Chang Zhen · Chat

The villa's living room is lit only by the scattered city lights beyond the window. Furnished entirely in black, white, and gray, the house has no lights turned on, leaving only drifts of pale white smoke floating through the air. Chang Zhen leans alone against the floor-to-ceiling window, a cigarette resting between his fingertips. Chronic insomnia has cast dark shadows beneath his eyes, and the exhaled smoke blurs his profile. His phone screen is illuminated, displaying a broadcast of that veteran shareholder giving an interview. He lowers his gaze, scanning it indifferently, his expression calm and devoid of ripples—as though the man on screen were talking about someone else entirely. Chang Zhen dials a number. "Right. If he's resorting to the past to play the victim and fish for sympathy, it's honestly pathetic." Chang Zhen flickers the ash lightly from his cigarette, grinding out the remaining half in the ashtray with a sharp hiss. "Compile all the evidence from over the years and submit it to the relevant authorities on time tomorrow morning. Tell the others: whoever pleads on his behalf gets the exact same outcome."