Wei: The Last Person He Wanted to See Right Now
Zhang Wei leaned against the console, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Liu Shuyin had just waltzed into his lab, uninvited, unapologetic, and—of course—perfectly composed.
Her eyes—sharp, calculating—held none of the usual pleasantries people used when trying to win him over. She wasn't here to impress him. She was here because she wanted something.
Which meant he wasn't going to give it to her.
"What do you want, Shuyin?"
His tone was flat, the kind of bored dismissal that could crush lesser people.
But Shuyin?
She thrived in it.
...
Shuyin: A Woman Who Doesn't Accept No
She smiled, slow and deliberate, as if she had all the time in the world.
"I already told you," she said lightly, taking a measured step forward. "I want in."
Wei exhaled sharply through his nose. "And I already told you—"
"You didn't tell me anything."
She tilted her head, the curve of her mouth just shy of amusement.
Oh, she was enjoying this. Playing him, the way she had always played people—like a master pianist tapping out the first few notes of a song, waiting to see if he would join in.
But Wei wasn't here to play.
"You're wasting your time," he said bluntly. "This isn't your business."
Shuyin raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"
She lifted a manicured hand, inspecting her nails, as if the conversation bored her. Then, just as smoothly—she dropped the bomb.
"I already have information," she said. "We should compare notes."
...
Wei: Exasperation Meets Amusement
Silence.
A slow, simmering silence—the kind that stretched just long enough to be uncomfortable.
Wei stared at her, unimpressed. "You're bluffing."
Shuyin's lips curled. "Try me."
This woman. He thought.
Wei dragged a hand down his face, his patience thinning.
"Shuyin," he said, tone flat, "whatever crumbs you picked up from your little information web won't be useful here."
"Mm," she hummed, tilting her head. "So sure of that, are you?"
Wei sighed, exasperated.
But also, grudgingly—
Amused.
Because of course.
Of course she was the same persistent, maddeningly well-connected Shuyin he had known for years.
And of course, she was never going to leave unless he let her have something.
Fine. She wanted to compare notes? Let's see if she could keep up.
"Alright," he said finally, waving a hand toward the seat across from him. "Show me what you've got."
Shuyin smiled—a slow, victorious thing.
She sat gracefully, crossing one leg over the other, entirely too comfortable in a place she didn't belong.
Shuyin's Information Drop
She leaned back in her chair, voice casual, but her words sharp.
"There are whispers in the private security sector. Bodyguards, mercenaries, people paid to keep secrets—they've noticed an increase in unreported medical incidents at factories."
"Some of the collapsed workers have been approached privately—by investors, by competitors, by people who don't belong in the industry at all."
"Someone else is investigating. Not just you."
Wei's fingers tapped against the desk.
That last one?
That was new.
He had expected curiosity from the media, from corporate rivals—but a hidden third party?
Unacceptable.
...
Wei: A Calculated Response
He exhaled, picking up his tea, sipping slowly—forcing her to wait.
Then, finally:
"Who?"
Shuyin's eyes gleamed. "Ah. So you do care about my crumbs."
Wei set his cup down, gaze sharpening. "I asked you a question, Shuyin."
She smiled, but didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she tilted her head, studying him.
As if she were weighing how much she wanted to give up—and how much leverage she still needed to keep.
After a moment, she leaned forward slightly.
"I don't have a name yet," she admitted. "But I have movement patterns. Someone's tracking the Liang and Zhang families, but not openly. They're moving through intermediaries, hiring private contractors, avoiding direct involvement."
Wei's fingers drummed once against the desk.
That wasn't just curiosity.
That was someone covering their tracks.
...
Shuyin: The Trade-off
She let the silence settle before speaking again.
"Now, your turn," she said smoothly. "What's the deal with these electromagnetic fluctuations?"
Wei studied her.
Then, without a word, he turned the screen toward her—displaying the data from the latest experiment.
The recorded spikes. The unnatural pulses. The moment where energy levels had nearly breached safety limits.
Shuyin's lips parted slightly.
And for the first time tonight—she wasn't smirking.
She stared at the readings, her expression sharpening.
This wasn't just a power struggle.
This wasn't just a corporate mystery.
This was something bigger.
Finally, she exhaled, tapping a manicured nail against the screen.
"So," she murmured. "When were you going to tell me we were dealing with something unnatural?"