After ninety-nine online romances, I finally met my ex in person when school started.

Four words. Do with it as you please.

This was the most extreme concession this traditional, conservative, and proud young lady from a prominent family could make. It was also the final mark of her complete surrender of body and soul.

A satisfied smile flashed in Zhu Xunchuan's eyes.

He didn't push his luck and demand more; the highest level of hunter is one who knows when to hold back and when to let go.

Zhu Xun Chuan released his hand from the back of her neck, then slid down to embrace her slender, supple waist. With a slight pull, he drew Fu Xinghe directly into his arms.

Fu Xinghe obediently nestled against his broad chest, her cheek pressed against the slightly warm fabric of his shirt, listening to his steady, powerful heartbeat. She didn't struggle; her hands even involuntarily wrapped around Zhu Xunchuan's waist. The tension that had lasted all night completely dissipated in that moment.

Zhu Xun Chuan lowered his head, his lips brushing against her hair.

"Don't worry." Zhu Xun Chuan's voice became gentler than ever before. "Even if the sky falls today, I'll protect you. The Zhao family can't touch me, and your father can't eat me. No one can make my woman live in fear."

After the most forceful coercion, the most secure promise is given.

Fu Xinghe's eyes welled up slightly. Leaning on this not-so-old shoulder, she felt an ultimate sense of security that even her father couldn't provide. Forget the Zhao family, forget the political storms, this promise was enough.

The Hongqi L5 cruised smoothly along the wide Chang'an Avenue.

Half an hour later, the car gradually slowed down and turned onto a quiet, tree-lined avenue. At the end of the avenue was a heavily guarded residential compound.

The special agents in the front row lowered their windows and handed over special passes.

Three armed police checkpoints, conducting thorough checks, with officers standing at attention and saluting. The air here seemed heavier than outside; the pervasive sense of oppression from within the system was enough to make any business tycoon's legs go weak.

The car drove into the courtyard, winding through lush, towering pines and cypresses on both sides. Finally, it came to a steady stop in front of a quiet, quaint, detached red-brick building.

In Beijing, these two-story red brick buildings with courtyards represent the absolute core decision-making level.

The car door was opened by the special agents outside. Morning light streamed in.

Fu Xinghe took a deep breath and sat up from Zhu Xunchuan's embrace. She quickly straightened the wrinkles in her cheongsam and draped her cashmere shawl back over her shoulders. The blush on her face faded rapidly, and she regained her dignified, aloof, and intellectual demeanor.

But the gentleness and lingering affection in her eyes when she looked at Zhu Xun Chuan could not be hidden.

"Don't be nervous." Fu Xinghe stepped out of the car first, turned to look at Zhu Xunchuan who followed him out, and gently comforted him, "No matter what happens inside, I'll be with you."

Zhu Xun Chuan put one hand in his pocket and looked up at the small red brick building that exuded vicissitudes and a sense of oppression.

"We've arrived." Fu Xinghe pointed to the lit window on the second floor, his tone calm yet brimming with turmoil. "He's waiting for you in the study."

The Hongqi L5 was parked in front of the red brick building.

Zhu Xunchuan pushed open the car door, his military boots stepping onto the bluestone slabs covered with fallen leaves.

There were no exotic flowers or rare herbs in the courtyard, only a century-old locust tree, as thick as two people could hug. The morning breeze of late autumn rustled the fallen leaves. The exterior walls of the small building were covered with withered vines, and the security windows were old-fashioned cast iron style.

There's no opulent grandeur of a business mansion here. Only terrazzo floors, yellowish white walls, and two armed guards standing ramrod straight at the entrance.

True power never needs to be adorned with money.

Fu Xinghe got out of the car from the other side. Her moon-white Suzhou-embroidered cheongsam blended perfectly into the ancient courtyard. She walked to Zhu Xunchuan's side, and the usually aloof and dignified daughter of the municipal party committee took slightly faltering steps.

Enter the door.

A man in his early fifties, dressed in a gray Zhongshan suit, stood in the entryway. He wore black-rimmed glasses and had a serious expression.

"Uncle Li," Fu Xinghe greeted him gently.

"The young lady is back." Li Guodong nodded, his gaze skipping over Fu Xinghe and landing on Zhu Xunchuan's face. It was the kind of assessing gaze one gets from years of following those in power.

Zhu Xun Chuan put one hand in his pocket, letting the other person look him over, his expression calm.

"Secretary Fu is in his study on the second floor." Li Guodong stepped aside. "Mr. Zhu, please come with me."

Fu Xinghe stopped at the top of the stairs, not going any further. She reached out her slender fingers and very naturally straightened Zhu Xun Chuan's collar.

"Go." Fu Xinghe looked up, his long, clear eyes revealing undisguised worry and encouragement.

Zhu Xun Chuan casually pinched her cheek; it felt smooth to the touch. In Li Guo Dong's slightly surprised glance, he released her hand and followed her up the wooden stairs.

The deepest part of the second floor.

A heavy, dark red solid wood door was tightly closed.

Li Guodong knocked twice on the door. Receiving no response, he pushed it open, turned to gesture for Zhu Xunchuan to come in, and then closed the door from the outside.

The light in the study was rather dim.

Two rows of bookshelves, reaching to the ceiling, lined the wall. In the center stood an extremely large mahogany desk.

Behind the desk, a middle-aged man with graying temples and a lean face was looking down at an internal reference document. He wore reading glasses and a white shirt, had a straight nose, and his eyebrows and eyes bore a seven-tenths resemblance to Fu Xinghe, but he exuded an imposing aura of authority that made people afraid to look him in the eye.

Fu Yuan, the top official of the Kyoto Municipal Party Committee.

Fu Yuan neither looked up nor offered him a seat. He also remained completely silent.

Only the soft rustling sound of turning pages echoed in the room.

This is an extremely clever psychological tactic. In officialdom, when subordinates encounter this kind of prolonged waiting when reporting on their work, they often become so nervous that their palms sweat, their heart races, and they lose their composure.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes passed.

The air in the room seemed to freeze. The invisible pressure was enough to suffocate an ordinary person.

Zhu Xun Chuan, however, was not buying it at all. Instead of standing straight like a subordinate being scolded, he glanced around the study and walked directly to the tea table to the right of the mahogany table.

A set of Yixing clay teaware sits on the tea table. The water on the electric ceramic stove is boiling, bubbling and steaming.

Zhu Xun Chuan pulled out a rosewood chair and sat down with an air of authority. He picked up a tea scoop, skillfully scooped out some Da Hong Pao tea leaves, rinsed the tea, brewed it, and poured the tea.

The movements were fluid and seamless, without any hesitation.

He picked up a small celadon cup, tilted his head back and took a sip, then put the cup down.

The ceramic bottom makes a crisp "click" sound when it touches the tea tray.

"Uncle Fu, the tea is good." Zhu Xun Chuan looked at the middle-aged man behind the table, his voice steady and lazy, "but the brewing is a little overdone, much like the stagnant water of the capital city these days."

The action of flipping through the documents stopped.

Fu Yuan slowly closed the internal reference, took off his reading glasses, and placed them on the table.

He finally raised his head. His eyes, which had seen countless people and were unfathomable, were sharp as an eagle's, fixed on Zhu Xunchuan, who was sitting in front of the tea table.

"Kid," Fu Yuan spoke. His voice was deep and resonant, carrying the natural ease of years of issuing commands, "You've got guts."