The call came from a new number — Aunt Liu, the nosy neighbor from the old family building.
Li Wei answered on speaker while cleaning a rifle in the armory.
"Wei-wei… it's Aunt Liu. Your mother is in bad shape. They're eating instant noodles every day now. She cries every night, saying she made a terrible mistake cutting contact. Can you at least send a little money? Just a little?"
Li Wei's hand paused on the cleaning rod.
"Tell her this," he said quietly. "I gave them one hundred million RMB. They chose how to use it. My door is closed. Permanently."
Aunt Liu gasped audibly.
"Wei-wei! How can you be so cold-hearted? Blood is thicker than water!"
"Blood pushed me off a rooftop once," Li Wei replied. "Water is cleaner."
He ended the call.
Old Huang lifted his head and growled softly at the silent phone.
Chen Hao, entering with perimeter reports, caught the tail end of the conversation but asked nothing. He simply placed the tablet on the table and left.
That night Li Wei personally installed the next layer of security: motion-activated sensors buried along the outer perimeter and four remote-controlled turrets disguised as decorative lampposts. Each turret held suppressed 7.62mm rounds — enough to shred anything human-sized that approached uninvited.
The compound was no longer merely a shelter.
It was evolving into something far more dangerous.