Zeyan didn't move immediately.
He waited.
He watched.
And then, quietly, methodically, he began to pull threads.
---
The first came loose with a single email.
To the head of Jinlin's internal compliance division. Buried within it: a flagged payment trail, donations marked as "philanthropic support" routed through one of Tang Min's shell companies. The timing? Days before the first leak about Yaoyue hit the media.
Zeyan didn't need to say a word.
The data spoke for him.
By noon, the legal team had it.
By two, the board had been looped in.
By four, someone in PR had already started asking, "Should we be worried?"
He didn't respond.
He let them stew.
He wanted them nervous.
---
The second strike was more personal.
He met Tang Min for coffee, her idea.
She arrived in a scarlet blouse and glossy heels, all smiles and fake warmth.
"Zeyan," she purred. "It's been too long."
"You've been busy," he said coolly.
"Helping the less fortunate," she replied. "Someone has to balance the scale. Not all of us can throw contracts at nobodies and call it charity."
His jaw didn't move.
But his voice did.
"Is that what she was to you? A nobody?"
Tang Min blinked, just once. "Don't be dramatic. It's not personal."
"It is to me."
Her eyes flicked upward.
"Are you saying you actually care about her?"
"I'm saying," he replied, "that hurting her was your last mistake."
The smile slipped. Just for a moment.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"No?" He slid a small envelope across the table. "Then you won't mind this."
She opened it.
Inside: three screenshots. The payment records. The timestamped message between her assistant and a freelance journalist. Her own signature at the bottom of a "donation" form.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the paper.
Zeyan leaned forward.
"This is me being polite. Walk away from my company. Step out of the press. And keep her name out of your mouth."
Tang Min's voice was quieter now. "And if I don't?"
He stood.
"If you don't, I'll ruin you in every language the media speaks."
---
The third blow came through the back channels.
He called in a favor, one he hadn't used in years.
A tech firm owed him a debt. Something involving a patent and a quiet bailout.
He asked them to dig.
Three days later, he had a folder on the journalist who'd published the hospital video, every sponsor, every sponsor's sponsor, every account tied to ghost contributors.
He traced them back to two names.
One of them? A board member at Jinlin.
One who had publicly questioned Yaoyue's character.
Zeyan didn't give a warning.
He walked into the next board meeting with the folder in hand.
Set it down on the table.
And said, "Resign. Or be exposed."
The man blanched.
Another director spoke up. "Zeyan, this isn't…"
"It is," he cut in. "You think I've spent my life building this company to watch it be twisted into a weapon against someone I care about?"
He let the word hang.
Care.
He didn't explain it.
He didn't need to.
By the time the meeting ended, there were three resignations. One suspension. And a very quiet message sent through every corridor of Jinlin:
Lin Yaoyue is not to be touched.
---
He kept all of it from her.
Not because he didn't trust her, but because he knew she wouldn't want him to fight this way.
She believed in standing tall.
He believed in burying threats so deep they couldn't crawl back out.
---
Later that week, Thalia joined him in the elevator.
"Tell me this isn't about emotion," she said.
He stared straight ahead. "It's about precision."
She smirked. "Uh-huh. So why do you look like a man who's about to buy the moon and drop it on someone's house?"
"I'm only halfway done."
She raised an eyebrow. "How far are you going to take this?"
He didn't answer.
She didn't need him to.
Instead, she added, "She's going to find out eventually."
"I know."
"And when she does?"
"I hope she's still speaking to me."
Thalia laughed once. "You poor idiot. You're in deep."
He didn't deny it.
---
That night, Zeyan stood at the window again, same view, same skyline.
Only now, the world outside looked quieter.
Safer.
Because for the first time in a long time, the people who needed to be afraid weren't on his team.
They were on the list.
And he'd only just started crossing names off.