The flight touches down at Shanghai Pudong Airport at 12:03 p.m. The corridors blaze with ads for the Hightower Coin Auction—screens pulsing with celebrity endorsements, biotech marvels, and the final winning bid: 84,555. A number that, within hours, catapulted Hightower Coin past Bitcoin to become the most valuable cryptocurrency in the world.
As we walk past looping videos of gene-modified wonders and glowing testimonials, Kaili slips her hand into mine. Her fingers are warm, her grip gentle. When she glances at me, yesterday’s intimacy still lingers in her eyes—unguarded, almost tender.
For a woman like her to be this sentimental—it baffles me. Maybe she’s projecting her feelings for Lyra onto me. Maybe she’s just lonely.
At the arrival gate, a middle-aged man stands stiffly, scanning the crowd. His face is tight with anticipation, his smile forced and brittle.
“Madam Gu!” he calls out, raising a hand. His voice strains to sound cheerful, but his shoulders are locked, his fingers twitching at his sides.
He strides toward us, reaching for our luggage with practiced eagerness.
“Xian Xu,” he says, extending a hand to me. His eyes flick down—lingering just a beat too long on my chest before snapping back up. The handshake is firm, but his gaze is calculating.
“Meiying Xu,” I reply, my tone cool, polite. Guarded.
“The investor I mentioned yesterday,” Kaili interjects smoothly. “Singapore GIC.”
“What a coincidence—we are in the same profession and share the same surname.” His smile sharpens. “Have you been to Shanghai before, Ms. Xu?”
“Call me Meiying,” I say. “And no. First time.”
He turns to Kaili. “Then, Madam Gu—”
“Call me Kaili,” she interrupts, matching my tone. “Madam Gu sounds too stuffy.”
I smile faintly. There’s nothing stuffy about her. BDSM is remarkably clarifying.
“Thank you, Kaili.” A flicker of surprise crosses his face. He tries the name, savoring it like a rare delicacy. It rolls off his tongue with reverence.
“The traffic’s brutal this time of day,” he says, shifting into host mode. “Would it be a good idea to take Meiying on the Maglev?”
“Sounds good,” Kaili replies. “I haven’t ridden it in over a decade.”
The Maglev station gleams at the airport’s edge—glass and steel catching the afternoon light like a blade. The train itself waits like a spaceship, sleek and white, humming with restrained power.
Built in 2003, the 30-mile magnetic levitation line cost ten billion RMB—money it never earned back. It runs at less than 20% capacity, bleeding funds through its specialized infrastructure and imported parts.
But to the Red Party, it’s worth every yuan. A monument to ambition. A symbol of progress. A lie the people can believe in.
Inside the first-class cabin, only four rows of forward-facing seats. Digital displays overhead track speed and distance in real time.
My rank doesn’t entitle me to first class. The Party is strict about such things. But today, I’m not a Second-Class Supervisor of the MPS.
Today, I’m a rich investor.
Kaili gestures for me to take the window seat. She settles beside me. Xian sits across the aisle, his posture relaxed but his eyes always moving.
Even here, Hightower Coin ads flicker on embedded screens.
“It’s just like the plane,” Kaili says, her voice light. “First class all to ourselves. Everyone else must be glued to the auction stream. It’s something, isn’t it?” Her eyes glint with amusement.
“Definitely.” Xian’s chest puffs slightly, pride blooming in his voice. “I bought a large chunk—first round.”
“That’s marvelous!” Kaili exclaims, her tone bright, practiced. “You must’ve made a fortune. You’ll have to treat us.”
“Of course. It would be my honor.” He dips his head, but his smile doesn't quite hide the scheming behind it.
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The train glides forward, so smooth it’s almost imperceptible.
“Magnetic levitation,” Xian says, gesturing toward the window. “No friction. The train literally floats.”
The digital speed display climbs—100 km/h, 200, 300—until it peaks at 430 km/h.
Outside, Shanghai blurs. Buildings, roads, cranes—everything smears into ribbons of light. But inside, it’s silent. No rattle. No hum. Just this eerie, frictionless glide through space.
Eight minutes later, we arrive at Longyang Road Station.
Xian leads us to short-term parking, where a silver Audi A8 waits. He opens the doors with a flourish, then slides behind the wheel.
Kaili takes the front seat. I slip into the back—perfect vantage point to observe my target.
As he drives, Xian can’t stop talking about Hightower Coin. How he won big in the first round. How he timed it perfectly.
“There was another big headline today,” I interject, casually. “Besides Hightower Coin.”
He exhales sharply. “Antz IPO. Cancelled—just like that.” He glances at Kaili. “Did Chairman Bo say anything?”
“Why are you so interested?” Kaili asks, feigning surprise.
“Zexi Investment bought four percent in Series D.” He sighs. “That’s a lot of capital locked up.”
Kaili nods, her expression sympathetic. “Xialai’s been tight-lipped. But even on Tuesday, he was expecting Antz to go public.” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen the political wind shift so fast.”
Xian’s brow furrows. “So this came from the top?”
Kaili meets his gaze. Her voice is quiet. Certain.
“Something changed the balance of power.”
And in the silence that follows, I watch Xian Xu’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel.
He’s calculating. Recalibrating.
… …
Osmanthus Pavilion sits on the third floor of the Shanghai Shangri-La, overlooking the Huangpu River. Crystal chandeliers scatter soft light across white tablecloths. The air smells of jasmine tea and old money.
Xian reserved the private dining room—a round table for eight, though only three of us sit here. He orders without asking: xiao long bao, braised fish, steamed bass, drunken shrimp… enough food for six. A display of abundance—or insecurity.
“So, Meiying,” he says, chopsticks hovering over a dumpling, “what brings you to Shanghai?”
“Scouting,” I reply, my tone easy. “We’re considering opening an RMB fund.”
His eyes spark. Hunger flickers across his face before he smooths it into something more palatable.
There are two nearly separate investment worlds in the Republic: USD funds and RMB funds. The former backs companies chasing foreign listings. The latter feeds A-share hopefuls. Their logic diverges. Their ecosystems rarely touch—by design.
“Show her some ropes,” Kaili says, voice casual but edged with command.
Xian hesitates. His gaze flicks to Kaili, testing the current. Then he begins, cautiously. “RMB investment uses a different valuation system. It’s focused more on profit than—”
“Don’t bullshit her.” Kaili’s voice slices clean. “Tell her the real deal.”
Xian draws a breath. He holds Kaili’s gaze a beat longer, searching for permission. Then he leans in, voice lowered.
“Let’s start with IPO—because that’s the endgame. To go public, you need FRC approval. That’s Chairman Bo’s domain.” He glances at Kaili, deferential.
"Unlike the US market, where you just register with the SEC and disclose fairly, here you need FRC's permission. And to get that, you need backing. That means a state-run investor like CITIC or CICC, a local government fund like Shenzhen Holdings, or a firm like Tomorrow, Renaissance, or Zexi." His chest swells slightly at the mention of Zexi.
“Zexi is backed by the Prime Minister personally,” Kaili adds, her tone flat, unembellished.
"I see." I nod once, feigning surprise, gazing into Xian's eyes with newfound interest.
“The initial offering price isn’t market-determined. It’s negotiated between us and the FRC.”
“More like colluded,” Kaili scoffs. Her lip curls. “Not with my husband. With the King of IPO.” The contempt in her voice is sharp enough to draw blood.
I lower my gaze, as if weighing options.
“That’s why entrepreneurs chase our investment,” Xian continues, confidence rising. “The earlier they get us in, the smoother the path to IPO.”
Of course. Their leverage is absolute. To go public, you don’t just need capital—you need access. Sometimes that means cash under the table. Sometimes it means handing shares to men like Xian Xu for free.
“Once we’re in, we control the valuation at every round. We profit all the way through. Once a company takes our money, it’s smooth sailing.”
They inflate valuations, baiting private funds. They feast on the meat. The others lap up the broth.
“Scouting becomes secondary,” he concludes, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "We don't need to excel at spotting winners. We make guaranteed winners."
Then he looks at me, curiosity sharpening his gaze. "You're such close friends with Kaili. I'm sure you could do the same."
"No way." Kaili shakes her head, firm. "It's not that I don't want to help. But the fortress may be iron—the soldiers come and go. Xialai is leaving the FRC soon."
Gang Yao is a technocrat. Xialai is a politician. Different species. Different destinies.
Gang needs stability. Xialai needs credentials to break into the Ruby Five.
"Congratulations!" Xian's eyes widen. He sits up straighter, processing the implications. "Where will Chairman Bo be governing? Is he returning to Shanghai?"
Jiang and Xi both passed through Shanghai before ascending to General Secretary. Hu governed Taibet.
“You wish.” Kaili shoots him a look, then lets the silence stretch. Finally, she says, “But I see an opportunity for collaboration between you two.”
Xian’s eyes flash—greed, undiluted and immediate.
"Kaili's right." His voice quickens. "GIC's capital paired with Zexi's prestige."
"That's exactly what I'm thinking," I say smoothly. "We become Zexi's LP. Not exclusively, of course."
“Splendid.” The word bursts from him. He leans forward, hands splayed on the table. “We could sign a partnership agreement today. And I have a big opportunity right now—ten times profit, guaranteed.”
Kaili lifts her teacup, her expression unreadable. I watch Xian's pupils dilate, his breathing shallow with excitement.
He thinks he's reeling us in.
He has no idea he's already hooked.
