CHAPTER 5SilkWeb Tower
The tower was a blade of black glass and steel, cutting into the grey morning sky. Luna stepped out of a taxi, smoothing down her severe black dress—borrowed from her sister-in-law's closet, the most "professional" thing she owned.
The lobby was a cathedral of cold efficiency. Marble floors echoed with the quick steps of employees in tailored suits. No one made eye contact. Security scanners hummed.
At the reception desk, a woman with a face like polished stone looked up. "Name and purpose?"
"Luna Xiānyǔ. I have an appointment with Leo Wǎngshā."
The woman's eyes flickered with something—recognition? Pity?—before returning to neutral. "Take elevator one to the penthouse. It's keyed to your biometrics."
The elevator was all mirrors and silence. It rose so fast Luna's stomach dropped. The numbers flashed: 50… 80… 100…
The doors opened directly into an office. No, not an office—a command center.
Floor-to-ceiling screens displayed cascading data streams, global maps with blinking nodes, financial tickers in a dozen currencies. The room was cool, silent except for the faint hum of servers. The only personal touch: a single, slightly lopsided blue paper crane sitting on the stark steel desk.
A man stood with his back to her, looking at the screens. Tall, lean, dressed in a black suit that seemed to absorb the light.
"Mr. Wǎngshā?" Luna's voice sounded small in the vast space.
He turned.
And time folded.
He was older, sharper, his face all angles and intensity. But the eyes… She knew those eyes. Dark, too observant, missing nothing.
He was the boy from the summer gathering. The quiet one who'd shown her how to fold paper cranes. The one she'd doodled in her notebooks for years.
Leo Wǎngshā.
For a moment, he just looked at her. Then his gaze dropped to the paper crane on his desk, then back to her face.
"Luna Xiānyǔ," he said. His voice was deeper than she remembered, calm and measured. "You're late. By four minutes and twelve seconds."
He walked to his desk, picked up the paper crane, and held it out to her.
"I believe," he said, a ghost of something in his eyes, "this is yours."