The Cinnabar Mole of a Beijing Circle Tycoon

Shen Qingyao wrapped her coat tighter and walked unsteadily on her way back to school. The pain in her lower abdomen had not completely subsided, and she just wanted to get back to her warm dormitory as soon as possible.

Unbeknownst to her, a pair of sinister eyes were fixed on her back from the shadows of the street corner.

Li Heng, a rich second-generation who had been coming to the bar for a week straight, had been repeatedly rejected by Shen Qingyao from adding her on WeChat, and his heart was already filled with resentment.

In his eyes, she was just a bartender, nothing more than someone pretending to be high and mighty. He could have anyone he wanted.

Upon learning that today was her last day of part-time work, he became even more wicked, thinking that even if he did something, she might not be able to cause any trouble.

Shen Qingyao walked to the entrance of a quiet alley, a shortcut back to school. Usually, students returning late would occasionally pass by, but tonight it was deserted, with only the streetlights casting a pale light on the snow.

Just as she was about to turn into the alley, a figure suddenly darted out of the shadows and grabbed her arm.

"Shen Qingyao, you can't escape now." Li Heng's voice was tinged with alcohol and malice.

Shen Qingyao froze in fright, struggling violently: "Let me go! Don't do anything rash!"

"Reckless?" Li Heng scoffed, his strength astonishing as he dragged her into the alley. "I've been chasing you for so long, and you're giving me attitude, huh? You won't even add me on WeChat, do you really think you're some rich heiress? Tonight I'll show you what happens when you anger me!"

"Help!" Shen Qingyao cried desperately, kicking her feet wildly on the ground, trampling the snow into a mess.

But the streets were eerily empty in the early morning, and her cries for help were quickly swallowed by the cold wind, without even an echo.

She was slammed against the wall by Li Heng, her back aching from the impact, and the contents of her bag scattered all over the floor.

Li Heng lunged at her, tearing at her clothes and spewing vulgarities: "Stop pretending to be innocent. Working in a place like a bar, everyone knows what kind of person you are..."

"You bastard!" Shen Qingyao was both shocked and furious. She pushed him away with all her might and slapped him across the face.

A sharp "snap" rang out, particularly jarring in the quiet alley.

Li Heng was stunned by the beating. He had been pampered by his family since he was a child, and he rarely heard even a harsh word, let alone being beaten.

This slap completely enraged him. His eyes flashed with malice as he grabbed Shen Qingyao's hair and slammed her hard onto the snow: "You bitch! You dare hit me? You're tired of living!"

Fists rained down on Shen Qingyao. She curled up in the snow, covering her head with her arms, feeling pain all over her body, and her consciousness gradually faded.

The cold snow seeped through her thin clothes, making her bones shiver, but the pain in her body was worse than the cold.

She wanted to resist, to cry for help, but she didn't even have the strength to open her mouth. She could only let the darkness slowly devour her consciousness.

The December wind swirled snowflakes and tapped against the clubhouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, leaving winding watermarks.

The private room was warmly heated, and the crystal chandelier reflected a warm yellow light, making the Moutai bottle on the table glow with an amber color.

Meng Jiangyu leaned back on the sofa, a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling over his sharply defined profile. He didn't smoke it, just letting the crimson glow flicker in the dim light.

"Fifth Brother, the East China project is coming to a close this year." Xu Mingxuan had just come in from outside, took off his snow-covered coat and threw it on the sofa, grabbed the hot tea on the table and gulped down more than half a cup. "You really have foresight. Back then, you went against everyone's opinions to acquire that piece of land, and now the surrounding property prices have risen by almost 30%."

Meng Jiangyu gave a faint "hmm" and stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray.

Zhou Yanqiu was flipping through reports on his phone when he heard this. He looked up and smiled, "He's not looking at housing prices, he's eyeing that planned cultural and creative park next door. Once the art museum in the park opens next year, the rent for the commercial buildings we own will increase by at least 50%."

Lu Linchuan sat on the single sofa opposite him, toying with a Hetian jade hand-held piece in his hand, and said slowly, "You are still the most composed."

Meng Jiangyu leaned back, tapping his fingertips lightly on his knees. "Once the cultural and creative park's foundation stone is laid in the spring, people will naturally come begging for money."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable certainty, as if he had already calculated every move on the chessboard perfectly.

The waiter quietly brought over freshly cut fruit. Xu Mingxuan grabbed a cherry and popped it into his mouth, then suddenly remembered something: "By the way, everyone's free for Grandpa's birthday banquet at the beginning of next month, right? My dad specifically instructed me to make it a big celebration this year and invite everyone in the industry."

Zhou Yanqiu nodded: "I cleared my schedule a long time ago."

Lu Linchuan replied, "No problem."

Meng Jiangyu hummed in agreement, his gaze falling on the snowflakes fluttering outside the window.

The streetlights outside the clubhouse shone a dim yellow light, and snowflakes fell on the lampshades, melting instantly.

Meng Jiangyu withdrew his gaze, picked up his teacup and took a sip. He then picked up the documents on the table. "Can we have a test version ready by the beginning of the year?"

The conversation quickly turned to work, and the sounds of talking in the private room, mixed with the aroma of tea from the heating, created a particularly reassuring atmosphere.

The snow was still falling outside the window, covering the eaves of the clubhouse, as if shrouding this building hidden deep in the city in a gentle white blanket.