The conference room at Beichang Holdings was silent except for the faint hum of the air-conditioning. Outside, the city moved obliviously beneath glass towers and neon signs, unaware that a reckoning far greater than the stock market’s ebbs and flows was unfolding in this room.
Yiyai sat at the head of the table, immaculate in a tailored black suit, her presence a command that needed no words. Across from her sat the remnants of the Cheng dynasty — Yihan, Yirai, their father, and, reluctantly, Madam Cheng. They had been summoned under one pretext: a private negotiation to settle the corporate and personal consequences of Yiyai’s five-year transformation. But everyone in the room understood that the stakes were far higher than money or titles.
Yihan’s hands were folded tightly on the tabl
