She had personally witnessed how Cha Shenlou was almost powerless to fight back when he faced the Ning family a few years ago.
But now Cha Shenlou has become Chen Jingsong.
From being a lowly pawn initially involved in causing trouble, it gained the support of immense power and became a true "white glove" or agent.
Let alone the Ning family, what can Zhou Yan and the people behind him do?
They were so poor, so very poor...
Zhou Yan and his friends were like a stubborn young man in tattered clothes, fighting tooth and nail to reclaim what had been taken from them and their dignity.
But this isn't their territory!
This is a war of money, and a new way to play!
Without money and with pitifully little foreign exchange in hand, how can we fight back against a financial war launched by others?
Evan raised an eyebrow, but his eyes remained unfathomably scrutinizing: "So, you're convinced that he and the people behind him are doomed to lose?"
Cha Meiling paused, then said with certainty, "Jialin Group is just the beginning. Soon it will be the Ning family's turn, and then... the entire Hong Kong stock market..."
"When it comes to financial weapons, Zhou Yan and the people behind him are not even in the same league as their opponents across the ocean."
Her gaze shifted from the window back to Evan's face, and she said coldly—
"Since the outcome is already destined to be failure, why should I continue down this dark path with him?"
"I'm just switching sides, Uncle Evan. It's simple: I'll stand with whoever wins."
"As for Zhou Yan's refusal... it only made me realize more clearly that I should have 'switched' to another vehicle that could take me to the finish line of victory long ago."
Evan looked at her, his green eyes dark and unpredictable: "Annie, do you know there's a saying in Cantonese—'traitors' never get away with it."
A brief silence fell over the office, with only the steam from the coffee still rising and casting a hazy glow.
Cha Meiling's voice was light and airy, as if she were talking to herself: "A good bird chooses a good tree to perch on, and a wise minister chooses a good master to serve. I just made the choice that best suited my own interests, that's all. Uncle Evan, you won't let me get away with this, right? After all, I am Daddy's daughter."
Evan gazed at her, the gloom on his face gradually fading, replaced by a complex and enigmatic appreciation.
“Annie, you are indeed very smart, much smarter than I imagined.”
Until a week ago, when Annie came to expose Zhou Yan's true identity, he didn't know that they were all undercover agents.
Annie is the truly intelligent person compared to Cha Shenlou, or rather Chen Jingsong!
She helped Zhou Yan infiltrate this "destruction" plan and obtained so much intelligence for him that they never suspected a thing!
Thankfully, Annie is now "sober".
Evan's expression was gloomy, but he curled his lips into a smile.
...
Meanwhile, Zhou Yan and Bao C returned to their offices.
He casually dismissed the overly enthusiastic guys, including Bao C, and promised to treat them to a seafood feast at Zhenbaofang.
Then, Zhou Yan turned around and went back to his office.
The room was simply furnished, reflecting the style of an elite police force.
Zhou Yan suddenly walked to the huge mahogany bookshelf, his sharp gaze sweeping over the rows of legal classics and police files.
He suddenly pulled out a thick English book, "A Collection of Cases from the Common Law System".
When the pages are turned, instead of densely packed legal texts, there is a precisely hollowed-out groove.
Embedded in the groove is a palm-sized black instrument with a faintly flashing indicator light.
He picked up the instrument, skillfully pressed the switch with his fingertips, and an almost invisible infrared beam shot out from the top of the instrument.
Zhou Yan, expressionless, moved slowly around the office, holding his instruments, like a calm hunter surveying his territory.
From walls to ceiling, from desks to filing cabinets, every inch of space was meticulously scanned.
When the infrared beam swept across the bottom of the sofa, the indicator light on the instrument suddenly turned a glaring red and emitted a faint "beep" sound.
He stopped in his tracks, his gaze falling on the area under the sofa. His eyes instantly turned icy cold, chilling to the bone.
Then, he pointed the instrument at the bottom of his office chair, and the same red alarm lit up again.
Two listening devices.
The location is discreet, and the installation was done professionally.
Zhou Yan showed neither anger nor panic, only a deep, all-knowing indifference.
He didn't bend down to remove the tiny "ears," but simply put the instrument back into the hollowed-out book and then put the book back in its original position.
He walked behind his desk, sat down, picked up the black landline phone, and dialed a familiar number—the reservation number for the Treasure Pavilion Seafood Restaurant.
The call was quickly answered, and a waiter greeted the caller in a formulaic voice: "Hello, Jewelry Store, which table are you looking for?"
Zhou Yan's voice showed no abnormality, carrying his usual cold and roguish air—
"Excuse me, please reserve a table for me tonight at 7 pm. I'd like the largest private room, and the menu... the highest tier."
His tone was calm, except for a slight emphasis on the words "highest standard," which carried an almost imperceptible pause.
The waiter on the other end of the phone paused, then confirmed again, "Are you sure you want the highest-grade seafood, Mr. Zhou? We only accept cash, not bank transfers or checks."
Zhou Yan said calmly, "Yes, as soon as possible."
Those in the know will recognize this as a special code.
The waiter's voice remained professional: "Yes, sir, the highest-class menu, 7 pm, private room, has been reserved for you."
"Hmm," Zhou Yan replied casually and hung up the phone.
The line went dead, and silence returned to the office.
After doing all this, Zhou Yan opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
Deep inside the drawer, a scarf lay quietly.
It was a tattered-looking scarf, completely out of place in this luxurious office.
Zhou Yan reached out and gently stroked the soft yet slightly rough surface of the scarf with his fingertips, his movements gentle and carrying a hint of barely perceptible affection.
In Ruifeng's cold and sinister eyes, something violent seemed to be churning silently, but it eventually subsided, leaving only a deep, dark tenderness.
A moment later, he closed the drawer, locking away that brief moment of warmth and tenderness.
The dark ocean outside the window ripples and surges in the distance.
...
It was early morning again, and leaden-gray clouds hung low over the Hong Kong government.
Fine rain slanted down, shrouding the entire city in a damp, cold gloom.
At the newsstand on the street corner, the newly displayed "Hong Kong Government Weekly" had its corners wet from the rain.
But the bold black lettering on the front page pierced the eyes of every passerby—
"A shocking scandal! The Ning family and Jialin are suspected of colluding to commit fraud!"
"Funds for the Huangpu Garden project suspected of being misappropriated; financial black hole exposed!"
Below are several blurry photos of documents, as well as a profile picture of Chen Jingsong with a haggard face and evasive eyes.
The caption clearly reads—
"Top-secret ICAC transcripts leaked! Chan King-chung identifies Ning as the mastermind behind Ka-lam!"
One stone stirs up a thousand waves!
The headlines were shocking, accompanied by so-called "internal information" and "insider revelations".
There was even a photocopy of the Independent Commission Against Corruption's (ICAC) transcript, which pointed directly at the Ning Group, which had just enjoyed great success in the Whampoa Garden project.
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