7:11 a.m., the fourth morning.
Su Ran was jolted awake by her phone.
Not an alarm. A text message.
A push notification from the securities trading system.
“The stock you are following, 301147 (Qiming Technology), has released an announcement regarding a major matter and will be suspended from trading effective today. The suspension is expected to last no more than ten trading days.”
Su Ran sat upright in bed. The stock had been suspended.
A day earlier than expected. She opened the full announcement and read it word for word.
“Qiming Technology Co., Ltd. is planning a major asset restructuring. Upon the company’s application, trading of its stock will be suspended starting from X/X/2024. The counterparty to this restructuring is Tianhuan Group Co., Ltd. The transaction plan is still under negotiation, and specific details will be disclosed in subsequent announcements.”
Tianhuan Group.
Four unmistakable words, printed clearly in the exchange’s official announcement.
Holding the phone close to her face, Su Ran stared at that line for ten full seconds.
Then she tossed the phone onto the blanket and collapsed backward onto her pillow.
The crack in the ceiling was still there.
A crooked line of plaster stretched from beside the light fixture all the way to the top of the window.
She stared at it, her eyes growing hot.
It wasn’t a grievance.
It wasn’t exciting.
It was the feeling of a string that had been pulled taut for four straight days finally loosening by a fraction.
And in that instant, the release felt even worse than the tension.
She lay there for two minutes.
Then she rolled out of bed, slipped into her shoes, ran into the hallway, and pounded on Room 517’s door.
“Fu Yechuan!”
The door opened from the inside.
Fu Yechuan stood there in a gray T-shirt, his hair sticking up in every direction, his face still carrying the haze of sleep.
“…What time is it?”
“Qiming Technology has been suspended.”
Su Ran shoved the phone screen right in front of his face.
Fu Yechuan narrowed his eyes as his pupils slowly focused.
Three seconds later, he snatched the phone from her hand and read the announcement himself.
His expression changed in an interesting sequence.
First came blankness as his brain processed the information.
Then confirmation, his lips pressing tightly together while he reread the words “Tianhuan Group” several times.
Finally, he looked up.
“Are you some kind of goddamn immortal?”
Su Ran burst out laughing.
Not a restrained laugh.
The kind that came after four days of holding her breath and finally being allowed to exhale, carrying an almost absurd sense of relief.
“I’m not an immortal. I’m an analyst.” She took the phone back. “Trading suspension for restructuring. After trading resumes, there’ll be at least three consecutive limit ups. Conservatively estimating thirty yuan per share, two hundred and fifty thousand shares means seven and a half million.”
Leaning against the doorframe, Fu Yechuan rubbed his face with one hand.
His palm was large enough to cover most of it as he dragged it from forehead to chin.
When his hand dropped away, the last traces of sleepiness were gone.
In their place was the calm, almost ruthless calculating expression Su Ran knew well.
“The account can’t move during the suspension,” he said.
“Right.”
“The Bai family’s three-day deadline ends today.”
“Right.”
“During the suspension, they can’t check our position changes, but they know our money is locked inside and can’t be withdrawn.”
“Right.”
Fu Yechuan looked at her. The meaning in his eyes was obvious.
So what now?
Su Ran leaned against the hallway wall.
The fluorescent light had been fixed. At some point someone had replaced the tube, and the hallway was much brighter than before.
“Bai Jingshan will come today,” she said.
Fu Yechuan narrowed his eyes.
Not because of the light.
“Why?”
“Final ultimatum. Bai Weiwei gave us three days, and today is the deadline.” Su Ran spoke faster than usual. “But the situation has changed. Qiming Technology has been suspended. The news is public now. Even if the Bai family wants to manipulate the stock price, it’s too late. During the suspension, there’s no trading. They can’t touch it.”
“If they can’t move the stock, they’ll move people.”
Fu Yechuan finished the thought for her.
Su Ran nodded.
“Their target is no longer the four hundred and sixty thousand yuan,” she said. “It’s me.”
“Why you?”
“Because Bai Weiwei’s condition was for me to leave you. I didn’t. She’ll see that as a slap in the face. Bai Weiwei can’t stand it when people stop following her script.”
A faint twitch crossed Fu Yechuan’s lips.
It wasn’t a smile. It was something more complicated.
He knew Bai Weiwei too well.
“You need to leave,” he said.
Su Ran paused. “You can’t stay here today.” His tone left no room for negotiation. “If Bai Jingshan comes, I’ll deal with him. Don’t let him see you.”
“You’ll handle Bai Jingshan by yourself?”
“You’re right. His target is you, not me. Whether I’m here doesn’t matter. If you’re here, he’ll have a reason to make a move.”
Su Ran wanted to argue. But she realized he was right.
Bai Jingshan was delivering Bai Weiwei’s final warning to her. Fu Yechuan was merely incidental.
“Then where do I go?”
“Anywhere.” Fu Yechuan went back into his room and returned with yesterday’s black trench coat. Something bulged from the right pocket, though Su Ran couldn’t tell what it was. “Don’t contact me through your phone. Zhou Zhe may have a way to monitor communications. Stay somewhere crowded. A mall, a library, anywhere.”
“Until when?”
“I’ll text you. Once I send the words ‘It’s okay now,’ you can come back.”
Su Ran wanted to say something, but ultimately didn’t.
She returned to Room 503 and packed.
There wasn’t much to pack.
Everything she owned fit into a single bag: one change of clothes, a phone charger, and the folded cooperation agreement in her pocket.
When she came downstairs, Fu Yechuan was standing by the stairwell.
He didn’t tell her to be careful.
As she walked past him, he simply reached out and lightly smacked the back of her head.
The force wasn’t strong, but it knocked a few strands of hair loose across her forehead.
Su Ran froze. By the time she reacted, Fu Yechuan was already heading upstairs.
Only the heavy rhythm of his footsteps remained in the stairwell.
One step after another. She touched the back of her head.
What was wrong with him?
…
She went to the library.
The East District Library was a three-story building with white ceramic tiles on the exterior, a style popular in the nineties. Two large banyan trees stood at the entrance, their hanging roots obscuring half the sign.
The library opened at nine.
Su Ran was the third person inside.
The reading room’s air conditioning was set so low that she rubbed her arms against the chill.
Randomly pulling a book from the shelf, Modern Chinese Financial History, she found a seat by the window.
After flipping through several pages, she realized she hadn’t absorbed a single word.
She was waiting for Fu Yechuan’s text.
Her phone sat on the desk with the screen facing upward.
Every few minutes she glanced at it.
Nothing! Time seemed to crawl.
The library was so quiet that only the sounds of turning pages and the hum of the air conditioner could be heard.
An elderly man wearing glasses sat nearby reading a newspaper. Every now and then he let out a satisfied hum, apparently pleased by whatever good news he had found.
Absent-mindedly turning pages, Su Ran considered one possibility after another.
If Bai Jingshan came, how would Fu Yechuan handle him?
What if Bai Jingshan resorted to violence?
Fu Yechuan was no weakling. The incident at Jinbao Pawnshop had already proven that.
But Bai Jingshan wasn’t one of Brother Bao’s street thugs.
The novel hadn’t described Bai Jingshan’s combat ability in detail, but there was one telling scene.
Much later, Fu Yechuan would employ more than a dozen bodyguards. Bai Jingshan once stormed in alone and took down four before being subdued.
In a one-on-one fight, the outcome was difficult to predict.
The more Su Ran thought about it, the less she could sit still.
10:45 a.m.
Unable to endure it any longer, she picked up her phone and opened her chat with Fu Yechuan.
No new messages.
She typed: How’s it going?
Her finger hovered over the send button for three seconds.
Then she deleted it.
He had told her not to contact him. Zhou Zhe might be monitoring communications.
Turning the phone face down, Su Ran shook her head.
No! She had to stay calm.
Qiming Technology had already been suspended.
Once trading resumed, the stock would soar. That was practically guaranteed.
Their four hundred and sixty thousand yuan would become seven and a half million.
By then, the Bai family’s deadline, Bai Jingshan’s threats, and Bai Weiwei’s obsession would all become a different kind of game.
Money and no money were two entirely different wars.
She only needed to survive today.
Get through today, and she will win.
Forcing herself to focus, Su Ran turned to page thirty-seven of Modern Chinese Financial History and read two paragraphs about the Shanxi banking houses of the late Qing Dynasty.
The writing was surprisingly good.
Many of those old business strategies would still work today.
She glanced at her phone again.
Still nothing.
11:20 a.m.
Her phone vibrated. Su Ran grabbed it instantly.
Not Fu Yechuan. A text message from an unknown number.
“Miss Su, your friend is with me. East District Recycling Station. The usual place. Thirty minutes. — Bai”
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Your friend is with me.
Friend! Fu Yechuan.
Had Bai Jingshan taken him?
No! Fu Yechuan wasn’t weak enough to be quietly captured by Bai Jingshan alone.
Unless…
Unless Bai Jingshan hadn’t come alone.
She searched her memory of the novel.
There it was.
Bai Jingshan had a private team under his command called the Cleanup Team, responsible for handling the Bai family’s dirty work. There weren’t many of them, only four to six men, but all were former soldiers.
Fu Yechuan couldn’t defeat six trained veterans by himself.
Su Ran stood abruptly. The chair legs scraped across the floor with a sharp screech.
The old man nearby jumped and glared at her over his newspaper.
She didn’t even have time to apologize. Grabbing her bag, she hurried outside.
The sun blazed down at the library entrance.
Standing on the steps, she stared at the text message.
Thirty minutes. East District Recycling Station.
She had no idea where it was. Opening her map app, she searched for it.
2.4 kilometers away.
Ten minutes by car. Half an hour on foot.
She had no car. A row of shared bicycles stood nearby.
Running over, she scanned the first one.
The lock wouldn’t open. The second had a flat front tire.
The third finally worked. She jumped onto it and started pedaling.
Hot wind rushed into her collar, carrying the sticky scent of sun-baked asphalt.
After five minutes, her mind gradually cooled.
Something wasn’t right.
Was this text even real? If Bai Jingshan had truly captured Fu Yechuan, why notify her?
His target was her. Fu Yechuan was merely bait.
If she went, she would be walking straight into a trap.
And if she didn’t?
If Fu Yechuan really was there, what would happen to him?
Remembering the methods Bai Jingshan used against his enemies in the novel, Su Ran didn’t dare continue the thought.
Her feet slowed on the pedals.
The bicycle wobbled slightly on the sidewalk.
Calm down! She had to stay calm.
Pulling over beneath the shade of a roadside tree, she read the message again.
“Miss Su, your friend is with me. East District Recycling Station. The usual place. Thirty minutes.— Bai”
The usual place.
What is the usual place?
Yesterday was her first meeting with Bai Jingshan.
There was no such thing as a usual place.
This message wasn’t meant for her.
Or rather, the wording belonged to some shared understanding between the original owner of this body and the Bai family.
The original Su Ran had dealings with them. In the novel, she had been Bai Weiwei’s pawn, used to manipulate Fu Yechuan.
The phrase the usual place proved they had met there before.
Digging through the original owner’s memories, Su Ran found it.
The memory was blurry, its edges worn and faded, but it was there.
Before Su Ran had transmigrated into this body, the original owner had met Bai Jingshan at the East District Recycling Station.
That was where he had given her the bad check and instructed her on how to deceive Fu Yechuan.
So the usual place was Bai Jingshan’s code phrase for the original Su Ran.
This text was meant to confirm one thing.
Whether the Su Ran standing before him was still the same Su Ran.
If she received the phrase and showed no reaction, it would suggest she wasn’t the original owner.
Bai Jingshan would become even more suspicious.
But if she recognized the phrase and went there, it would suggest she was still the obedient pawn the Bai family could control.
Another choice.
Standing beneath the tree, phone in hand, Su Ran watched pedestrians pass by.
Someone carried a watermelon.
Someone walked a dog. Someone yelled at customer service over the phone.
A normal world. And she stood on the edge of that normal world with a cliff beneath her feet.
She had to go. Not because she had fallen into Bai Jingshan’s trap.
But because Fu Yechuan might genuinely be there.
Whether this was a trap or a test, she couldn’t gamble on the possibility that everything was fine.
But she wouldn’t go alone.
Picking up her phone, Su Ran dialed a number.
It rang three times.
“Hello? Who is this?” Old Chen’s cautious voice came through the line.
“Old Chen, it’s Su Ran. We met at the teahouse before.”
The other end fell silent for two seconds.
“Miss Su. What do you need?”
“I need a favor.” Her words came quickly. “Do you know where the East District Recycling Station is?”
“…Yes.”
“Twenty minutes from now, if I haven’t called you, report it to the police. Tell them someone is being illegally detained at the East District Recycling Station.”
Old Chen remained silent for a full five seconds.
“Miss Su, do you know what you’re saying?”
“I do.” Mounting the bicycle again, she said, “Last time, you told me that anyone willing to sit across from Fu Yechuan at a time like this was worth keeping an eye on.”
She paused. “Now it’s your turn.”
Old Chen didn’t answer immediately.
A faint sigh came through the receiver.
“Twenty minutes,” he finally said.
“Thanks.”
Su Ran hung up and pedaled straight into the scorching afternoon traffic.
The wind roared past her ears.
The sweat on her back hadn’t even dried before fresh sweat replaced it.
She rode as fast as she could. Not because she was brave.
But because there was no longer any time left to be afraid.