SEVEN YEARS LATER
It was 6:00 in the morning.
The sun bathed the world in a warm glow, coaxing people to stay in bed a little longer. Flowers released soothing fragrances, and birds chirped, urging everyone to wake up.
In stark contrast, a lone figure sat in the chilly basement of a villa, fingers flying over a keyboard, typing complex codes with the ease of a seasoned pro. The breathtaking scenery outside was lost on her; she was completely absorbed in her work.
The basement resembled a high-tech lab, cluttered with advanced computers and mechanical equipment. Papers filled with intricate designs littered the table, while crumpled sheets rolled across the floor.
DING!
The sound of her phone broke her concentration.
[Will arrive at 3:00 a.m.... Be prepared.]
She frowned.
[Okay... I hope you will abide by my conditions.]
DING!
[Rest assured, everything will be on your terms.]
She got up, stretching to ease her tense muscles, and headed to the lobby for the capsule lift that led to her library. After a quick stop in her bedroom to freshen up, she made her way to the back garden for yoga.
While practicing, she sensed a presence behind her. Whirling around defensively, she relaxed upon seeing her butler, Tom, holding a towel and a bottle of warm water.
"Uncle Tom, you scared me," she sighed.
Butler Tom, along with his wife, had cared for her diligently over the past six years, treating her like their own daughter.
"Miss, what would you like for breakfast?" he asked, noticing her weariness.
"Ask Aunt Mary to make porridge," she replied, her mind elsewhere.
After a quick shower, she blow-dried her long black hair and dressed in blue denim shorts and a white shirt, tying it at the front. By the time she came down for breakfast, it was already 9:00 a.m.
A faint sound grew louder—like a massive fan whirring through the air.
"It sounds like a chopper!" Aunt Mary exclaimed, exchanging worried glances with Tom.
The girl, intrigued, moved toward the door to the front garden.
"Wait, little miss! Don't go outside. There could be danger!" Tom warned, but she shot him an assuring look.
Just then, a helicopter began to land in the garden, its iconic logo—intertwined triangles surrounded by an orbital ring—drawing her attention. It belonged to the Feng Group of Companies.
"Uncle Tom, we have guests. Prepare snacks and tea," she ordered without looking back.
"Yes, Miss," he replied, bowing slightly, and hurried off with Aunt Mary.
The first to disembark was a striking man, nearly 6'3" and looking as if he were still in his late thirties. His tailored black suit, blue tie, and polished shoes spoke of power and prestige.
He was Mr. Feng Dingxiong, the former president of the Feng Group, exuding an aura of confidence that was both proud and intimidating.
Next came a younger man in his mid-twenties, equally handsome and athletic, his hand-stitched suit highlighting his impressive physique. His slightly messy hair added to his charm.
"Feng Junjie," he introduced himself, the second son of Feng Dingxiong.
The last to step out was Yang Jun, Dingxiong's personal assistant of thirty years, known for his unwavering loyalty and competence.
As Feng Dingxiong approached her, the girl stepped forward, bowing her head respectfully. "Good morning, Mr. Feng."