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墨書 Inktalez
I looked at him, my heart filled with gratitude, but I also knew that the pressure inside Mao Yixuan was far heavier than he let on.
Mao Yixuan poured all his energy into dealing with the company's crisis. The lights in the conference room burned all night, and there was no warmth left in his eyes. Yet, no matter how busy he was, he would always find time to come home, if only to glance at the children and softly tell me, "I'm here."
"You really don't have to work so hard," I urged, feeling a pang of sympathy.
Mao Yixuan forced a faint smile. "I promised you I wouldn't let you bear it all alone."
The company's problems grew increasingly complex; the betrayal of partners and threats from hackers made the situation more precarious. Between family and career, Mao Yixuan struggled continuously.
As the investigation unfolded, Mao Yixuan discovered that the mastermind behind this crisis was not only his previous business rival but also trusted executives within his company—those who should have stood by his side had now become traitors stabbing him in the back.
The neon lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows twisted into eerie patterns in the pouring rain. Mao Yixuan stared at the red warning box on his computer screen, his fingertips unconsciously tapping on the rosewood desk. The notification of the group's account freeze flashed every fifteen seconds, reminiscent of a heart monitor in an ICU.
"Manager Mao, we received an official notice from Credit Suisse three minutes ago." The secretary handed over the document with trembling wrists. "They require us to submit proof of tax payment for last year's acquisition within forty-eight hours."
The pen's tip carved deep grooves into the paper. This proof should have been filed when the acquisition was completed, yet it seemed as if it had never existed. Mao Yixuan suddenly recalled the hesitant expression of Financial Director Zhou Mingli from last week when he was organizing his tie in front of the computer, a file transfer window still open in the bottom right corner of the screen.
In the break room, the ultraviolet disinfection lamp emitted a faint hum as Han Xiao pressed her forehead against the glass cover of the incubator. The baby inside the insulation box resembled a kitten yet to open its eyes, with electrodes gently rising and falling with each breath. Three nights ago, this unnamed little life suddenly felt feverish; emergency doctors detected abnormal proteins in cerebrospinal fluid taken from a spinal tap.
"Mommy is here." She stroked the wall of the incubator through her protective suit, leaving foggy fingerprints on the glass with her disinfected gloves. Memories of the delivery room flashed back—before the surgical lights turned on that night, an anesthetist with black contact lenses leaned in close: "Miss Han, your husband specifically requested imported anesthetics."
"Ms. Han, it's time for your dressing change." The nurse entered, carrying a silver tray, and the smell of disinfectant mingled with the damp scent of the rainy day hit Han Xiao's face. She looked at the pale blue pills and suddenly noticed that the photo on the nurse's badge made her look much younger than she was. In the shadows, a faint glimpse of a green Serpent Tattoo peeked out from behind the nurse's ear.
At that moment, Lin Xiao's encrypted email vibrated on her phone. The attachment contained Zhou Mingli's bank statements, winding like a snake, showing seven transactions in the last three months to a shell company in the Cayman Islands. The last entry was from yesterday afternoon at three o'clock, with an amount that matched exactly what Credit Suisse had requested as collateral.
"I want to see Director Zhou." Han Xiao suddenly sprang up, knocking over a bottle of medicine with the baby stroller. The blue pills rolled onto her Pregnancy Diary, which lay open to December of last year—a page filled with unfamiliar handwriting that had only half been written due to morning sickness at the time.
"December 15, 2023, injected 2ml of Progesterone today, took 3 tablets of Dexamethasone..." Han Xiao's nails dug into her palm. These medications were not on her prescription list, but the glucose water she drank during prenatal check-ups always had a strange metallic taste.
In the president's office, the Bulletproof Glass reflected two distorted figures. Zhou Mingli slumped on an Italian leather sofa, his tie askew around his neck. A financial report lay open in front of him, and on page thirty-seven, someone had marked "L-1979" in red ink in the depreciation calculation section.
"This is Li Ce's money laundering code used in Southeast Asia." Lin Xiao's voice came through the speakerphone, accompanied by the sound of rapid keyboard typing in the background. "In the Golden Triangle Casino shooting three years ago, the victims all had this mark engraved on their temples."
Mao Yixuan grabbed Zhou Mingli's left hand; the Serpent Tattoo on the inside of his wrist glowed faintly under the light. A memory suddenly cracked open—a couple of years ago on Christmas Eve, Li Ce’s laptop had displayed the same encrypted symbol; he had claimed it was a Game Guild Emblem.
"Mr. Li asked me to tell you," Zhou Mingli suddenly smiled eerily, white foam spilling from his mouth, "he said your father should have died in that Chemical Plant fire..."
The Bulletproof Glass reflected Han Xiao's pale face. The baby in her arms suddenly let out a cry like a cat's wail, and half of an ultrasound slip fell from the swaddling blanket. The paper that should have shown fetal heart monitoring instead displayed a surveillance screenshot of Li Ce wearing surgical gloves as he touched her pregnant belly.
Memories pierced her mind like sharp shards of glass. After one prenatal check-up during her second trimester, she had smelled Li Ce’s signature cedarwood perfume in the hospital corridor. At that time, she thought it was an illusion; now the image was horrifyingly clear—the corner of a white coat flashed through the crack in the examination room door, and most of the name "Li Ce" on his badge was obscured by glare.
"Our child..." Han Xiao staggered as she leaned against the doorframe, the frequent hypoglycemic episodes during her last three months of pregnancy suddenly making sense. Those vitamin supplements that claimed to provide nutrition, those calming soups delivered late at night, were all carefully concocted poisons.
The truth in the storm
The floor-to-ceiling window suddenly shattered into a spiderweb of cracks, and the howling wind drove the torrential rain into the office. Zhou Mingli's body lay on the sofa, gradually stiffening, while his smartphone looped a recording from a certain Encrypted Frequency Band:
"I want that child to bear my mark forever..." Li Ce's voice mixed with the ticking of medical equipment, "Just like the explosion at the Chemical Plant years ago, the Mao Family owes me..."
Mao Yixuan's pupils constricted sharply. The investigation report of her father's factory explosion twenty-four years ago suddenly surfaced in her mind; within that disaster report, which claimed thirteen lives, there was a witness's signature circled in red ink—Li Guozhong.
"Li Ce is Uncle Li's son?" Han Xiao's voice trembled. The doorman who always smiled and brought her candy, the good-hearted man who disfigured himself trying to save his father during the fire, had a son who was now collecting debts in the cruelest way.
Rebirth and destruction
The Alarm of the Insulation Box suddenly shrieked. Han Xiao dashed back to the nursery and saw a nurse removing the child's breathing tube. Under the ultraviolet light, a Serpent Tattoo behind her ear glowed with a phosphorescent light.
"Give him back to me!" Han Xiao grabbed a metal tray and hurled it. Amidst the sound of collision, the swaddled infant fell; she dove to catch the fragile life with her body. Warm blood streamed down her forehead into her eyes, turning the world crimson.
Bulletproof Glass reflected the final scene: Mao Yixuan was breaking Zhou Mingli's wristwatch with her bare hands; a microchip embedded in the back of its face was sending out a location signal. In the stormy skyline of the city, three unmarked helicopters were approaching the corporate building.
"Take the baby to the underground vault." Mao Yixuan shoved a blood-stained access card into Han Xiao's palm; remnants of Zhou Mingli's skin tissue still clung to the fingerprint lock. "The password is the date we first met."
As the blast-proof door closed heavily behind them, Han Xiao heard an explosion echoing from far above. The baby in her arms suddenly opened its eyes; in those pitch-black pupils reflected the cold light of emergency lamps, resembling a venomous snake ready to strike.
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