Chapter 2: Echoes of the Past

The city stretched endlessly beneath him, bathed in the glow of neon lights and restless ambition. From the rooftop of Zhang Industries, Zhang Wei stood at the edge, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette he had no intention of lighting.

This was his city. It bowed beneath the weight of his name, the Zhang legacy woven into the steel and circuits that powered it. Security. Surveillance. Military contracts worth billions. Nothing moved without his family's technology seeing it. Control—he thrived on it, demanded it, enforced it.

And yet, there were things even he couldn't control.

He exhaled, watching the cold wind snatch the breath from his lips.

The curse.

It was the kind of thing whispered about in hushed tones, feared in the shadows of his empire. The weak blamed it for their failures. The superstitious treated it as an omen.

Zhang Wei? He didn't believe in ghosts.

But he believed in patterns.

His father, Zhang Ming, had spent his last years obsessed with breaking the curse. Stealing remains. Searching for lost graves. Digging through secrets that should have been left buried. In the end, all he had earned for his trouble was disgrace and an early death.

Wei had sworn never to follow in his father's footsteps. The Zhang name was built on power, not old superstitions.

And yet…

A message lit up his phone. Factory incident report ready for review. Awaiting your approval.

Another incident.

Wei clenched his jaw. He hated the word. Incident. As if lives being shattered under his watch could be dismissed with a neat little file and a boardroom apology.

His thumb hovered over the screen, but the rooftop door opened behind him before he could reply.

Feng. Always punctual, always efficient. The man had served the Zhang family for years, and unlike most, he knew when to speak and when to stay silent.

"Wei," Feng's voice was steady, but there was something in his eyes. Hesitation.

Wei turned slowly. "Say it."

Feng handed him a tablet. "The worker who collapsed. He's distantly related to the Liang family."

Silence.

A beat.

Then—laughter.

Wei ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Of course he is."

A cruel twist of fate. A cosmic joke. The Zhang and Liang families had been bound in blood and ruin for two hundred years, and even now, the curse found ways to remind them.

His grip on the tablet tightened.

"A connection to the Liangs…" he muttered, more to himself than to Feng. His father would have seen this as a sign, an opportunity. His father was dead.

"What do you want to do?" Feng asked, his voice cautious.

Wei tapped the screen, skimming the report. The worker was still alive, but the doctors had no answers. Just like the others. Just like before.

"We control the narrative," Wei said, voice cold. "No leaks. No panic." He glanced at Feng. "Understood?"

Feng nodded. "Understood."

Wei looked back at the city, fingers tapping against the cigarette still clutched between them. The curse was reaching for them again.

Let it.

He had no intention of running.

...

That night, he dreamed.

The palace was endless, halls stretching into eternity, veiled in gold and sorrow. Wei stood at its center, and she was there—the woman.

The same one, every time.

Her robes were white, stained with something darker at the edges. Her hair, long and flowing, cascaded like ink down her back. Her eyes—gods, her eyes. A sadness so deep it could drown the world.

He knew her.

He didn't know how, but he knew her.

He reached out.

She lifted her hand.

Their fingers brushed—

A shadow tore between them.

Wei jolted awake, breath ragged, heart slamming against his ribs.

He sat up, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead. It was just a dream.

But his pulse was still racing, his skin still cold.

He didn't believe in ghosts.

Then why did she feel real?

Wei exhaled sharply, shaking off the unease. There were bigger things to deal with. The curse, the factory, the Liangs—he had no time for shadows in the night.

He grabbed his phone and sent a single message.

Feng. Get me everything on the Liang family.

If the curse wanted to play, he would play.

And he never lost.