In Jiangxia City, April still carried that lingering bite of early spring. As dusk fell, a few scattered drops of thin rain began to drift down, instantly washing away the day’s warmth and leaving behind nothing but the damp chill of a late spring night.

　　Fang Jinxin pinched the bridge of her nose. Glancing at the thick stacks of financial vouchers piled beside her desk, she couldn't help but offer a wry, bitter smile. An engineering budget of 650 million that ballooned to a settlement of over 3 billion—you could think with your toes and still know this project was crooked.

　　Granted, these discrepancies had become common in recent years, but it was rare for one to draw this much heat from the authorities. Rumor on the street was that the project involved government investment; Jinxin had almost started believing it herself.

　　But for her, the biggest issue wasn't the project—it was her own situation. Three years ago, she had stopped taking on ordinary audit work to focus almost exclusively on providing evidence for white-collar criminal cases handled by the Prosecutor’s Office.

　　So, if this project had found its way to her desk, did that mean the Economic Investigation Squad was eyeing it? Word was their "ice-faced" Captain was an outside hire who didn't know the first thing about financial crimes. If that were true, how did he get a lock on this case? Was it just the massive gap between the budget and the final bill? Or was it because the project had sat dead in the water for six whole years?

　　Unable to untangle the threads of her thoughts, Jinxin finally sighed in resignation. She needed coffee. Looking at the state of things, there was no way she’d be done before the small hours of the morning. She pulled a packet of instant coffee from her drawer and emptied it into a mug, only to realize when she reached for her small thermos that it was bone-dry.

　　Instinctively, she looked out the window. The world outside had already transformed into a sea of shimmering lights, a vibrant glow that made the fluorescent office lighting feel pale and sterile by comparison. With another faint, weary smile, she checked the time on her phone. It wasn’t even midnight yet. She decided she would at least finish reconciling this book of corrected vouchers before calling it a night.

　　Returning from the breakroom with her freshly brewed coffee, Fang Jinxin sat back down before the mountain of vouchers. She spread out an engineering budget sheet, took a small sip, and began her review.

　　The office had long since gone quiet. It was the Qingming Festival break, and with so many people taking leave to head back to their hometowns, there were actually fewer people pulling overtime than during the May Day or Mid-Autumn holidays.

　　As Jinxin flipped through the vouchers, her focus quickly sharpened on the long strings of figures. But without warning, a wave of crushing tightness surged from her chest. Within moments, it felt as though a giant hand had seized her heart in a death grip, squeezing until she couldn't breathe. In a matter of seconds, she collapsed onto the desk. Her hand clipped the mug as she fell, sending the coffee splashing across the ledgers, slowly soaking into the paper and blurring the ink of the entries.

　　She had no idea how much time had passed before a deafening, earth-shattering crash jolted her awake. She slowly pried her eyes open, but all she saw was a field of stark white. It took a long, dazed moment to realize it was a white cloth draped over her face. And she was lying flat on her back... on what felt like a wooden plank, leaving her entire body feeling stiff and rigid.

　　What was going on? Jinxin struggled to sit up, but the slightest movement sent a wave of numbness through her limbs. Her mouth was parched, and her throat felt as if something were wedged inside, choking her. Her head throbbed with a heavy dizziness and her body felt like lead; she felt as though she were caught in a whirlpool, slowly sinking toward its dark, bottomless depths.

　　What was going on? Just as Fang Jinxin was reeling in total confusion, a series of strange images flashed through her mind.

　　“Mother, I am your own flesh and blood,” a girl’s voice sobbed.

　　“And you are a daughter of the Fang family,” a woman’s voice replied, cold and detached.

　　“Do you even care that I might be sold into a brothel?”

　　“What good would my worrying do? Your father committed a crime, and not a single member of the Fang family will escape. It’s not just you and me; even the Old Matron and the Mistress are in the same boat.”

　　“But I could have avoided this! I had an engagement; I was supposed to be married soon. It was you… you were the one who gave my engagement to Fang Nanxin…”

　　“You overstate my influence. I am but a lowly concubine; how could I possibly have the power to decide your marriage? This was the will of the Old Matron and the Mistress.” The woman’s voice was chillingly indifferent.

　　“Even if it was their idea, you are my birth mother! You aren't Fang Nanxin’s mother! Why didn’t you stop them? Why didn’t you fight for me? That engagement—”

　　“I told you, you think too highly of me. I have no power to stop what the Old Matron and the Mistress wish to do.” The woman rose impatiently. “Is there anything else? If not, I shall take my leave. The house will be seized and searched tomorrow. I must go back and prepare. You should get ready as well; the journey will take seven or eight days. You can’t exactly hit the road empty-handed.”

　　The young girl stared blankly as the woman walked out the door without a single backward glance. Her eyes widened, letting tears stream down her face unchecked.

　　The family home seized, facing a life sold into slavery, and the only chance to escape that fate handed away by her own family—with even her birth mother refusing to lift a finger for her. Fang Jinxin felt she could understand the girl’s utter despair, but…

　　A sudden wave of suffocation hit her, and Fang Jinxin couldn't help but cough violently. Yet the surroundings remained deathly silent. Not a soul appeared, and there wasn't even a glimmer of light, save for the flickering glow of a candle in the room, struggling against the wind in the dim shadows.

　　But how could she be this unlucky? She was perfectly fine, working overtime in her office, only for a single mouthful of coffee to send her to this place. Wait—the coffee? Could it be that something was wrong with the coffee? But that coffee was... who gave it to her? For the life of her, she couldn't remember. Plenty of people knew she loved coffee, and plenty of people often gave it to her as a gift. But... was it really the coffee?

　　Fang Jinxin was lost in thought, racking her brain so hard she didn't even notice the sky beginning to turn gray, with thin slivers of morning light peeking through the window lattices. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a cacophony of voices. A man’s gruff voice bellowed, “There’s a funeral hall here too? Who is it? Someone with some serious luck, apparently—related to the King of Hell or something? The moment the house is being seized, they drop dead. You sure they aren't faking it?”

　　“Second Brother, they’re covered with a white cloth. Maybe they really are dead?”

　　“Dead? My foot! Dying right as the Emperor orders the house seized? They really think the King of Hell is their uncle or something?”

　　“Well, you never know. Everyone says the daughters of the Fang family are one more exquisite than the last—gentle, refined, and know how to please. Maybe even the King of Hell took a liking to one and decided to spirit her away.” As the words fell, a wave of lewd, vulgar laughter followed.

　　“In their dreams. Assistant Minister Fang’s entire household is being seized for embezzling military grain. Every woman in this family is to be sold to pay back the stolen funds. Even if the King of Hell wants one, he’s going to have to pay up. Otherwise, when we reach the capital and find a person missing, we’re the ones who’ll be left holding the bag.”

　　The phrase "sold to pay back the stolen funds" sent a jolt through Fang Jinxin’s heart, and her eyes snapped open.