The Six-Million Gamble

The morning sun cast long shadows over Di Hao Group's glass-and-steel monolith, its reflective surface mirroring Xiao Churan's trembling silhouette. She clutched the proposal folder tighter, its edges digging into her palms like the weight of her family's disdain. Three million yuan in contracts from Di Hao? The audacity of her grandmother's demand echoed mockingly.

Beside her, Ye Chen leaned against a lamppost, hands casually tucked into worn jeans. "Fortune favors the bold," he murmured, though his gaze lingered on the security cameras above—their red dots blinking like silent sentinels of the empire he now controlled.

Inside the lobby, a receptionist's smirk faltered as a sharp-clad assistant descended. "Ms. Xiao? Vice Chairwoman Wang is expecting you."

Expecting me? Xiao Churan's pulse quickened. The elevator ascent blurred into a haze of mahogany panels and whispered corporate legends: Di Hao's ruthless acquisitions, its shadowy boardroom coups, and the enigmatic chairman who'd shattered the Zhang and Wang families overnight.

Wang Dongxue, Di Hao's iron-fisted VP, stood by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Ling City. She turned, a folder labeled Xiao's Import: 60 Million Yuan Contract in hand. "Your proposal lacks innovation," she said, her voice a scalpel. "But your persistence… intrigues me."

Xiao Churan's breath hitched. Unbeknownst to her, the proposal's every word had been drafted by Ye Chen during midnight hours while she slept—his shadow scripting her salvation.

"Sign here." Wang slid the document across the table. "Six million upfront, full payment upon delivery."

The pen trembled in Xiao Churan's grip. Six million. Enough to silence her cousins' sneers, to force Madam Xiao's cane into grudging stillness. Yet as ink met paper, her brother Xiao Hailong's voice slithered through memory: "Fail, and Grandmother will disown you!"

——

At the Xiao villa, Madam Xiao's cane struck marble. "Di Hao's sanctions are strangling us! That girl's arrogance will be our ruin!"

Xiao Hailong smirked, typing rapidly on a burner phone. "Hackers are planting defects in their materials. When Di Hao cancels, she'll beg us to save her." His mother, Xiao Weiwei, giggled—a sound like shattered porcelain. "And you'll swoop in as the family's savior."

Unseen, Ye Chen stood outside the study, recording every word. A text flashed to Tang Sihai: Expose Xiao Hailong's Cayman accounts. Let the police 'discover' them at noon.

——

Back at Di Hao, Wang Dongxue's phone buzzed—a coded message from Ye Chen: Terminate all Zhang family partnerships. Now.

She nodded imperceptibly. Across the city, stock tickers bled red as Zhang Wenhao's father raged in his penthouse: "That trash Ye Chen steals our contracts? Arrange an 'accident' at his hospital visits!"

——

Xiao Churan emerged into daylight, the signed contract glowing like a talisman. Ye Chen fell into step beside her. "Told you luck favors the stubborn."

"Luck?" She eyed him—the frayed hoodie, the too-casual slouch. "Why do I feel like… someone's pulling strings?"

He grinned, the dragon cufflinks beneath his sleeves catching sunlight. "Maybe the universe owes you a favor."

Their shared laugh dissolved as Xiao Hailong's black sedan screeched to a halt. "Forged documents!" He lunged, snatching the contract. "I'll prove it!"

Ye Chen's phone buzzed—a live news alert: Xiao Hailong's Offshore Accounts Frozen in Money Laundering Probe.

Madam Xiao's cane clattered. "Y-You did this!"

"No," Ye Chen said, stepping forward. "Greed did." He turned to Xiao Churan, whose eyes widened at the unfolding chaos. "Shall we celebrate? I hear Michelin Star 88's truffle caviar is exquisite."

As they walked away, police sirens swallowed Xiao Hailong's screams. The contract's dragon watermark—identical to Ye Chen's cufflinks—gleamed in triumph.

——

That night, in a dimly lit dock warehouse, Tang Sihai bowed. "Zhang's shipments are laced with contraband. Customs will seize them at dawn."

Ye Chen nodded. "Let the Wangs leak it to the press. I want Zhang Wenhao's arrest televised."

Above them, a surveillance camera whirred—its feed streaming to a secret terminal where Wang Dongxue monitored every move. The game had claws, but the dragon's shadow stretched longer.