I'm not the busiest minister in government, but rearranging two consecutive afternoons—it's no small feat.

  Junru stands beside me, fingers dancing across the mouse with clinical precision.

  She leans in. Her blouse strains. The outline of her nipples hovers inches from my face. Her arm grazes mine as she drags appointments across my calendar.

  Beautiful. Cold. Untouchable. I wonder if she dominates in bed. The thought hijacks me—leather, heels, commands. My mind spirals: how I'd kneel, how she'd punish. I force my eyes back to the screen.

  The Summer Palace summons me this afternoon. Tomorrow: an emergency Politburo Committee Meeting.

  Twenty-five members. Twenty beyond the Ruby Five. Guangdong's party chief. Xinjiang's. Shanghai, Tianjin, Chongqing. They were just here last week. Now they have to fly all the way back.

  The schedule never shifts like this. Something's wrong.

  … …

  The General Secretary's private conference room sits in the Ocean Terrace, nestled behind ancient palace doors that face the still blue lake.

  Inside, Xiaohang Wang, Linjun Sun, and a striking policewoman wait in silence.

  The moment I step through the door, I understand. Lyra warned me Saturday—Linjun is investigating the crash.

  But it's the woman who arrests my attention. I've seen her before—on every front page when Snow Ma was arrested, her hand locked around Snow’s arm. Back then, she wore a silver star and two bars. Now: two gold stars, two bars. Three levels in less than a month. Rocket promotion.

  They all rise. Even Xiaohang, Xi's confidant, stands—protocol demands it. In the Party, rank is everything.

  "Minister Wang." I stride forward, smile warm, hand extended. He takes it, his grip firm but measured.

  "Chairman Bo, let me introduce Linjun and Ruolin." Xiaohang's voice is clipped, efficient.

  "Linjun and I are old friends." I turn to him, letting familiarity soften my tone.

  Linjun bows slightly, a practiced smile crossing his face. "Yes, sir. In Shanghai."

  Back when I was District Governor of Pudong District, and he was a deputy division chief in Shanghai Municipal Health Bureau—currying favor.

  Xiaohang gestures to the woman. "Ruolin—newly promoted Division Chief, Second Bureau."

  Bureau of Economic Crime Investigation. Of course. She'll lead this hunt.

  In this Republic, division chiefs are the engine. They craft solutions, fill in policy details. Everyone above them? Too far removed from reality, too disconnected to grasp the real impact of the documents they sign. Just signatures on paper.

  "You know why we're here?" I ask Xiaohang, keeping my voice light.

  "Stock market irregularities." His answer is swift, blunt. Few words. Ruthless action. That's Xiaohang.

  Before I can respond, footsteps echo. Xi enters with the First Lady at his side. We all stand as one, frozen, until he settles into his chair and gives a slight nod.

  "Xialai." Xi's tone is warm, almost paternal. "MPS has uncovered a plot to sabotage the A-Shares. I want you to hear what they've found."

  "Thank you, sir." My voice remains steady—no surprise, no alarm. Just calm.

  Xi holds my gaze, reading me, searching for cracks. Then he turns to Linjun. "Begin."

  "Yes, sir." Linjun starts methodically—Hansen's confession from Haitong Securities, then Shishi's testimony.

  Gang Yao. Every thread leads back to him.

  Linjun details the surveillance: phone calls, WeChat history. Gang Yao was careful, but not careful enough. Connections to Haitong, Guosen, CITIC—all there. Wiretaps on the securities firms revealed shorting orders worth hundreds of billions, funneled to twenty-one foreign and private entities.

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  Xi listens, his brow creasing deeper with each revelation. By the end, his eyes burn with quiet rage.

  When Linjun finishes, Xi turns to me. "What do you think?"

  "Sir, Director Sun's investigation is thorough and irrefutable." I pause, letting the weight settle. "It aligns with what our Party Work Committee has uncovered."

  "Oh?" Xi's eyebrows lift, genuine surprise flickering across his face.

  "Yes. We've been building a corruption case against Gang Yao. In doing so, we discovered his scheme to profit by shorting the market."

  I open my briefcase, extract a folder, and slide it across the table.

  Xi reads only the cover page. His face flushes crimson. The First Lady reaches over, her hand covering his. Her expression is unreadable, controlled.

  They exchange a glance—silent, electric. I can't tell what passes between them, but the understanding is immediate, absolute.

  "Xiaohang. Linjun." Xi's gaze shifts to Ruolin. He hesitates, brow furrowing slightly.

  "Ruolin," Liran supplies gently.

  "Yes—Ruolin." Xi's voice sharpens, gaining momentum. "Good work. But you're holding back. Gang Yao didn't orchestrate this alone. Anti-corruption isn't just policy—it's political warfare. We must fight fiercely and skillfully. No timidity. No hesitation. We swat the flies and hunt the tigers. High rank, great power—none of that matters. I am your backing."

  The three of them nod with each sentence, their expressions hardening into resolve. Linjun's jaw tightens, ferocity settling into his features like steel.

  Xi offers a few more words of encouragement, then dismisses them with a wave.

  They rise in unison and exit without a sound.

  Xi turns back to me, his tone warming again. "Xialai, your vigilance is commendable. The anti-corruption work—well executed."

  "Thank you, sir. I'm simply following your directives and doing my duty."

  "Have you sent these reports to the Discipline Commission? Or the Work Committee's General Office?"

  "Not yet." I meet his eyes. "I suspect Gang Yao has support within those offices. Once the evidence is airtight, I plan to bring it directly to you."

  Xi nods slowly, approval in his eyes.

  "Do you have suggestions—how do we stop the crash?"

  "Sir, may I speak freely?"

  Xi glances at Liran. She nods almost imperceptibly. "Of course. This is just us—two old friends from the same neighborhood."

  Red second generation. We grew up in the same compound, running through the same courtyards.

  "The pressure isn't only from foreign and private shorts. It's also the local government swap bonds for LGFVs—and the flood of new IPOs about to hit the market."

  Xi's brow furrows in confusion. But Liran's eyes flash with recognition.

  "Foreign and private firms dare to bet against us because the Big Five banks are choked—tied up in local government debt," she says, voice crisp.

  Xi’s eyes finally register. “Otherwise, we can always order the Banks to buy securities and trap the shorters, make them bleed.”

  "Exactly." I lean forward slightly, let the admiration in my eyes be clearly seen by both of them. "The one trillion quota approved last month? Nearly exhausted. Another trillion quota has been applied to FRC. I'm planning to bring it to tomorrow’s Politburo meeting. The state banks will have to absorb the bulk of it. Local governments are drowning."

  "Aren't they still making money selling land?" Liran asks, skepticism edging her tone.

  "Not fast enough. Real estate development takes time.” I hesitate, as if weighing whether to be brutally honest. Then I forge ahead. “For twenty-five years, local officials have been measured by GDP growth—fueled by infrastructure projects. And infrastructure breeds corruption. Too many projects built on borrowed money. Now the debt is coming due."

  They both nod, understanding settling in. They knew Jiang and Hu left them a rotten mess. But they didn't know this rotten.

  "If the banks can't muster enough firepower, the shorts will win." I pause, then continue. "Sir, I have four recommendations."

  "I'm listening." Xi's gaze sharpens.

  "First: suspend all short-selling privileges at state-run securities firms—especially Haitong, Guosen, and CITIC. Second: the central bank cuts reserve requirements and interest rates, replenishes state bank capital. Third: suspend the local government swap bond program. Fourth: halt all new stock issuances."

  I let the weight of it land. "Implement all four, and we might stop this crash cold."

  Xi nods slowly, turning the plan over in his mind.

  "These recommendations have far-reaching implications," Liran interjects, her voice measured. "Implications beyond the stock market. The General Secretary needs time to consider."

  She pauses, then pivots. “What’s the largest IPO currently in the pipeline?”

  “Antz Financial,” I reply. “Valued at six hundred billion yuan.”

  The number lands like a slap. Xi’s eyes narrow, flashing with disbelief—and something darker. Fury.

  Liran’s gaze snaps to her husband. A silent exchange crackles between them—sharp, immediate.

  Something has shifted.

  "Stop the Antz IPO," Xi says without hesitation. "Launch an investigation. Find out who's profiting from it."

  "Yes, sir."

  Xi stands, signaling the end. "See you tomorrow at the Politburo Committee Meeting." His tone is warm again, almost fond.

  I rise, bow slightly, and make my way out.

  The Summer Palace sprawls in two halves: the South belongs to Party organizations, the North to the State Council. The South is twice the size, twice as restricted.

  Normally, I'd exit through the North Gate, passing through State Council territory and greeting the Prime Minister on the way. Today, I go straight to the South Gate.

  I hand my ID to the guards and pause, turning back to take in the ancient complex one last time as they log my departure.

  The crash will come. My recommendations will be ignored—or adopted too late. Millions will lose their savings. Their wealth won't vanish in vain. It will grease the wheels of Xi's purge, clearing away my rivals one by one.

  All I have to do now is wait.

  By 2017, I'll stand among the Ruby Five.

  And the bodies buried beneath my rise will be forgotten.