Chapter Two: A Hundred-Million Limit, One Human Life

The more reality had to invent, the more it resembled a wound stitched by a violent hand. Su Wanqing pushed through the door to the restricted wing. Rain darkened her coat, and she carried a thick document envelope. They had not met in three years. Her gaze was as sharp as ever. “Put the money back into the market,” she said. “Since when do financial reporters police private accounts?” “Since a dead man emailed me.” She laid down a photograph of Haiyue's researcher. “Zhou Qiming. Killed at 11:59 last night. I interviewed him yesterday afternoon, and he promised to give me his evidence at midnight. After midnight, everything about the falsified trial turned into static on my recording.”