I didn't watch the hallway. I watched the grid.
On my primary monitor, the hotel's electrical heartbeat was flatlining in precise, three-second intervals. It was a language I'd written a signal to the Ministry that the "breach" was happening, while simultaneously blinding their sensors.
On the secondary screen, the service elevator hit the fourth floor. Four men stepped out. They moved in a diamond formation, their suppressed submachine guns held at low-ready. They didn't look like generic guards; they moved with the heavy, deliberate gait of people who had been told exactly which door to kick.
The lead man stopped. He looked directly at a camera I hadn't yet looped. He didn't fire. He signaled a halt and knelt, checking the floor for the sensors I had claimed to disable.
"They've got a spotter," I whispered.
The hallway light flickered. A shadow detached itself from the alcove. Lu Sheng didn't initiate with a shot; he moved low, beneath the lead man's line of sight. The suppressed crack of his handgun was barely audible, but the man on the left folded instantly.
The diamond shattered.
It lasted ninety seconds. No shouting. No dramatic standoff. Just the clinical sound of lead hitting drywall and the heavy thud of bodies. Through the grainy feed, I saw Lu Sheng move like a ghost efficient, brutal, and ignoring the red stain spreading across his own shoulder.
When the last man fell, the hallway went silent.
"It's done," I said into the comms. "Get back inside. I'm resetting the sensors."
Lu Sheng didn't answer. He stayed in the hallway, looking toward the elevators.
Then, the doors opened again.
It wasn't more Qin Group men. It was Director Song's team. They didn't come in with guns raised; they came in with industrial cleaning kits and body bags. They moved past Lu Sheng as if he were part of the furniture.
"What are they doing?" I muttered.
I watched as Song's men didn't just remove the bodies. They began stripping the wallpaper. They pulled up the carpet where the blood had pooled. They were erasing the encounter with a terrifying, bureaucratic speed.
Then, one of them stopped in front of our door. He didn't knock. He placed a small, magnetic device on the frame.
My laptop screen turned white.
[SIGNAL OVERRIDE: MINISTRY PROTOCOL 09]
Every file I had open the ghost-map, the lottery ledger, the encrypted keys vanished. In their place, a single window appeared. It was a live feed of a small, nondescript apartment on the other side of the city.
The woman from Lu Sheng's files was sitting at a kitchen table, drinking tea. She was unaware of the two men in grey suits standing on the sidewalk outside her window.
"Lu Sheng," I rasped, my voice failing.
He walked into the room, his eyes going straight to the screen. He didn't move. He didn't breathe. The silence in the suite turned into something frozen.
Director Song's voice came through the laptop speakers, thin and tinny.
"The filter worked perfectly, Miss Lin. We've neutralized the immediate threat. But as per the 'Consultant Agreement,' the Ministry requires a secondary firewall. We've taken the liberty of securing your primary leverage point. To ensure no 'unauthorized' movement of the funds, the woman will remain under our protection for the duration of the thirty days."
I looked at Lu Sheng. He wasn't looking at me with respect anymore. He was looking at the screen with a hollow, focused rage.
The Ministry hadn't just cleaned up the mess. They had taken the leash out of my hands and replaced it with a noose for both of us. My move had just shown the State exactly where to look.
"I didn't tell them about her," I whispered.
"You didn't have to," Lu Sheng said. His voice was a dead thing. "You opened the door, Lin Xiao. Did you think they'd only walk through the part you showed them?"
He turned away from the screen, his face a mask of absolute cold. I had won the battle against the Qin Group, but I had just lost the war for our autonomy.