Lin Ze didn't sleep.
Not because his bed was uncomfortable—his new apartment was too perfect for that, all clean lines and quiet luxury—but because silence here had a different weight. In his old room, silence meant rest. Here, silence meant someone was thinking.
Watching.
Planning.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the city as if it could explain itself. His phone lay on the kitchen counter. He hadn't opened Lin Meiqi's last message again, but he didn't need to.
Curiosity has a cost.
He'd sent it like a warning.
But warnings, he was learning, could sound like invitations.
The phone vibrated.
Caller ID: "S.Y."
Lin Ze answered without hesitation.
Su Yanli's voice came through calm, clear, as if she were speaking from a room without wind.
"Are you alone?" she asked.
"Yes."
A pause. The faintest breath.
"Good," she said. "Look at your email."
Lin Ze set the call on speaker and opened his new corporate inbox. A message sat at the top, flagged urgent.
Subject: : "Campus Sponsorship — Immediate Signature Required"
Attachment: : "Donation & Partnership Agreement — Harbor Asset Management"
Lin Ze frowned. "A university sponsorship?"
"It's your university," Su Yanli replied.
Lin Ze's hand paused on the trackpad. "Why?"
"Because," she said, "the safest place to hide power is in plain virtue."
He didn't like how clean the sentence sounded.
"And because," she continued, "someone is going to approach you tomorrow. I want you to meet her under our terms."
Lin Ze scanned the document. It was structured, legal, and carefully limited. A donation, a scholarship fund, a small research partnership—nothing that screamed corruption, everything that screamed respectability.
"You're building me a public face," Lin Ze said.
Su Yanli didn't deny it.
"I'm putting a collar on your reputation," she said. "It's softer than chains, and it holds better."
Lin Ze's eyes narrowed slightly. "Soft exclusivity?"
The silence on the line sharpened.
"Careful," Su Yanli said. "Say that again."
Lin Ze didn't flinch. "You want me attached to your name without the world being able to prove it."
Su Yanli's voice lowered, closer now.
"I want you reachable," she corrected. "And I want other women to understand one thing."
"What?"
"That if they come too close," she said, "they will have to come through me."
Lin Ze exhaled slowly. "So I'm a gate."
"A door," Su Yanli replied. "And doors have keys."
The line went quiet for a heartbeat, then Su Yanli added, almost casually:
"Lin Meiqi will contact you tonight."
"She already did," Lin Ze said.
"Then you will answer," Su Yanli said.
Lin Ze's brow lifted. "You said don't give her what she wants."
"Yes," Su Yanli replied, unbothered. "But you will give her what I want."
"And what do you want?" Lin Ze asked.
Su Yanli's tone softened—dangerously.
"I want her to believe she can win," she said. "So she stops being careful."
The call ended.
Lin Ze stared at the screen, feeling the shape of the trap forming around him. A trap built from politeness, money, and women.
His phone vibrated again.
Lin Meiqi.
Message: : "Come out." : "I'm downstairs."
Lin Ze didn't move immediately.
He walked to the window, looked down, and saw a figure near the building entrance. Even from this height, her posture was unmistakable—casual confidence, as if the street belonged to her because her attention had landed on it.
His phone buzzed again.
: "Don't pretend you're busy." : "I saw your lights."
Lin Ze smiled faintly.
Of course she did.
He put on a jacket and went downstairs.
Lin Meiqi was leaning against a sleek white coupe like it was a prop she'd rented for the mood. When she saw him, she straightened, lips curving like she'd won something already.
"You came," she said.
"You said you were downstairs," Lin Ze replied. "That's not a request. That's pressure."
Lin Meiqi stepped closer, eyes bright.
"Good," she said. "I like men who recognize pressure. It means you know what to do with it."
She lifted her phone and showed him a social feed.
His photo from the mall. His silhouette at the club. Comments stacking.
Speculation.
Jealousy.
Attention.
"See?" she said. "The city wants to know you."
Lin Ze looked at the screen without reacting. "And you want to be the one who introduces me."
Lin Meiqi's smile widened, impressed that he'd said it first.
"I want to be the one beside you when they stop guessing," she said. "That's how influence works."
Lin Ze tilted his head slightly. "So what's tonight?"
Lin Meiqi looked him up and down, unapologetic.
"Tonight is simple," she said. "A drive. A drink. A test."
"A test for what?" Lin Ze asked.
Lin Meiqi leaned closer, voice dropping.
"To see if you're owned," she said, "or if you're free."
There it was.
Direct.
Territorial.
Lin Ze's phone vibrated in his pocket, as if on cue.
He didn't check it yet.
He held Lin Meiqi's gaze and said calmly:
"Free men don't answer to rumors."
Lin Meiqi's eyes flicked. "Then answer to me."
Lin Ze took a slow breath.
He stepped to the passenger side of her car.
And opened the door.
Lin Meiqi's smile sharpened into satisfaction.
"That's better," she said.
As Lin Ze got in, his phone vibrated again. He glanced down.
A single message from Su Yanli:
: "Remember. Give her a leash, not your hand."
Lin Ze's mouth tightened slightly.
He looked up.
Lin Meiqi was watching him—watching the micro-movements that betrayed decisions.
"You're thinking about someone," she said.
"I'm thinking about consequences," Lin Ze replied.
Lin Meiqi started the engine.
"Then come create some," she said.
They drove through the city like a story being written by headlights. Lin Meiqi didn't choose crowded places. She chose scenic ones—bridges, riverfront roads, spots where the skyline looked like a promise.
"You're different than I expected," she said after a while.
Lin Ze stared out at the lights. "How did you expect me?"
"Older," Lin Meiqi admitted. "The car. The access. The way people moved around you. I expected a man who thinks he can buy silence."
"And what do you think now?" Lin Ze asked.
Lin Meiqi's fingers tightened slightly on the wheel.
"I think you're a man someone is building," she said. "Which means you're either dangerous… or disposable."
Lin Ze glanced at her. "Which do you prefer?"
Lin Meiqi laughed softly. "Dangerous."
She pulled into a quiet rooftop parking lot.
The city spread below them. Wind pressed against the car gently. Lin Meiqi turned off the engine, then turned to him fully, shoulders angled like a challenge.
"Tell me," she said, "who is Su Yanli to you?"
Lin Ze didn't blink. "You already know her."
Lin Meiqi's eyes narrowed. "I know her name. I know her division. I know she doesn't sit with random men."
She leaned closer.
"And I know she touched your arm in public," she said. "That's not business."
Lin Ze's phone buzzed again, as if laughing.
He ignored it.
Lin Meiqi studied him in the dark, then reached out and slid one finger along his tie—slow, deliberate.
"Are you hers?" she asked.
Lin Ze caught her wrist—not rough, not gentle. Controlled.
Lin Meiqi's breath hitched slightly, pleased rather than alarmed.
"No," Lin Ze said.
Lin Meiqi's eyes lit.
"Then be mine," she whispered, leaning closer.
Lin Ze released her wrist.
And leaned back instead.
Lin Meiqi froze, expression sharpening.
"You rejected me," she said.
Lin Ze's voice stayed calm. "I delayed you."
Her gaze turned dangerous. "Same thing."
Lin Ze looked at her steadily.
"If you want influence," he said, "don't chase what you can't keep. Build what you can."
Lin Meiqi stared at him for a long second.
Then her lips curved again—slower this time.
"You're not weak," she said. "You're trained."
Lin Ze didn't answer.
Lin Meiqi leaned back in her seat and exhaled, eyes glittering.
"Fine," she said. "Then I'll do it your way."
She opened her phone and showed him a new post draft—unpublished.
A photo taken at the mall, but cropped tighter. Cleaner. Intentional.
Caption draft: : "He doesn't talk much." : "But he listens." : "And he chooses."
Lin Ze's throat tightened slightly.
This wasn't romance.
This was a declaration.
"If I post this," Lin Meiqi said, voice soft, "everyone will come for you harder."
Lin Ze met her eyes. "And you?"
"I'll stand in front," she said. "People can hate me. They can envy me. But they'll remember I was first."
Lin Ze almost smiled.
Almost.
"You weren't first," he said.
Lin Meiqi's gaze darkened. "Then who was?"
Before he could respond, Lin Ze's phone vibrated again—this time not a message.
An email notification.
From the university.
Subject: : "Mandatory Meeting — Scholarship Partnership Representative" : "Professor Qin Ruo will oversee the signing."
Lin Ze's eyes paused.
Lin Meiqi noticed immediately.
"Professor?" she asked, suspicious. "What professor?"
Lin Ze didn't answer. He simply looked back at the skyline.
Lin Meiqi leaned closer again, voice sharp now.
"You're collecting women," she said. "That's what this is."
Lin Ze turned to her slowly.
"I'm collecting problems," he said.
Lin Meiqi stared, then laughed quietly.
"Good," she said. "Then I'll be your favorite problem."
The next morning, the campus looked the same as it always had.
That was the most dangerous part.
Students laughed, hurried, complained about classes—unaware that money was already moving beneath their feet.
Lin Ze walked toward the administration building in clean clothes that still felt unfamiliar. He wasn't overdressed, but he wasn't invisible anymore either.
Inside, a meeting room had been prepared. Tea, water, documents. Two administrators who smiled too hard.
And at the far end of the table—
Professor Qin Ruo.
She was younger than he expected. Twenty-eight, maybe. Hair pulled back cleanly. No sweetness. No softness. A presence that didn't beg for attention and therefore received it.
Her eyes lifted when he entered, and Lin Ze felt something different from what he felt with Su Yanli or Lin Meiqi.
Not desire.
Not claim.
Assessment.
"Mr. Lin Ze," Qin Ruo said calmly. "Please sit."
He sat.
Qin Ruo slid the partnership documents toward him without smiling.
"I read the entire agreement," she said. "Three times."
The administrators shifted uncomfortably.
Qin Ruo's gaze remained on Lin Ze.
"This is structured," she continued. "Cleverly so. It appears charitable. It appears clean."
She paused.
"But it also creates access," she said, voice flat. "Access to talent. Access to data. Access to influence."
Lin Ze didn't move.
Qin Ruo leaned forward slightly.
"So," she said, "tell me the truth."
The room quieted.
Lin Ze held her gaze.
"What truth?" he asked.
Qin Ruo's eyes narrowed, but not with anger—more like satisfaction that he didn't panic.
"The truth," she said, "about why a poor student suddenly represents Harbor Asset Management."
The administrators inhaled.
Lin Ze's expression stayed calm.
Qin Ruo watched him like she was waiting for a crack.
Then she added, almost softly:
"And before you answer," she said, "understand this."
Her eyes sharpened.
"I don't fear rich men," she said. "I teach them."
Lin Ze felt his pulse shift—not faster, but tighter.
This woman didn't want to claim him with touch.
She wanted to claim him with truth.
Outside the building, Lin Meiqi's message popped up again.
: "After your meeting, come find me." : "I'm not done marking you."
And somewhere else in the city, Su Yanli watched a report on her tablet, expression calm.
Not jealous.
Not yet.
Just… calculating.
Lin Ze stared at Professor Qin Ruo.
And for the first time, he realized:
Lin Meiqi would make him famous.
Su Yanli would make him powerful.
But Qin Ruo—
Qin Ruo could make him exposed.