CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT – THE SMILE THAT DIDN'T REACH HIS EYES
The invitation arrived just after sunset.
It was written in polite corporate language, wrapped in soft professionalism and gentle urgency. Horizon Gate would be "honored" if Xinyue could attend a private consultation dinner. They framed it as curiosity. They framed it as collaboration. They framed it as opportunity.
She read it once, then again.
They were testing her.
The first dinner was never about trust.
It was about reading body language, tone, breathing patterns — learning whether a person lied with their eyes, their hands, or their silence.
She accepted.
The restaurant was perched on the thirty-fourth floor of a glass tower, its walls a seamless curtain of lights and moving streets below. Soft music floated through the air. Everything was designed to soothe.
Xinyue arrived in a dark dress that fell simply against her frame, her hair pinned neatly behind one ear. She did not wear jewelry. She did not need it.
They were already waiting.
Three executives. Two assistants. One man she recognized.
Liang Wei.
His smile froze when he saw her.
"So," one of the executives said warmly, standing. "We finally meet the architect."
"Careful," Xinyue replied lightly as she took her seat. "That word frightens people."
Laughter followed. Controlled. Polite.
Wine was poured. Food arrived. Conversation flowed — business trends, harmless market talk, distant plans. But beneath it all ran a quieter current, invisible but sharp.
They were watching her.
How she ate.
How she listened.
How she reacted to Liang Wei's presence.
"You've built quite a reputation," one executive said. "People say you can make problems disappear."
"People exaggerate," she replied. "I just redirect attention."
Liang Wei cleared his throat.
"She also knows how to destroy systems quietly," he added.
Xinyue turned her eyes to him.
"So do viruses," she said gently. "But they don't usually announce themselves."
A ripple of restrained laughter passed the table.
Liang Wei's smile never reached his eyes.
Halfway through the meal, the questions sharpened.
"If we asked you to advise us directly," another executive said, "what would you change first?"
She considered carefully.
"Your blind spots," she replied. "They're expensive."
"And where would you say those are?"
"In the places you trust the most."
They exchanged glances.
Good. Let them wonder.
Later, as dessert arrived, Liang Wei leaned closer, his voice low.
"You're walking into a den of people who don't lose," he murmured. "You think they invited you to admire you?"
"I think they invited me because they're afraid," she said calmly. "And fear makes people generous."
"You're still playing a dangerous game."
"So are you," she replied softly. "The difference is, I know whose board I'm standing on."
When the dinner ended, they offered her a proposal — consulting access, internal visibility, partnership privileges.
She accepted nothing.
She promised nothing.
She only smiled and said she would "consider."
And that was enough to make them uneasy.
As she left the building, Liang Wei lingered behind.
"You're going to regret this," he said quietly.
She paused.
"I already survived worse regrets than you," she replied, then stepped into the elevator and vanished downward into the glowing city.
Above her, Horizon Gate believed they had finally brought her close.
They did not realize they had just invited the maze into their own house.