The smoke in the sub-basement curled into the shape of a noose as the Boss leaned back, the orange cherry of his cigar the only light in the oppressive gloom. Chen felt the sweat prickling at his hairline. He knew the Boss didn't just punish failure; he dissected it.
"It wasn't just the Building Arc, Boss," Chen whispered, his voice cracking like dry parchment. "We've been trailing the boy since the university trek to Qingyuan Mountain. We had the 'Eraser' unit positioned in the dense fog near the ravine. It was the perfect kill zone. No cameras, no witnesses. Just a 'tragic hiking accident' waiting to happen."
The Boss's eyes sharpened, a predatory glint appearing in the dark. "And?"
"She was there too," Chen said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Tang Meilin. She wasn't supposed to be part of the equation. We triggered the distraction—the loose scree, the sudden descent—hoping to isolate Zihan
"The Variable, Boss," Chen swallowed hard. "Tang Meilin. She didn't just send security; she came herself. The Tang Security Group (TSG) moved with military precision. They didn't just extract him; they cauterized the entire perimeter. Our scouts couldn't even get a visual before they were neutralized by a man named Yan—a former Special Forces Commander."
The sound of a lighter flicking open echoed like a gunshot in the vaulted room.
"Tang Meilin," the Boss mused, the name tasting like poison on his tongue. "The granddaughter of General Tang. The old lion may be retired, but it seems his cub has grown claws of her own."
"She's more than just a socialite, Boss," Chen countered, sliding a grainy photograph across the mahogany desk. It showed Meilin standing on the rain-slicked docks, her white dress a ghostly shroud, her eyes reflecting a cold, sovereign fire. "She's the one who authorized the TSG deployment. She's using the family's military-grade logistics to shield the boy. As long as he is under the Tang umbrella, he is untouchable by conventional means."
The Boss finally leaned forward, the light hitting a sharp, aristocratic nose and eyes that held the vacuum of space. He stared at Meilin's image—the woman who had turned his "simple kidnapping" into a declaration of war.
"She is the anchor," the Boss murmured, his voice dropping into a chilling, melodic register. "Zihan is the engine, but Meilin is the hull. If we want to sink the ship and claim the engine's secrets, we don't attack the boy. We break the woman."
He tapped a manicured finger against the photo of Meilin's throat.
"The Tang family prides itself on their 'Steel Reputation.' Find the cracks. I want to know her every move— her weaknesses. If she wants to play General, we will give her a war. We start by isolating her. Strip away her grandfather's protection, tarnish the TSG name, and leave her standing alone in the dark.