The international showroom of the American Trade Delegation inside the newly opened Capital Financial Center was a glittering expanse of polished plate glass, imported steel frames, and the aggressive, sterile scent of high-finance capitalism. This was a sharp contrast to the brick-and-mortar factories of the capital; it was the absolute vanguard of foreign currency influx.
Lin Xi walked onto the mirrored marble floor of the penthouse suite. She wore her pristine white chef's jacket, her dark hair pinned back with her white platinum National Logistics Star. Her sharp, hawk-like eyes tracked the gathered wall of international journalists, radio commentators, and trade delegates currently adjusting their microphone stands.
Beside her, Gu Shaozheng stood in his high-ranking green uniform, his heavy leather combat boots thudding rhythmically against the stone, his cold gaze locked on the central stage.
"The American trust operating under the name The Vanguard Food Trust has spent the last forty-eight hours mobilizing their legal networks," Shaozheng whispered closely to her ear, his deep voice dropping into a low rumble. "Their corporate director, Arthur Vance, didn't come to negotiate, Xi'er. He has officially filed a high-level Intellectual Property Blockade with the Ministry of Foreign Trade, backed by international patent claims. He is attempting to freeze your entire European cargo fleet at the high docks on allegations of biological patent piracy."
"A foreign patent claim is just like an unseasoned soup, Shaozheng," Lin Xi replied smoothly, her posture straight and unyielding. "It looks imposing under a glass dome, but the moment you taste it, you realize it lacks any real structural meat. They believe that because they hold an international paper seal from Washington, they can legally seize the velocity of my kitchen."
Before she could reach her seat, Arthur Vance stepped onto the central podium. He was a sharp, calculating man in his early fifties wearing an immaculate, expensive charcoal Western suit and gold-rimmed spectacles. He didn't offer a polite administrative greeting; he gestured to a massive projection screen displaying complex biological cell sequencing charts.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the press," Arthur Vance announced, his voice projecting across the room with the smooth, condescending arrogance of a multi-national tycoon.
"The Vanguard Food Trust welcomes the capital's opening to the global market, but international trade requires absolute adherence to global patent laws. Our laboratory technicians in New York have systematically analyzed the biological structure of The Xi Garden's sauce. The active yeast strain—what Miss Lin calls 'Fermented Gold'—matches the exact cellular sequencing of our existing Western Agricultural Patent No. 402, drafted and registered by our trust five years ago. Under international trade protocols, The Xi Garden is guilty of direct biological piracy. We are demanding an immediate cessation of all global export lines, or an absolute, multi-million dollar hostile acquisition of their trademark today."
The surrounding international journalists instantly erupted into a frantic frenzy of shouting and flashing cameras, their pens flying across their notebooks. The legal trap was lethal: use a fraudulent international patent claim to brand her a thief on the global stage, freeze her shipping vessels at foreign ports, and force her to surrender the Mother Yeast culture to save her brand from international ruin.
"Miss Lin Xi has exactly five minutes to respond to our legal acquisition offer," Vance smirked, adjusting his glasses as his secretaries stepped forward holding a multi-million dollar transfer contract. "Failing immediate signature, our legal blockade will freeze your cargo ships at the European docks by tomorrow morning."
Lin Xi didn't waste a single millisecond presenting modern corporate balance sheets or pleading for administrative extensions with the ministry.
Moving with explosive, theatrical composure, she marched straight up onto the central stage, completely ignoring the American secretaries as she slammed a small, weathered leather-bound diary flat onto the central podium right over his patent documents. The heavy, gold-embossed ancestral seal of the Yunnan line caught the glare of the flashbulbs.
"Director Vance, your international patent claim isn't a legal validation; it is a fraudulent, primitive piece of corporate robbery executed by a desperate multi-national cartel," Lin Xi's clear, commanding voice rang out across the hall like a silver bell, entirely unfazed by his financial weight.
"You claim your laboratory technicians in New York invented and patented this biological sequencing five years ago?" Lin Xi challenged, her predatory eyes locking Vance's soul to the stage. "I am giving this entire global press corps an absolute lesson in historical metrics. Look at the ancestral registry logs inside this diary."
She flipped the parched, unrefined bamboo pages open beneath the camera lenses.
"This is the official, verified culinary ledger of the Yunnan Master Chefs, retrieved straight from the restricted southern border vaults. This exact biological sequencing—the precise fermentation blueprint of the Fermented Gold yeast culture—was systematically documented, stabilized, and utilized by my ancestors during the mid-Qing Dynasty, centuries before your multi-national trust even drew its first breath of capital. Under the historical continuity laws of international trade, your New York patent is nothing more than a cheap, secondary duplication of an ancestral state treasure. You didn't invent this culture, Arthur; your scouts merely caught the scent of my lineage's kitchen."
Arthur Vance's face instantly shifted from smug satisfaction to a violent, sickly shade of pale gray as the international journalists scrambled forward, their cameras zooming in on the ancient characters and the centuries-old wax seals stamped on the bamboo paper.
"This... this is an unverified civilian artifact!" Vance stammered, sweat instantly pouring down his neck, staining his expensive silk tie. "Ancient family folklore cannot override a modern Western agricultural patent in a global court of trade!"
"The historical ledger doesn't need to override your patent, Director Vance, because your laboratory synthetics cannot even duplicate the primitive stability of the recipe," Lin Xi smiled sharply, her hawk-like eyes flashing with an unyielding dominance.
Moving with lightning speed, she cracked open a glistening golden aluminum tin of her sauce, pouring a thick, rich crimson dollop straight into a clear glass flask containing raw table salt and distilled water. The instant the molecules collided, the brilliant, iridescent electric-blue signature of her Micro-Encapsulated yeast strain bloomed outward in a series of perfect, shimmering geometric veins beneath the studio lights.
"This iridescent blue signature is an organic chemical reaction triggered exclusively by the volcanic black stone-salt sourced from our restricted southern defense mines," Lin Xi announced loudly into the press microphones.
"Your Western factories rely on synthetic chemical preservatives because your trust lacks the geographical and biological keys to balance this living culture line. If your legal blockade attempts to freeze a single one of my cargo ships tomorrow morning... the Northern Command's Logistics Division will officially designate The Vanguard Food Trust's capital assets as a hostile economic sabotage ring. Colonel Jiang's auditing squads will execute an immediate perimeter seizure of your international showroom before your bank accounts can clear the zone."
Gu Shaozheng strode straight onto the stage, his towering, lethal uniform presence completely blocking out Vance's legal team as his hand rested casually against his holster.
"The capital's foreign trade gates are open for legitimate commerce, Director Vance," Shaozheng announced, his deep voice dropping into a low, terrifying rumble that caused the microphone stands to audibly vibrate. "But if your trust attempts to weaponize fraudulent international litigation against a national defense supply line... we will treat your corporate agents as unflagged foreign spies. The Garrison Reconnaissance Unit is already stationed at your lower garage doors."
Arthur Vance's spectacles slipped from his nose, clattering loudly against the wooden stage floorboards as he stared into the freezing, hawk-like eyes of the Commander and the massive wall of flashing cameras. He realized with absolute, crushing finality that his multi-national trust had blindly collided with an unbreakable wall of ancestral history and raw military iron. His legal team frantically grabbed his arms, dragging the broken director off the podium as the international press corps erupted into a roaring frenzy of shouting and flashbulbs.
Lin Xi calmly reclaimed her father's ancient leather-bound diary, tucking it securely back into her white chef's jacket. She looked up at Gu Shaozheng, a brilliant, secret smile cutting across her lips as the international media swarmed her pass for exclusive statements. The second global blockade of the final arc was completely and triumphantly conquered. Her international trade reputation was now completely untouchable on both sides of the ocean.
"You handled that press conference beautifully, Empress," Gu Shaozheng whispered closely to her ear, his large hand gently catching hers behind the podium, his grip warm and unyielding.
"The Western trust was merely a secondary distraction, Shaozheng," Lin Xi smirked, her eyes flashing toward the high stone buildings of the central planning bureau on the horizon. "The real cartels are currently assembling their final political trap inside the Supreme Administrative Chamber. Go notify A-Mei to prepare the transport trucks. It's time to go break the Ministry's last line."