The High Commercial Court of the Central Ministry of Foreign Trade was a cavernous, intimidating hall of polished granite arches and dark, towering mahogany judicial benches. The atmosphere inside was suffocatingly formal, smelling of old, rotting ink ledgers and stale green tea. Outside, the capital's winter blizzard continued to beat rhythmically against the towering frosted glass windows.
Lin Xi stood dead center on the stone tribunal floor. She didn't wear a submissive civilian silk gown to court the favor of the state regulators; she stood in her pristine, high-collared white chef's jacket, her dark hair pulled back into an unyielding, razor-sharp knot. Her small hands rested calmly on the edge of the wooden defense bar.
Elevated high above her sat Director Song—the corrupted elder brother of the demoted Vice-Minister she had broken at her wedding reception. His face was a mask of cold, bureaucratic arrogance, his fingers idly twirling a heavy wooden judicial gavel. Standing to his immediate right in the designated diplomatic gallery was Lord Edward Sterling, his gold-rimmed spectacles catching the dim light of the chandeliers, a smug, triumphant grin cutting across his features.
"This high commercial tribunal is now in emergency session," Director Song bellowed, his voice echoing off the granite columns as he slammed his gavel down with a deafening CRACK.
"A formal, high-level corporate brief has been submitted to this ministry by the international diplomatic trade attachés. The documentation provides verified testimony that The Xi Garden's automated Western Gate factory lot is utilizing non-standard, unrefined biological elements—specifically the unregulated Fermented Gold yeast strain—that violate the newly enacted National Hygiene Protocols. Under the emergency provisions of the 1982 Food Hygiene Law, this court is preparing to execute an immediate, indefinite freeze on all global export accounts and logistics lines bearing the Xi Garden trademark."
The surrounding gallery of state bureaucrats and local trade merchants instantly erupted into a frantic wave of whispering. The European syndicate's strategy was textbook 1980s bureaucratic warfare: since they couldn't physically steal the living Mother Yeast from her insulated factory hearth, they were using their bought-and-paid-for ministry directors to legally strangle her financial pipelines, forcing her into an immediate corporate default on her foreign contracts.
"Miss Lin Xi, you have exactly five minutes to produce a certified central validation certificate for your biological cultures," Director Song hissed, leaning over the bench with a sour, predatory smile. "Failing immediate document verification, this court will sign the padlocking directive for your processing floor before the noon bugle sounds."
Lin Xi didn't waste a single millisecond presenting ancient trade receipts or begging for an administrative extension. She didn't even hire a state defense attorney.
Moving with absolute, theatrical composure, she reached into the inner lining of her chef's jacket. She didn't pull out her father's old trade logs. Instead, she produced a heavy, thick leather binder stamped with a massive, brilliant crimson wax seal—the supreme Strategic Defense Supply Ledger of the Northern Command Logistics Division.
"Director Song, your emergency tribunal isn't a legal court of hygiene verification; it is a fraudulent, corrupt theater performance bought by a desperate foreign syndicate," Lin Xi's clear, commanding voice cut through the murmurs like a silver blade, entirely unfazed by his judicial weight.
"You claim my Fermented Gold yeast strain is an irregular biological hazard under civilian light industry law?" Lin Xi challenged, her hawk-like eyes locking Song's soul to his high chair. "I am forcing this entire panel to look at actual national metrics. Read line fourteen of the Supreme Defense Ledger."
She slammed the heavy leather binder flat onto the central clerk's desk with a resounding THUD.
"As of exactly thirty days ago, The Xi Garden's automated manufacturing lines have been officially integrated into the critical national defense supply grid of this country," Lin Xi announced loudly, her voice projecting absolute commercial dominance into the press microphones at the back of the hall.
"My Western Gate factory lot systematically manufactures and packages five thousand crates of the upgraded Sulfuric Sauce a month to stabilize the dietary rations of three entire army corps stationed along the frozen northern borders. Sixty-five percent of my operational capital lines are generated directly by the National Defense Logistics budget. Under Section 4 of the National Security Code, any unauthorized civilian bureaucrat who attempts to freeze, seize, or legally bottleneck the financial bank accounts of an active defense manufacturer... is legally committing an act of high-level structural sabotage against the state military apparatus."
Director Song's face instantly shifted from smug satisfaction to a violent, sickly shade of mottled purple. His hand froze inches above his wooden gavel. He glanced frantically toward Lord Sterling in the diplomatic gallery for a political lifeline, but the British merchant remained entirely static, his jaw slacking as he decoded the lethal military trap Lin Xi had laid on the floor.
"This... this is an irregular administrative overlap!" Director Song stammered, sweat instantly pouring down his neck, staining his crisp cadre collar. "The Ministry of Foreign Trade retains supreme jurisdiction over all international shipping finances! A private military contract cannot override—"
BANG!
The massive, double-leaved oak doors at the rear of the courtroom were violently kicked open against the granite stonework.
Gu Shaozheng marched onto the tribunal floor. He wore his full, high-ranking dark green winter dress uniform, his brass buttons gleaming like fire, his heavy officer's combat boots clicking with terrifying rhythmic authority against the marble tiles. Walking directly behind him was an armed tactical squad of eight soldiers from the Garrison Reconnaissance Unit, their hands resting firmly on their rifles.
"The military code doesn't execute administrative overrides, Director Song," Gu Shaozheng announced, his deep voice dropping into a low, terrifying rumble that caused the glass light fixtures to audibly vibrate. "The military code executes arrests."
Shao Zheng strode straight up to the judicial bench, ignoring the screaming legal secretaries as he slapped an official, gold-stamped warrant directly over the director's padlocking directive.
"At exactly 4:00 AM this morning, the Garrison Intelligence Unit intercepted the full, encrypted bank transfer logs from the Foreign Friendship Hotel," Gu Shaozheng stated, his freezing, hawk-like eyes drilling a hole straight through the director's trembling spectacles.
"Director Song, you and your brother have systematically accepted a total of twelve thousand yuan in offshore bribes from Lord Sterling's syndicate to execute this fraudulent quarantine trial against a national security asset. Under the explicit emergency decrees of the Supreme Military Council, you are officially stripped of your administrative title and placed under active arrest for high-level corporate espionage and state treason."
"This is an outrage! You cannot breach a central ministry courtroom without an international warrant!" Lord Sterling shrieked from the gallery, his face flushing with psychotic panic as the soldiers instantly swarmed the benches, completely blocking the exits.
"The Northern Command requires zero civilian warrants to secure its defense supply lines, Lord Sterling," Lin Xi smiled sharply, turning her head to look up at the broken merchant with absolute, unyielding dominance.
"Go back to your diplomatic quarters, Edward. Pack your leather bags. Your corruption network inside this capital has just been completely gutted down to the concrete floor. Director Song is heading to a garrison cell, and your legal quarantine ban is nothing more than scrap paper for my furnace. The global trade accounts of The Xi Garden remain entirely unhindered. Next week, my transport trucks load the second fleet."
Gu Shaozheng gave a sharp, mechanical nod to his squad. The armed soldiers brutally hauled the screaming, weeping Director Song down from his high judicial chair, slamming his wrists into heavy steel irons before dragging him across the granite floor. The courtroom erupted into an absolute frenzy of shouting and flashing press cameras as the journalists scrambled to record the complete, systematic liquidation of the corrupted department.
Lin Xi calmly reached down, reclaimed her heavy leather defense ledger from the clerk's desk, and tucked it back securely into her white chef's jacket. She looked up at Gu Shaozheng, a brilliant, secret smile cutting across her lips as the air in the hall finally cleared of the bureaucratic rot. The second major political blockade of the capital arc was completely conquered. Her industrial food empire was now entirely untouchable by law.
"You executed that legal extraction beautifully, Commander," Lin Xi smirked, her eyes flashing with a predatory fire as they walked shoulder-to-shoulder out of the grand granite arches.
"The ministry is cleared, Xi'er," Gu Shaozheng whispered closely to her ear, his hand catching hers beneath the shadow of the stone portico. "But the European syndicate is completely desperate now. My border intelligence just transmitted an urgent telegram from the southern rail line. Lord Sterling's residual faction has just purchased the central private transit junction near the Yunnan pass. They are executing a total rail blockade to starve your capital factory of its raw volcanic stone-salt before the weekend."
Lin Xi adjusted her canvas jacket against the biting winter wind, her lips twisting into a cold, lethal smile. "Then they have just forced me to accelerate my logistics. Tell A-Mei to crank the transport trucks. We are about to show the syndicates how a master chef bypasses a railroad track."