“Yaoyao!” Qin Yining rushed over, crouching down to support her. “How did you drink so much? Are you trying to kill yourself?”
Gu Ziyao lifted her head, her eyes red—whether from the alcohol or from crying was unclear—and smiled at her. “I got it signed.”
“Signed what? You’re throwing your life away!” Qin Yining trembled with anger, frantically wiping her friend’s face. “Who forced you to drink? Tell me, I’ll go settle the score with them!”
“Yi Ning, don’t make a scene.” Gu Ziyao leaned on her best friend’s shoulder, her voice soft. “I’m fine, just had too much to drink.”
“You call this fine?” Qin Yining’s eyes reddened. “You never even drank beer before, and now you’re saying you’re fine after being forced to drink like this? Gu Ziyao, are you stupid?”
Gu Ziyao didn’t respond, closing her eyes as tears mixed with alcohol streamed down her face.
From then on, Qin Yining began following her everywhere.
Every time Gu Ziyao went out to meet clients, Qin Yining accompanied her. No matter who the client was or where the dinner was held, Qin Yining was always there.
Once, a client said to Gu Ziyao in front of her, “Director Gu, your assistant is quite pretty. Let her have a couple of drinks with me?”
Qin Yining stood up directly, picked up a glass of wine, and splashed it in the client’s face.
“Say that again?”
The client was stunned, gaping for a long time without uttering a word.
Qin Yining slammed the glass on the table and pulled Gu Ziyao away. “Trash like this isn’t worth working with.”
Another time, someone spread rumors outside, claiming Gu Ziyao had risen to her position by using her looks and that she had inappropriate relationships with several clients. When Qin Yining heard this, she stormed into that person’s company and, in front of their boss, turned on her phone’s voice recorder, asking word by word, “Do you dare repeat what you said?”
The person backed down and apologized, but the rumors had already spread.
Gu Ziyao didn’t care.
Or rather, she no longer had the energy to care.
Sleeping four hours a day, studying professional books until dawn, running around to meet clients until her legs gave out, being forced to drink until her stomach bled, being mocked, belittled, and slandered—she had grown numb.
The only thing she cared about was Second Brother’s condition.
Gu Zeming’s health was deteriorating. Chemotherapy had caused him to lose thirty pounds, more than half his hair, and left him sallow and breathless after just a few steps. But every time he saw Gu Ziyao, he smiled and said he was fine, telling her not to worry.
The siblings deceived each other this way, neither speaking the truth.
Once, when Gu Ziyao left the hospital, it was already eleven at night.
Standing at the hospital entrance, watching the passing cars, she suddenly thought of Shen Junyan.
Not because she missed him, but because she was too exhausted, so tired that she needed a shoulder to lean on.
Even if it was just hearing him say “You’ve worked hard,” even if it was just hearing him perfunctorily say “It’ll get better,” she felt she could keep going.
“Non-interference.”
These four words echoed in her ears over and over again.
From the moment she signed the agreement, they had been like a thorn lodged in her heart.
Every time she wanted to ask for help, the thorn dug deeper, reminding her—you’re not really a couple, you’re just in a transactional relationship.
He has no obligation to help you, and you have no right to demand it.
This was her pride, and this was her loneliness.
She carried the company alone, carried Second Brother’s illness alone, carried everyone’s contempt and harassment alone, carried all the unspoken grievances and heartaches alone.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to rely on someone, but there was no one she could rely on.
That night, Gu Ziyao returned to her apartment. Opening the door, she found the interior pitch black.
She didn’t turn on the lights, feeling her way to the sofa in the dark. Sitting down, she buried her face in a cushion and cried for a long time.
She cried until her voice grew hoarse, cried until her eyes swelled so much she couldn’t open them, cried until eventually, no more tears would come.
After crying, she went to wash her face and looked at herself in the mirror.
The woman in the mirror had dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips, and remnants of makeup still on her face. She looked five years older.
“Gu Ziyao, you can’t fall apart,” she said to her reflection. “If you fall apart, what will happen to Second Brother? What will happen to the company?”
She took a deep breath, washed her face, applied moisturizer, changed into her pajamas, and lay down on the bed.
Tomorrow, she still had three clients to meet, two contracts to review, and one board meeting to attend.
She closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep.
1:00 AM, Shen Group Building.
Only the top floor of the entire building was still lit. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows lay the city’s dazzling nightscape, countless lights twinkling in the darkness like an inverted starry sky. But the person in the office had no mood to appreciate it.
Shen Junyan sat behind his desk. On the computer screen before him was a forty-seven-page technical investigation report. He flipped to the last page, looked up, and gazed at his assistant Lu Heng standing opposite him.
“The investigation results.”
Lu Heng adjusted his glasses, his tone carrying a clear sense of frustration. “Mr. Shen, the technical department investigated all day but found no useful information.”
“Be more specific.”
“The surveillance footage from the hotel that day was completely deleted from the server. It wasn’t a simple file deletion but a professional overwrite deletion. The possibility of data recovery is almost zero.”
Lu Heng flipped through the tablet in his hand. “The technical director said this isn’t something an ordinary person could do. The perpetrator would need at least three conditions: proficiency in network attack and defense techniques, familiarity with the hotel’s surveillance system architecture, and sufficient time to access the server.”
Shen Junyan tapped his fingers lightly on the desk. “What does the hotel say?”
“The hotel’s technical department admits their surveillance system indeed had security vulnerabilities, but they had never been discovered before. The traces of this intrusion are extremely clean. The perpetrator only deleted the surveillance footage, didn’t touch any other data, and left no IP addresses or device information for tracking.”
“So?”
“So…” Lu Heng took a deep breath. “The technical department suspects it was the work of a professional hacker.”
Shen Junyan fell silent for a few seconds.
“If it’s a professional hacker, there must be traces to follow.” His voice was unhurried, yet each word carried undeniable pressure.
“Check the hotel’s guest records from that period. Perhaps focus on investigating the hotel system’s ports. Whoever hacked into the hotel system wouldn’t be a nobody.”
Lu Heng nodded. “We’re already checking. Over those three days, the hotel had a total of 1,237 guests. We’re screening them one by one, focusing on IT industry professionals, network security engineers, and individuals with computer science backgrounds.”
“How long until we get results?”
“The earliest tomorrow afternoon.”
Shen Junyan stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and turned his back to Lin Yuan. His voice was soft, but each word pierced the air like a nail: “Lu Heng, I need to know who deleted that surveillance footage. At any cost.”
Gu Ziyao was awakened by her alarm clock.
Seven o’clock sharp, her phone vibrated.
She reached out, found her phone, turned off the alarm, and lingered in bed for two more minutes.
Then she sat up and rubbed her eyes.