The return to the Ye Estate was shrouded in a heavy, contemplative silence that even the heater in the back of Lu Zhentian's private Rolls-Royce couldn't thaw. In Wanwan's lap sat the velvet-lined box containing the 'Phoenix Heart.' The ruby seemed to glow with a malevolent light, mocking the opulence of the vehicle. Beside her, Zhentian leaned back against the leather seat, his long legs crossed, his golden eyes fixed on her profile. He didn't ask why she had been so insistent on this specific piece of jewelry, nor did he mention the billion dollars he had just deleted from his personal accounts. To him, the money was a mere tool; the woman beside him was the only thing with true value.
"You're unusually quiet, even for a ghost," Zhentian remarked, his voice a low vibration that seemed to fill the cramped, luxurious space. He reached out, his warm fingers grazing the edge of the velvet box. "Is the weight of a billion dollars too heavy for your lap, or are you wondering why I knew exactly when to strike the final blow?" Wanwan didn't move. Her gaze remained fixed on the passing city lights. "You're a businessman, Zhentian. You don't spend a billion on a necklace unless you think there's a return on the investment. What is it you're really buying?" Zhentian leaned in, his heat pressing against her cold side, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm buying the right to watch you figure out whatever secret is hidden inside that stone. I'm buying a front-row seat to your war."
Upon arriving at the manor, the Ye family was in a state of celebratory chaos. Shuyin and Shijun were busy thanking the heavens, while the five brothers were split between their gratitude for the necklace's return and their utter fury that Zhentian had used it to "buy" his way deeper into Wanwan's life. "It's late," Wanwan announced, cutting through the chatter. "I need to examine the stone for any damage from the auction handling. I'll be in the Phoenix Pavilion. Do not disturb me." She didn't wait for an answer. She ascended the stairs with a predatory grace, the box clutched in her hand.
Once inside her suite, she didn't turn on the lights. She moved through the darkness with the familiarity of a shadow. She sat at her reinforced desk and opened her rucksack, pulling out a set of precision surgical tools and a high-frequency ultraviolet scanner. The 'Phoenix Heart' was not just a ruby; it was a marvel of 19th-century engineering. Using a silver needle, Wanwan applied a specific pressure to the third facet of the stone while simultaneously injecting a drop of her "Cold-Blood" stabilizer into the setting.
Click.
The ruby didn't break; it shifted. A microscopic compartment slid open, revealing a sliver of translucent film—the micro-map. Wanwan's heart, usually a steady, frozen rhythm, skipped a beat. She placed the film under her scanner. As the holographic image projected into the air, her obsidian eyes widened. This wasn't the map to the Phoenix Council's base. It was a tactical layout of the Ye Estate's sub-basement, marked with thermal sensors and a countdown timer that was currently at 02:14:00.
It was a trap. The "Lost" necklace had been found and placed in the auction specifically to be brought into the Ye household. It was a Trojan horse designed to bypass the estate's outer security.
"Looking for this?" a voice rasped from the balcony.
Wanwan's hand blurred, a silver needle already aimed at the intruder's throat. But she stopped. Lu Zhentian was standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the moonlight. He wasn't looking at her; he was looking at the hologram. His face was no longer that of a lovesick fiancé; it was the face of the Asura. "I traced the signal the moment the box entered the house," Zhentian said, stepping into the room. He held up his phone, which was displaying a localized jammer. "I've frozen the countdown for now, but we have two hours before the signal pings the 'Shadow Syndicate' for a manual detonation. Your 'sister' Aurora has very expensive friends, Wanwan."
Wanwan stood up, her coldness radiating in waves. "You knew."
"I suspected," Zhentian corrected, walking toward her until they were inches apart. He reached out and grabbed her hand—not to be shameless this time, but to steady the slight tremor caused by her dropping temperature. "I didn't buy the necklace to save the Ye family, Wanwan. I bought it because I knew it was the only way to draw the rats out of the walls. They think you're a country girl; they don't know they've just invited a God of Medicine and a King of War to their own funeral."
Wanwan looked at his hand, then at the map. The vulnerability of her family—her naive parents and her protective, unaware brothers—suddenly felt like a physical weight. "They're targeting the foundation," she whispered. "If that bomb goes off, the entire East Wing collapses. My mother is sleeping right above it."
Zhentian's grip tightened. "Then let's go. My men are already surrounding the perimeter, but the basement is reinforced with lead. My signals can't reach the detonator from here. We have to go down." He leaned down, his forehead touching hers, his golden eyes burning with a dark, terrifying promise. "Stay close to me, Wanwan. Use my heat to keep your needles steady. Tonight, we don't play the role of the fiancé and the heiress. Tonight, we show them why the Capital belongs to us."
Wanwan didn't pull away. For the first time, she allowed her cold hand to curl around his. "If you get in my way, Zhentian, I'll sew your lips shut."
Zhentian grinned, a lethal, hungry expression. "I'd like to see you try, little Phoenix."