Morning in Linbei City was unusually free of snow.
The wind was still cold, but it no longer carried fine snow particles that struck the face.
The sky was still gray-white, the clouds hanging very low, but at least the outline of the distant mountain ridges could be seen.
A few strands of cooking smoke rose straight up from within the city, slowly dispersing in the air, as if this city were cautiously testing its ability to breathe.
Pei Yi stood on the city wall, looking at the main road outside the city gate that stretched toward the south.
Several groups of figures were walking toward Linbei City along the road.
They dragged simple bundles of luggage. Some pushed wheelbarrows, while others carried children on their backs. Their pace was not fast, but they did not stop.
One, two, three…
Gradually, they gathered into a small stream of people, like a dried-up riverbed finally welcoming its first trickle.
On the city wall, craftsmen were repairing the watchtower.
Bundles of timber were hoisted up one after another. The sound of iron nails being hammered into wood was especially crisp in the wind.
A craftsman was squatting at the edge of the watchtower, using a plane to smooth the corners of a newly replaced crossbeam. Wood shavings fell from above and were scattered by the wind, like fine snow.
In the open ground beside the city gate, several soldiers were working together to carry a batch of newly arrived timber. They unloaded logs from the carts, shouting work chants as they steadily stacked the timber at the foot of the city wall.
Outside the city, in the direction of the military farms, soldiers were turning over the soil.
The land, frozen hard throughout the winter, was as solid as stone. When the hoes struck down, they could only leave a shallow white mark.
But they did not stop.
One strike, then another, as if they were competing with this land.
Nearby, some people had already begun marking the boundaries of the fields with wooden stakes. Several old farmers squatted on the ridges between the fields, holding clumps of soil in their hands and examining them carefully, as if estimating how much they would be able to plant after spring began.
Ever since Xiao Yuan entered the city, news of Linbei City had spread outward little by little, like seeds scattered by the wind.
First came the nearby hunters and woodcutters, then the remaining people from the villages. Now even refugees from farther away had begun making their way here.
They had only heard that there was food here, soldiers, and a way to survive.
For people who had been hungry for too long, that was already enough.
Pei Yi looked at those people and suddenly felt a little warmth in his chest.
In the past, he could only guard the city—a city without hope.
The city walls were broken, the granaries were empty, and the people were scattered.
He had guarded this place for many years, yet he had always merely been “holding on.”
Holding on so that it would not collapse, so that it would not completely die.
But now, Xiao Yuan had come.
The city had a master, food, and a banner.
The place that had once been called a “ghost city” was slowly coming back to life.
He withdrew his gaze and turned to walk down from the city wall. He still had many things to do.
The reconstruction of the Northern Frontier Administrative Office was underway.
The former government office had become extremely dilapidated because of the wars and years of neglect. Most of the paint on the walls had peeled away, revealing the blackened old wood and mottled plaster underneath.
Most of the roof tiles had already shattered. Rainwater seeped into the rooms through the gaps, leaving traces of varying depths on the beams and pillars.
The bluestone slabs in the courtyard had been pushed apart by weeds, cracking the seams. In some places, entire slabs had even lifted up, like an old map that had been torn apart.
But now, those cracks were being filled.
The sounds of craftsmen carrying timber and stone bricks rose and fell throughout the morning air, like a sleeping machine beginning to operate again.
The windows of the clerical office had already been replaced. Through them, one could vaguely see people sitting with their heads lowered over their desks, their brush tips moving across the paper and producing faint, rustling sounds.
That was the registrar leading people in reorganizing the old records of the northern frontier, returning the household registers and land deeds that had been scattered for years to their proper places, page by page.
A short line of people stood in front of the grain office.
Some carried cloth bags, while others held crumpled pieces of paper in their hands, waiting to register and receive grain.
The clerk responsible for registration did not even raise his head. His brush moved rapidly across the paper.
“Name, household registration, how many people, any patients──next.”
Pei Yi stood in the central courtyard with a roll of newly drawn reconstruction plans in his hand, directing the craftsmen to replace the gateposts of the main entrance to the front courtyard.
The new gateposts were made of pinewood transported from the mountain forests outside the city. They were straight and sturdy. Although their surfaces had not yet been painted, they were already standing firmly in place.
As he watched these scenes unfold before his eyes, he realized that Linbei City was transforming from a “military city” into a “city.”
In the past, there had only been soldiers, city walls, and military orders here.
But now there were common people, craftsmen, women lining up to receive grain, old farmers squatting on the field ridges examining the soil, and clerks organizing old records.
All these scenes blended together, making this city no longer some kind of tool, but something that was alive.
“General, the roof of the eastern wing has already been repaired.”
A craftsman walked over, still holding an iron hammer in his hand.
Pei Yi nodded.
“What about the windows?”
“Half have been replaced. We’ll replace the rest once the timber arrives. At the current pace, it’ll be finished in another seven days.”
He lowered his head and looked at the plans, then raised it and glanced toward the main gate.
Seven days was not particularly fast, but it was already far better than he had imagined.
Not long ago, he could not even gather a single intact roof tile. Now, he could actually hear a craftsman say, “It’ll be finished in another seven days.”
He lowered his head and carefully examined the plans for the reconstructed administrative office.
The front courtyard was the office area and council hall, while the eastern and western wings were separately designated as the military affairs office, grain affairs office, and clerical office.
Beyond the front courtyard was the central training ground. The ground was flat and spacious, large enough for military drills or military councils.
The rear courtyard was divided into five independent compounds.
The main compound belonged to Xiao Yuan. It had the largest layout, and its windows could overlook the skyline of the northern frontier.
Xiao Yuan had not made any particular requests. He had only said, “Do as you see fit.”
His tone had been so indifferent that it sounded as though he were talking about something that had nothing to do with himself.
The eastern compound was Xia Lanshi’s residence.
It was smaller than the main compound, but exceptionally refined.
When Pei Yi went to ask about his requirements, Xia Lanshi had only just recovered from his illness. Wrapped in a thick cloak, he sat before the desk, his complexion still pale.
He raised his pair of pale-red eyes and looked at Pei Yi with an expression that was half-smiling and half-not.
Pei Yi feared that look the most.
Xia Lanshi listed a string of requirements.
From the direction the windows should face to the height of the writing desk, from the style of the charcoal brazier to the position of paintings on the walls.
Every detail was explained meticulously. Not even the smallest matter was overlooked.
Pei Yi took notes while sweating, afraid that if he failed to handle something properly, he would be held accountable again.
He would truly rather be chased and hacked at by the Northern Di for three days than check account books or discuss affairs with Chief Clerk Xia.
After Xia Lanshi finished, he added, “Plant northern frontier black pines and cedar in the main courtyard. Plant bone-red plum and plain-hearted wintersweet in the eastern courtyard. Plant West Mansion crabapple and lilac in the northern courtyard. Purple lilac and wisteria in the southern courtyard. As for the western courtyard──”
He paused slightly, as if considering something.
“Plant weeping crabapple and ginkgo.”
Pei Yi quickly wrote down the notes, not daring to miss a single word.
There was another courtyard on the western side of the rear compound that was temporarily empty, its doors and windows tightly closed.
The workers spent the longest time there because Xiao Yuan had specifically instructed them to repair it carefully.
Every roof tile was inspected one by one, the window frames were sanded again, and even the stone bricks on the floor had been lifted and relaid.
But Xiao Yuan had never said whom that courtyard was to be left for.
Pei Yi had asked him once.
Xiao Yuan had only said, “Repair it first.”
His tone had been calm, as though he were speaking of something that required no explanation.
So Pei Yi did not ask again.
He looked at that western courtyard, which had been treated with exceptional care, and had some faint guesses in his heart.
But he said nothing.
Some things could not be spoken aloud by him.
◆◇◆◇◆
That night, Xiao Yuan went to Guichen Studio once again.
He had already adjusted his state of mind—or at least, he thought he had.
He had been busy all day in Linbei City, from inspecting the city walls to supervising the reconstruction of the administrative office, from the wounded soldiers’ camp to the granary. He made himself refrain from thinking about those soft emotions that should not be surfacing at a time like this.
He was Prince Su, the Northern Frontier Commissioner, and the backbone of Linbei City.
He should maintain a clear “business relationship” with Su Muchen, rather than allowing those vague and uncertain things to cross the boundary.
When he entered Guichen Studio, his steps were steadier than they had been in the previous few days, and his expression was also calmer.
Su Muchen was counting the scattered papers on the table.
When he saw him arrive, he merely raised his head and looked at his face, confirming something.
Then he calmly said, “You’re here.”
After that, he lowered his head and continued organizing.
Xiao Yuan sat down behind the counter.
The atmosphere of Guichen Studio was very calming. The grain of the old wood, the edges of the paper pages, the small bottle on the counter containing dried flowers—even the angle at which the lamplight fell—was exactly the same as last night.
The two exchanged a few words about supplies and matters concerning Linbei City. Their tones were as usual, everything as it had always been.
Xiao Yuan thought to himself: This is good.
Keep the distance. Maintain the status quo. Discuss what needs to be discussed, then leave. Don’t think too much.
“Jingyuan.”
Suddenly, Su Muchen put down his brush and called him by his courtesy name.
When those two words came from his lips, the ending rose slightly, making it impossible for Xiao Yuan to ignore them in a way that no one else’s voice could.
Xiao Yuan raised his eyes.
On the surface, he remained calm, but the string deep within his chest was lightly plucked.
Su Muchen did not look at him. His gaze rested on a certain sheet of paper on the table, as though considering how to begin.
“I want to ask you to help me with something.”
“Say it.”
Su Muchen was silent for a moment before raising his eyes. His expression was extremely serious.
“I want to ask you to teach me… how to open the Door.”
The inside of Guichen Studio fell silent for a moment.
Xiao Yuan looked at him without immediately responding.
Su Muchen had taken the initiative to make this request.
Did this mean he had developed the thought of going to Dasheng?
That thought was like a stone thrown into the surface of the water, sending ripples outward in circles, before he forcibly suppressed it again.
“Why do you want to learn?” Xiao Yuan asked as though nothing were unusual.
Su Muchen lowered his eyes, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the shaft of his brush.
“The last time something happened to Xia Lanshi, I couldn’t do anything. I could only stand here and wait.”
That time, in the end, it had been Xiao who went, and he had paid a price for it.
Su Muchen lowered his eyes. In truth, he still cared deeply about what had happened to Xia Lanshi that time.
“If I could also use the Door, then if some emergency happened next time, I wouldn’t have to do nothing but anxiously wait here.”
He paused.
“If I could also open the Door, then if there were an emergency next time, at least I wouldn’t have to let anyone else take the risk again.”
The last time, in order to save Xia Lanshi, Xiao had ultimately stepped forward to resolve the problem.
But the price he had paid was the consumption of Xiao’s life.
Xiao Yuan knew what he was thinking.
The price Xiao had paid when he crossed the Door to save Xia Lanshi—he had never mentioned it to Xia Lanshi.
Because if Xia Lanshi knew about it, he would certainly blame himself and feel indebted to Xiao.
And Xiao himself seemed unwilling to let Xia Lanshi know.
Thus, this matter had become a secret that the few of them silently kept together.
“I can’t just keep waiting.”
There was a low determination in Su Muchen’s voice.
“Just like those nine days last time. I’ve had enough of only waiting.”
Xiao Yuan listened without interrupting him.
Because he understood the taste of waiting better than anyone.
“Xiao said that the reason I can’t open the Door is because I don’t have enough resolve.”
There was a hint of dejection in Su Muchen’s voice.
“He told me before that I don’t have the resolve to kill someone with my own hands.”
Xiao Yuan’s brows moved slightly when he heard this.
“Although that was only his metaphor.”
Su Muchen continued, as though sorting out his own thoughts.
“He is a Gatekeeper, so the way he looks at things is different from mine. So I thought that perhaps your method would be more suitable for me.”
He spoke very calmly, merely stating a fact.
Like a patient telling a doctor his symptoms and then waiting for a diagnosis.
Xiao Yuan did not answer immediately.
He thought of what Xiao had once said to Su Muchen──the resolve to kill someone with one’s own hands.
In Dasheng, the number of people who had died beneath his sword could no longer be counted.
Because if he did not kill, others would come to kill him.
But he did not kill indiscriminately.
He only killed those who deserved to die.
Here, Su Muchen was unwilling even to kill Sheng Chengxiu, who was specifically targeting him, preferring to adopt what he called civilized measures.
Perhaps it was because the values and ways of survival in the two worlds were different.
And Xiao seemed to have a reason that forced him to do things that way.
Xiao killed people.
Su Muchen saved people.
Although they existed on the same side of the world, they seemed like completely opposite kinds of people.
“Muan.”
Xiao Yuan finally spoke, his voice slightly lower than before.
“What he said isn’t suitable for you.”
Su Muchen’s hands were meant to bandage wounds, count medicines, and write supply lists.
They were not meant to grip the hilt of a knife.
Su Muchen raised his eyes to look at him.
Xiao Yuan looked back at him as well, his tone calm and certain.
“You don’t need to kill someone to prove your resolve. Saving people and killing people have never been the same path.”
Su Muchen thought for a moment.
He seemed to understand something, yet also seemed not to completely understand.
He thought he already possessed enough resolve.
But the Door still would not open for him.
Xiao Yuan did not continue explaining.
He stood up, left the counter, and walked two steps toward the back room.
“Come here.”
Su Muchen came back to himself, then immediately stood and followed him.
The corridor of Guichen Studio was dimly lit.
Inside the back room, that Door stood there quietly.
It looked like an ordinary old door, its vermilion-painted surface reflecting a layer of dull light in the darkness.
The cloud-and-water pattern on the door ring rested there like a sleeping seal.
Xiao Yuan had Su Muchen stand about two steps away from the Door.
“Stand steady.”
Su Muchen placed both feet flat and adjusted his center of gravity.
Xiao Yuan watched his stance as though inspecting an object that needed to be calibrated.
“Extend your right hand.”
Su Muchen extended his right hand and waited for Xiao Yuan’s next instruction, not knowing what the other man intended to do.
He had seen Xiao Yuan open the Door many times, but he had never seen how he opened it from the other side.
Xiao Yuan looked at his hand, then at his posture, and his brows moved slightly.
“That’s not extending your hand. That’s pushing a door.”
Su Muchen lowered his head and looked at his own hand. He adjusted the angle slightly, trying to make his arm straighter.
“Wrong.”
Xiao Yuan’s voice came from the side.
“Be more confident.”
Su Muchen felt somewhat embarrassed.
At this moment, he could only be thankful that Xiao was not standing nearby. Otherwise, he would probably have been laughed at again.
He really could not manage to open the Door as confidently and handsomely as Xiao Yuan did. He had even begun wondering──did opening a Door really require paying attention to one’s posture?
Just as his thoughts were running wild, Xiao Yuan suddenly moved closer behind him.
That familiar presence belonging to him, mixed with the scent of pinewood from the northern frontier, surrounded him from behind, enclosing him within an invisible boundary.
Su Muchen’s back stiffened slightly, but he did not move away.
“Relax your shoulders.”
Xiao Yuan’s voice came from behind his ear, closer and lower than usual.
It was like a thin layer of warmth brushing past his ear.
The tips of Su Muchen’s ears began to heat up.
“Your hand isn’t pushing forward. You’re grasping into the void.”
Xiao Yuan’s hand gently supported the outside of his elbow, adjusting its angle. Through the fabric of his clothes, his fingertips conveyed warmth and pressure.
“Close your eyes.”
Su Muchen took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and forced himself not to let his thoughts run wild again.
“Use your hand to feel the Door’s existence. Feel that the door ring is right there. Think about leaving this place and going to the other side.”
Xiao Yuan’s voice was deep and steady, like the guidance of a hypnotist, carrying a certain tone that made people settle down.
Su Muchen tried to do as he said, but he could not sense anything at all.
His fingertips felt empty. There was only the scent of old wood from Guichen Studio and the breathing of the person behind him.
“…There’s nothing.”
He spoke softly.
Xiao Yuan did not urge him.
He was silent for a moment, as though thinking about how to make Su Muchen understand that sensation.
“When I came over, I felt Guichen Studio and you. I thought about returning here. I thought about you still being here.”
Su Muchen suddenly opened his eyes and turned to look at him.
That sentence had come too suddenly, like a huge stone being violently thrown onto the surface of a calm lake, exploding into a massive splash.
Xiao Yuan’s expression remained calm, but when their gazes met, his eyes flickered slightly.
Su Muchen felt his ears begin heating up again.
He hurriedly turned back, his heartbeat missing a beat.
“…I’ve never been to Dasheng. How am I supposed to imagine it?”
His voice was slightly louder, as though he were using that bit of volume to counteract something.
Xiao Yuan looked at the back of his head. Those reddened ear tips were especially obvious beneath the lamplight.
“Then think of me.”
Xiao Yuan said it.
His tone remained calm, as though he were simply teaching him a method.
Su Muchen’s breathing stalled slightly.
He felt as though an even larger stone had just exploded onto the surface of the water that had not yet settled.
His ears grew hotter and hotter, hot enough that he could almost feel his own pulse throbbing.
He began to regret why he had asked Xiao Yuan to teach him how to open the Door.
He wanted to return to a few minutes ago and then smack his past self awake.
“I-I’ll try…”
He desperately convinced himself: This is only a lesson. This is only a lesson. This is only a lesson!!
He adjusted his posture again, closed his eyes, and extended his hand into the darkness, but his mind was a complete mess.
He imagined the existence of the Door.
He imagined Xiao Yuan standing on the other side of the Door.
The image was too clear, so clear that he found it even harder to concentrate.
His heartbeat lost its rhythm, and his breathing became shallow.
“Slow your breathing.”
Xiao Yuan’s voice sounded nearby, low and steady.
“Don’t think about where it is. Think about its existence. Like when you’re in the darkness and you know there is someone beside you, even though you can’t see them.”
Su Muchen tried to follow his instructions.
He slowed his breathing and let go of those chaotic thoughts.
He remembered the feeling when he had first touched the Door.
His fingertips had rested against the cold door panel. Through that thin layer of wood, he had heard the sound of wind and snow, the sound of horse hooves, the sounds of blades and weapons, as well as people’s breathing, gasps, and shouts.
At that time, he had understood nothing, yet he had truly heard the sounds from the other side.
With his eyes closed, he shifted his attention away from the surrounding airflow, the scent of old wood, and the faint sound of vehicles in the distance, turning it toward that vague direction.
Gradually, he seemed to faintly hear something again──very far away, like an echo left behind when the wind passed through a mountain valley.
“…I think there’s a little.”
“Continue.”
Xiao Yuan’s voice was steady, like a thread pulling him along and preventing him from drifting away.
After a while, Su Muchen felt an extremely faint movement at his fingertips, like ripples forming on the surface of water beneath the wind.
He tried to grasp it.
But in the next moment, that sensation disappeared, like water slipping away between his fingers as the tide receded.
He opened his eyes and lowered his hand.
“I still can’t catch it.”
He even began to wonder whether the sound and sensation he had just heard had merely been an illusion.
He looked at the Door in front of him, then stared at the door ring for a moment.
Xiao Yuan followed his gaze toward the door ring, as though he had noticed what Su Muchen was thinking.
“Xiao isn’t here, so you still shouldn’t open the Door recklessly.”
His voice was calm, but carried a hint of warning.
“Forcing the Door open carries a certain amount of danger. I’ve been injured by it before as well.”
Su Muchen fell silent, then said softly, “All right.”
Xiao Yuan withdrew his hand and stepped backward, restoring the invisible distance between them to its original position.
The light from the night lamp fell between the two of them, forming a thin dividing line.
“For the first time, being able to sense a little is already much better than before.”
Su Muchen lowered his head and looked at his hand, as though confirming that the moment just now had really happened.
“…Really?”
“Mm.”
Su Muchen was silent for a while.
Then he raised his eyes and looked at Xiao Yuan.
He suddenly felt that he should say something, yet he did not know what to say.
The words “thank you” felt too light, yet at this moment, he could not find a more suitable phrase.
“Jingyuan, thank you.”
Then he smiled.
Those words fell into the night, light as a fallen leaf, yet when they landed in the pool of Xiao Yuan’s heart, they stirred ripples one after another.
“Mm.”
Xiao Yuan responded softly.
He took that pure, guileless smile into his eyes.
He stood there, watching Su Muchen lower his head and withdraw his hand to his side, watching that faint flush remaining on the tips of his ears.
He thought that this person probably would never know what he had unintentionally done.
It was merely because they had stood too close, because he had said that one sentence, because Su Muchen had turned around and met his gaze.
The boundaries he had suppressed all day were now like thin ice, cracking open.
Perhaps… next time, he should choose a time when Xiao was present as well.
That would be safer.
When he thought of Su Muchen possibly truly going to Dasheng in the future, he also remembered what Chi Banyue had told him today:
“Remember to give Doctor Su a return gift for the pocket watch.”
He had originally been unable to think of what kind of return gift to give him.
But now, thinking about it, there was something that seemed just right.
Xiao Yuan took something out from inside his robes and handed it to Su Muchen.
Su Muchen lowered his head and looked.
It was a command token, with a string of dark-red tassels hanging from the bottom.
The metal was black, its edges finely polished. Carved into its surface was the head of a silver-white wolf.
The wolf’s eyes were golden, embedded in the center of the token. Even beneath the dim yellow lamplight, they faintly glimmered.
On the back of the token was a line of seal script, written in the characters of Dasheng.
“What is this?”
“The Silver Wolf Token.”
Xiao Yuan said, “In the Prince Su’s army, seeing this token is the same as seeing me.”
Although this token was not as authoritative as the Prince Su Token, he rarely gave it to anyone.
Su Muchen looked up at him.
Xiao Yuan’s tone was calm, as though he were merely explaining an ordinary matter.
“If you really go to Dasheng in the future, take it with you. You can mobilize part of the Prince Su Army’s manpower with it, and it can also serve as proof of your identity.”
Su Muchen looked at the token.
Clearly, Xiao Yuan had not simply handed it to him casually.
“This is too valuable,” he said.
Xiao Yuan glanced at him.
“Wasn’t the pocket watch valuable?”
Su Muchen was rendered speechless by those words.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say that the pocket watch was merely an old object and was not worth much money.
But when the words reached his lips, he remembered the way Xiao Yuan had placed the pocket watch into the innermost part of his robes.
In the end, he said nothing.
The token was heavier than he had imagined.
The wolf’s golden eyes seemed to shift slightly beneath the lamplight, as though they were alive.
Held in his hand, the weight of the metal pressed heavily against his palm, like a certain kind of trust being solemnly entrusted to him.
“I’ll keep it safe,” he said.
Xiao Yuan watched Su Muchen put the Silver Wolf Token into his clothes pocket, and the corners of his lips involuntarily lifted slightly again.
The night had grown deep, and the lights of Guichen Studio quietly remained lit.
Xiao Yuan did not ask what he would use the token for.
He had simply given it to him, just as Su Muchen had once pushed the pocket watch in front of him.
There had been no unnecessary words.
He could not help but sigh inwardly.
He had clearly already decided to keep his distance from Su Muchen.
Yet merely hearing Su Muchen say that he wanted to learn how to open the Door had made him think of all sorts of situations Su Muchen might encounter after arriving in Dasheng, and he had given him the Silver Wolf Token.
It seemed that today, he had failed at keeping his distance.
◆◇◆◇◆
When Sheng Chengxiu threw the investigation report onto the table, he had not used much force, yet the pages slid a distance across the smooth tabletop before stopping at the edge.
His assistant stood before the desk, his head slightly lowered, not daring to speak.
He had already read the contents of the report.
It was exactly the same as the previous one.
Subject of investigation: Xiao.
Age: twenty-six.
Household registration was in the old urban district of Yunjing City. He had no property registered under his name, no vehicle registration, no bank credit records, and no tax irregularities.
There were several work experiences listed in his résumé, all written extremely briefly, like a document that had been deliberately stripped down.
Education: “self-taught.”
There were no school records.
The relatives section was blank.
All the information was legal.
All the information was impossible to verify.
It was as though someone had reduced a person’s entire life to a few lines, stuffed them into the government system, and then made it look like the records belonged to an ordinary person.
But the name “Xiao” itself seemed like a kind of mockery, as though it were telling anyone who wanted to investigate his true identity:
This is all you can find.
You can’t even find my real name.
“Still can’t find anything?”
Sheng Chengxiu asked.
His tone was not particularly heavy, but his assistant could hear the coldness beneath that calmness.
“We can’t. We’ve gone through every channel. Household registration, taxation, banking, medical records, education… every single line is clean.”
“Clean to the point of being abnormal?”
“Yes.”
Sheng Chengxiu was silent for a while and did not continue questioning him about Xiao.
He picked up the second report.
This report was somewhat thicker than the first.
The cover bore several words:
“Investigation into the Abnormal Review Progress of the Guichen Cultural Preservation Association.”
He opened it and scanned several lines before stopping at a certain point.
──Chenghui Group.
An ordinary and inconspicuous name.
The report stated that during the preliminary review stage, the association’s approval process had been “accelerated” by an external organization, and that organization had an indirect cooperation record with a cultural foundation under Chenghui Group.
There was no direct evidence showing that Chenghui Group had intervened, but the timing and connections were far too coincidental.
He put down the report and lightly tapped the four characters “Chenghui Group” twice with his fingertips.
He remembered this name.
Not because it had appeared in the news.
Quite the opposite.
It was because it almost never appeared in the news.
Chenghui Group’s business covered logistics, warehousing, trade, construction, cultural assets, art trading, and private security.
It was a very stable combination, like a gear polished by time, quietly embedded in some invisible machine.
It was not publicly listed, issued no press releases, and did not appear on rich lists.
Yet it had existed in Hailing City for at least five generations, and no one had ever truly paid attention to it.
Sheng Chengxiu knew of it because the Sheng family had once attempted to acquire one of its logistics companies in its early years.
In the end, the acquisition had failed.
At the time, he had thought the other side simply did not want to sell.
Now that he thought about it, perhaps it had not been a refusal at all, but rather that there had been some other reason.
He glanced once more at the words “Chenghui Group” on the report, then raised his head and looked out the window.
The skyline of Yunjing City spread out beyond the glass curtain wall, high-rises standing everywhere, traffic flowing like a woven stream.
He suddenly thought that perhaps he had always underestimated the scale of the network behind Guichen Studio.
Su Muchen was the visible side.
Guichen Studio was what could be seen.
But the thing supporting all of this was deeper, older, and quieter than he had imagined.
Like the underground part of a tree—it could not be seen, but it had always been there, its roots tangled and intertwined.
“Does Xiao have a connection with Chenghui Group?”
He asked.
The assistant said quietly, “There is no direct evidence in the report. But in terms of timing and resource allocation… it doesn’t look like a coincidence.”
Sheng Chengxiu did not respond immediately.
He knew very clearly in his heart.
From the very first investigation report, he had already known that Xiao was not an ordinary shop assistant.
Now that Chenghui Group had surfaced, that line had become even clearer──Xiao’s background was not simple.
He leaned back against the chair, his gaze falling on the report as his fingers slowly turned the fountain pen on the desk.
He had always believed that he could take his time.
Debt, the law, surveillance, probing—these methods were enough to make a young man without a background retreat step by step.
But now he discovered that there was a wall behind Su Muchen.
And that wall was thicker than he had imagined.
If there really was a group no weaker than the Sheng family supporting Guichen Studio from behind the scenes, then his original “boiling a frog slowly” strategy would gradually lose its effectiveness.
Sheng Chengxiu put down the pen.
His expression remained calm, like the surface of the sea in the final moment before a storm arrived.
“You said just now that you couldn’t find Xiao’s past?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop looking.”
Sheng Chengxiu’s voice was calm, without any anger.
“Wherever he is now, start from there.”
The assistant was slightly startled.
“President Sheng, you mean…?”
“Pull out that nail first.”
Sheng Chengxiu closed the report concerning Chenghui Group and placed it to the side, his movements as light as if he were setting down something he no longer needed to look at.
He would not be frightened away, nor would he hesitate because his opponent had someone backing him.
The only principle he had been taught since childhood was:
If you want something, take it.
And he had never failed.
Xiao was merely the first stone blocking his path.
A stone could be moved aside.
But it could also be smashed.
The two spies he had sent had been thrown back into the underground parking garage, and to this day, no one could determine what exactly had happened to them.
The other side was clearly trying to tell him:
This is what happens when you touch Guichen Studio.
But he had never been someone who would be stopped by a warning.
“When you make your move…”
He turned his head toward the window.
The final trace of dusk at the edge of the sky was disappearing.
“Don’t alarm Su Muchen.”
The assistant lowered his head and acknowledged the order before turning and leaving.
Below, the lights came on one by one, once again outlining the shape of Yunjing City.
Sheng Chengxiu sat between those lights and the darkness, looking down upon the empire that belonged to him.