Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
The scent of Lin Xueyao's Dior J'adore perfume mixed with the smell of printer ink wafted through the air as I was revising the third version of the emergency plan. Her coral-painted fingernail tapped against the edge of my monitor, and the strap of her bag slipped down, revealing a Tiffany key pendant that swayed at her collarbone. "Shen Momo~" The elongated tone made my back teeth clench. "Manager Wang has been calling you to the small meeting room a lot lately?"
The dregs of Pu'er tea in my thermos swirled as I suddenly caught a glimpse of Zhang Zhiqiang's shiny bald head reflected on the computer screen. He was leaning against the partition of the adjacent workstation, his gold-rimmed glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. "Young people need to be grounded; don’t always think about taking shortcuts."
The clouds outside hung lower in the sky, and I touched the throbbing vein at my brow with my fingertips resting on my glasses. "Supervisor Zhang." The creaking sound of my swivel chair drowned out my cold chuckle in my throat. "About the incident on the sixteenth of last month when you unauthorizedly accessed the reserve funds, do you need me to pull up screenshots of the OA approval process?"
Lin Xueyao's coffee cup suddenly tipped over, brown liquid seeping into a map-like stain on the cover of the emergency plan. Her false eyelashes fluttered at double speed. "Ah~ Brother Shen Mo is so fierce~" A half lip print from Chanel lipstick was left on the rim of her cup. "I’m just worried that Manager Wang might use you as a pawn."
As I stood up, my chair knocked against the metal filing cabinet, creating a dull echo that startled the dozing intern awake. The automatic water dispenser in the tea room was beeping, its red indicator light resembling a blood scab embedded in the concrete wall.
"The surveillance at the southern warehouse captured five unfamiliar license plates." I whispered into my thermos, exhaling white mist, while Li Ming's keystrokes echoed through my Bluetooth headset. "Zhao Tianlong met with Lin's second son last night at Binjiang Club’s top floor."
A stainless steel spoon suddenly screeched against the bottom of a mug, and hurried high heel clicks approached from behind. When I turned around, I locked eyes with Lin Xueyao, her pupils dilated in fear as she held a Financial Statement with its binding pin glinting an eerie blue light.
Just then, all the overhead lights in the office area went out. Amidst rising screams, I stumbled in the dark, knocking over three chairs before reaching my workstation—my computer screen glowed ominously, displaying an error message for the 27th incorrect password attempt.
The encrypted file Li Ming sent was pulsating on my USB drive. As I unlocked it, I caught a whiff of lingering Dior perfume from between the keyboard keys. Suddenly, seven spam emails popped up in my corporate inbox, all from an ID made up of garbled characters: "LYX."
"At the third bend of the ventilation duct." Gripping the evidence USB tightly as I dashed into the security corridor, the heavy fire door slammed against the wall with a loud echo that triggered all motion-sensor lights in the building. My fingertips brushed against sticky residue from throat lozenges that Zhang Zhiqiang had been sneaking every day.
The sunset streaming through gaps in the café's blackout curtains resembled a bloodied scalpel. When Li Ming slid over a latte to me, its latte art had collapsed into a grotesque face: "Zhao Tianlong has twenty-seven shell companies overseas; in just three months, his cash flow is enough to buy half the city."
I paused mid-action as I crushed a sugar cube; granulated sugar fell onto the coaster, forming an outline of Shen Group's logo. Outside, a withered leaf floated past and stuck to a "Prime Shop for Rent" notice, eerily reminiscent of that shocking deficit on our financial report.
"Next week, the board will be re-elected." Li Ming's glasses reflected a glint that concealed the tremor in his pupils. "The old man said it's time for blood to be shed..." He traced a straight line on the rim of his cup with his thumb, wiping away the water stain. "The blade must be cold enough."
Suddenly, his phone in his pocket vibrated. An unfamiliar number sent a blurry photo—my silhouette from last night, squatting in the power distribution room while changing the surveillance hard drive. The second message quickly followed: "Mr. Xiao Shen Can we talk?" The signature was Lin Xueyao with a private emoji smile.
From the corner convenience store came the bubbling sound of oden boiling. As I turned off the screen, I caught a glimpse of a half-exposed face behind gold-rimmed glasses in the reflection. Zhao Tianlong's confidant was across the zebra crossing, munching on a rice ball, grains sticking to his suit's lapel like white maggots.
It was at that moment that the torrential rain came crashing down. Through the curtain of rain, the black Bentley's turn signal blinked rhythmically, three short flashes followed by two long ones—just like the rhythm my mother taught me to recognize Morse Code twenty years ago.
Comment 0 Comment Count