The clock on Lin Yan's bedside table ticked with a rhythmic, clinical precision. It was 3:45 AM. Outside, the rain had tapered off into a thick, suffocating fog that clung to the windows like a shroud. Inside his newly minted fortress, Lin Yan sat bathed in the cool, blue glow of three high-definition monitors he had demanded as part of his "recovery therapy."
His white-gloved fingers moved with a terrifying, fluid speed across the keyboard. To an outsider, he was just a boy playing games to soothe a fractured mind. But on the screens, cascading walls of green code and decrypted bank ledgers told a different story.
[System Pulse: 85% Data Extraction Complete.]
[Target: Head of Security, Chen Bo.]
[Eye of Truth Deep-Dive: For three years, Chen has been skimming "ghost wages" from the security budget—paying for thirty-five guards when only twenty exist.
The Heavy Dirt: He is currently selling the mansion's nightly patrol routes to a rival corporate espionage firm.
Current Thought: "The idiot is back, which means the CEO is
distracted. I can move the final $2 million to the Spain account by sunrise."]
"Oh, Chen Bo," Lin Yan's inner voice rang out, a sharp, melodic chime that bypassed the soundproof walls and resonated directly in Lu Jingho's sleeping mind. "You think a 'distracted' CEO is your golden ticket? You've been treating this estate like your personal piggy bank, and you even have the nerve to use the 'Security' budget to buy a villa with a pool? I hope you like the color of prison jumpsuits, because the Spain sun is never going to touch your face."
In the adjacent suite, Lu Jingho's eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright, his breath hitching. The voice was clearer than ever—vibrant, vengeful, and unmistakably brilliant. He looked at the wall separating his room from Lin Yan's.
He's hacking the security accounts? Jingho thought, a mixture of shock and awe warming his chest. At four in the morning?
Jingho didn't go back to sleep. He stood up, threw on a dark silk robe, and began to pace. He realized that if he wanted to help Lin Yan "stumble" upon this evidence, he had to set the stage for a confrontation. He picked up his phone and sent a coded message to his mother: "Breakfast at 8:00 AM. Bring the internal audit files. It's time for a show."
The morning brought a grey, dismal light that did little to cheer the grand dining hall. The table was a long, polished mahogany expanse, set with silver that gleamed like weapons.
Lin Yan arrived precisely at 8:00 AM. He was dressed in a high-collared, pale lavender sweater and charcoal trousers, his white gloves pristine. He moved with a fragile, ghost-like grace, his silver-tipped cane clicking softly on the marble. He took his seat at the far end of the table, exactly 3.5 meters away from Lu Jingho.
[System Pulse: Detection!]
[Target: Chen Bo (Standing by the door).]
[Status: Smug. He believes his final transfer was successful.]
"Look at him standing there like a loyal hound," Lin Yan's mind sneered, the sound echoing through the room. "He smells like expensive cigars and betrayal. He thinks the tablet in his pocket is a shield, but it's actually his coffin. I just need to 'clumsily' mention the weather in Spain."
Mother Lu sat at the center of the table, her face a mask of elegant concern. She looked at Lin Yan, her heart aching with the secret knowledge of his brilliance. "Yan Yan, you look tired. Did you sleep well?"
Lin Yan blinked, tilting his head with a vacant, dreamy expression. "The birds were loud," he said, his voice a soft, airy whisper. "They were singing about... Madrid. Is Madrid pretty, Mother Lu? They said the villas have very big pools."
The room went into a sudden, deep freeze.
Chen Bo, standing by the oak doors, felt a jolt of electricity run down his spine. His hand tightened on the tablet he was holding. How does the idiot know about Madrid?
"Oh, did your heart skip a beat, Chen?" the inner voice giggled, a chillingly playful sound in Jingho's head. "I can almost hear your blood pressure rising. It's a beautiful day for an audit, don't you think? Jingho, look at his left pocket. He's reaching for his phone to check the account. He's panicking."
Jingho set his coffee cup down with a sharp clack. "Speaking of villas, Mother, I was looking at the security budget this morning. It seems our 'operating costs' have reached an all-time high."
"Really, Jingho?" Mother Lu played along, her voice turning to ice. "I thought we were paying for thirty-five guards to keep our Yan Yan safe."
Chen Bo stepped forward, his face a mask of professional stoicism. "Sir, Madam, the increased costs are due to the upgraded perimeter sensors. With the Young Master's condition, I felt extra precautions were necessary."
"Extra precautions for your bank account, you mean," Lin Yan thought, his mental voice dripping with venom. "System, trigger the 'Ghost Guard' alert on the main tablet in 3... 2... 1..."
Suddenly, the security tablet in Chen Bo's hand began to emit a shrill, piercing alarm.
"What is that?" Lu Senior asked, entering the room with a calculated frown.
"Just a... technical glitch, Sir!" Chen scrambled to silence the device, but the screen had locked into a high-contrast display of payroll names—names that didn't exist.
Lin Yan let out a small, high-pitched gasp, dropping his silver spoon onto his porcelain plate. The clatter was like a gunshot in the silent room. "The singing birds! They're in the tablet! Look, Jingho! The names... they look like the ones in my picture book. 'John Doe 1', 'John Doe 2'... do they live in the Madrid pool?"
"Go on, Refrigerator! Seize the moment!" the inner voice urged. "The evidence is literally screaming in his hand. If you don't act now, I'm going to have to 'accidentally' spill my juice on his tablet to short-circuit his delete command."
Jingho didn't need the juice. He stood up, his presence filling the room with a suffocating, executive authority. He didn't walk toward Lin Yan; he walked straight toward Chen Bo.
"Hand it over, Chen," Jingho commanded, his voice a low, lethal vibration.
"Sir, this is confidential security protocol—"
"I am the security protocol," Jingho roared, snatching the tablet from Chen's shaking hand.
Jingho's eyes scanned the screen. He saw the "Ghost Guards," the redirected funds, and the final destination: Costa del Sol, Spain. But more importantly, he saw a log of his own nightly movements being sold to their rivals.
The rage that surged through Jingho was unlike anything he had ever felt. It wasn't just corporate betrayal; it was the realization that this man had been the one "protecting" the boy he had allowed to suffer.
"Security!" Jingho shouted.
The actual guards—the few who were loyal—burst into the room.
"Take him," Jingho said, his voice shaking with a controlled fury. "And call the police. Tell them we have a confession, bank records, and three years of embezzlement ready for them."
As Chen Bo was dragged out, screaming about how he would take the company down with him, Lin Yan slumped back in his chair, his face turning pale. The "acting" was over, but the adrenaline of the hack and the proximity to the violence had triggered his panic.
He clutched his gloved hands to his chest, his breathing turning into shallow, jagged gasps.
"Too loud," he whispered, his eyes wide and vibrating with fear. "Everything is... too loud."
"It hurts," the inner voice whimpered, and the sound was so full of raw, bleeding trauma that it made Lu Senior turn away to hide his own tears. "The screaming... the grabbing... I just want to go back to the blue light. I want my walls. Please... don't let them touch me."
Jingho immediately signaled the guards to be quiet as they cleared the room. He stayed at the 3.5-meter mark, his heart breaking for the boy who had just saved his empire but was now drowning in the aftermath.
"Mrs. Gable," Jingho said softly to the housekeeper waiting in the shadows. "Take him to his room. Dim the lights. No one is to enter the West Wing for the rest of the day."
Mother Lu walked over to the table after Lin Yan had been led away. She looked at the tablet, then at her son. "He did it again, Jingho. He found the one person we trusted the most and exposed him as a traitor. And he did it while pretending to talk to birds."
"He's not just finding them, Mother," Jingho said, his voice a mixture of awe and determination. "He's hunting them. And from now on, I'm the one who's going to make sure the trap snaps shut."
Jingho looked down at his hands. He was still holding Lin Yan's fallen silver spoon. He placed it carefully on a silk napkin, his grip lingering.
I hear you, Lin Yan, he thought, looking toward the hallway. I hear every word you don't say. And I will never let them make you scream again.
Upstairs, in the darkness of his room, Lin Yan lay on the floor, his back against the cool biometric door. He was shaking, but his mind was already moving to the next target.
"One security chief down," his mind whispered, the wit returning like a flickering candle in a storm. "But Chen was just the doorman. The real monster is the one who paid him. The one with the 'Star of the East' perfume and the snake-skin heels. Hello, Auntie Lin. I think it's time we looked at your 'charity' foundations."
[System Pulse: Next Target Locked.]
[Gossip File: The Lin Family Charity Fraud... Loading.]
Lin Yan closed his eyes, his gloved hand tracing the patterns on the carpet. He was the ghost in the mansion, the whisper in the CEO's ear, and the beginning of a revolution.