At the head of the dining table inside the Lu family estate sat Lu Rong. To his right was Fang Ning, his legally wedded wife, flanked by Lu Qing their eldest daughter, an independent artist who had forged her own creative enterprise without drawing a single asset from her father’s corporate empire. To his left sat Mei Ling, the second wife, seated beside Mi Ling, his illegitimate daughter.
The rhythmic clink of porcelain bowls and silver chopsticks filled the room. Seizing a momentary lull in the atmosphere, Mei Ling initiated the conversation.
“Now that Mi Ling is assigned to work directly under your umbrella... would it be possible to formally transition her to carry your surname?”
Mi Ling offered a discreet, fragile glance toward her father, a tiny fragment of hope flickering in her chest. Fang Ning merely cast a dismissive look across the table at the secondary wife, who dared to solicit a concession so blatantly offensive to her eyes. Lu Rong set his chopsticks upon his porcelain bowl in absolute silence before flicking a cold glance toward Mei Ling.
At that moment, Lu Qing offered a soft smile, interjecting with an innocent, cheerful tone.
“Indeed, Father... she is fully grown now, and she’s actively collaborating with you. Permitting her to share our surname would be a thoughtful gesture.”
“Heh...”
A faint, mocking chuckle escaped Fang Ning’s lips. The matriarch fixed a sharp, predatory stare directly upon the mother and daughter across the table.
“It appears you have suffered a lapse of memory regarding our original covenant, Mei Ling,” Fang Ning enunciated every syllable, a razor-thin smile gracing her lips before shifting her eyes toward Mi Ling. “If you crave societal standing and visibility, it comes at the absolute cost of forfeiting his surname... It is solely due to this arrangement that the two of you possess the privilege of sitting at this table today.”
Mei Ling’s expression stiffened instantly. Beneath the tablecloth, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, though her face maintained a practiced, subservient smile.
“I offer my deepest apologies, Sister... I inadvertently overlooked that clause.”
Fang Ning casually lifted her chopsticks, delivering food to her lips without uttering another word. Lu Rong offered no response to his daughter whatsoever.
Mi Ling swallowed the bitter humiliation choking her throat, forced to endure the stigma of an illegitimate child who carried her mother's surname while executing assignments for her father under the scathing whispers of the public.
Though her elder sister Lu Qing harbored no overt malice toward her, the reality remained a painful reminder of her status as an afterthought... Had the eldest daughter chosen not to pursue fine arts, Mi Ling would never have been granted an entry point into the CK Group to begin with.
The memory dissolved. Mi Ling now stood alone within the hollow chamber, Adisorn having departed moments ago. She absorbed the agonizing grief, plagued by the haunting reality that she was merely a surrogate option to her father, and an absolute outsider to the heart of the man she secretly cherished a man she could never possess.
Gazing at the glittering metropolis beyond the glass, a fierce, blazing fire of ruthless ambition ignited within her chest... She would ascend to the absolute summit, drag the matriarch’s arrogance into the dirt, and prove to her father once and for all that she was not born to be anyone’s substitute.
The following morning at the CK Group headquarters, a dense swarm of press gathered within the amphitheater briefing room. Financial journalists, chief economic editors, and photojournalists from premier media outlets crammed every available square inch, their hushed whispers revolving around the sudden, catastrophic restructuring of the Hydrogen Project board.
The instant Mi Ling stepped onto the stage, the room fell dead quiet.
She was draped in a tailored, pristine white designer suit poised, tall, and regal. Her sleek black hair was swept back into a immaculate bun, accentuating her sharp facial structure and diamond earrings that refracted the brilliant stage lights.
A barrage of camera flashes consumed the room alongside a thunder of shutters.
Mi Ling offered a gentle, practiced bow before straightening up, engaging every camera lens with absolute serenity.
“In light of the operational setbacks incurred previously... the Hydrogen Energy Project Steering Committee has conducted an urgent review, mandating a sweeping executive restructuring,” she delivered, her voice echoing with resonant, absolute authority as her eyes swept across the attentive press corps.
“And today... I, Zhou Mi Ling, formally announce that the project is replacing its entire executive management to institute a powerful fresh start under a new board endowed with elevated competence, strategic capability, and far more stringent oversight... Effective today, I, Zhou Mi Ling, assume the position of Director of the Hydrogen Project.”
As her statement concluded, Mi Ling squared her shoulders with supreme pride. An immaculate, unbothered smile illuminated her face as flashbulbs rained down relentlessly.
Scattered applause erupted from the company’s internal staff. However, the financial analysts and veteran institutional investors remained seated in grave silence, taking notes with stern expressions while drawing grim comparisons to the former executive CEO Kawin whose international credibility had been abruptly liquidated.
Lu Rong stood in the shadows, his arms folded tightly against his chest, quietly watching his daughter announce her triumph amidst the sea of investor skepticism. Beside him stood Tum, analyzing the volatile political landscape with a calm, discerning eye.
Simultaneously, inside the serene executive suite of Chairman Li Ming, the only audible sound was the gentle trickle of an ornamental indoor stream, mingling with the rich aroma of steeped Oolong tea circulating in the air.
The heavy door glided open softly. Ming Zhi stepped forward, halting before the executive desk with a respectful bow.
“Everything has materialized precisely according to your projections, Chairman...” Ming Zhi reported smoothly, lifting his gaze to the aged dragon, who offered a subtle smile while taking a deliberate sip of his tea. “Following Mi Ling’s press conference this morning, the vast majority of institutional investors have expressed severe anxiety regarding the stability of the Hydrogen Project.”
“Heh...”
Li Ming chuckled softly. His eyes drifted to the screen displaying real-time stock tickers and market graphs, watching the equity curve dive steadily into the red. A satisfied smirk curled at the corner of his lips.
“A phoenix soaring above the dragon... Heh! We shall soon witness whether she is a true phoenix, or merely another crow in disguise.”
Ming Zhi observed his master, narrowing his eyes slightly as his mind pierced through the deep, multi-layered architecture of the man’s strategy.
“Once she is eliminated from the board... do you intend to elevate your son to assume the directorship in her stead?”
Li Ming twitched his mouth, shifting his gaze to meet his chief strategist. “As my trusted advisor... what is your assessment?”
Ming Zhi met his gaze, remaining silent for a brief second... In that instant, he read the chessboard entirely. The old dragon was not merely taming a rebellious son and crushing Lu Rong’s daughter into the dirt; removing Kawin from the board was engineered to consolidate his own unassailable dominance over the entire enterprise. A cold-blooded, self-serving mastermind like Li Ming would never surrender absolute authority to anyone not even his own biological flesh and blood. What he demanded was total, unquestioned sovereignty above all men.
“Elevating your son directly may trigger severe corporate backlash... yet allowing the directorship to fall into external hands poses an unacceptable strategic liability,” Ming Zhi analyzed smoothly.
A low, delighted laugh resonated from the Chairman’s chest.
“You remain the strategist I have trusted all these years your reading of the board is flawless...” Li Ming commended smoothly, rising from his seat to step toward the floor-to-ceiling glass, gazing down at the Huangpu River crowded with cargo vessels. “Ultimately, whichever pawn ascends to that seat is irrelevant. What matters today... is that I witness their absolute ruin, and pull total authority back into my hands, and my hands alone.”