On the third day of the trading suspension, Su Ran discovered something.
Fu Yechuan couldn’t cook.
The realization came after the third time she picked up an “unidentified food item” from outside his door.
The first two times had been convenience store buns and wontons from a roadside stall, both still within the range of food fit for human consumption.
The third time, however, the plastic bag contained a bowl of strangely colored noodles.
The noodles themselves looked normal.
The broth was green.
Holding the bag in the hallway, Su Ran stared at the bowl of green liquid for a full ten seconds.
“What did you put in this?”
Fu Yechuan leaned halfway out of Room 517.
He was wearing a black crewneck shirt today. The collar hung slightly loose, exposing the healing abrasion near his collarbone.
“Spinach.”
“You threw the whole plant in?”
“I cut it first.”
“Then why is it still this color?”
Fu Yechuan fell silent for two seconds.
“…I cooked it too long.”
Su Ran lowered her eyes and examined the bowl again.
The spinach juice had dyed the noodles pale green. Two leaves that hadn’t completely disintegrated floated on the surface, leaning awkwardly against the side of the bowl.
Carrying the bowl back to her room, she shut the door behind her.
She ate the noodles. The taste wasn’t particularly good, but it wasn’t terrible either.
The spinach had been overcooked, leaving the broth full of that oxalic, grassy bitterness that numbed her tongue.
Still, the noodles had a nice texture, and the salt level was perfect.
After washing the bowl, she left it outside his door with a note.
Next time, don’t add spinach.
Ten minutes later, both the bowl and note disappeared.
In their place was a new note.
Then what should I add?
Su Ran wrote another one.
Nothing. Plain noodles are fine.
After she left the note outside, no reply came.
This elementary school style exchange of passing notes continued for three days.
Su Ran found it absurd.
Two people struggling to survive under the Bai family’s pursuit were somehow spending their days debating whether vegetables belonged in noodles.
Yet hidden inside that absurdity was a strange sense of stability.
She couldn’t quite explain what it was.
…
On the morning of the fourth day, Fu Yechuan knocked on her door.
Not at the usual nine o’clock. It was barely past eight.
Su Ran opened the door. He stood outside looking exhausted.
“Zhou Zhe contacted me.”
Su Ran’s back instantly tensed.
“How did he find you?”
“I don’t know. But he knows I’ve moved. He called and said he wanted to report face to face.”
“You answered?”
“I did.” Leaning against the doorframe, Fu Yechuan’s bruising had faded considerably, leaving only a yellowish discoloration on his cheekbone. “I arranged to meet him at two o’clock this afternoon at that fast food place in West City.”
Su Ran frowned. “You’re going to see him?”
“I’m going to test him.”
She thought for a moment. “How?”
Fu Yechuan didn’t answer immediately.
He stepped into her room and closed the door behind him.
The room was so small that it felt crowded the moment both of them were inside.
He stood by the window while she leaned against the door, a single bed separating them.
“I’m going to feed him false information,” Fu Yechuan said quietly. “Then we’ll see whether that information ends up reaching the Bai family.”
A classic counterintelligence tactic.
Su Ran nodded. “What kind of false information?”
“I’m going to tell him I’ve been negotiating with an out-of-town investor. The investor supposedly wants to inject three million yuan and help me restart the company.”
“Who’s the investor?”
“Made up.”
Su Ran considered it for several seconds.
“Not good enough. If you invent someone out of thin air, Zhou Zhe will investigate. If he can’t find anything, he’ll know you’re testing him.”
Fu Yechuan looked at her, waiting for an alternative.
“You need a real person,” Su Ran said as she sat cross-legged on the bed. “Someone Zhou Zhe can verify exists, but who has no actual connection to you. He should be able to find the name and company, but not a single link between the two of you.”
“You have someone in mind?”
A name flashed through her mind.
“Shen Zhixing.”
Fu Yechuan’s expression shifted.
“You know Shen Zhixing?”
“No. But I know who he is.” She looked directly at him. “The lead lawyer who handled the liquidation of the Fu family’s assets for the Bai family. Right?”
Fu Yechuan didn’t answer.
His silence was answer enough.
“You hate him?” Su Ran asked.
“He did what his job required.” His voice remained calm. “During the liquidation, he didn’t take a single cent more than he was entitled to. Every instruction from the Bai family was carried out exactly as ordered, no more and no less. Someone like that isn’t worth hating.”
Su Ran was surprised. She had expected Fu Yechuan to despise Shen Zhixing.
“But you don’t trust him either.”
“He works for the Bai family.”
“What if he doesn’t want to anymore?”
Fu Yechuan narrowed his eyes.
He was assessing the credibility of her statement.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
Pulling her phone from beneath her pillow, Su Ran opened the message from the now disconnected number.
“I just know someone has been contacting me.”
She handed him the phone. The same four words still sat on the screen.
Miss Su Ran.
“You think Shen Zhixing sent this?”
“I’m not sure. The number has already been deactivated. I can’t call it back. But that form of address…” She paused. “Bai Jingshan calls me Miss Su. Bai Weiwei would never contact me first. Zhou Zhe calls me Sister Su. Someone who uses ‘Miss Su Ran’ is someone who doesn’t know me personally, but does know my full name.”
“A lawyer.”
“A lawyer.” Su Ran nodded. “And a lawyer who wants to contact me privately without the Bai family finding out.”
The room fell silent.
Next door, Huang Mao headed out, his slippers slapping noisily against the hallway floor while he hummed a badly off-key pop song.
“Let’s put Shen Zhixing aside for now,” Fu Yechuan decided. “Today we deal with Zhou Zhe. Don’t show up this afternoon.”
“I know.”
She was already used to this arrangement.
Whenever danger was involved, Fu Yechuan kept her out of it.
She couldn’t tell whether it was protection or control.
Perhaps it was both.
“But…”
Su Ran stopped him.
“You shouldn’t use Shen Zhixing’s name in the false story.”
“Why not?”
“Because Shen Zhixing works for the Bai family. If you suddenly claim you’re negotiating with someone from the Bai family’s side, Zhou Zhe isn’t stupid. He’ll know something’s wrong immediately.”
Fu Yechuan paused for two seconds.
“Then who?”
“Any out-of-town businessman. Someone you genuinely know from your old business days but whom Zhou Zhe isn’t familiar with. Use a real name attached to a fake situation. It’ll take him three to five days to verify the details.”
“And what can we accomplish in three to five days?”
“Enough time for Qiming Technology to resume trading.”
Su Ran met his gaze.
“Once the money arrives and you have the capital to start your comeback, Zhou Zhe’s value drops dramatically. At that point, even if you expose him, he won’t have enough leverage left to cause trouble.”
Fu Yechuan considered it and nodded.
He walked toward the door, one hand resting on the handle.
Su Ran had seen this countless times. He always paused at the door, said one final thing, then left.
“I’ll tell you the result when I get back.”
“Okay.”
“The noodles…”
He paused. “Plain broth tomorrow.”
Su Ran couldn’t help laughing. Without turning around, Fu Yechuan opened the door and left.
His footsteps gradually faded down the hallway.
She listened to the rhythm.
Steady! No hesitation, no acceleration.
After her laughter faded, she pulled out her phone again.
Shen Zhixing. If he really had sent that message, what did he want?
A lawyer working for the Bai family secretly contacting Fu Yechuan’s ex-girlfriend was suspicious no matter how she looked at it.
Unless…
Shen Zhixing wanted out.
In the novel, his betrayal had been explained vaguely with a single phrase:
“His conscience remained intact.”
Su Ran didn’t believe that nonsense.
A lawyer who had spent years handling the Bai family’s dirty work wouldn’t survive this long on conscience alone.
The Bai family must have pushed him into a corner.
He needed an escape route.
And Su Ran, a former pawn who had already betrayed the board, might have seemed like the safest person to approach.
But those were only theories.
She had no proof.
Sliding her phone back beneath the pillow, Su Ran picked up Modern Chinese Financial History.
She opened it to the page she had been reading before, the chapter about Shanxi banking houses.
She needed something to occupy her mind.
Otherwise, the waiting would drive her insane.
…
At 4:17 p.m., Fu Yechuan returned.
The moment she heard his footsteps, Su Ran opened the door.
He stood in the hallway looking much the same as when he had left.
Cold, hard and unreadable.
“Come in.” She stepped aside.
Fu Yechuan entered but didn’t sit down. Instead, he leaned against the windowsill.
The window was half open.
Outside, the loudspeaker from the convenience store downstairs blared endlessly:
“Mineral water, one fifty! One fifty!”
The repeated announcement was enough to make anyone’s teeth ache.
“Did he show up?”
“He did. Right on time.” Fu Yechuan tapped the windowsill twice. “I followed your suggestion. I told him I was talking to an out-of-town investor. Surname Ma. Building materials business. Interested in expanding into South City.”
“How did he react?”
“At first, he was delighted.” A trace of mockery entered Fu Yechuan’s voice. “Then he asked three questions: the investor’s name, company name, and whether we’d signed a letter of intent.”
“Standard intelligence gathering.”
“I gave him the name and company. I told him the letter of intent was still under discussion. He didn’t press further.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” Su Ran blurted out. “A normal subordinate would keep asking questions if their boss suddenly mentioned a three million yuan investment deal. The fact that he didn’t means he already has another channel to investigate.”
Fu Yechuan said nothing.
His eyes lowered as his fingers brushed the chipped paint on the windowsill, collecting a bit of white dust.
Five years.
Five years of trust had been turned over, revealing rot beneath every surface.
Su Ran looked away and focused on the cracks between the floor tiles.
She didn’t offer comfort.
Comfort was useless for someone like Fu Yechuan. He would only interpret it as pity.
“Now we wait,” she said, changing the subject. “Let’s see how long it takes before information about this ‘President Ma’ reaches the Bai family.”
“How do we verify it?”
“Old Chen.”
Su Ran answered immediately.
“Old Chen has spent decades operating in gray areas. He has ways of hearing what the Bai family is paying attention to. Ask him to listen around and see whether anyone has started asking about a building materials businessman named Ma.”
Fu Yechuan considered it.
“Old Chen might not help.”
“He will.”
Her confidence was absolute.
“Why?”
“Because he already helped you sell the Heart of the Ocean. He’s chosen a side. In the Bai family’s eyes, he’s connected to you now. If he refuses to help and the Bai family eventually cleans the house, he’ll be caught up in it anyway.”
Fu Yechuan stared at her for several long seconds.
“That brain of yours,” he said, “what did you do in your previous life?”
Su Ran rubbed a finger along the edge of the bed.
In her previous life, she had been a financial analyst trapped in a cubicle, working overtime until she practically went bald. Her annual salary had been two hundred thousand yuan, and her greatest dream had been saving enough for the down payment on a small apartment.
“I was a fortune teller,” she said with a straight face.
Fu Yechuan didn’t laugh.
His mouth twitched slightly, and the movement pulled at the scab on his lip.
“Fine.” He pushed himself away from the windowsill and headed for the door.
“I’ll contact Old Chen.”
At the doorway, he stopped as usual.
Su Ran waited for him to say, Lock the door.
Instead, he said: “No spinach noodles tomorrow.”
The door closed. Su Ran stared at it for three seconds.
Had he come to report on Zhou Zhe, or discuss cooking?
Shaking her head, she pulled out her phone and opened the suspension announcement for Qiming Technology.
Expected suspension period: no more than ten trading days.
Today was the fourth day.
At minimum, there were still six days until trading resumed.
Six days! Within those six days, she needed to accomplish three things: Confirm Shen Zhixing’s identity.
Gather solid proof that Zhou Zhe was a traitor. Develop an exit strategy for after Qiming Technology resumed trading.
Every one of them would be a difficult battle.
Locking her phone, Su Ran reached beneath the bed and pulled out the pair of high heels with the worn-down backs.
The bloodstains on the heels had completely dried, turning into dark brown marks.
She didn’t know why she hadn’t thrown them away.
She should have.
Pushing the shoes back under the bed, she slipped on the white flats she had bought from the convenience store.
The soles were thin. She could feel the coolness of the floor through them.
But at least they didn’t hurt.