The worsening situation forced the three of them to set aside some time for a meeting, which took place at Hou Zihao’s apartment in Beijing.

This property was originally purchased by Su Ruini as an investment. Since it wasn’t intended for personal use, the overall design and decoration were not luxurious but rather modest, making it easier to sell. The unit was around 100 square meters, roughly the same size as the apartment Hou Zihao had rented in Rome. His minimalist and casual style of living hadn’t changed; if anything, it was even too plain, giving the room a somewhat lifeless feel.

“So, our focus now should be on proving that Luo Siyu was indeed at Haoting International,” Yan Lin calmly analyzed while sitting on the small sofa in the living room. “If we can find evidence to prove this, even if it doesn’t directly lead to reopening the case, at least it will allow the police to investigate her illegal entry into the residence. At that point, Yuan Jianxin won’t be able to control what she says or doesn’t say.”

“Is that possible?” Zhou Leqi’s brows furrowed deeply. “Seven years have passed since the incident. Will the surveillance footage from the residential complex still exist?”

“It’s impossible,” Hou Zihao, who had the most authority on this matter, replied. “The property management only retains surveillance footage for a maximum of one month. Any recordings from seven years ago would have long been erased.”

Of course.

The three of them fell into silence once again.

“Isn’t there any other way?” Zhou Leqi turned to Yan Lin, asking, “Aside from Luo Siyu, don’t we have any other leads? Or is there another method besides surveillance footage to prove that she was there?”

“Finding Zhong Heng could also work, but it’s extremely difficult. Even if we find him, it’ll be hard to get him to talk. Yuan Jianxin must be guarding against this possibility very tightly,” Yan Lin’s frown deepened further. “As for other ways to prove it… I’m sorry, but I don’t have any other ideas for now.”

The atmosphere grew heavier, and an indelible gloom settled over each of them. Zhou Leqi glanced silently at Hou Zihao sitting beside her. His expressionless face was starkly different from his usual gentle demeanor, appearing somber and brooding instead.

Her heart skipped a beat, and a sudden sense of foreboding washed over her. When they were leaving, she deliberately asked Yan Lin to go ahead so she could stay behind and talk to Hou Zihao for a few more moments.

“I’m feeling uneasy,” she said, standing by the entrance and holding onto his wrist, watching the shadow cast by the downlight on his browbone. “...Promise me you won’t do something foolish.”

He let her hold his wrist with his usual good-natured compliance, his docile demeanor softening her heart.

“What do you mean by ‘something foolish’?” he asked, smiling faintly. “Suicide?”

It was a taboo word, yet he said it so lightly, as though it didn’t bother him much. This made Zhou Leqi’s heart sink even deeper.

“Hou Zihao...” She gripped his wrist tighter, her voice lowering.

He sighed, pulling her gently into his arms. His slightly elevated body temperature still managed to convey warmth.

She heard him say, “Don’t be silly. Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

His teasing tone brought a slight sense of relief. She wrapped her arms around his waist, listening to his heartbeat as she hesitated before asking, “...What if we really can’t find any evidence?”

What if they couldn’t uncover the truth or clear his mother’s name?

What if the real culprits continued to roam free, gaining more fame and wealth?

...What would you do then?

He didn’t answer, responding with silence at the time. In reality, he had already prepared for the worst-case scenario several years ago when he first discovered the hidden truths about what happened seven years ago.

He knew nothing would be easy. Back then, he thought he would be fighting alone, in a situation far worse than now, without allies. He had already decided—if the truth couldn’t be proven, he would solve the problem in another way. Conspiracy was never exclusive to anyone. If Yuan Jianxin could frame and incite, why couldn’t he?

He could also resort to dirty methods to resolve the issue.

If light never came...

...he could perish alongside the darkness.

Zhou Leqi had no idea that Hou Zihao had harbored such extreme plans several years ago. He appeared calm and composed in front of her, but even so, a strong sense of unease lingered in her mind, leaving her distracted for several days.

Naturally, SWD’s colleagues interpreted her state differently. They believed Lucky was deeply affected by being kicked out of the Runyuan project team. Daisy, in particular, gleefully gossiped behind her back, suggesting that Lucky might have overplayed her hand, becoming entangled with Runyuan’s Hou Zong in an ambiguous relationship, angering President Pei, and now being abandoned by the client without any support. Wasn’t that amusing?

Coincidentally, Pei Qiming returned from Shanghai a few days later. Everyone in the office eagerly watched for any interaction between him and Lucky. However, President Pei showed no special reaction. Instead, Lucky knocked on the door of his private office shortly after he entered.

Look at that—pretending to be distant all this time, but when trouble arises, isn’t she still going to cling to his leg for help?

Women, tsk.

In reality, Zhou Leqi sought out Pei Qiming not to seek favor, nor to question why he hadn’t stepped in to defend her when Runyuan requested her removal. She simply wanted to inform him of a recent decision she had made.

“President Pei...” Zhou Leqi stood in front of Pei Qiming’s desk, her expression tinged with concealed hesitation and guilt. “...There’s something I want to tell you.”

At this moment, Pei Qiming’s emotions were even more complicated than Zhou Leqi’s.

He had long known about her expulsion from the Runyuan project team and understood that this baseless accusation would negatively impact her career development. He genuinely wanted to speak up for her, but the workplace was a complex environment, and he had his own difficulties and considerations.

Investment bankers may appear glamorous and well-paid, earning millions annually, but in reality, they are merely vendors in IPOs, living at the mercy of others’ whims. Runyuan, as the client, had made such stringent demands, leaving him little room to maneuver. Moreover, Runyuan was Jason’s resource. Offending Runyuan meant offending Jason, which would put him directly at odds with his immediate superior. Pei Qiming was only a VP, just 27 years old. Did he really have enough power and confidence to defy those higher-ups?

Impossible.

...And then there was his selfishness.

He actually didn’t want Zhou Leqi to continue participating in the Runyuan project because he feared she would keep getting entangled with Hou Zihao. They had been together before, and after all these years, she hadn’t forgotten him. She said they had broken up, but could first love ever truly be forgotten?

He would rather she leave Runyuan and work on something else. That way, she wouldn’t see that person anymore and wouldn’t be swayed or hurt again.

These considerations were valid, each backed by sufficient and reasonable explanations. Yet Pei Qiming was fully aware that his handling of the situation was inappropriate. If he truly loved her and wanted to protect her professional reputation, he should have stood up for her without hesitation, regardless of the cost, instead of using a business trip to Shanghai as an excuse to avoid the invisible storm.

Now he was a bit afraid to face her. Guilt and unease made his gaze waver, but he tried to conceal it, calmly asking, “Sit down and talk—what is it?”

But Zhou Leqi didn’t sit. She stood awkwardly in front of Pei Qiming, as if engaged in an intense internal struggle. Finally, she resolved herself and told him, “I... want to write a whistleblower letter to the CSRC.”

Zhou Leqi had been contemplating writing the whistleblower letter for a long time.

She knew she could no longer rejoin the Runyuan project team. It had nothing to do with SWD’s leadership. Whether Pei Qiming spoke up for her or not, Yuan Jianxin would never allow her to access Runyuan’s internal information again. This meant she would no longer have the opportunity to stop Runyuan’s IPO.

But she simply couldn’t bear to watch a capital owner, guilty of heinous crimes and stained with blood, smoothly gain greater benefits. Yuan Jianxin had broken the law. Although legal sanctions couldn’t immediately follow, the facts of his crimes were undeniable. What right did a company like Runyuan have to go public?

Yuan Jianxin could use capital and connections to create perfect financial statements, and SWD could pour its efforts into producing a prospectus that boosted investor confidence. None of that mattered. After all, no one could stop her from reporting Runyuan’s potential legal risks to the CSRC under her own name.

This statement completely caught Pei Qiming off guard. He had assumed Zhou Leqi came to him seeking to regain her spot in the project team. Never did he expect her to write a whistleblower letter to the CSRC. His brows immediately furrowed as he asked, “You want to write a whistleblower letter? Why?”

“For revenge against Runyuan?”

Zhou Leqi, of course, couldn’t reveal the full story behind this to Pei Qiming. Her eyes shifted nervously as she vaguely said, “I accidentally learned that their company may have engaged in some illegal activities... As someone who knows about it, I have an obligation to report this to the CSRC.”

Pei Qiming fell silent, his brows knotting tighter. His expression revealed rapid thinking, and his emotions gradually began to grow impatient.

“Lucky, you’re no longer a newcomer to the workplace. How can you say something so naive?” Pei Qiming’s demeanor changed, becoming stern and oppressive. “Obligation? Are you willing to destroy your career for the sake of two words?”

The investment banking circle was small. What you might think is an imperceptible move could easily become public knowledge the next day.

Yes, reporting illegal IPO activities to the CSRC was indeed an insider’s obligation, but it undeniably broke the unwritten rules of the investment banking world. How hard was it to acquire a listed company’s resources? How much effort did the upper management put into carefully maintaining relationships? How hard did the team work, often burning the midnight oil, to achieve those results? Who would willingly smash their own rice bowl?

Even if Zhou Leqi wrote the anonymous letter anonymously, it wouldn’t make a difference. There was no such thing as a wall without cracks. Her name would eventually spread throughout the industry. At that point, which company would dare to hire her? Everyone would know she had done something considered taboo in the industry.

And how could Zhou Leqi not understand these principles?

She understood them all too well... But she couldn’t just stand by and let the guilty roam free. Even without Hou Zihao, she couldn’t bypass her own moral compass and become a slave to profit, indifferent to the law.

She had to do everything in her power to speak up.

Even if... it meant ruining her life.