Chapter Three: The Price of an Apex

“I don't need the body,” Chen said. “I need the judgment.” For the first time, Shen Yan deliberately constructed an apex portrait. He covered the hospital floor with sea charts and placed the wheelchair where the routes converged. He lowered the camera so the old man again seemed to look down upon an ocean. Lin Wan projected a timecode on the wall: 15:14:20. “Mr. Chen, look at the lens. Remember the day you feared losing least.” The shutter fell. Black light swept through the room. No time jumped, but one digit briefly vanished. Chen's spine straightened. His clouded gaze sharpened. His spotted hands became steady enough to thread a needle. “Move the meeting forward,” he said, rising. “Now.”