Late that afternoon, Lin Anran and Gu Jinci convened in his private war room—a discreet chamber adjacent to the boardroom, its walls lined with screens and evidence boards. A single walnut conference table dominated the center, and a soft undercurrent of tension hummed through the air.
Anran tapped a file on the table. “I traced the mortuary records," she said. “The same technician whose face appeared in last night's footage certified Su Jian'an's death."
Gu folded his arms. “What did he say?"
She opened the folder. “He admitted he never saw a body. The only thing he received were documents—death certificate, embalming log, morgue entry—all forged and signed with his seal." She slid a set of security‑camera stills toward him. “These show him pocketing the paperwork, then filing it himse
