The night before Shen Yijun's company was supposed to ring the opening bell on the STAR Market, the entire Shanghai financial circle received the same mysterious calendar invite:
Time: 19:30–23:59
Location: The Bund Finance Center, 100th floor Sky Ring
Dress code: Black tie or blood
Subject: Preferred Liquidation Event
No one knew who sent it.
Everyone came anyway.
At 19:28, the elevator doors slid open.
Lin Zhi stepped out first.
She wore a backless, black silk velvet column gown (custom Rick Owens), slit so high that every step revealed the lace edge of a black garter.
On her neck: a single diamond choker worth exactly 18 million RMB, the exact amount of the final bridge loan Shen Yijun had begged from her six years ago and never repaid.
Behind her walked Fu Juanzhou in midnight-blue peak-lapel tuxedo, one hand resting possessively at the small of her back.
The diamond on her ring finger was new.
Ten carats, internally flawless, cut by the same jeweller who did the Hope Diamond.
No one had seen it before tonight.
The entire floor had been transformed into a real-time trading floor.
Seventy-inch screens lined the circular wall, scrolling live data.
One ticker dominated:
WHALEFALL CULTURE (Pre-IPO)
Current offer: ￥41.20
Bid: ￥0.03
Spread: 99.93%
Volume: 1.37 billion shares (all short)
At 19:30 sharp, the lights dropped to blood-red.
Shen Yijun was dragged onto the central elevated platform by two black-suited security men.
His tuxedo was wrinkled, eyes red, mouth sealed with silver duct tape printed with the words:
RELATED-PARTY TRANSACTION
A live microphone was shoved into Lin Zhi's hand.
She smiled, sweet, lethal.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for accepting my invitation to tonight's preferred liquidation event."
She pressed a remote.
The main screen flashed open a 273-page deck titled:
"WhaleFall Culture – Full Disclosure Package (as required by CSRC Circular 2019/113)"
Page 1: A photograph of Shen Yijun and the infamous Red Princess in bed, timestamped the exact night he had told Lin Zhi, "I'm working late at the office."
Page 2: Bank transfers—18 million RMB—from Lin Zhi's personal account to WhaleFall's seed round, marked "Love & Trust Investment".
Page 173: A WeChat screenshot of Shen Yijun messaging a new 22-year-old influencer last week:
"Baby, once I'm listed I'll buy you a flat in Tomson Riviera. My ex was just free traffic anyway."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Lin Zhi walked slowly around the bound Shen Yijun like a shark circling a bleeding whale.
"Six years ago," her voice was soft enough for the microphone to catch every tremor, "this man convinced me that love was an uncapped round with no liquidation preference.
He took my youth, my savings, my users, my nights, and when the term sheet finally came, he exercised his full ratchet and diluted me to zero."
She stopped in front of him, bent down, peeled the tape off his mouth with manicured fingers.
Shen Yijun spat blood. His voice was cracked, desperate:
"Zhi-zhi, I was wrong… We can still fix the filing, I'll give you 10% of the IPO shares, 15%, please—"
Lin Zhi turned to the crowd, smiling.
"Does anyone here want to buy his apology at par?"
Laughter. Cold, sharp.
She raised a small remote and pressed once.
Every screen in the room turned crimson.
A single line appeared:
EXECUTE PREFERRED LIQUIDATION
The floor beneath Shen Yijun's feet dropped six inches, a circular trapdoor.
He screamed as a steel claw clamped around his ankle, hoisting him upside down like a carcass.
From the ceiling descended a transparent acrylic tank, three metres tall, already half-filled with dark, viscous liquid.
A digital sign above it read:
LIQUIDATION WATERFALL – CURRENT VALUE: ￥28.6 billion → ￥0
Lin Zhi spoke into the microphone again, conversational, almost gentle.
"In every fund I manage, preferred investors get paid first.
Tonight, I am the preferred."
She pressed the remote again.
The claw released.
Shen Yijun plunged head-first into the tank.
The liquid was not water.
It was printer ink mixed with pig blood (temperature 37 °C, exactly body warmth).
Cameras flashed. Phones rose. The scene was being live-streamed to every finance WeChat group in the country.
Shen Yijun thrashed, choking, black-red liquid pouring into his mouth, nose, eyes.
Lin Zhi walked to the tank, placed one palm against the acrylic, and spoke loud enough for the underwater mics to catch:
"This is what zero looks like, Shen Yijun.
This is what it feels like when the girl you diluted finally exercises her liquidation preference."
The crowd was silent now, drunk on fear and awe.
Then Fu Juanzhou stepped forward.
He did not raise his voice. He simply took the microphone from Lin Zhi's hand and said four words:
"CSRC has suspended trading indefinitely.
WhaleFall Culture is delisted before it ever listed.
Short squeeze complete.
Profit realized: ￥29.4 billion."
He turned to Lin Zhi, dropped to one knee in front of the entire Shanghai financial elite, and opened a black velvet box.
Inside was not a ring.
It was a single share certificate.
Issuer: Fu Capital Partners IV
Class: Preferred GP Carry
Percentage: 20%
Vesting: Immediate
Holder: Lin Zhi (irrevocable)
He looked up at her, voice low, but the microphone carried it to every corner:
"I offer you permanent preferred liquidation rights over everything I own.
My funds, my name, my future exits.
Marry me, and the waterfall will always pay you first."
The ink in the tank had begun to overflow, dripping onto the marble like black tears.
Lin Zhi stared at him for a long second.
Then she smiled, the most dangerous smile of the night.
She took the certificate, tore it neatly in half, and let the pieces flutter into the blood-ink pool.
"I don't want preferred," she said clearly.
"I want control."
She reached into her clutch, pulled out a new document (only one page), and held it up for the cameras.
It was a marriage certificate application, already pre-filled, missing only two signatures.
But the terms printed beneath were not standard.
Article 7: Upon signing, all separate property of both parties shall be converted into joint marital property with 50/50 split, irrevocable even in divorce.
Article 8: Either party may trigger dissolution at any time; triggering party forfeits 100% of assets to the other.
Article 9: Children (if any) shall be raised under the non-triggering party's sole custody and name.
In short: whoever wants to leave loses everything.
Lin Zhi uncapped a fountain pen with her teeth and signed her name in one stroke.
Then she held the pen out to Fu Juanzhou.
The entire floor held its breath.
Fu Juanzhou looked at the marriage certificate, then at the woman in front of him (dripping in other men's blood and his own ambition).
He laughed once, short, feral, delighted.
He took the pen and signed beneath her name without hesitation.
The moment the ink dried, the lights exploded into white.
Fireworks detonated across the entire Bund, spelling two words in scarlet against the night sky:
LIQUIDATION COMPLETE
Shen Yijun was still screaming inside the tank, but no one was looking at him anymore.
Lin Zhi turned to the crowd, voice bright and final:
"Thank you all for witnessing tonight's preferred liquidation.
Drinks are on the house.
The next round will be served in hell."
She slipped her hand into Fu Juanzhou's, fingers interlaced like handcuffs.
Together they walked out, leaving footprints of black-red ink across the marble.
Behind them, the tank lights dimmed to a single line of glowing text:
Current valuation of love:
Priceless
Recommended position:
Short the one who leaves first.
The first public execution is complete.
Shen Yijun is destroyed.
The marriage bomb is armed.