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墨書 Inktalez
The scent of Lin Xueyao's perfume wrapped around me like a noose as I frowned at the 39% remaining data on the screen. Her newly done crystal nails tapped against the edge of my monitor, reflecting seven shades of malice.
The moment the computer chimed with an encrypted email notification, the administrative group chat exploded with ninety-nine screenshots. The finance manager, holding a coffee cup, knocked over a potted plant, splattering mud from the palm leaves into the shape of the chairman's family crest.
"Is Young Master Shen trying to experience life as a commoner?" Lin Xueyao's bangs brushed against my shoulder, her mascara clumping in the gaps, revealing a glimmer of light. The back of her phone case was stuck with shards of a surveillance camera, the cracks reflecting my profile from last night when I smashed the hard drive.
Suddenly, a mug from the adjacent workstation shattered, brown liquid spilling over Li Bai's poetry and soaking into the cuffs of my camel-colored pants. A new message popped up in the after-sales department chat: "The young master is helping the chairman check accounts"—the phone number linked to the account matched the serial number of the pinhole camera that had gone missing last week.
Zhang Zhiqiang kicked open the emergency exit door with a sound like a slaughterhouse chainsaw. The document bag tucked under his arm leaked coffee stains, resembling the overseas account transaction slip I had swapped out. "You son of a bitch, playing dumb!" He hurled a USB drive through the air, embedding it into the wall and becoming the thirteenth decorative nail.
As I took off my glasses to wipe them, I narrowly avoided a spray of spit. In the reflection of my lenses, I saw Wang Mingyuan standing at the corner of the spiral staircase. The cold light from his tie clip glinted like a new type of listening device, perfectly matching one that had appeared in my drawer this morning.
"Did the Shen family send you in as an undercover?" As Wang Mingyuan flipped through documents, ink seeped from their edges, quickly blurring into a distribution map of subsidiary companies. I unlocked my phone screen; the anti-peeping film only reflected my smiling face, while my eyes mirrored tampered firewall logs.
Suddenly, the hallway alarm blared wildly, and in the red light, an intern from the operations department stifled laughter behind her hand. The jade pendant swaying from her earlobe was item number 0327 from last week's board meeting surveillance footage that had gone missing.
As all seventeen elevators came to a halt simultaneously, I walked toward the control panel. The moment I unlocked it with my fingerprint, an administrator account popped up, plunging the entire hall into silence. The glass curtain wall reflected silhouettes hanging upside down from the twenty-sixth floor like silver salmon caught out of water.
"Since everyone enjoys riddles—" I pressed the iris recognition button for the president's private elevator; the unlocking sound echoed through the ten-meter-high lobby like a funeral bell. "Let me reintroduce myself: I am Special Inspector holding 31% equity in this group."
Zhang Zhiqiang's torn tie fell onto a lily at reception; its brittle snap resonated with his heartbeat when he embezzled his first kickback last year. Lin Xueyao stumbled back and knocked over an essential oil diffuser; rose oil flowed through the cracks in the tiles like a date for signing an illicit contract.
As black-clad bodyguards poured out from the emergency exit to form a human wall, I unbuttoned the second button of my shirt. The family crest in my hidden pocket burned an eye-circle-shaped mark under the spotlight, identical to the seventy million loss erased from this year's financial report.
"Misunderstanding! It's all a misunderstanding!" Zhang Zhiqiang rushed in, waving the prepared resignation letter, the edges of the document brushing against the golden thread of my sleeve. I calmly sidestepped, watching as the water bottle he knocked over spilled onto the podium, forming a water stain resembling the Swiss Bank logo.
Wang Mingyuan suddenly pressed down on my hand as I adjusted my cufflinks. The calloused tip of his index finger pressed precisely on the switch of a listening device. "The Special Inspector needs witnesses." The recording pen peeking from his suit pocket blinked in sync with the encrypted channel uploading in real-time from my computer.
As I stepped onto the stage, I adjusted the microphone. The electric hum mingled with the gasps rising from the twenty-seventh floor. A beam of light from the skylight sliced through the morning mist, illuminating thirty-six phone screens busy deleting chat histories.
"Regarding the reimbursement forms submitted by everyone this month—" I clicked the remote, and the projection screen crashed down, covering the group's annual slogan. Surveillance footage from last year's casino incident in Macau began to play, the sound of chips clattering drowning out his thud as he fell to the ground.
Outside the twenty-meter-wide floor-to-ceiling windows, shadows of helicopters swept by, their rotor blades roaring in a cacophony that overlapped with the sound of a suona from my mother's funeral three years ago. I gripped the edge of the podium tightly; the sharp pain of splintering pinewood was as clear as yesterday when she had clutched my wrist with all her strength as she took her last breath.
The Chief Financial Officer's stiletto heel suddenly snapped, and as she fell, her crocodile leather handbag flew open, spilling thirty-seven black cards that skidded across the bulletproof glass floor like stars in a galaxy. I undid my cufflinks and rolled up my shirt hem; my mechanical watch was counting down—exactly at the moment when the Yan Mountain Sanatorium's surveillance system went completely offline.
Amidst the commotion, a crisp shattering sound rang out; a blue-and-white vase collected by the chairman burst at Secretary Zhang's feet. I bent down to pick up the largest shard, its glazed surface gradually revealing last quarter's tampered equity structure diagram.
"Silence!" Secretary Ye's black leather shoes crunched over the debris, and in her hand, a Hetian Jade Seal glimmered with blood-red streaks in the morning light. "The chairman requests you to join him for morning tea." The red and blue threads dangling from her earpiece twisted into a DNA helix, identical to the heartbeat monitor waves in my mother's hospital room years ago.
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