When Shao Yuanjia grew restless, the next second the door to the executive office was kicked open.
A blast of cold air swept in, catching Shao Yuanjia off guard and making him shiver. He stared, incredulous, at the man who filled the doorway.
“Shao Yinan, have you lost your mind?”
For a heartbeat, Shao Yuanjia’s smile softened into something like a tiger’s grin—friendly on the surface but with teeth underneath. Shao Yinan saw through it. That outward pleasantness hid a predator that waited for darkness to swallow you whole. He’d learned that the hard way.
Shao Yinan ignored the put-on geniality. His thin gold-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose; his black suit made him look almost ascetic, the kind of cold that kept people at a distance.
“You weren’t here earlier, so maybe you didn’t hear me,” he said.
“Except Father was there that night,” Shao Yuanjia blurted. Then Shao Yinan smiled—a sharp, almost cruel lift at the corner of his mouth. “Too bad he didn’t pass it along to you.”
For a moment Shao Yuanjia felt the man before him change. The calm, detached look had vanished; chaos churned in Shao Yinan’s dark eyes, a storm ready to drown him—suffocating and hopeless.
“I told you never to set your sights on him,” Shao Yinan said, and then, very deliberately, he reached up and slipped his glasses off before tucking them into his pocket. The simple motion was impossibly elegant, the kind of grace bred into someone raised in wealth and power.
A flash of teeth gritted in Shao Yuanjia’s mouth. The same small gesture by someone else would have looked coarse or graceless. From Shao Ninan it was aristocratic, effortless—things Shao Yuanjia could never emulate, no matter how hard he tried. In that instant, the gap between them opened wide and yawning.
Shao Yuanjia let his smile fall away. Darkness settled over his features.
“Then why bother now?” Shao Yinan murmured, stepping two paces closer and leaning in to speak in his ear. Before Shao Yuanjia could react, a fist smashed into his face—hard, precise. One brutal blow sent him sprawling to the floor.
The secretary outside, who’d worked with Shao Qi for years, heard the commotion and fumbled for his phone to call. By the time help arrived, the office was a wreck.
Shao Yuanjia lay prone, unable to get up, his face a map of purples and blues—swollen and ridiculous. When Shao Qi finally entered, that was the sight that greeted him.
“Shao Yinan!” he barked. “What are you doing, you ungrateful—”
Shao Yinan lounged on the sofa, utterly unbothered. The polished, genteel heir everyone had known was gone; what remained was something rougher, a simmering defiance that made people uneasy. He looked down at the man on the floor with the cool disdain one might reserve for an insect.
“As you can see, Father,” he said slowly.
The room chilled. Shao Yinan’s presence pressed down like a physical weight; the air tightened so much that the secretary instinctively took a step back. This was family business, and no one wanted to get caught in the crossfire.
“All of this should be aimed at me,” Shao Yinan continued, voice flat. “Not at Wen Yin. Don’t you dare put your dirty schemes on his head.”
There was an almost feral calm to him now—a cruelty poised behind restraint. “I think I’ve said this more than once, Father. But who has actually listened?”
Shao Yinan straightened, dusting non-existent lint from his sleeve. Anger made Shao Qi’s face go ashy. To think his son would cause such a scene over a woman—over Wen Yin—filled him with fury and disbelief.
“Who told you we were targeting Wen Yin?” Shao Qi snapped, hauling Shao Yuanjia to his feet. “You can’t just take one person’s word and wreck Shaohua like this. We don’t act on baseless accusations.”
Shao Ninan’s smile skated wider, colder. “Who told you I heard it from Wen Yin?” he replied. “Do you think everyone’s as soft as your pet second son?”
He hadn’t been told by Wen Yin—Shao Ninan had figured it out himself. She’d shown him the design drafts for the new Shaoyi collection; half a month before the new product launch, the studio had made everyone pull double shifts and then abruptly switched direction. A few discreet inquiries were all it took for him to trace the sabotage back to Shao Yuanjia.
Shao Ninan pinched his right wrist with his left hand as if to loosen a stiff joint, a small, deliberate motion that belied how coldly he’d worked it out. “So, big brother, did you learn your lesson this time?”
Shao Yuanjia was too battered to answer. Shao Qi, already fuming at the insolence, bristled.
“Shao Yinan! How far do you plan to go for that woman? From start to finish, your lot have bullied her. You looked down on her background. You sabotaged her behind the scenes!”
The accusations came in a steady torrent. “Who’s been stirring up trouble—me, or you?”
“Father, my patience won’t last much longer.” Shao Ninan took two steps forward and stood directly across from Shao Qi. Clad in black, tall and immaculate, his face had lost whatever softness it once held. Only a razor-cold resolve remained.
“If I can drive Shao Corporation to greatness, I can also watch it rot under my hand,” he said, smiling like someone about to set a fire and see who gets burned. “We fought tooth and nail to win that internet account. You don’t want to see years of work ruined in my hands, do you?”
“You’re threatening me!” Shao Qi spat, his eyes flaring. Today he felt the comforting boy he’d once controlled had slipped away, replaced by someone dangerous—strategic, merciless.
“So it seems you finally understand me,” Shao Ninan drawled, that same small smile never leaving. “Then obey what I ask.”
He stepped through the scattered debris toward the door. He paused, remembering something, and took a wet wipe from his pocket. During the scuffle his hands had been smeared with Shao Yuanjia’s blood; he’d meant to pick Wen Yin up after work and didn’t want to frighten her. He cleaned his hands off, smoothed his clothes, then left.
Shao Qi watched his son’s broad back until the man slipped out of sight. His chest heaved with anger and a helpless sense of collapse. Over a woman—over Wen Yin—his family had been flipped inside out. Generations of work and reputation could be at risk.
Shao Ninan checked his watch on the way out and drove to pick Wen Yin up from the studio.
“You’re here,” she said as he approached. She hadn’t seen what had just happened; she bounded forward and threw herself into his arms.