The dim light from the car's dashboard flickered across Li Zeyan's cold expression as he drove through the quiet streets of the capital. Feng Yuxi sat beside him in silence, her fingers gripping the hem of her coat, mind racing.
That painting—her painting—should never have resurfaced. Only three people in the world knew it existed. And one of them had died with a bullet between his eyes five years ago.
"Speak," Zeyan finally said, his voice low, controlled. "That painting. Explain."
Yuxi didn't respond immediately. Her thoughts were spiraling, and not even her years as an elite intelligence operative prepared her for this moment.
"It's from my past," she said at last, her voice quieter than usual.
Zeyan didn't take his eyes off the road. "What kind of past sells a blood-painted portrait of a child to a black market collector?"
She didn't flinch. "The kind that doesn't stay buried."
Zeyan's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "You've lied to me since day one. Who are you really, Feng Yuxi?"
"I told you before," she said slowly, "I'm just a woman paying off a debt."
He laughed bitterly. "A woman who knows how to dismantle a security firewall in five minutes, negotiate with traffickers at a gala, and speak seven languages like a native. Don't insult my intelligence."
She looked out the window, refusing to let him see the flicker of fear in her eyes. Not fear of him—but fear that her past was finally catching up.
"You'll get your answers," she murmured. "Just… not tonight."
Zeyan pulled into the underground parking of one of his private estates. Not a single word passed between them as they took the elevator to the 40th floor.
But when the doors opened, they weren't alone.
A woman stood in the corridor—tall, elegant, dressed in a scarlet qipao. Her smile was razor-sharp.
"Ah, Zeyan," she cooed. "You finally brought your mysterious bride home."
Feng Yuxi's eyes narrowed.
Jiang Lixue.
The former heiress of the Jiang family—and Zeyan's rumored ex-fiancée.
What the hell was she doing here?
Inside the penthouse, tension swirled like poison in the air. Lixue poured herself wine without invitation, reclining on the ivory sofa like a queen.
"I came to drop off a gift," she said, eyeing Yuxi like a hawk. "For the lovely bride."
Yuxi didn't touch the box Lixue offered. It was wrapped in red silk—but it reeked of blood.
"You two seem close," Yuxi said flatly.
Zeyan said nothing.
Lixue's lips curved. "We were. Once."
Yuxi raised a brow. "Before or after he decided to sign a marriage contract with someone else?"
Zeyan's brow twitched, but he remained silent.
Lixue's eyes gleamed. "Oh darling, you really don't know anything, do you?"
With a final smirk, she placed the box on the table. "Open it when you're alone. I'm sure you'll find it… illuminating."
She walked out with the arrogance of someone who believed they still had a claim.
Yuxi waited until the elevator doors closed before opening the box.
Inside was a single item: a polaroid photograph.
A young girl, barely fourteen, tied to a chair in a dim warehouse.
The girl's face… was her own.
But the signature scrawled across the bottom made her blood run cold.
"We all return to the shadows eventually, Xiao Feng. — K."
That night, Yuxi lay awake in the guest bedroom, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She'd buried that identity long ago—along with the name "Xiao Feng."
But someone remembered.
Someone who had followed her all these years.
And the "K" on the photograph? She hadn't seen that symbol since the Syndicate's fall. But if "K" was back… everything was at risk.
Even her son.
Even Zeyan.
Suddenly, her phone lit up.
Encrypted Message:
"You shouldn't have come back, Phoenix. He knows."
Yuxi's fingers trembled.
She quickly typed a single reply:
"Let him come."
Meanwhile, across the city, in the Li Corporation's underground lab, a ten-year-old boy sat in front of a glowing screen, fingers dancing across the keyboard.
Fenghao had broken into five high-level databases tonight. All of them related to one name:
Li Zeyan.
And each time he dug deeper, he found encrypted logs... with files marked "BLACK LOTUS."
What was "Black Lotus"?
Why did it have classified ties to the government and a ghost operation in the Middle East?
And why… did his father's name appear beside his birthday?
Back at the penthouse, Zeyan sat in the dark, swirling whiskey in a crystal glass. He hadn't said anything after Lixue's visit. But the name on that photograph—Xiao Feng—echoed in his mind.
He'd heard it once. Years ago.
From a dying man during an overseas mission. A whisper from a traitor in a collapsing syndicate.
"Find Xiao Feng… or the Phoenix will burn you all."
And now, she was in his home.
Sleeping under his roof.
Married to him.
Who the hell had he brought into his life?
His phone buzzed with a secure notification.
[Facial Match Confirmed: "Feng Yuxi" = "Agent Phoenix" – status: TERMINATED five years ago]
Li Zeyan's jaw clenched.
"This just got interesting."