Living freely had always come with a price tag.
Freedom wasn't just a feeling.
It was built from information gathered quietly, leverage prepared in advance, and money that answered only to her.
It meant having resources that didn't depend on favors, smiles, or anyone's mood. Independence was expensive, but dependence cost more.
Doing a little freelance work on the side barely counted as wrongdoing. It was survival, polished and professional.
Besides, Jin Di was obscenely wealthy. One million to him was spare change, the kind of money that vanished between sofa cushions and was never missed.
Ding.
Jin Di: Deal.
Elena blinked, once and only once, as if checking that she hadn't imagined it.
"So fast?" she murmured, lips barely moving.
Fine.
She didn't waste time celebrating. She switched to her newer email account, the one wrapped in layers of encryption, the one tied to her past instead of her public identity. Here, she used the name she was born with, not the one the world knew.
Zhang Xiulan: This address is more secure. Pay first.
She attached her bank details and sent the message without hesitation.
Before a reply could arrive, she rolled her chair to the adjacent workstation. Her fingers moved smoothly as she began assembling a customized music composition program. The interface was clean. The response time was sharp.
Minutes passed.
Her phone vibrated.
A bank notification lit the screen.
+5,000,000 RMB.
Her eyebrow rose a fraction.
Efficient.
Since he'd already paid, delaying would be impolite.
Zhang Xiulan: I'll send my findings within three days.
The reply arrived almost instantly, as if he'd been waiting with his finger on the screen.
Jin Di: Fine. If three days pass and what you send is useless, I want a full refund plus interest. Ten million.
She let out a quiet snort.
Thief.
Zhang Xiulan: Agreed. Don't bother me until then.
Jin Di: I'll be waiting, Ms. Zhang.
Arrogant bastard.
She powered on every machine in the room at once.
The gentle hum of electronics rose into a steady, controlled roar, and screens flared to life across the walls, lines of code streaming downward like rain.
She only needed one night.
Anything that left an electronic trace had nowhere to hide from her.
While the systems worked, she stepped out for dinner.
That night's meal was Filipino, something Simon liked.
After days of relentless complaining, the cook had finally given in to Simon's desires. Simon had blamed homesickness. The cook had suggested, not unkindly, that he cook for himself.
He actually tried too.
However, the result was a disaster.
If Elena hadn't intervened, the penthouse might have burned down by now. Simon was banned from the kitchen on the spot. Out of mercy and self-preservation, the cook studied Filipino dishes and practiced until she got them right.
Simon nearly cried when he tasted the food.
After dinner, Elena drank two cups of hot white pearl tea, letting the warmth sink deep into her bones. Then she spent a few quiet hours in the recording studio, layering melodies with patient care, until her phone chimed again.
Several systems had finished their runs.
For the next two days, the computer room became her entire world.
She slept in fragments.
Exercised just enough to keep her muscles from stiffening.
She hacked and verified, traced connections, and peeled away layers meant to stay hidden. Public records led to shell companies. Shell companies pointed to offshore accounts. Offshore accounts opened doors to truths that made even her pause.
She then translated everything into Chinese, organized it with care, and added her final notes.
Two companies were marked clean.
Three were rotten to the core.
Fifty-three hours after she began, she sent the email.
Zhang Xiulan: Attached are the reports. Additional expenses during information acquisition total 590,025.73 RMB. See attached invoice. The original 5 million covered the final analysis only.
She leaned back and checked the time.
"Almost midnight."
Her body finally admitted how tired it was. She stretched, yawned, and shut down the machines one by one. The glow faded, the hum died, and the room sank into silence.
Her phone vibrated again.
Another bank notification.
+590,025.73 RMB.
Elena smiled, faintly, and was satisfied with the swift nature of Jin Di.
Satisfied, she switched off the lights, sealed the computer room, and walked toward her bedroom. The corridor felt unusually quiet, as if the night itself had agreed not to disturb her.
For once, she slept without dreaming.
Meanwhile, elsewhere;
Dragon Palace Homes was a place that rarely appeared in news reports. Not because it lacked importance, but because the people who lived there valued discretion above all else. Silence was not a habit here. It was a rule.
Only ten estates existed within the compound. Each occupied a vast stretch of land, carefully spaced apart by terrain, landscaping, and security measures layered so densely that their protection that it even exceeded the level assigned to high-ranking government officials.
Surveillance systems overlapped one another without blind spots. Human patrols moved in quiet, predictable patterns.
Several residents maintained private security teams, their true capabilities left deliberately vague.
Among the ten estates, Dragon Palace Home 10 stood apart.
It sat on the largest plot of land and housed the most imposing mansion in the entire compound. This estate belonged to Jin Di, President and CEO of the nation's number one corporation.
Inside, the silence pressed down on the space. Visitors often described it as unsettling, as if the house were a mausoleum pretending to be a home. Jin Di, however, found comfort in the stillness.
When he returned that night, darkness had already settled over the estate.
After dinner, Jin Di showered briefly, changed into his pajamas, and went straight to his home office. The room was spacious and orderly, shelves lined with documents and books arranged with deliberate care. The lighting was subdued, designed to keep the mind sharp without fatigue.
He planned to finish the remaining work of the day before sleeping.
Then his computer chimed.
An email notification.
His eyes sharpened at once.
Finally.
An email from that damn girl.
Zhang Xiulan: See attached files. Transfer 590,025.73 RMB to my account for expenses incurred during information gathering. See attached invoice. The original 5 million covered only the final reports.
Jin Di opened the attachments without hesitation.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
His brows slowly drew together as he read. What began as a casual interest tightened into focus. By the third report, his breathing had slowed, deliberate and controlled. By the fifth, his pupils had contracted slightly.
The reports were frightening in their thoroughness.
Each company was stripped down layer by layer. Public operations were mapped cleanly. Hidden financial channels surfaced one by one. Offshore accounts, political connections, and criminal gray zones appeared with ruthless clarity, exposing details that had never surfaced in official intelligence briefings.
There was no wasted information. No speculation. Every conclusion was supported, cross-verified, and placed exactly where it belonged.
A few days earlier, the second investigation he had ordered on Zvezda had finally returned. When those findings matched perfectly with what Zhang Xiulan had casually stated during their first encounter in the hotel lobby, his interest had shifted.
Curiosity had taken root.
And now, reading these reports, Jin Di's lips curved up. "This woman... she is entirely something else..."