The Ceo‘s Caged Melody

In early spring March, when warmth begins to caress the cold away.

With the arrival of the Awakening of Insects, the spring thunder rumbles.

At dusk, a torrential rain poured down, lashing noisily as it swayed the Japanese cornel flowers by the road.

The windshield wipers of the car in front haphazardly swiped back and forth, silently conveying just how torrential the night's rain truly was.

At this moment, atop the Huazhong Group's building, a power struggle of a different kind was underway.

A few days ago, the chairman of Huazhong Group, the old Master Jiang, suffered a sudden heart attack at night and was rushed to the hospital. As a result, Huazhong's stock plummeted, evaporating billions overnight.

The Jiang children fell into disarray, igniting a battle for succession.

The cunning wolves and leopards of the business world extended their sharp claws, eager to snatch a piece of the meat.

C City, a ruthless financial metropolis.

Some strive with all their might to reach it, while others leave with broken bodies.

In the CBD Business District, monochromatic skyscrapers stand tall, hiding the beauty the sky would have displayed.

This place hosts world-class landmarks, as well as the most ruthless of men.

Amidst the falling rain, a woman in a black trench coat stood under a streetlight, holding a red umbrella, as the raindrops pitter-pattered upon it, drumming out a rhythm.

The tilted umbrella obscured half of her face, making her indistinct, but even with this posture, one could tell—she was not someone to be trifled with.

She stood there, like a passerby or someone returning home.

After a while, she tilted her umbrella slightly, revealing her delicate face. Looking up slowly, she gazed at the building before her.

Her haughty stance was as if she were scrutinizing something.

This day's rain was too overbearing; starting in the evening and continuing unabated into the night.

Vehicles driving by flashed their hazard lights, speeding past her. A taxi slowed down as it approached, as if waiting for her to hail a ride.

But this person remained unmoved.

Only after a long while, in the pouring rain, did she step through the puddles and turn around, leaving the bustling CBD Business District behind her.

"Boss, Huazhong's Vice President Jiang Lin is on the line for you."

Not far away, inside a black Lincoln sitting in the front passenger seat, someone holding a lit-up phone slightly turned and saw his boss glance out the window, not picking up the call, as if curious. He followed her gaze, and all he saw was the pelting rain.

Nothing else.

"Boss," he called again.

The person in the back seat slowly turned back, and after a while, a hint of an inscrutable smile rippled across that usually calm face.

2008 marked Xu Fang's third year working with Gu Jiangnian.

And today, during these three years, was the first time he saw such a satisfied smile on her face.

While he was still bewildered, he heard the low voice from the back seat slowly rise, seemingly unperturbed, "Let's not meddle in other people's family affairs."

In March 2008, as Huazhong Group's stock took a nosedive and foreign capitalists aggressively sought to buy in, Huazhong's deputy chairman Jiang Lin approached C City's wealthiest man, Gu Jiangnian, begging for his help to save Huazhong from its dire straits.

It was supposed to be a sure deal, but now, Xu Fang understood.

He casually picked up the call and politely informed the caller that Chairman Gu was in a meeting and couldn't take the call, effectively dismissing Jiang Lin.

He looked up at the person in the back seat, noting her exceptionally good mood, which contrasted starkly with the dark weather outside.

Huazhong Group was an internal matter.

And if it was internal, why should outsiders intervene?

In the taxi, the woman leaned back and rested with her eyes closed, her delicate features bearing traces of fatigue, the darkness beneath her eyes not fully concealed.

In the car, the driver played the news on the radio, which along with the sound of rain outside trickled into Jiang Muwan's ears.

[The Junhua Group has invested heavily in the construction of the Junhua Lanbo seven-star designer hotel in the business district, which has now entered its trial operation phase. Yesterday, the Junhua Group invited media personnel from C City news outlets to stay at the hotel------------]

The female host introduced the hotel's interior facilities with clear, standard Mandarin, indicating through her words alone the opulence of the place.

The driver listened and glanced at the woman in the back seat, noticing her open her eyes. He spoke to her in resonance with the host's voice, "Miss, you're staying at Junhua. How's the experience?"

"Quite good," said Jiang Muwan, who happened to be staying at this newly opened designer hotel that night.

"I've heard that this hotel was personally designed by the chairman of Junhua," the driver said, taking a glance at her again while waiting for a traffic light.

Jiang Muwan remained silent.

She wasn't interested in who designed it.

"A hotel designed by C City's wealthiest is a draw just by the claim, enough to make anyone yearn for it."

After the driver finished speaking and saw that she had no intention of conversing, he awkwardly retracted his gaze.