?Reading on mobile phone Wu Group. Chen Sicheng arrived early in the morning, carrying a military backpack. Currently, he serves as the Manager of the Group's Security Department, overseeing security operations at the headquarters and various subsidiaries. Though not part of the core decision-making power within the company, he is a solid senior executive. His father, Chen Jinzhong, has become a shareholder of the group, with a modest stake and a seat on the board, giving him voting rights on key strategic directions. Both were dismissed from the military and their outcomes were far from satisfactory. Since joining Wu Group, they have earned more income, yet they no longer experience the sense of being the center of attention, nor do they enjoy the authority to issue directives to their subordinates—both find it difficult to adapt. Chen Sicheng, however, fares worse: he has been formally removed from both his military rank and party membership. His father, Chen Jinzhong, has only had his party membership terminated, retaining a symbolic military identity, and has been required to voluntarily apply for retirement—thus preserving a certain dignity. Chen Sicheng took the elevator to the top floor. The door to the general manager's office was open. Before stepping in, he glanced around to make sure the corridor was empty, then entered. Inside the office, besides Wu Tianyu, there was another man wearing several bandages on his face. Noticing the presence of a visitor, Chen furrowed his brows, set his backpack down on the table, and said, "The materials are here. You two chat— I'll be going now!" "Don't worry, cousin!" Wu Tianyu smiled and stopped him, then introduced, "This is Zhou Hao. Like us, he's equally furious about the young man with the surname Qin." Zhou Hao was the tall man from the recent 'fake injury' group. He'd been hit twice, and after a series of threats from the Hu Group, his teammates had scattered like birds and beasts. His injuries had mostly healed, and now he wanted to start a small business. But under continued pressure from the Hu Group, he had no choice but to come and seek refuge under Wu's protection. He hurried over to Chen Sicheng and said, "Exactly. Qin's young man has cut off my revenue stream and is pushing me toward ruin. I want to go down with him." Chen Sicheng glanced at him with a furrowed brow, then turned his gaze toward Wu Tianyu, asking him implicitly whether this guy was up to the task. Wu Tianyu smiled with thoughtful intent and then gave a firm nod. Zhou Hao radiated a fierce demeanor, and if it weren't for Wu Tianyu being present, he would have already rushed up to grab the suit jacket. Wu Tianyu gently patted his shoulder and smiled, saying, "Don't worry—your revenge will come soon. Go back and wait for news; I'll call you when the time is right." Chen Sicheng wanted to emphasize that if people are dead and money is still left unused, what's the point? This is Wu Tianyu's unique insight—he discovered that Zhou Hao has three children, and that the family doesn't have urban household registration, which is precisely why they've been under financial pressure and have organized a group of people to engage in "faking illness" scams. Now, with his income cut off and facing basic survival challenges, he's forced to take risks. Regardless, he's already content simply to spend one million yuan freely before his death, experiencing the life of a wealthy person. Chen Sicheng raised his thumb in approval, but suddenly realized a serious issue: he had once again boarded his cousin's ship. He had originally planned to provide only the bombs and remain completely uninvolved in the rest. Now, trying to step back seems like a dream—having already met both the mastermind and the key operatives, it would be extremely difficult to distance himself. Wu Tianyu sensed the shift in his cousin's mindset and chuckled, gently hooking his neck. "Sicheng, you're indispensable in this matter. Just relax—Qin is definitely out of the running. Even if he survives, this affair will have nothing to do with you. Hehe." There's a touch of joy in the music, yet a hint of melancholy as well—how the mood is perceived truly varies from person to person. If the performance hall is considered non-mainstream, then the jazz bar is genuinely a small-urban, fresh-and-casual haven. While the audience at the performance hall is diverse and comes from all walks of life, the patrons at the jazz bar are generally of a higher caliber. Along the main bar counter, stretching over fifteen meters, five or six mixologists stand at work, each showcasing their own specialty. One by one, exquisite cocktails emerge from their hands. Qin Feng sits in a bar chair on one side, saying to a mixologist, "A Martini, please." The mixologist nods and begins to prepare the drink with practiced ease—first placing ice cubes in the glass, then adding dry vermouth and gin, stirring with a spoon, pouring out the ice, plucking a single olive and placing it in the glass, and finally serving the finished Martini to Qin Feng. A slight upward curve appears at the edge of Qin Feng's lips. The mixologist's technique is impeccable, yet Qin Feng prefers a different method. He lifted the glass, took a small sip, and found the taste merely average—nothing particularly surprising. As he set the glass down, his gaze drifted to the other side of the bar, where a beautiful woman in a coffee-brown business dress sat. Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, a touch of intoxication playing on her features, her eyes fixed on a glass of whisky with ice.