingertip caressing Sū Wǎn's signed name. Suddenly, the edge of the paper felt sharp and painful against his skin. The young woman at the reception timidly offered him a tissue. "President Lin, you're bleeding..."
He realized then that he had cut his finger on the paper when he picked up the agreement. Blood dripped onto the words "divorce," smearing them into a small red patch. "No need," he said, tucking the agreement into his suit jacket pocket. He turned and entered the elevator, pressing the button for "Laboratory."
In the laboratory, technicians were gathered around computers, reviewing data. They stopped when Lín Zhènghóng entered. He walked to the main surveillance console and pulled up the complete footage of Old Zhang copying the data. Old Zhang's movements were practiced; he even smiled at the camera, the silver USB drive glinting in his hand.
"Find the model of this USB drive, and identify everyone he's been in contact with recently," Lín Zhènghóng instructed, his finger white from the force. "Especially anyone from Dingsheng Group. Even if he only made one phone call to them, list it!"
"President Lin," Xiǎo Zhào handed him a report. "We checked Old Zhang's email. Last week, he sent three emails to Dingsheng's technical vice president. The subject lines were all 'Cooperative Intentions,' but the content has been deleted..."
Lín Zhènghóng took the report, threw it on the desk without looking, and said, "Have the IT department recover the emails. I want to see the content within half an hour!" He walked to the window, gazing at the bustling traffic below. His phone rang again. This time, it was Xiǎorǎn.
"Dad, I want to tell you something," Xiǎorǎn's voice came through the receiver, tinged with hesitation. "I'm coming back next month. I'm not coming into the group; I want to open my own art studio..."
"Open an art studio?" Lín Zhènghóng's temper flared suddenly. He clenched his phone, his knuckles turning white. "The position I arranged for you, and you want to throw it away? How much money can an art studio make? Do you know what I've gone through for the group..."
"I don't want to live like you!" Xiǎorǎn interrupted, her voice breaking with tears. "Every day it's just money and contracts. You can't even remember Mom's birthday. I don't want to end up like you, a person with no home!"
The call ended with a "pa" sound, leaving only a dial tone. Lín Zhènghóng stood there, phone in hand, for a few seconds before suddenly hurling it against the wall. The screen shattered into a spiderweb, parts flying onto the surveillance console, and the screen went black.
"President Lin!" Zhāng Qǐmíng entered just then and, seeing the scene, rushed forward. "The investor meeting is about to start. You need to go..."
"Have them wait!" Lín Zhènghóng's chest heaved. He bent down to pick up his phone, his fingers gripping the cracked screen. Glass shards dug into his palm, but he didn't feel it. "Have you found Old Zhang yet? Have the emails been recovered? Has the stock price stabilized?"
"We're still tracking Old Zhang. The emails are almost recovered. The stock price... has dropped another 3%," Zhāng Qǐmíng's voice grew quieter. "President Lin, please calm down. This situation isn't sustainable..."
Lín Zhènghóng didn't reply. He walked to a corner of the laboratory and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a bottle of sleeping pills. The doctor had prescribed them after his last physical, but he hadn't taken them. He poured one out, his hand shaking so violently that the pill fell to the floor, rolling under the chair Old Zhang had been sitting in earlier. He knelt to retrieve it and his fingers brushed against something cold. It was Old Zhang's ID card, his photo showing a simple, honest smile.
"President Lin!" Xiǎo Zhào suddenly exclaimed. "The emails have been restored! Dingsheng hired Old Zhang to steal the data, promising him connections and two million yuan!"
Lín Zhènghóng gripped the ID card and slowly stood up, the edges of the card digging into his palm. He walked to the darkened surveillance console and suddenly laughed. His laughter echoed in the empty laboratory, carrying a note of indescribable desolation.
"Notify the investors. I'm on my way now." He slipped the ID card into his pocket, picked up the fallen sleeping pill, and swallowed it without water. "Also, have the divorce agreement... delivered to my office."
Zhāng Qǐmíng watched his retreating back, wanting to say something, but ultimately remaining silent. Lín Zhènghóng exited the laboratory. The elevator doors opened slowly, and he stepped inside, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His suit was wrinkled, his fingers were bleeding, and an unconcealed fatigue was etched in his eyes, yet he had to stand tall to face the investors downstairs demanding answers.
The elevator reached the first floor. As the doors opened, he heard the receptionist's quiet voice, "The lady from earlier left your black card here. She also said... she wishes you prosperity."
Lín Zhènghóng's steps faltered for a moment. Without looking back, he walked straight out the company's main entrance. Sunlight fell on him, but it couldn't warm his tightly clenched fist. The blood in his palm, the chill of the ID card, and the bitterness of the sleeping pills in his mouth all mingled into his clearest sensation at that moment—his commercial empire, his proud success, seemed to be collapsing at this very instant, along with his home.