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墨書 Inktalez
As Lin Xueyao's Chanel 19 handbag bumped against the partition of my workstation, I was fixated on the blinking encrypted email icon in the bottom right corner of my computer screen. The new Cartier Screw Ring on her ring finger brushed across my keyboard, leaving a faint scratch on the space bar. "Brother Shen Mo~" her sweet voice wafted over, wrapped in the scent of Black Opium Perfume, "The HR department needs to verify emergency contacts. Why is your home phone listed as the main line for Wall Street Investment Bank?"
Suddenly, the coffee machine emitted a sharp beep, and brown liquid dripped down Zhang Zhiqiang's fake Hermès belt. He slammed a report onto my desk, his slicked-back hair glinting under the fluorescent lights. "If you're free, help the marketing department with due diligence and submit the financial model by midnight." The document was titled "Zhi Ke Merger Case"—the death project that had caused three senior analysts to collapse and withdraw three months ago.
In the break room, a Lipton tea bag floated in a mug as I scrolled through my phone's contacts for the number labeled "Water Delivery." The glass curtain wall reflected Lin Xueyao pretending to touch up her makeup, her powder compact facing my phone screen.
"Supervisor Zhang, regarding last year's Huachuang acquisition case, do you need me to adjust the audit working papers for the risk control department? You included goodwill impairment in fixed asset amortization," I said, pushing up my glasses while deliberately rubbing off the gold plating on the nose pads. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Lin Xueyao's lipstick drawing a trembling diagonal line.
Lin Xueyao suddenly bent over, revealing a hint of her cleavage as her Bvlgari necklace brushed against the cover of an emergency plan. "I mean no harm~" she said, her fingers swiftly scrolling through her phone to reveal a selfie with cat-eye nails. "Brother Shen Mo, why do you still take the subway living at Wanliu Academy? I saw a Phantom with license plate A88888 in the parking lot of Bvlgari Hotel yesterday..."
I unlocked my tablet to pull up live surveillance footage; camera 33 in the southern warehouse was aimed at her Mini Cooper parked in the basement. A corner of a yellow parking ticket peeked out from under the windshield—issued for illegal parking at three AM on Wednesday, perfectly overlapping with her social media check-in from Qinhuangdao.
Zhang Zhiqiang suddenly kicked his chair back and stood up, his fake Givenchy shirt straining against his beer belly. "Is there a problem with you working three days during Labor Day?" His thick palm slammed down on the merger documents, obscuring a modified digit behind the project price. "Young people these days... Manager Wang is running to the chairman's office every day; it seems he's planning to elevate you."
The microwave in the break room chimed at the hour as I picked up my bloated tea bag and walked toward the printer. Lin Xueyao flicked her freshly sprayed hair and chased after me, her Dior silk skirt sweeping past the shredder entrance. "I heard there's a mysterious shareholder on the board with the last name Shen..."
I suddenly leaned down and pressed the exposure copy button; white light flashed across her meticulously made-up face. "Manager Wang suggested I photocopy Chapter 36 of Labor Law for everyone." The altered attendance records she had tampered with were glaringly visible under bright light. "Can I borrow Miss Lin's shawl? The air conditioning is giving me goosebumps."
At that moment, an encrypted email from Li Ming automatically decrypted itself; the monitor displayed Lin Xueyao copying all my operational records onto a USB drive just two minutes ago. I smirked at my suddenly black screen—last night's implanted anti-tracking program should have already infiltrated her phone's cloud.
As Zhang Zhiqiang's roar mixed with slamming doors echoed from the smoking area, I was sending a voice message to an old classmate from Singapore at Wall Street Investment Bank: "Five minutes; I need Zhi Ke's hidden overseas restructuring agreement." The sound of keystrokes came through my Bluetooth headset as camera twelve captured him burning documents in the fire escape.
When heavy rain suddenly caused a power outage on our floor, Lin Xueyao's scream pierced through the red glow of emergency lights. In darkness, I pulled out a backup phone hidden beneath my keyboard tray; its blue light reflected off her silhouette peering through the floor-to-ceiling windows—at that moment, thousands of kilometers away on Wall Street in New York, Zhi Ke's real financial reports were surging into our internal audit system via the dark web.
"This is the financial model you wanted." I tossed the USB drive into Zhang Zhiqiang's thermos filled with goji berries, splashing tea onto his forged approval document. "And here's a little extra—a record of the overseas transfer you made to Zhao's mistress last year."
As Lin Xueyao tried to flee, she discovered her access card had expired. Her new Prada high heels slipped on the tiles. I took off my fogged glasses to wipe them, and just as the electronic clock on the wall switched to 23:59, the lights in the entire building suddenly brightened, illuminating the half-permanent eyebrow tattoo that faded at the tip of her nose.
When Li Ming's message arrived in Morse Code vibrations, I was sneering at the remnants of a merger document that hadn’t burned completely in the shredder. Outside, a black Bentley lowered its window, and Shen Cang Hai's silhouette made a gesture reminiscent of the one he taught me nineteen years ago while playing Go—time to slay the big dragon.
Lin Xueyao's phone rang precisely at midnight, her call mingling with Zhang Zhiqiang's heavy breathing in the background: "Tomorrow night at eight in room 2808 of Kempinski. If you don't come..." She suddenly let out a feigned sob, "I have video of you swapping hard drives in the server room..."
As I pressed the recording button, the monitor displayed her using another phone to send a voice message to someone saved as father Zhao: "The fish is hooked, but he has an encrypted folder called LYX on his computer..." A flash of lightning illuminated her face, marred by makeup like my mother’s on the day of her bankruptcy liquidation.
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