The plan didn't begin with a declaration.
It began with an alignment.
The three of us sat around the low table in Jinyu's study, the city dimmed beyond the windows like a paused screen. Traffic lights blinked far below. Somewhere, a siren wailed and faded.
No one raised their voice.
No one paced.
This wasn't a crisis meeting.
It was calibration.
Rui Ming stood first, tablet in hand, hair tied back in the way that meant sleep had lost to efficiency. With a flick of her finger, a projection lit the wall.
Three columns.
Perception.
Access.
Legitimacy.
The soft hum of the projector filled the room.
"This isn't an attack on our products," she said calmly. "If it were, sales would already be collapsing."
Jinyu leaned back against the sofa, arms folded. "They're not."
"They won't," she replied. "That's not the goal."
She stepped closer to the first column.
"They're slowing the market's trust. Not by disproving us, but by making every interaction feel slightly risky. A delayed meeting here. A 'pending review' there."
Her finger slid to the second.
"They're putting gates everywhere. And only giving keys to people they control."
I swallowed.
It matched everything I'd felt.
The pauses.
The reroutes.
The quiet distancing.
"And legitimacy," Rui Ming said softly, tapping the final column, "is where they win long-term."
The room felt colder.
"So they don't want Xuhuang gone," I said slowly.
Jinyu's gaze sharpened. "They want it smaller."
"And easier to dominate," Rui Ming added.
I clenched my hands together.
"And me?"
Neither of them rushed to answer.
Which was answer enough.
"They made you the variable," Rui Ming said gently. "So they're turning you into a question mark."
Jinyu's jaw tightened.
"They picked the wrong person."
We moved to the larger strategy room an hour later.
Not the flashy boardroom.
The quieter one where real decisions happened.
The long table was already occupied.
Two regional directors.
Our compliance head.
Ningyao, who freshly back from France, coat still draped over her chair, eyes sharp and observant.
Coffee steamed. Papers rustled. The air smelled faintly of citrus cleaner and exhaustion.
No one wasted time.
"They're using Western consulting firms as shields," Ningyao said smoothly. "The same three keep appearing in every delayed approval."
She pulled up a map dotted with company logos.
"They advise regulators, distributors, even media analysts. No fingerprints. Just influence."
Rui Ming nodded. "Soft power networks."
One director frowned. "So what do we do? Confront them?"
"That's what they expect," Jinyu said evenly.
Everyone looked at him.
"We don't push," he continued. "We redirect."
My pulse picked up.
Rui Ming smiled slightly.
"Instead of fighting the gates," she said, "we open new doors."
I leaned forward. "Parallel channels."
"Exactly," Ningyao said. "Smaller markets first. Eastern Europe. Southeast Asia luxury boutiques. Independent distributors who don't rely on those firms."
"And media?" I asked.
Rui Ming met my eyes.
"We tell our story louder. Not defensive. Proud."
A beat of silence.
Then Jinyu said quietly, "We become unavoidable."
The room shifted.
Like something locking into place.
Execution didn't feel dramatic.
It felt precise.
Ningyao's fingers flew across her phone as she contacted fashion editors she knew personally.
Not corporate desks, but people.
One director took a call.
His eyebrows rose.
"Yes," he said slowly. "Of course we can move forward sooner."
Rui Ming's tablet buzzed.
She glanced at it.
Then smiled.
"Boutique chain in Prague just confirmed a launch window."
My own laptop chimed.
An email popped up.
Looking forward to proceeding with partnership discussions, apologies for earlier delays.
My breath caught.
Jinyu watched the numbers updating on the screen.
Sales projections climbed. Engagement metrics surged.
Not exploding.
But steadily rising.
Like a tide.
"They wanted hesitation," Rui Ming murmured.
"We gave momentum," Ningyao replied.
For the first time in days, my chest felt lighter.
It wasn't over.
We all knew that.
But we'd cracked their containment.
The adrenaline hit me all at once when we finally got back to the apartment.
The door barely closed before my legs gave out.
I flopped dramatically onto the couch.
"Why is corporate warfare more tiring than actual running," I groaned.
Jinyu's lips twitched.
Rui Ming laughed softly. "Because your brain's doing all the sprinting."
She grabbed her coat.
"I'm heading out. Try not to start World War Three without me."
The door shut.
Silence returned.
And suddenly all the tension rushed out of my body.
I turned slowly.
Jinyu was standing there, jacket loosened, sleeves rolled up.
Calm as always.
Too calm.
My bunny instincts activated immediately.
I launched myself off the couch.
"JINYU—"
He barely had time to react before I wrapped my arms around his waist.
He stumbled back half a step.
"Jiaxin."
"You didn't even look stressed," I accused into his chest. "I was emotionally fighting ten governments today."
"You did well," he said quietly.
I tilted my head up. "Just well?"
His eyes softened.
"Brilliantly."
That was it.
I chased him.
He tried to walk away.
I followed.
He picked up a file.
I latched onto his arm.
"Stop escaping me."
"I'm not escaping."
"You are walking very suspiciously fast."
He sighed, but there was a faint smile now.
"Jiaxin."
I hopped in front of him, blocking his path.
"You're not allowed to be calm after geopolitical sabotage."
He looked down at me.
And for a second, all the strategist sharpness faded.
"You're shaking," he said quietly.
I froze.
I hadn't even noticed.
The adrenaline crash finally caught up.
My hands trembled slightly.
Jinyu set the file down and pulled me gently into his arms.
Firm. Warm. Steady.
I melted instantly.
"There," he murmured. "Let it out."
I clung to him like a bunny to its favorite human.
"They tried to erase me," I muttered.
"They failed."
I looked up.
"You're sure?"
His gaze was unwavering.
"Absolutely."
Later that night, curled beside him on the couch, city lights reflecting off the windows, I stared at the ceiling.
"We won this round," I said quietly.
"Yes," Jinyu replied.
"But?"
"But they'll escalate."
I nodded slowly.
"They made it business first."
"And now?" he asked.
I thought of the silence.
The edits.
The soft power.
"Now they'll make it personal."
Jinyu's arm tightened around me.
"Let them try."
I smiled faintly.
Because for the first time, I wasn't being contained.
I was ready.